Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Static. Broken voices, echoing, but muffled. Distant laughter. All of it rising in volume, cracking the skulls of all— and none— who heard it. This was all Moon could hear; the screams of his other half through the darkness behind his eyes, the sensation of falling, the whipping of wind he couldn't feel.  

The louder it got, the more surreal his surroundings felt against his processors, until everything went silent. A pin drop could be heard across the pizzaplex. It was so quiet— unnaturally quiet.  

With a rising plink, Moon's eyes opened to the gentle darkness of the daycare. The lights were off, shrouding the place in a comforting shade, and yet, something within that comfort felt... different, somehow.

He forced himself to his feet, wobbling as he made his way to a play area to support himself. Quiet breathing resonated deeply within him as he picked up a toy and looked it over, dust covering his fingertips, which he inspected closer. His fingers shook as a static pushed its way into the forefront of his mind, the quiet breathing turning out to be hyperventilation.

Oh, come on, Moony! I'm sick of trying!

Loud and clear: a familiar, and rather comforting voice.

Answer me already!

"Sun...?" Moon answered aloud, though the silence that followed was deafening. "What’s—"

Moon!!

The voice was suddenly much louder in his head. He could feel relief there, though short lived.

"What's wrong?"

I can hear you! Thank goodness, I can actually hear you!!

His counterpart was still wrapped up in his revelation, leaving Moon even more confused. 

"Of course you can?" 

He was unnerved by the hysteria buzzing around his mind, most certainly leaking from his twin AI. It was tangible, so intense it was hard to decipher it from his own emotion.

No, I haven't been able to hear you for such a long time.

"What?" He paused to register this. "That's not possible. We were just talking." He was sure of this.

No... no.

No?

"But... I remember…"

Moon, I don't know what's been going on, but I haven't been able to hear you, and every time I come back things have changed.

"Every time you come back?" Moon repeated. 

Sun was talking like there’d been a passage of time, but there couldn’t have been. He remembered the conversation they were having right before he switched; comfortably watching from the backseat, listening to Sun's warm thoughts of the children. That was the last thing he remembered. That felt like minutes ago. 

Yes. When it started, it was the strangest thing. It was naptime, only— naptime didn't happen. Right when we were supposed to switch over, there was just a blank, and then I woke up again. I couldn't hear you. And I didn't hear you— for the rest of the day. Then, the next morning, I woke up in the lobby.

Moon didn’t remember going to the lobby. 

From then on, every time the lights went out, I couldn’t see what you were doing, or hear you, or feel you. I would just wake up somewhere, and be escorted to the daycare. When I was awake, I was just... alone.  

“How long has this been happening?” Moon felt like he was falling. 

Months. I don't know exactly how many. I only know how much time I've spent active since it started. It could easily be twice as long as I thought.

Months? He'd been gone for months?  

It must have been a week or so after it started when... they got rid of naptime. Kids stopped coming to the daycare. Then... they closed it.

“What? Why??"

I don't know! I was hoping you would know. I thought surely, after all this time, you'd have an explanation! Where have you been??

"I don’t know. I don't remember.." He scratched a finger along the edge of his faceplate, his hands feeling restless and eventually gripping both sides of his head firmly. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I remember watching you get the daycare ready for opening, and... watching you play with the kids… and..."

And that was it. That was the last thing that he’d done, right?

Right?

After stressing over this thought for a while, he felt a light bulb go off in his head. Of course. 

This was all a prank. 

"I know you enjoy your practical jokes, Sunny, but the merit has worn off." 

Something about Sun’s temperament made him wonder if questioning his counterpart was a good idea. Even in his distress, an accusation didn’t feel right. But he didn’t know what else to do. He had no other explanation. 

To Sun, it probably just seemed like Moon was being difficult. But this just wasn’t adding up in his head. It was impossible for him to believe that he was just...  missing an entire period of time in his memory. If the daycare had gotten shut down, he would have remembered that. 

Though, to Moon's dawning horror, he could feel his sibling's frustration and irritation, starkly contrasting his usual disappointment whenever Moon would unravel one of his plots, and he realized his brother was telling the truth.  

It's not a JOKE! I'm telling you it's been months! Look around!!

Moon complied, letting his gaze scan the entire daycare, and feeling a sinking sensation mingling with the already existing dread as he started to come to terms with what was in front of him. Not even including the several minutes he'd already had to take in his surroundings, the sight was no less unfamiliar. 

Sun was right.

What he was seeing was nothing like he remembered it. It was so wrong.

The mats for naptime were gone, there were generators hooked up to the play structures, everything had a run-down look to it, everything had a layer of dust that indicated a lack of attention. Except weirdly, the tables and chairs and toy boxes were arranged neatly, like they were the only thing being maintained. 

Like there hadn't been any children to knock them down or move them. 

It felt like he was dreaming, and he could blink and everything would look normal again.

His statue gaze became solemn.

“It’s... really closed?” His voice echoed in the still air, playing back to him in a cold, uncaring way. 

He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it.  

Yes.

No.

“So... the kids...”

Moon, no one has been here in months. It’s just been... me. They’re not... coming back.

He would have staggered, if he was capable. His frame kept him in place. Instead, he felt like the world was spinning around him. Dizzying. Overwhelming. 

It kept spinning, until his counterpart wrapped his presence around Moon’s mind, and held him steady.

"Sun.. something is wrong." 

Something was very wrong.  

He stayed still until the dizzy feeling began to subside, and, slowly recovering, started to wander around the empty daycare, forcing himself to keep moving. As he did, he tuned in to Sun's presence. 

"Tell me everything that you know."

I... don't know much. Sun responded, almost instantly. Moon paced back and forth as his twin AI continued. I know that you were moving around, because of the places I’d wake up. I thought that— that you were doing it on purpose, and you knew what was going on, but had just... inexplicably decided to shut me out. I'm both relieved— and worried— that that's not the case.

"Yes... that's... distressing." Moon came to stand at the base of one of the play structures, lifting his gaze to look at the inactive light hooked up to its side. 

Sun didn't push any thoughts in Moon's direction for several moments, and the lunar animatronic gauged that his counterpart was virtually twiddling his thumbs. A nervous tick, even when he wasn't the one in control of their body. 

"Tell me more about the changes," Moon prompted, when his twin remained silent. 

Oh, yes. Well, I started noticing the staff looking at me funny, and the kids became frightened of me. There was nothing I could do to console the little ones; they would just run, or cry.

"Hmmm.." A thought occurred to him. He didn’t like it. "Was there... any particular time this happened?" 

Usually in the afternoon.

"So... after naptime?" 

Both of them exchanged silent glances in their shared headspace. 

Oh, Moony.

"You don't think.. I did something, do you?" 

Sun could sense the guilt Moon was feeling, and Moon could feel Sun try to pry him away from it. 

No, never. You'd never do anything to hurt the children.

"But you do think that... I was doing something, right? If I don't remember it... did they wipe my memory??" 

I don't know.

Neither of them had the answers. They floundered idly, sharing worried, confused silence, drifting in their loss.

But this wasn’t productive. Moon was the one to finally snap them out of it. He could at least try to be helpful.

“Do you want some help cleaning up the daycare?” 

The response from Sun was a wave of sadness. 

Ah, right. Daycare closed down. No kids to have it clean for. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get used to that. 

“...Sorry.” 

It’s okay. At least I have you now.

The assertion was so honest and sincere. 

It made Moon feel a touch of warmth. And a tad guilty that Sun had been alone for so long, when it felt like no time had passed for him. 

Mostly guilt, actually. 

He didn’t remember being gone. All he remembered was when things were normal. 

He felt like he’d miss Sun, though, if he’d actually experienced that time gap. Rather than just being catapulted into a reality he didn’t feel was real. 

No point dwelling on it, he supposed. 

With Sun having no need for his help, and Moon having no duties that he was aware of, he retreated to the highest point of one of the play structures, settling down atop it as his cable retreated. 

There was no cheery music overhead, there was no gleeful laughter, there was no life here. 

They sat, and watched the time go by. 

Or, they did. 

They would have, if they hadn’t heard the sound of a mechanical door opening, and the soft echo of footsteps somewhere on the second level, entering the daycare lobby. 

Someone was here.

Chapter Text

The moon shines down on him, and the cool night air carves into his bones but he refuses to shiver. 

Sneaking around this part of downtown at night was dangerous. Even at this hour, people could be seen traveling along the sidewalks, in groups and on their lonesome. The whoosh of cars passing by was occasional, but still instilled a sense of wariness every time it reached his ears. 

Tonight, though, as he picked his way through alleys and avoided the glow of the street lamps, that danger, ever present in his mind, didn't seem quite as prominent, somehow. 

He had a feeling that things were going to get better. 

It was more of a hope, really. 

That hope kept him going, flickering like a defiant flame in the dark. It pushed him through the shadowy passageways, and silenced his doubts and fears. 

It pushed him all the way to the darkened mega-mall. 

The mere sight of it sent images crashing back. Red eyes, gleaming claws, sharp teeth. Missing eyes, shattered casing, vivid structures and the insides of ventilation tunnels. 

All of it dimmed, however. Much like the building's signage, long since burned out. 

Maybe he wasn't even there anymore. 

It was a possibility that this venture would be for naught. The Pizzaplex was closed, and had been for a while. All the animatronics could have been shipped out or scrapped. 

But... 

If there was a possibility that the one animatronic he was here for was still in there, he had to risk it. 

Approaching the large sliding doors, his enthusiasm fades as he wonders, just for a moment, if this would end even sooner than he'd thought. 

The doors don't react when he steps up to them. But, refusing to be discouraged so soon, he puts his hands on one side, finding purchase on a small, extending keyhole, and pushes with all of his might towards the side of the doorframe. 

And he feels it give way. 

Both glass doors retract from their position, just enough for him to slip through and try the next set of doors. 

Soon enough, he's inside. 

The first thing he notices is how the sound of the outside cuts away, replaced by an almost deafening silence. It's a silence he's rarely heard. 

The endless indifference of the wind and the cars and dogs barking in the distance is suddenly gone, and he's warmer. 

Shuddering as he steps out into the enormous front lobby, he notices that it's not completely silent— his shoes are squeaking on the tile with each step. 

The echoes cause him to consciously soften his footsteps as he continues forward. The echoes… and the unsettling sight of the dead-still and eerily empty lobby. 

He knew this place had shut down. But that knowledge alone wasn’t enough to prepare him for the state of it. 

It was darkened, but some lights still flickered, struggling and unceasing, as if defying orders. 

The distinct lack of any movement set him on edge. 

He was the only living being in here, if he wasn't mistaken. But hopefully, there was another being. A specific one. Just… not a living one. 

He tried to wrack his brain for the layout of the building as he hopped the entrance gates, taking note of the dilapidated state of the decorations and signage.

Freddy would be in Rockstar Row. And Rockstar Row was… 

The answer comes to him clearly and suddenly, and with a new eagerness in his step, he passes the statue in the center of the room, ignoring everything but the stairs, and the elevators beyond. 

It was a straight shot through—to the elevators—and it would be a straight shot through the atrium and into the passageway to Rockstar Row. 

He lets out a quiet, impatient breath as he taps the 'up' button beside the elevator and waits. 

Finally, the elevator dings, and his shoulders fall as the doors scrape open with a whine. He's taken by a sudden hesitance as he debates getting inside. 

Wasn't there another way to Rockstar Row? He'd much rather deal with a flight of stairs than a rickety elevator. 

He runs through his options—or what he can remember of his options—until a light bulb goes off in his head. 

The utility tunnels. The entrance was near the front doors, and connects the lobby to Rockstar Row. 

He'd much prefer traveling underground; it would be harder for things to sneak up on him. 

His mind made up, he slinks down the stairs again and vaults over the entrance gates once more. 

After making a right turn and reaching the far side of the room, he's faced with a locked door, and equipped with the clearance he needs to bypass it. 

The one thing he'd held onto—besides his flashlight—had been his level ten security card. He'd never really known why, figuring he wouldn't ever return to the Pizzaplex. 

But here he was. 

He swipes the reader, and is answered with a cheerful beep before the door opens, revealing the darkened passage beyond. He steps into the hall and switches out his card for the flashlight, letting his mind go blank as a weary sense of security envelopes him. 

The tunnels had a bunch of dumb twists and turns that he remembered from his first visit. What he didn't remember, however, was all the rubble from the crumbling walls, and just… robot arms? Limbs? Strewn about the place in certain sections. They looked like they could have been from the expressionless S.T.A.F.F. bots he'd seen patrolling certain areas. 

Also along the walls of the tunnel were several graffiti designs. Clearly he wasn't the only person who had been in here since the building's closing— but hopefully, he was the only one currently here.

He shuts out any unhelpful thoughts, until, many flights of stairs and many unsettling sights later, he opens the door onto Rockstar Row, the flickering neons blinding him momentarily as he swings the large blockade open with much effort. It was light enough to see clearly— he wasn't going to need his flashlight in here.

Pocketing it, he steps out of the tunnel and continues into Rockstar Row, taking it in. 

This room didn't look much different, though the statues were visibly dusty, and some of the neons were dimmer. Most notable was the gentle yet distorted jazz music pumping through the speakers. That was very reminiscent of his first visit, because he remembered how unfitting it was for such an eerie place. It was just wrong. 

Anticipation twists in his gut as he finally tears his gaze away from Freddy's statue, and instead focuses on the glamrock's accompanying room. 

Red curtains veil a large window providing a view into the room, and beyond them, he could just make out a form standing inside, back turned to him. He instantly recognizes the faded, chipped paint— orange and blue. Freddy. 

He was here! 

Way more relieved than he'd ever admit, he bounds forward to approach the door, but pauses before crossing through, suddenly finding himself unable to speak. It had been a while, after all. 

What was he even going to say? 

Running through possible lines fitting for the scenario of "saying hi to the first person who ever cared for me, whom I haven't seen for several months", he remains planted in place, staring at the animatronic bear. However, as he stares, his hesitance grows, but for a different reason.

Freddy was standing still, which in itself wasn't unusual, he supposed, but there was something about it that was making him uneasy.

In the reflection from the mirror, over Freddy’s shoulder, Gregory can see the animatronic's eyes twitch and roll, his jaw slack and head loosely tilted. It felt familiar, and not in a good way.

As he takes a step back, filled with bitter caution, his shoe squeaks, and he freezes. 

The jittering, discordant overhead music fills back in quickly, but he's already successfully dragged Freddy's attention from the dulled mirror and directly to himself. 

Now that Freddy was facing him, the boy forced himself to stand straight and smile, even as the uneasiness continued to make his stomach turn. 

This was Freddy— Freddy was his friend. There wasn't any reason to be afraid.

He told himself this, but after landing eyes on him, the bear's only reaction was to take a heavy step forward, his jaws still unnaturally agape. 

Where was the instant recognition? The friendly greeting? 

“Superstar?” Freddy finally spoke, his voice still laced with Chica’s vocal upgrades.

Gregory's eyes lit up. Maybe Freddy did recognize him, after all? 

"Freddy! Hey!" Gregory squeaks, his voice hoarse, both with nerves and disuse, and he gives a stiff wave, hating the fact that Freddy's presence is causing him to cower. "I just wanted to let you know I was… okay! Um… are you okay?" 

Freddy's response is silence, his body twitching as he takes another jerky step forward. His arms hang limply at his sides, broad shoulders downturned as his posture droops. His locked gaze sends a chill through the child's bones.

Slowly, the animatronic's head shifts from a tilt on one side, to the opposite, and a hand raises, fingers and claws twitching about as he reaches for Gregory. 

Gregory instinctively takes a step back, his wary gaze on the bear's green and purple hand as Freddy lowers it and slowly advances. 

"This isn't right— say something!" He pleads with the animatronic as he backs up, now keeping a steady pace as Freddy continues to approach. 

With every two steps he took, Freddy took one, and was still covering more ground. "Freddy, that's enough—" 

His mind is racing, comprehensive thought eluding him as he backs up against the nearest wall. 

“Superstaaar…”

It sounds wrong, now. So very, very wrong. On top of the distortion provided by Chica's voice box, there's a fakeness— an artificial nature to the bear's tone. It's devoid of any of the warmness Gregory had come to recognize. 

Cold dread settles in his stomach as realization finally hits him. 

"You're not my Freddy, are you?" 

His quiet, fearful words are met with zero recognition whatsoever, as the bear continues to stare at him hollowly. 

Blinking lights of rising anxiety flash in his brain, and those lights blare as he realizes Freddy has him cornered and is lunging for him. 

His own memories work both with and against him as he dodges at the last second, his ears ringing as he hears Freddy's claws dig into the concrete where he'd just been. 

Ice fills his veins as he watches Freddy's eyes follow him, ruthless and predatory. His eyes burn as tears threaten, but he doesn't have time to dwell, or process, or think. He's in danger. 

His body acts on its own as his weight shifts to the balls of his toes, and he makes a dash for the utility tunnel door. It was the only way out that was in immediate sight, and the route was still fresh in his mind.

Unsurprisingly, the door wasn't as hard to swing open when he was filled head to toe with absolute panic, and he quickly slips through the gap and into the darkness on the other side. 

He immediately finds himself in old habits, searching for the first place to hide and wait for the new enemy to pass, but there's nothing around. All he can do is keep running. 

Heavy thumps and loud crashes bounce along the walls behind him, startling him enough to stumble over himself. 

No. He couldn't give out yet. He made it last time, how was this time any different?

He gulps a breath and regains his composure as well as his footing, and tries to push himself a little further through the twisting, cavernous halls. Stale wind whips past him, heavy with dust and the scent of decay. 

The ground is actually the most immediate hazard, with all of its debris, but Gregory can't quite decide which is the larger of the two evils. Freddy… or the scattered robot corpses and rubble? 

The answer was probably the massive robot with deadly claws chasing after him— and not to mention quickly gaining. 

He has to snap off that train of thought; this wasn't the time to ponder the inherent dangers of the scenario, when he was currently living it. 

The ringing in his ears only gets louder as his foot nicks a stray robot arm in his way, and he goes stumbling forward. 

He groans and winces as he picks himself up, not minding the burning that was now present along his forearm. 

Within seconds, he's back on his feet, scanning the environment, desperately drinking in the darkness for some place to hide— any place— and still, nothing. 

His teeth grit as he makes a sharp turn, miscalculating the angle and setting himself on track to collide with the wall. 

He's saved from his fall as he feels a sharp set of claws grab him by the back of the shirt, ripping him from the air to dangle in place. 

A quiet growl blends with the drone of the fans as Freddy's eyes shine brightly against the dilapidated walls, and Gregory feels his lungs tighten, his breath quickening as his mind goes blank and the roaring of his pulse drowns out the ringing in his ears. 

Hot tears well up in his eyes as his hands reach desperately for the larger one holding him, and he kicks and struggles as the bear's free hand comes for him, sending large gashes across his cheek. 

With enough struggling, the back of his shirt tears and he falls to the floor. He scrambles to his feet and bolts, hearing Freddy's stomp a second later. 

Soon, he reaches a set of stairs at the end of the tunnel, wasting no time in beginning to climb them. 

Freddy's voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs, but Gregory isn't listening enough to make out words. He doesn't care enough—no, that was a lie. He cares too much. Why else would he have come back? He never should have come back. Caring was always a mistake. 

With a hiccup, he pushes through another set of doors and weaves through another winding passage, before finally stumbling out into the entrance foyer. 

He crosses through the open space, struggling to hop over the entrance gates in his exhausted, numbed state, forcefully blinking away the burning in his eyes. His ears are ringing again, and his pace slows to a walk as he continues forward aimlessly. It always took Freddy a while to get up or down stairs, but he knew it wouldn't buy him much more time than a minute. 

With a moment to comprehend what all has happened, he slips into a daze as the events replay in his head. He's not even sure where he's going, just away from Freddy. 

A door opening pushes him from his thoughts as he slips behind a wall. It wasn't much, but it was somewhere out of sight. He couldn't see Freddy, and that was all he cared about. 

As the steps drew closer, he eased further along the wall, his hand coming to a door. It was unlocked, and that warranted him going through and silently pushing it shut. 

He doesn't take his eyes off the set of doors as he walks backwards. He can't help but notice, though, the distinct lack of sound, save for dripping water and a quiet hum. Nothing like what was out in the other parts of the building. 

He shakes the thought away stiffly as he continues to zero in on the door in front of him, even as it gets farther and farther away. Finally, he bumps into a barrier, jumping, as if surprised that a building would have walls. 

He feels the side, and only then does he tear his gaze away, taking a look at the rest of his surroundings. 

It's a shutter door he bumped into, hanging partway open and stuck in place. Lovely. The further he could get from the deadly animatronic bear, the better. 

With a shaking breath, he ducks beneath and stares into the void before wiggling his way through— and no sooner than he'd cleared the space below did it give a mighty creak, and slam closed as he whips around to watch. 

He stares in panic for a while, then realizes he has no idea where he is , and with a massive sigh, decides to stand up and investigate before fully losing his mind. 

He could find another way out, or a place to hide until the threat was past. 

He perks up quietly and pats around his legs, feeling for the flashlight and pulling it out once he finds it. It takes a few tries and a couple slaps to its base, but eventually it flicks on. The light is dim, both from battery drain and the abuse it likely suffered along with his own body, but he can still see. 

His eyes follow the light, something reflective catching his attention as he explores the immediate area. He turns the beam towards it curiously, audibly yelping as it finally registers to him what he's looking at. 

Silent and lifeless above him, the smiling, golden face of the moon animatronic's statue peers down, head cocked, looking as ready as ever to pounce. 

He shudders. 

He vividly remembers his least favorite part of his experience with the Pizzaplex. Not that he necessarily had any parts he enjoyed— but still. He still sees those red eyes in his nightmares. 

It'll be too soon if I never see that thing again, he thinks to himself, turning and continuing to look around.

He spots another gate, and, beyond it, even more stairs, his eyes finally trailing to a single fluorescent light flickering above the landing. 

It illuminated a tiny, tiny fraction of this weird room he found himself in, and he found himself wandering in that direction as curiosity overtook fear. 

Once at the bottom of the stairs, he flicked the flashlight off to preserve what was left of its fading battery, and stood at the edge of the light's ring, in front of a huge, wooden door. A very quiet memory flickered in the back of his mind. 

Still in the mindset of 'forward' he inches closer and runs a hand over the splintered, cracked, and not to mention aged wood that separates him from some unknown area. 

The layout of the building had been left slightly fuzzy in his memory, due to him actively avoiding those memories, and due to how long it'd been. 

Inevitably, though, he places his hands on the knockers and pulls, flinching at the squeak of the hinges, and just how dark it was inside. 

The circle of light bleeds into the doorway, eaten up quickly by the looming darkness of the place, barely giving the boy any solace. 

There was nothing he could make out— save for the flickering glow of computer screens off to his left, and some broken down walls all the way to the back, and he thought— he thought he could sense that there were large structures in the room, and oh— oh god, it was all coming back. 

He'd seen this place, with this amount of light before. 

He hears quiet talking, but this time it isn’t Freddy’s usual booming voice. It's soft, gentle, slightly raspy as if more used to whispering. That talking, however, stops once the squeal of the unoiled door rings out into the room.

He stiffens as red eyes meet his own from the top of one of the structures, staring through his very soul, and he suddenly contemplates taking his chances with Freddy. 

That grin...

Trying to recall what steps had brought him to the daycare of all places, adrenaline and fog still clouding his mind, he can only take a feeble step back as he abandons the effort. It was all a panicked blur. 

All he could do now was stare, in denial almost, at what he considered to be his worst enemy.

The Moon.

Chapter Text

"You said the daycare was closed down." 

Moon sat perched atop one of the towering play structures, his gaze fixed on something as he stared out into the dark. Something that he could see— something that they both knew was there. 

It IS closed down!! Does this look like a functional daycare to you??

No, it didn't. Moon had already begun to accept his reality; that this place had changed, and it had changed without him. 

He let go of whatever was holding his attention, in favor of focusing more on the discussion with his counterpart. 

"Then what is someone doing here?" He didn't know who it was, but it was undeniably human. Those footsteps were entirely too light to be a member of the main band. 

I don't know!!!

"I'm disappointed in you, Sunny," Moon tssked. "Don't you know by now that you're supposed to be omniscient, and be able to answer any question I ask of you?" 

Ha, ha, very funny, Sun shot back dryly. 

Hearing Sun annoyed by his sarcasm was a small, and welcome, comfort. For a brief moment, it felt like nothing had changed at all. 

Then he caught himself having that thought, and reality crashed back in. 

"We need to find out—" 

Moon stopped himself, as both he and Sun took note of a long, high-pitched whine, somewhere on the ground floor, that distracted them from their conversation. 

Now, both of them were alert, and their collective attention was focused on their surroundings, and looking for the source of the noise.

Moon's head swiveled towards the sound, where he noticed three things simultaneously: 

1) The daycare doors were open, 2) there was light outside the doorway, and 3) bathed in that light, disheveled and out of breath, was a boy. 

"Oh." 

What was going on? 

As Moon stared, unsure what to do, he watched the boy lean against the door, looking faint. He seemed to quickly recover, though, his gaze trailing back up to Moon once he was steady. 

Moon took in his features. 

In one hand was something sleek and black, which he recognized to be a flashlight. That was odd; that looked like one of the ones they'd see at the security desk currently off to the boy's left. 

That's because it is!!  

Huh, what? Moon was taken off guard by Sun suddenly swelling inside their headspace, turning an emotion over in their mind that felt like rage. 

But why rage?? 

Rulebreaker!  

After that one assertion, Sun became almost incomprehensible, like he couldn't even form a coherent sentence. He was just repeating 'rulebreaker' over and over in their head. Moon got the idea.

What, him? Moon cocked his head at the boy, who seemed to take a step back in response, gripping his flashlight tighter. He looked like he wanted to run, and then he looked like he deliberately decided against it. 

Moony, don't you recognize him?

Why would he— this really wasn't clearing anything up. 

Sun, tell me what YOU know.  

And in the meantime, Moon probably needed to do something so the boy didn't give up and walk away. 

"Hello," he spoke to the boy, who tensed. 

"HORRIBLE MOON THING!" 

This is the only child I've seen since the daycare closed down, the voice in his head began. 

"Horrible?" Moon repeated, willing his cable to lift him up, before descending gently to the ground. 

I think he knows you.

"GET BACK!" 

Moon stopped short, a few yards away from the boy. 

I don't know what he was doing here. But he showed up one night, then the lights went out, and when I woke up, I was tied up by your cable and hanging from the bridge.  

What? Moon was incredulous. After processing it, he wanted to laugh at Sun's retelling of his misfortune, if the way he'd said it hadn't implied that Moon was somehow the one that had gotten tangled up in his own wire. 

Needless to say, he definitely didn't remember that at all. 

If you don't remember what happened... I think he might.

That was starting to sound more and more like the truth. 

The boy had told him to stand back, so Moon stayed where he was. 

But from where he was, he was seeing something now that made him want to move, despite what the boy had requested. 

He was bleeding. 

His arm that held the flashlight was being cradled in his other hand, just barely covering up a large abrasion across the forearm. 

And on his cheek...

Moon stared at the gnarly scrapes marking one side of the boy's face, still steadily dripping beads of red blood that trailed down to his chin. The scratches were placed in such a way that it looked like whatever had inflicted them, he'd been lucky that it caught his cheek and not his eye. 

They didn't look like animal scratches, either— they were spaced a good inch apart, and they looked deep.  

Moon involuntarily took a step forward, stopping when the boy jumped back. Stupid, he reprimanded himself. 

"S-stay back!" The boy said again, shakily. 

"You're hurt," Moon pointed out, forcing himself to stay put. He watched the boy glance down at the scrape on his arm, just for a split second, before looking angrily up to Moon. 

"What's it to you?" 

"I can help," he urged, pressing down the impulse to move forward again.  

"NO! I'm not letting you come another inch!" 

"Why?" 

"Because you tried to KILL ME the last time I was here!!!" 

This time, Moon took a step back. 

He didn't say anything for several moments. He couldn't say anything— he was stunned. 

Sun was silent too, both of them gripped by an emotion they were wholly unfamiliar with: terror.

Moon, try to—? 

"I… did what?" Moon rasped finally. The words didn't want to come through his voice box.

The child raised an eyebrow, uncertainty etched throughout his expression. 

"What kind of trick is this? I'm not falling for it!!" 

This was starting to scare Moon. Really, truly scare him.

"It's not a trick. If I've ever met you, I don't remember it. There's something wrong with my memory." 

For a brief moment, the boy's expression slackened, only to tense up angrily once more. 

"Oh, so you don't remember chasing me all around the daycare with murder in your eyes?! Likely story!" 

The two stared at each other, Moon standing motionless, the boy glancing from side to side between looking up at the animatronic before him. He looked so tense; so uneasy. It was distracting Moon from the questions being directed at him. 

"No, I don't." It was the truth. What little comfort it must provide. 

The child's frown only deepened, his eyebrows knitting together as he took a step back. "I don't believe you!" 

He thought about arguing further.

He didn't have any further argument to make.

"I wouldn't believe me either," Moon admitted, turning his gaze down to the floor. He wished he could be more convincing when it actually mattered. 

A forceful huff pulled Moon's attention back upwards to the child in front of him. 

"So— what? You've got AMNESIA?" His upward glare was the only part of him that remained stable as he trembled, agitation clearly evident in his features. 

He paced to and fro for a few moments, seemingly not caring that his guard was down, then sunk to the floor, grabbing his hair in fistfuls. "I don't know what to believe anymore." He took a deep breath, resting his forehead on his knees. "First, Freddy's gone mad, now you're.. you—" He swallowed thickly, his wavering voice trailing off with the thought. 

Moon tilted his head at the child, overtaken by concern, but before he could get himself to override his own determination to respect the child's order, a new realization made him freeze. 

"What do you mean, Freddy's gone mad?" 

At his words, the child lifted his face, an ocean of untold emotion behind those eyes. 

"Freddy is… he WAS— my friend," he corrected himself, swallowing again, and finally looking away. "But he's… he's..." 

Moon examined the boy in his distracted state, tilting his head as he slowly stalked closer, careful to avoid detection from the child. He didn't want to be yelled at just yet for moving closer, but he sensed that he was being granted a small degree of trust— or perhaps it was just weakness. Or a lack of will. 

If the boy even noticed, he didn't react, too busy wiping at his face to deny passage to the heart-wrenching tears now forming, further fueling Moon's determination. 

What do we do, what do we do??!

Sun panicked, but Moon ignored his hysteria, sitting down at the edge of the shadows and staring at the little one bathed in flickering halogen lights. 

"You are safe here, you know," Moon hummed, very slowly reaching a hand out to him. 

He wanted to grab him and engulf him in warmth, but when he noticed the boy tense up and shrink away from him, (even in the shaken state he was in), Moon pulled his hand back. 

"No one will hear a word. What happens in the daycare stays in the daycare." 

As if his words carried magical influence, the boy seemed to finally give in under the pressure, his cries bubbling in his throat as he let out quiet wails, large tears rolling down his cheeks and loudly hitting against the tile. His hands covered his face, as though ashamed to let the two see him breaking down in such a manner. 

He wanted to believe his presence was soothing— that his words were enough to make the child feel safe enough to show his weakness, but considering the accusation he'd assigned to Moon, he just knew this had had to be the final straw, that he'd already been close to losing it and all it took was one small gesture of sympathy to make the emotion overwhelm the boy. 

Moon could feel the pain Sun felt, his and his twin's emotions bubbling inside and preparing to spill over. Unlike with children though, this kind of pain was productive— it made them better caretakers. It spurred them to action. 

Which was normally a good thing. 

But this time, when he tried to inch closer on impulse, the boy shuddered, reacting to his movement by inhaling sharply and scooting backwards. 

"S-stay back." His voice quavered, one eye meeting Moon's. His tone was serious. 

"Alright. I'm sorry." Moon apologized quietly, leaning back, even though doing so felt like a failing on his part. 

He knew this was what he was made for. He knew he could help. But he also felt like he didn't know himself. 

He knew he could help, but with every passing minute, he was beginning to question whether he should. 

As he started to doubt himself, a comforting presence wrapped itself around Moon's mind, choking out the uncertainty and replacing it with only a warmth. 

It wasn't time to assume the worst; right now it was time to do what he could, and worry about the rest later. 

The boy seemed to be more guarded now than he was before, taking deep but still very shaky breaths, his eyes locked on Moon. 

The blood from the scratch on his cheek was smeared, both from tears and from him wiping at his face. It truly looked awful. Moon knew exactly how to clean and dress it, but he couldn't, not until the boy let him closer. 

If anything, he could try and hand the first aid things to the boy, so the little one could do it himself. Yes, that was worth a shot. 

"Can you stay here for a second?" He spoke first to get the boy's attention, then slowly pushed himself to his feet and backed up a few steps, keeping his movements small and nonthreatening. 

The boy was clearly afraid of him, and if he wanted to help him, he needed to lessen.. whatever it was about him that was so scary. 

Once he was a couple steps back, the boy looked significantly more relaxed, which seemed like a good sign. 

The child watched him, his gaze following Moon—or trying to—as he disappeared behind the security desk. 

He worried, vaguely, if being out of eyesight would freak the boy out all over again. Hopefully not. He'd be quick. 

He knew first aid kits were kept back here, somewhere.

He started to root through the drawers, and was in the process of sliding one open when yet another foreign sound reached his sensors. 

Off in the direction of the lobby, where the boy had entered. But the boy was right here; something new had made that sound. 

Metallic, grinding, screeching. It sounded like the sliding door separating the daycare from the hallway outside was being pried open. 

Then the sound intensified for just a moment, and a louder thud was heard. Followed by uneven, clanking footsteps.

"Where aaaare youuu, Superstar?"

The voice echoed down the hallway to their location, and the boy seemed to recognize it just as Moon did. But he had a much more visceral reaction. 

Hopping to his feet like lightning, he clutched his flashlight close to his chest like it provided him some form of comfort, and backed up until he was against the daycare door, his terrified gaze locked on the second floor. 

"No! Nonononono," he managed to keep his register low, even if his voice was strangled from sobbing moments prior. 

"What's wrong?" Moon whispered as he eased back out into the open, his eyes trailed on the same place the boy's gaze was locked. 

He came to a stop in the same spot he'd been before; as close as the boy had tolerated him. 

"It's Freddy!" The boy hissed back, his gaze not leaving its fixed position. "He's going to get me!"

Moon started to catch up after a very brief moment of confusion. 

Hadn't he said something about Freddy going mad? Had Freddy been the one to give him those scratches? 

In a split second, Moon made a decision. 

"Come here." 

The boy bristled, tearing his gaze away from the balcony to meet Moon's eyes. "N-no! No way!" 

"It's me or him. You don't have time. Trust me."

The boy bit his lip, looking from Moon, to the balcony, and Moon again. The fear in his gaze turned to desperation. He bounced once on his toes, then twice, teetering until the momentum brought him a step forward, hesitating one final time before stepping fully into the shadows in front of Moon. He looked up at the animatronic before him, eyes wide and uncertain. 

Moon bent down, outstretching his arms with palms up, then staying still as he waited for the boy to make the final step towards him.

With much hesitation, he did, and in one fluid motion, Moon scooped him up— one arm around his back, the other under the legs to support him— wasting no time in summoning the wire to hoist them up. 

The boy gave a yelp of surprise, but quickly muffled it, and instead grabbed onto Moon's torso, his eyes turned away from the rest of the daycare as it quickly fell away and shrank into the distance. 

Once they were out of reach and stationary, Moon shifted carefully, situating himself so one knee was lifted and served as a place for the boy to sit. 

They were high up above the daycare— about as high as Moon could get them. The rafters were just above them and almost close enough to touch. 

They listened to the sound of Freddy's footsteps echoing through the corridor, and saw the dim glow of the glamrock's eyes illuminating the space ahead of him. 

His path seemed aimless, like he was just shambling along with no presence of mind. It was so... 

"I can take you to safety!" The animatronic drawled to the empty air, still off in the distance. 

Un-Freddy-like.

As of now, the glamrock hadn't seemed to have noticed them yet. He was nearing the stairs down to the ground level, but he didn't seem to be intentionally aiming for them. 

Moon found a small, intrusive part of himself wishing to see the bear trip and tumble down the steps. It would serve him right, for terrorizing this child. 

Up this high, Moon was certain that even their whispers would be undetected by the new threat. 

He looked down at the child in his lap, the boy's brown hair making up the majority of what he could see from this angle. He was silent, save for the quiet whimpers that came through with each breath. 

In his peripheral, Moon's attention flickered to a bright glint reflecting off one of the rafters. There was light shining on it, but from where..? 

The beam of light could be traced back to himself, or rather, from something... close to him...

The flashlight. 

It was the flashlight. 

"Turn that off," he said bluntly, and was promptly reprimanded for it by the voice in his head. He couldn't do it— he was using both of his appendages to keep the child from falling to the daycare floor. 

The child in question startled, then didn't react for a second, finally looking around at his surroundings before he too noticed the rather obvious beam of light, and the flashlight in his lap that it originated from. 

He didn't let go of Moon for several moments, until he eventually shifted his weight and readjusted his hold so he could free up one hand, reached for the flashlight, fumbled it, and sent it rolling off the edge and plummeting towards the floor. 

"Shit." 

$#!T indeed. 

They watched with bated breath as one second stretched out to infinity, the flashlight's glow doing flips as it tumbled, and if the incredibly noticeable flashing wasn't enough to draw attention, the loud clatter as it landed on one of the slides and broke into a million pieces before falling out of reach certainly would be. 

They remained statue still as the bear's hollow eyes snapped towards them, the boy turning his face away as the animatronic began to advance in their direction, steps heavy and uneven. 

Freddy's eyes didn't leave them as he clunked haphazardly down the stairs, and crossed the distance from the stairs to the daycare's doors. 

His steps became muffled as he stepped into the padded room, his pace slowing as he came to stand directly beneath them, head tilted at an odd angle as it continually twitched. 

What on earth was the matter with him? 

Moon personally didn't know Freddy that well. Before the gap in time that Moon was missing, he had hardly interacted with the lead band member. He'd had his job to do, and so did Freddy. 

But even Moon could tell that this certainly wasn't right. 

Everything about this wasn't right. 

The boy had, up to this point, been hiding his face. Now, he turned his head, looking down cautiously. Moon couldn't see his face from this angle, but he felt the boy tense. 

"Urgh.. get outta here!!!" The boy shouted down at the animatronic, who gave no response. "Go on! LEAVE!" 

Moon felt himself overwhelmed by sympathy, for a boy and a situation he didn't fully understand. 

He shifted one arm carefully to rest atop the boy's head, his touch light and gentle as he parsed through the little tangles in the locks. 

At the motion, the boy's apparent distress finally started catching up with him, and he turned his face away from the rest of the world, sniffling.

"He's so… so…" 

Wrong. Moon agreed. 

"It's alright," he crooned, holding the child closer while he cried, and staring past his shoulder at the animatronic who still refused to leave. 

It seemed like they may be stuck here for a while. 

Minutes passed. Moon rubbed the boy's back, doing what he could to comfort him. 

The animatronic remained.

"So..." Moon spoke to the uncomfortably silent air, once the boy seemed to have cried himself out. He hoped conversation would help ease the child's nerves. "What were you doing here, the night that I…" 

He couldn't even say it. 

"That... you were here last." 

A deep sigh sounded from the boy in his lap. 

"I was stuck in the Pizzaplex after hours. Freddy was trying to help me escape. He told me to come to the daycare to get the security badge so I could access the rest of the Plex. I did, but then the lights went out, and... you chased me." 

Moon remained silent, trying and failing to make sense of his supposed actions. 

"The way you were chasing me... it's a lot like the way Freddy is acting now. And exactly like the way Chica and the others chased me that night." 

"Chica and the others?" 

This extended to the rest of the main band?? 

The boy was silent for a suspiciously long time. 

"How… much do you know about the current state of the Plex?" 

That was a terrifying question. 

"Is there something I should know?" 

"Um... probably..." the boy fidgeted. "But I think you should see it for yourself." 

While his mind ran through all the terrible possibilities the boy could be alluding to, the animatronic standing guard below them shuffled a bit. The two hanging from the wire look down hopefully, only to see Freddy stop again and continue staring up at them vacantly. 

False alarm. 

"I don't think you ever told me your name," Moon says suddenly. This was kind of a ridiculous time to be asking, but it truly hadn't occurred to him until now, and they had nothing but time. 

At his statement, the boy sniffles, wiping his running nose with the collar of his shirt. "I actually wasn't born with a name, my parents just gave me one."

The answer cycles through Moon's head once, then twice. He feels like understanding should be sinking in, but he's completely lost.

"... What?"

There's a pause, and the boy is even quieter when he speaks again, mumbling, "It was a joke."

Ah. What?

"I don't get it."

"I didn't tell it right."

There's an involuntary crackle that comes from Moon's voice box— like a snort, and he starts chuckling. He immediately feels bad for finding it funny, but he couldn't help it. The bluntness had caught him off guard. Even Sun, watching from the headspace, couldn't hide his amusement.

He cuts himself off before the response could be mistaken for mockery. That wasn't the impression he wanted to send.

"That's okay," he rasps gently after recovering, "it's the effort that counts. But really, what is it?"

"It's Gregory," the child replies after a moment's hesitation. 

"Gregory," Moon repeats, trying out the feel of the word. "That's a nice name." 

"Thanks." It sounded like maybe he'd smiled a bit.

After that conversation, both of them fall into a comfortable silence— or at least more comfortable than anything had been up to this point.

There was a sort of unspoken idea between them; they couldn't get down until Freddy left, and that meant waiting him out. They’d both just unanimously decided to stop talking to see if he gave up.

Moon was contemplating moving further up, and trying to get them out of sight behind the rafters, when he looked down and noticed the bear turn away, beginning to limp out of the room. 

Gregory, who'd been just a bit too fidgety in his lap for the past ten minutes, turned to look too, and luckily caught on not to say anything. 

As Freddy started to cross the tile floor to the stairs, the clicking from his claws picked back up again on the hard surface. 

He ascended the stairs in a zombie-like fashion, and continued to corpse-walk down the corridor and out of the Superstar Daycare. 

"Finally," Gregory muttered. 

Moon held onto Gregory as he began to lower them slowly to the floor. Eventually, they both set foot on solid ground. 

He set Gregory down, and the child lingered, glancing towards the daycare doors before back at Moon. 

Moon tilted his head, and this time the kid didn't seem to startle at it.

"Will you let me bandage those cuts now?" 

The child gave him a scrutinizing look. 

"You really don't remember, huh?" 

"You're dodging the question." 

"Alright, fine, fine. Yes, you can bandage them, but can I pee first?" 

Confuddled, Moon looked past Gregory's shoulder to where the boy was gesturing, at the bathrooms across the halls.

Ah.

That explained the squirminess. 

"Go ahead." 

The child turned to go, but before he could take two steps Moon reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt to hold him in place. Or rather, what was left of the back of his shirt. The boy cast a fearful glance back at him. 

He should have noticed this earlier, but there'd been a lot going on. 

Exposing a good percentage of the child's back, and looking rather ragged, was a large rip in his shirt.

"Did Freddy do this too?" Moon questioned, releasing Gregory, and sitting down as the child turned to face him.

"Y-yeah.." 

Moon tried to imagine how the boy could have ended up with such a tear, but the thought process only brought up images he didn’t like. 

"Must have been a close call." 

"That's an understatement." 

"You're very brave." 

"Can I go now?"  

"Yes, sorry." Moon's shoulders sagged as he watched the child turn away once more and head for the double doors, and began looking around the decrepit daycare once he'd gone.

He liked this kid. But that was about the only positive he could think of in this situation. Everything was so different, and he had no idea what was going on or where he'd been all this time. 

He wanted to get to the bottom of this. More than anything. And maybe this Gregory was the key to finding out what was going on underneath the surface. 

But the kid needed to be cared for too, and that was priority number one.

When the boy returned, Moon looked up at him, actually grateful he had a smile for once. 

"Are you particularly attached to that shirt?"

Chapter Text

Gregory stepped into the daycare play area. 

There was a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that made him question, for the second time that night, whether he should. 

After entertaining the thought, he inevitably reminded himself that what was outside the daycare was far more deadly. 

He'd seen himself in the mirror when he was in the bathroom; he hadn't realized just how bad the scratches and scrapes had looked. He made himself squeamish gazing at his own reflection. 

Yet, even knowing the threat outside, it still gave him a moderate unsettling feeling, crossing the threshold into the shadows and seeing the animatronic's red eyes peering back at him. 

A part of him still tried to argue that leaving was the safer option. Not willingly entering the domain of the nighttime attendant. The nighttime attendant, that had very much also been a threat last time he was here. 

It looked back at him with the same face it had all those nights ago. 

But instead of stalking towards him and chuckling sinisterly, it tilted its head minutely, regarding him. 

"Are you particularly attached to that shirt?"

"This—?" Gregory pinched the collar of his shirt to get a better look at it, as stained with blood as it was. A bit difficult to see in the dark, but the stains were darker. 

"Not really," he answered with a shrug. It was pretty much ruined, anyway. "Why?" 

This detour perplexed him. Hadn't the animatronic asked to fix up his scratches? 

And, now that his mind was on said scratches, they were stinging. 

The adrenaline had died down from the chase and from dangling above his ex-best friend for an hour, (which sucked), and he could feel the inflammation in every single open wound. They pulsed and it only reminded him that what he'd agreed to would ultimately mean more pain. The cuts were fairly serious— and wasn't disinfectant part of the process?

Suffice it to say, when the animatronic brought up a different topic, Gregory jumped at the opportunity to stall.

"From what I've gathered," the animatronic began, "the daycare is shut down. We can get you a replacement from the gift shop." 

"Great," Gregory lit up hopefully. 

"After I treat your wounds." 

Damn. 

He was really going to do this, wasn't he? Let his previous arch enemy treat the wounds given to him by his previous best friend? 

This sure was a hilariously ironic situation. He had agreed to it, though.

"Fine," he sighed. "What happens first?" 

"Did you rinse the wound while you were in the bathroom?"

Gregory paused, trying to picture himself with his head in the sink to rinse the cuts on his cheek. 

"....No." 

"We need to do that first. Go back to the bathroom, I'll find a rag and meet you in there." 

He hesitates, but ultimately nods.

He wasn't keen on the idea of being in such a small space with the big animatronic. He wasn't going to say scary, but if he was being honest with himself, that was mostly the reason. 

With a short exhale, he pivots, then heads through the open doors yet again. 

The bathroom was dimly lit; only a few fluorescents flickering above the mirrors in front of the sinks. Enough light that he could see himself and the stalls behind him. 

The water worked fine, luckily. He turned the faucet on and watched the water gush out, hitting the curved bowl's edge and funneling through the holes in the drain's cover.

He knew it was wasteful, but he gleaned a certain sense of satisfaction in watching it all go down the drain. 

He watched it for close to a minute, maybe longer, feeling like every second represented a bit of livelihood stolen back from this place— for every bit of livelihood it had stolen from him. 

He was so caught up in his trance that when the door opened off to his left he startled. 

The moon animatronic's head peeked in, unsettling grin ever-present, but the overly delicate way it sidled into the room contrasted starkly with its expression. 

Gregory's eyes trailed down to the robot's hand, where it was clutching a small rag, and only then did his heart rate begin to level out. 

He's not going to be killed in the bathroom by a jester robot. It's helping him. 

To its credit, though— the smile did make it look like it was approaching him with a cleaning rag of malicious intent.

Its head tilted slightly towards the sink, its attention settling on the running water. 

It seemed to think for a moment, then stepped towards him. 

"Is this going to hurt?" Gregory couldn't help asking. 

"It might. I'm sorry if it does." 

The boy took a deep breath. He could handle this. He'd been through worse. 

"First of all," the robot said in a disproportionately soft voice as it reached for his arm and guided it towards the faucet's output, "rinse off this scrape." 

He'd forgotten about the scrape on his arm. From when he'd fallen in the maintenance tunnel. He flinched as the water touched it, expecting a sting, but it never came.

He left his arm in place as the animatronic's hand released it, letting the cool water wash away all the dirt. 

At his side, the robot was turning on the other faucet, holding the rag under it to dampen it. 

He watched its face tilt upwards to stare into the mirror, click to the side quietly, and just remain in that position. 

He must have looked insanely curious, because the lunar animatronic seemed to prickle under his gaze and turned its attention towards him again. 

It started to make its way around him to reach the side where his cheek was scratched, and Gregory started to pull his arm back towards himself, only for the animatronic to firmly hum, "Leave it there."

He obeyed, leaning forward and letting the scuffed wound rest under the stream again. 

This was.. this was weird. 

"I'll be gentle, but this still may sting a little. Are you ready?" 

He looked first at the robot's reflection in the mirror, then at the animatronic itself, and gave it a tiny nod. 

At his permission, it reached out a wide hand, and he forced himself not to flinch as it held his jaw in place, tilting his head to get a closer look at the cuts on his cheek. 

He could see it both from the corner of his eye and in the reflection as it brought its other hand up to his cheek with the wet rag, and he felt the cold fabric touch his skin, making him shiver. 

The robot didn't use a lot of pressure as it went over the scratches with the rag, which he appreciated, but after a few seconds there was a random sharp sting in his cheek, and he hissed. 

"Ow!" 

He jerked his head, and the moon animatronic paused, loosening its hold and watching him. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yeah— it just stung," Gregory mumbled. 

"It's the soap. Sorry." Its voice was curt. "I have to clean the surrounding area before I can clean the wound." 

"Oh." 

Now it was hesitating, and Gregory realized it was waiting for him to give it the okay to continue. 

He nodded again, and kept his eyes trailed on the mirror as the robot resumed cleaning his cheek, focusing on his own reflection. And the animatronic's reflection. It was truly an absurd sight.

Now that he knew what to expect, it was easier to just tense through the pain as he watched the area gradually become cleaner, so the actual scratches could be seen. 

Once it seemed like most of the blood was washed off, the robot leaned back, switching on the faucet next to it to rinse off the cloth before returning it to his cheek. 

"Almost done," it declared, and Gregory breathed a sigh of relief. 

The rest of the process went by much quicker, and he endured it with only occasional winces. 

The animatronic stepped back as Gregory opened his eyes— only then realizing that he'd even closed them— and he could see the now cleaned wound: three decent length cuts that spanned from his cheekbone to his jaw. 

Those might leave a scar. 

The robot tilted its head to look at the sink where his arm was resting. It reached over and turned off the faucet, inspecting the scrape after doing so. 

"Looks clean." 

It had been for a while. He'd noticed it. Had the animatronic only used the running water as a distraction so he wouldn't fidget as much while it was cleaning his face? 

If it had, the distraction had worked. Clever. He felt somewhat indignant about being duped so easily. 

"Now what?" Gregory looked up at the animatronic- the first time he'd met its eyes since it first entered the room. 

"Now we bandage it up. Follow me."

It motioned towards the door with a brief finger point, before easily crossing the distance to it in a few strides. 

The boy trailed after the animatronic, looking down at his cleaned forearm in thought. 

"I thought you were going to use disinfectant," he admitted once he'd stepped out into the open, speaking to the robot's back. 

"Do you want me to?" It didn't glance back as it spoke, still en route to the daycare's doors.

"No— no. I'm good," he said quickly. 

There was a quiet crackle from the robot that sounded like laughter. 

It stopped by the security desk and pivoted on its feet, smiling back at him crookedly.

"I wouldn't use that on you. Alcohol based disinfectant not only hurts, it can also damage healthy tissue." 

"Uh huh," Gregory responded, pointedly glancing over at the bottles of disinfectant that covered the cabinets lining the wall— the same bottles that he'd noticed the first time he was here, getting that security badge. 

"Those are just company mandated," the moon said, following his gaze. "We don't use them." 

"Sure are a lot of them," Gregory commented. 

"They still restock them even if they don't get used. Or.. they used to," it said, after a pause. 

There was something about its tone of voice that made any rebuttal from Gregory die on his tongue. 

He remained silent until he sensed the robot's demeanor shift.

"This'll be easier if you're sitting up here," it spoke, and once he'd torn his eyes away from its face, he saw that it was motioning to the desk. 

It stood back as he approached the counter, watching him hoist himself up. It was a slight struggle, but he was determined to do it without the moon's help. It seemed to trust his ability to do it himself, anyway. 

He sat down and faced the animatronic with a loose slouch, but twisted around to keep his eyes on it as it made its way around the desk, behind him, and shuffled through the drawers looking for something. The bandages, he guessed. Is that what it had been doing before Freddy showed up? 

It seemed to locate what it was searching for, retrieving a small kit from the drawer, as well as a nondescript tin box. 

He focused on the tin box, trying to puzzle out what it could be for, so caught up in thought that he didn't notice the animatronic was in front of him at first. He looked up with a small start. 

It said nothing, simply outstretching a large hand, palm up, and he caught the cue to place his own hand in its. It took his arm, gently, turning it so the scrape was facing itself, and started to unzip the kit on the desk next to him.

“So…” It started, seeming hesitant to speak as it stared the scrape up and down once more, taking its time with examining the injury further.

It fished out a roll of gauze and some medical tape, and after applying something to the gauze which he was pretty sure was a topical ointment, it pressed the gauze to his arm and held it in place while wrapping the tape around his arm to secure it.

“So?” Gregory hummed in response, eyeballing the robot's hands as it worked. It was easier than looking at its creepy grin.

It was surprisingly deft with its movements. Gentle, but precise. It tore the tape to separate it from the roll, with an amount of strength that was clearly very immense but finely controlled.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here? If the first time was so bad, then...” Its voice trailed off, gaze locked on the injured arm in its hand. It seemed to be contemplating various courses of conversation, but Gregory could never be sure with a face like that.

“What’s it to you why I’m here?”

“We… I… Can help you escape.”

Silence from the small boy as the lunar animatronic finished with his arm and moved its attention to the tin box he had been curious about. As he watched, it pulled out.. decorative band aids. 

Ok, so it had deliberately chosen those. There had to have been normal ones in the kit. And now he'd look petty if he made a big deal out of it. 

He leaned forward slightly to get a better look, curious despite himself, and the animatronic held them up with a presumably smug grin before he could play it off. There were multiple different designs, all with a starry or planetary theme to them.

With a huff, Gregory pointed at a blue band-aid with golden stars on it, constellation lines connecting the decagonal shapes. No two were alike, printed and cut at random. The moon wasted no time applying the same salve to his face and beginning to place the adhesive with the utmost delicacy and care.

“I came to see Freddy.” Gregory finally started. “After the first night, I left. I wasn't gonna come back. But… I lost my FazWatch—”

The moon interrupted with a staticky snort, its shoulders shaking. Gregory fell silent, confused. 

“I’m sorry.” The words came with a genuinely apologetic tone, apparently recognizing he was offended. “It's not you. It's just the way this company names things. A 'FazWatch'. I've always found that funny.”  

Gregory didn't know how to respond.

It got over itself rather quickly, resuming its work in applying the band-aids. 

One, two, three bandages, decently sized to fit over the cuts on the child’s face. He couldn’t help but notice the care it took in putting everything away as well, neatly and back in its place. The robot rolled its hand on its wrist, a signal to keep talking.

And with a stutter, Gregory began again. “I lost my watch and I couldn’t contact him anymore… so I wanted to let him know I was still okay. I think you know the rest.”

The robot stared silently as it let the words sink in. 

Gregory hated that he couldn’t tell what this thing was thinking. But, in the end… Did it really matter? If it had wanted to kill him, it would have done so already. There was almost no doubt in his mind, now that it had gone through the trouble of playing doctor this whole time.

“You really care for him, don’t you?” The robot finally started, gearing up to put the supplies back in their proper spot behind the counter.

“Of course I do. He took care of me last time I was here… He would never hurt me!”

A simulated exhale sounded from the animatronic's voice box as its body slumped, an invisible weight bogging it down. With that weight still present, it leaned forward and extended a finger, tapping it against the smooth surface of one of the band aids on his cheek. 

"And yet.. he did." 

"Y-yeah, but.. so did you!"

"Hurt you?" It said, barely a whisper. 

"Well, no," Gregory clarified, pushing its hand away that had already drawn back slightly. "You tried to." 

He wrapped his arms around himself, almost at the same time the robot did. They both noticed each other and simultaneously dropped their hands. 

"There must be some other reason for why he's acting this way. I know him, he'd never hurt me," Gregory insisted. 

More silence, this time shared, as the two stood slightly apart. After a few moments, the robot surprised him by speaking first. 

"What are you thinking, then?" 

“Well…” Gregory started, tapping his chin lightly in thought. Meanwhile, the robot busied itself with putting away the supplies, and Gregory stared ahead as it moved behind the desk. 

“I want to fix him.” He straightened, both of his hands going to the surface of the counter to support his weight in his sudden movements. “I want to get to the bottom of this! Last time, it didn’t… I…” He stumbled over his words, only to rub the back of his neck and sigh, before trying again. 

“This time, it’s a bit more… personal. I can’t just leave him.” 

He glanced back at the animatronic once he'd finished talking, hoping to gauge its reaction.

It straightened from its own slouch as an eye peered over its shoulder, staring at Gregory. Finally, it turned to him and placed a light hand on his shoulder, the other hand doing the same as the robot loomed just behind him. It seemed more playful, but, again— it was hard to tell.

“I may be able to help you, then. But if you really want to do this, we should get you a bit more prepared.”  

A chuckle rumbled within it as the hands went from his shoulders, to his ribs, and began to carefully lift him, only to let the boy rest on its hip as an arm braced firmly around his back.

Gregory’s mind raced as he was jostled with its long strides. Where was it taking him?

After merely a few seconds, he had his answer. 

Once it put him down, Gregory almost felt stupid staring up at the logo, the animatronic beside him also grinning up at it as it stood at its full height. 

The sign read 'Lucky Stars Gift Shop'. 

Inside the small shop, a few lights were flickering dimly. It was hard to see very far into the room, and this wasn't helped by the two large, golden statues poised at the entrance, smiling out into the hallway. Very familiar faces- the sun and the moon. The same ones depicted in the lobby. He had to remind himself where he was; apparently the daycare was all about branding. 

The statues were up on a pedestal, the base of which was decorated with plushies of the respective animatronics. In fact, a lot of the merchandise was plushies. 

As they stepped inside, the animatronic sidled off to one of the edges of the room, and Gregory watched it go, before starting to wander around the room himself, getting a good look at all the things the shop had to offer. He hadn't explored this place the first time he was here. He'd simply bolted after getting out of the playpen. 

Plushies, decorative cups, fridge magnets— nothing of any particular interest. 

Finally he slowed to a halt beside one of the displays that lined the walls, a horizontal rack sporting the very thing he was looking for. Souvenir shirts. 

One particular article of clothing caught his eye; it was so garish that he couldn't not notice it, and the familiar face printed on its front. 

He looked at the animatronic's likeness depicted on the shirt. With big blue shiny eyes and a huge dopey grin, it was clearly the sunny animatronic, but it hardly resembled the actual thing. 

The image was overlaid on a large red rectangle that made the yellow face stand out against the orange of the rest of the shirt. A simple hack, but still a lazy one nonetheless. 

The design wasn't horrible, by any means, but what was making him mad was the fact that this was one of the only designs they had for shirts in this shop; the rest were of the Glamrocks, and he wasn't in particularly good standing with any of them right now. The sun was the only animatronic in the entire Pizzaplex that had never tried to hurt him. 

Still… 

"That's way cuter than the real sun thing," Gregory mused to himself, taking one edge of the fabric in his hand to observe the design closer up, and to get an idea of what size it was. 

"You can just call him Sun," a voice rasped at his side, and Gregory nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned to see the moon's red gaze glowing down at him, unreadable smile dead still as the animatronic towered over him. 

He decided right then and there that he HATED when it did that. He didn't think it was even doing it on purpose, this robot was just very skilled at being effortlessly terrifying. 

Clutching his chest as he willed his heartbeat to slow down, he tried to stammer out a response. 

"Wha.. huh???" Very eloquent, Gregory. 

"Not 'the' Sun," the animatronic elaborated, faceplate tilting a degree to the side. "Sun and Moon are our names." 

"O-oh…" Gregory mumbled, abashed. 

All this time, and he hadn't even considered the possibility that they had names. Not just this one, either— the both of them. 

"Sorry, I didn't know." 

"It's fine."

That debate seemed settled, but Gregory had another question.

"You said… 'him'. Does that mean that Sun is.. or.. um, you.." he didn't know how to finish that thought, but the animatronic seemed to predict it anyway. 

"Pronouns don't apply to us in the same way they do to you. Technically, all and none of them are accurate. Ever since we were made, people around us have called us 'he', and we were made to sound that way, so we both got used to it."

"So 'he' is right?" 

"I just said that's not how it works." 

"Okay— bad wording," Gregory said, apologetically. "I meant.. you're okay with it?" 

"It means nothing to us either way. Call us whatever you want." 

That sounded kind of endearing? 

"Okay." 

An awkward silence stretched out for a few moments. Gregory bounced on his toes idly. 

"So.. Sun and Moon?" 

"Yes." 

"Those are your names." 

"Yes." 

"That's… original." 

He wondered if he was imagining Moon squinting at him. 

"I'm picking this shirt, by the way," Gregory announced. 

"Okay." 

"Would you be mad if I picked it because I like Sun better than you?" 

"I'd only hate you a little bit." 

Gregory grinned ear to ear. The softer glow that came from the moon's eyes made him feel like he was too. 

After waiting for some kind of cue, while the animatronic just stood there and watched him, Gregory realized Moon had intended for him to just take it. 

The robot was down with shoplifting. Cool. 

After all, what was anyone going to do about it? 

He pulled the shirt from the hanger, his eyes traveling around the gift shop as he draped it over an arm. 

Not unlike the rest of the daycare, this place seemed to have shoddy electricity. The lights that were on were clearly fighting to do so. It was in much sadder shape than the last time he was here. 

He looked to the animatronic.

"How do you feel about.. this place? Being shut down, I mean." The question felt invasive. It probably was. 

Moon stared silently for a second, before turning his head like Gregory wasn't even there, gazing out towards the structures within the play area. Then he remained still. Gregory guessed he was thinking. 

"It… hurts. To see it like this. It's unfair." Its voice was quiet. 

He watched the animatronic clutch its own arms, its gaze remaining fixed as it shrunk in on itself. 

"I wish.. I knew what happened to it." 

Gregory had a pretty good guess. He didn't want to say it though, as it seemed like unnecessary salt in the wound. He was starting to believe that what had happened wasn't Moon's fault at all. 

"I might be able to help you," he heard himself say. Moon looked back at him. 

"How so?" 

"You don't remember anything, right?" 

"...Right." 

"Well I do. I remember. If what happened to you is the same thing that's happening to Freddy, then you got over it. If we could find out how it happened, maybe we could solve this problem for Freddy, and all the animatronics."

"How do you suggest we do that?" 

"I have an idea."

Chapter Text

“What is your plan?” 

The first time Moon had asked what Gregory's plan was, in the gift shop, the boy had waved him off so he could change into his new shirt, and Moon had quickly left. 

He'd retreated to the playroom, assuming the boy would meet him there once he was ready. 

Eventually, he'd looked up at the telltale sound of sneakers on tile, to see Gregory stop and ditch his old shirt in one of the glamrock themed trash cans. 

That certainly answered the question of whether it was significant to him or not. 

Now, the boy faced him— scratches and scrapes bandaged, fresh shirt resting on his shoulders, and a brilliant and confident gleam in his eye.

As Moon waited, the boy swept his gaze around the daycare, calculating. Finally, he turned his attention back to Moon. 

“Alright. Let me explain.” 

Nodding was a gesture that looked weird when the Daycare Attendant did it, so the best Moon could do to signal his attentiveness was give his head a small click to the side. I’m all ears, it said. (He understood the irony of this expression.) 

The boy took a breath as if preparing to speak, clapping his hands together and then pointing the tips towards Moon. 

“You don’t remember anything, right?”

“Yes.” This specific question was certainly getting tiring. 

How many confirmations did the boy need? No, Moon didn't remember anything. That hadn't changed in the five minutes since last Gregory asked. Irritation curling inside, he tried his best not to be irked by the comment. 

“Well, I have an idea for how we could get your memories back.” 

A brief pause hung in the air as the animatronic took this in. 

“Get them back?” Moon couldn’t help the incredulousness in his voice. This wasn’t an option he’d considered a possibility. Could he really? Get them back? 

Did he want to? 

No answer came back to him, because Moon himself wasn't sure. 

After what the boy had claimed he’d done.. 

“Yep," the boy said proudly. "You might not remember anything, but I do. I remember one moment.” 

He didn’t know if he liked where this was going. 

“If we retraced your steps, it might come back to you! How would you feel about me coaching you through it— telling you what to do?” 

“You want me to remember the time I chased you.” 

“We have to start somewhere, right? Maybe if you can remember that moment, it’ll bring back more memories, and we’ll get an idea of what’s going on!” 

The kid sounded like he knew what he was talking about. He just wasn’t sure..

Moon drew back temporarily, focusing on reaching out for his counterpart’s thoughts. This is foolish, surely? 

His counterpart seemed to have a different opinion. He could feel the intrigue coming from Sun before his twin ai had even said anything. 

I think it’s a good idea. 

No….? 

You don’t even sound sure of yourself.

I’m NOT. 

Then hear him out. This is important.

Unfortunately, his sibling was making sense. Moon waved off the connection, focusing on the boy again.

“How would you plan to do this?”

“Do you want me to include the part where I tied you up on the bridge?”

“That didn’t happen.” 

"It did." One voice in his head, the other a real voice. Simultaneous. 

“No.”

“You can deny it all you want—” 

“I mean no, don’t include it.”

The boy's expression stilled, then formed into a devilish grin. “What, are you embaaarrrrrassed?” 

“I’m not answering that.”

He figured the boy probably needed a win here, after all he'd been through in just one night. Finding something to tease Moon about probably made him feel better about an otherwise horrible situation. Made him feel like he had more control. 

He was willing to let the boy poke fun, if it at least made him smile.  

"That sounds like an answer to me," Gregory continued, just as snarky. 

"Well you wouldn't be able to tell, would you?" Moon shot back, tilting his head in an over exaggerated manner and leaning forward with mock-threat, the giggle he received from Gregory confirming he'd managed to successfully lighten the mood and divert the boy's attention from his jeering. Two birds with one stone, so to speak. 

"So," Moon said, once Gregory had reigned himself in, "what is your actual plan?" 

The boy looked like he was thankful that Moon had reminded him what the matter at hand was, his eyes gleaming again. 

"Okay. The first time you chased me, I was trying to turn on the generators in the play structures. I'm thinking if you pretend like you're trying to catch me, it might jog your memory." 

He waited for more explanation, then tilted his head when it didn't come. 

"That's it?" 

The boy's expression faltered, perhaps discouraged, perhaps trying to actually read Moon's tone. 

Whoops. He may have come off a bit too judgemental. 

No, that probably came off as straight insulting, Moon realized, as he thought about what face he was saying it with. 

"W-well... when you chased me, you didn't come into the structures until I'd already turned on two of the generators. So if I pretend to turn them all on, you can come into the structures after the second one, and after the fifth one, we'll call time out on the bridge. How does that sound?" 

"Hmm." Moon considered it. Sun's enthusiasm was very present in his thoughts, and that might've been what made Moon eventually say, "Okay." 

"You have to give me a head start though. Otherwise you'll catch me before I can get anywhere," Gregory warned, eyeing him. 

"Alright." 

Moon started counting down from ten. 

The boy was off. 

"9… 8…" 

He watched the boy dash towards the jungle gym, turning on his heel as he passed one of the entrances, and charging up the ramp. 

Was he supposed to be watching? He hadn't been told to cover his eyes. 

"7, 6…." 

The sound of sneakers running through the padded walkways. 

"5, 4…" 

He could no longer see Gregory with his optics. 

"3.. 2.. 1." 

The sounds from the boy moving through the play structure quieted, and Moon started to move about. 

He knew which structure Gregory was in, but couldn't currently see him. He wasn't supposed to go into the structures yet anyway, so what should he do? 

He paused, drawing his hands up to gaze at them, flexing his fingers.

If whatever the boy had seen had been him, it would have been something Moon knew how to do, right? Maybe he'd only seen Moon's bedtime monster act and misinterpreted it. 

That was a comforting thought.

With a small wind of encouragement, Moon changed his posture; hunching forward, arms raised at the elbows, fingers waggling. The scary tickle monster, that was Moon. The bedtime goblin. 

He pictured the children he remembered so vividly, running just ahead of him and giggling with energetic glee as they darted about and searched for places to stall him. 

Not for the first time that night, Moon found the memory of a familiar and warm moment bringing him back to when things were normal. 

It was time to wear them out before naptime, so they’d sleep easier. 

“No, no, that’s not right!” 

Moon’s head twitched as his movements grinded to a halt. The moment was gone. 

Right.

His neck did a smooth swivel, gaze locking on the origin of the sound. 

Gregory, his face peeking through the rubber bars of a higher level of the jungle gym. His eyebrows were pinched together in confusion. 

“That’s not how you were moving before.” 

“It’s not?” 

“No. You were acting all creepy. Crawling and...” he trailed off, appearing to think. “...stalking.”

That word choice gave Moon an uncomfortable chill. 

“Stalking? How?” 

“It was just the way you were moving,” the boy shrugged. “Kind of… wolf-like?” He lit up once he landed on that word choice, looking like he truly believed it clarified his point. 

“... I see.” (He didn’t.)

“Oh! And you were making a lot of clicking noises.” 

Clicking…. 

Clicking? Like his joints?

“I sincerely doubt that.” 

“You were. I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Great. Apparently, whatever he’d been doing, it might have caused damage to their joints. That wasn’t good. 

“We’re going to have to leave that part out.” 

“Why?” Now the boy looked genuinely curious. 

“It’s not good for us. I can do it, but it’s not worth the risk.” 

“Hm... okay,” the boy hummed, looking like he wanted to ask more, but thankfully having the self-restraint not to. “You were also flying a few times.” 

This was fun. Every bit of information he received was more unexpected than the last. Using the wire during naptime? 

He remembered suddenly that he didn’t know if it had been naptime. He didn’t know what time it had been. He didn’t know what he’d been doing, and he couldn’t confirm or deny any of these claims. Why was he even trying to argue? 

Gregory’s recount of the events had more credibility than anything Sun or Moon knew. 

“Flying?” He repeated, as though not trusting he’d heard it right.

“Yeah, don’t you know how?” 

What a question.

Without a word, Moon hailed the cable to connect to the latch on his back, maintaining eye contact as it lifted him up. 

The boy made a face, one Moon couldn't decipher before it was gone, before turning and crawling further into the structure. 

Moon remained outside the structure, keeping an eye on Gregory while the boy navigated the maze. Not a lot of chasing to be done yet. 

"I found the first one!" 

Moon started to descend, then paused. Not time to go in yet, that was after the second generator. 

Instead, he landed on top of the structure where the boy was, following slowly as he stared through the bars. Gregory didn't seem to notice him at first, but at some subtle noise from Moon, he turned to look over his shoulder and startled. 

"Sorry," Moon said on impulse. 

"No— it's fine," the boy said quickly, looking sheepish. "Is this bringing back anything?" 

Moon tried to check. He wasn't sure what he was checking for. What did getting a memory back feel like? He guessed it hadn't happened yet. 

"No." 

"Oh, you were doing that a lot too, spinning your head around!" 

Moon paused as the boy pointed a finger at him, then twisted his faceplate experimentally, and realized it wasn't in its upright position. He hadn't even noticed he'd done it, truthfully. It did sound like him though. 

The boy seemed to regard him thoughtfully for a moment, then started to turn away. "Let's keep trying." 

The animatronic hummed, letting the kid get a head start again, before following at a slower pace. The boy was somewhere in the depths of the big structure— unreachable to Moon from the outside. 

It took him a while to find the next generator. 

"Okay, this is two!" 

Now it was time for the chase to begin. 

Moon pushed off from the structure he was perched on, performing a light hop from the surface to the floor. He located an entrance to one of the play structures, already calculating a path to Gregory from where he was.

The low ceilings all but forced him to crouch forward, despite knowing it would be easier to crawl. 

He knew how to get to Gregory, but if he was completely honest with himself, he was stalling a bit. He knew these mazes well, and chasing the boy didn't feel right, especially with his advantage. 

Even with his stalling, he eventually ended up on Gregory's tail. Several paces from him, he heard the boy call out.

"Moon?" 

"Yes?" 

The boy's head whipped around to land on Moon as the animatronic slowed down. His expression fell into something of discontent. Before Moon could ask what that face meant, the boy told him. 

"That's still wrong. You were acting a lot scarier." 

Frustration clawed at him, but he cocked his head anyway. 

"How, pray tell?" 

"In the structures, you were always crawling. And you would always take a path that cut me off." 

Moon tried to stamp down the annoyance growing inside of him. It was too early to give up; they'd barely been doing this for five minutes. He had to give it a fair shake. Crawling. He'd crawl. 

"Alright. Head start again?" 

The boy nodded, turning and starting to put distance between them, while Moon waited. 

Once the boy was a good 8 or 10 seconds ahead, Moon dropped onto his hands. He crept forward, testing out the movement, remembering a second later to throw in the head twists. 

This seemed particularly unhinged, so he gave a vocal warning before he actually reached the kid. 

"Like this?" 

The boy looked back as Moon came into range, jumped, and darted further away from Moon with a yelp. 

"Yep, just like that!!" The boy kept running.

This didn't seem familiar, and was really just making him feel wrong. 

He slowed down. 

I don't think this is working, Moon thought to the silence in his head. 

Sun was quiet, and had been for the duration of the chase so far. He said nothing, but Moon could feel him thinking. 

It really doesn't feel like I ever did this, Moon continued to complain, irritation festering inside at his own doubt in himself. His counterpart's absence of reassurance didn't help. 

"Whenever I left you in the dust, you'd laugh." The boy's voice drifted from across the daycare. He'd gotten pretty far ahead in such a short time. He wasn't even in the same structure anymore. 

Moon tried out a laugh. 

"Not quite." 

"Some help you are," he grumbled, both to Sun and to Gregory. 

An echoey giggle was Gregory's response. Moon got moving again. Trying to resume his 'scary'. 

Sun's response, however, was the noticeable impression of a tug on the shoulder, a mental prod meant to get Moon's attention. It seemed he finally had something to say. 

I think maybe... you need to get more into the role. Stop talking. If you were really trying to catch him, you'd have been focused on just that, and you wouldn't be giving your position away.

It made a certain amount of sense. 

That's a good point, he reasoned, considering it. I guess it wouldn't hurt to try it. 

Moon located a circular exit to one of the structures, pulling himself through it and clambering to the top of the jungle gym. He used the wire to hop across to the other structure. 

Already, this idea felt way better. It was starting to feel like a real chase, which was good, right? 

"This is the third one!" Gregory crowed, placing a hand on the lever and flipping it down. 

Whoops. He hadn't meant to actually turn it on. 

He moved over to the edge of the structure, looking along the ground level for the faint yellow light of the generator. 

Well, apparently it didn't matter that he'd switched the lever, because it didn't turn on anyway. Once again, these machines proved themselves completely useless, for a totally different reason. 

Interrupting his thoughts was the realization that it was eerily silent.

Where was that animatronic, anyway? 

"... Moon?"

At the resounding nothing he got in response, Gregory moved cautiously into a more spacious area, glancing around. There was no red light to be seen. 

"Moon? W-where are you??" 

He felt the back of his neck prickle, and tried to ignore the uneasiness resting in the pit of his stomach.  

Not real, it wasn't real… 

"Moon? …. MOON?" 

He heard a light thump. When he looked up again and saw the glowing red eyes locked on him, paired with its cheshire grin, the rational part of his mind left him completely. 

That wasn't Moon. That was the monster that had chased him all those nights ago.

There was no reenactment, no game, none of it was in mind anymore. 

He turned and ran. 

Moon almost called out the second he saw the boy scurry away at the sight of him. That looked like fear— that meant what he was doing was wrong, and they should stop— 

No— wasn't this what they were supposed to be doing? Wasn't this how it would have happened? Gregory was pretending, just like Moon was, right? 

And this was for the sake of his memories. 

It was a game, he was meant to play into it. Play along. 

With a forced chuckle that lacked heart, the animatronic clambered down to the ground floor and once again looked for an entrance. 

Not talking made Moon feel less silly. This was a game of tag, and Moon was it. Nevermind that he was scuttling about on his hands and not-knees, head twitching about as he navigated the structures like some kind of maniac. 

Not ridiculous at all.

He just had to endure it for a while longer, then it’d be over.

The boy hadn’t said anything or called out another generator in a while, which was probably due to the fact that there weren’t any more in this structure. 

Moon finally caught up with the boy, falling in behind him, and reached out one hand to brush his arm. Not making a grab for him, just lightly—

The boy pulled away, dodging, and made a break for a tight turn that forced Moon to slow down as he tried to follow behind. And he was following behind, until— 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

Moon’s movements began to grind to a halt, only for a presence in the back of his mind to tug harshly, sending an unpleasant sensation through his processors. That was a movement order, that was someone who wasn’t at the helm trying to move someone who was. Not appreciated.

What are you doing?? Don’t stop! 

He seems scared.

Of course he does. We’re reenacting, remember? He says you were scary, so he’s acting scared. You have to keep going— this could be the only way to bring back that memory.

I’m not sure I WANT to remember anymore. 

Don’t you think that’s a surefire sign that we need to find out what’s going on? 

No— I think it means I did something horribly wrong. 

You can’t jump to conclusions, brother. 

Moon had no reply, and Sun waited an extra few seconds before returning to standby. Now filled with distress as well as frustration, Moon pushed on. 

He needed to stop thinking so much. 

Clawing his way forward, Moon did his best spooky chuckle— another repurposed bedtime monster trick. Right. Evil evil, chase chase. 

The child was running, panting with exertion, woefully unequipped to deal with the darkness as Moon was. 

He would slow down to catch his breath, and Moon took it as a cue to make up the distance between them. 

The sudden squeaks and yelps he would give when he noticed how close Moon had gotten, nearly every time, made Moon want to slow down. 

It was convincing, to say the least. He was annoyed with himself for being so worrisome. It was so hard-wired into him to comfort and to listen when he heard sounds of distress. He wasn’t used to them being heard in this context. 

He had to shut it out. This wasn’t real. It was all an act. 

There was a soft thud several paces down the passageway from where Moon was. It was followed by scuffling, then the sound of movements being muffled and warped by the echo from one of the tunnels. His guess was that Gregory had tripped, but recovered, and crawled into one of the tubes. 

It sounded like the boy was stationary, currently. 

More than anything, he wanted to end this so he could quiet his doubts, and either find out the terrible truth, or prove that it was all some kind of misunderstanding. It was almost over. 

He followed the route through the maze to the boy’s location, and as the tunnel mouth came into view, he could see the tips of a pair of sneakers tucked away. 

This was right... right? Now he could ‘catch’ the boy, like he would’ve done before, supposedly? 

With apprehension that was wearily pushed to the side, Moon reached out a hand, grasping the boy’s ankle, maybe a little too tightly in his haste—though there was an attempt to be gentle—and pulled him from the tube. As he pulled, the motion was met with a visceral scream from the boy, and Moon froze up. 

If the scream wasn’t enough to make Moon instantly regret everything, the visual surely was.

Gregory was curled up defensively, body rigid, eyes screwed shut. His face was wet with tears. 

“No— nononono please no,” the boy babbled through quiet, choked sobs, turning his face away as his hands moved to shield it. He was shaking. 

Like it’d been struck, Moon’s hand disconnected from the boy’s flesh.

Dim red lights flickered and faltered, replaced by an anguished white. 

He backed up, silent, sitting back on his knees and straightening stiffly. His hands grabbed the fabric of his pants in fistfuls. 

Guilt wracked him. 

So, it was true. The signs had been there— but it was easy to dismiss them before now. Now, it was impossible to deny it. He’d done something. And whatever it was, it was enough to make the boy cry, at the memory of some similar moment. 

He did nothing as the boy continued to sob, finding himself unable to look away or say anything. 

Through Moon's inaction, though, the boy seemed to start to calm down, his ragged breathing leveling out as he dared to peek between his hands. 

His eyes landed on Moon. There was still fear there. It made Moon feel like his exoskeleton was crunching in on itself. 

He didn't want to be the thing that made the boy look at him like that. 

He couldn't hold Gregory's gaze. He couldn't. 

“Are you alright?” He looked off to his left as he spoke. His tone was soft, but still unfortunately raspy. 

Moon got no answer at first, as Gregory seemed to consider, sniffling as he struggled to push himself up. 

As the silence stretched out, Moon’s hands lifted from his pants to his upper arms, gripping them tightly as he wondered what else he could possibly say.

“I’m sorry. I..."

“I’m... I’m alright.” Moon looked back at the boy again, whose gaze immediately avoided his own. “Do... do you remember anything?”

And that was the worst part of all this. After going through all that, after causing this, he still didn’t remember anything. 

“No.” 

The boy looked slightly crestfallen. 

“You have to know— I would never do this,” Moon said urgently. He didn't think the boy would believe him. He didn't know if he believed himself anymore.

“No— I believe you. I just... got freaked out. Freddy isn’t acting like himself either. Whatever’s going on... I don’t think it’s your fault.” He was still wiping away tears. He sounded a lot calmer than he looked.

"I wish I knew whose fault it was, then." 

Gregory's expression took on a hint of sympathy. 

“Well... we’ll figure something else out,” he huffed, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them.

How brave this boy was. It bordered on selfless. 

“You don’t have to worry about that right now,” Moon said quietly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The boy inhaled deeply, his gaze trained on the floor, before tilting his head up to meet Moon's eyes and giving a brusque nod. It gave Moon enough reassurance that he could give the boy his space. 

“Alright. When you’re ready, I’ll meet you on the ground level.” 

And with that, the animatronic started to back up, until he reached a wider section where he could turn around and pad slowly down the passageways to the daycare's floor. 

He finally let down the buffer he'd put in place to quiet Sun once he'd started panicking, ready to accept whatever barrage of opinions that were about to be thrown his way. 

That was the absolute WORST thing that could have happened, his sibling stated, without missing a beat.

I know, Moon thought back, not even attempting to challenge the statement. It was— the worst thing that could have happened. 

It didn't bode well for him. Who, or what, could have caused Moon to act in such a way? Why would he ever do that? And why couldn't he remember?

I hate this, Moon decided.

Sun only hummed something slightly comforting. 

He was standing out in the open now, staring absently ahead of him. He wished he could experience whatever it was that humans felt when they took deep breaths— it would probably have helped him. Instead he had to wait until the worst of the distress faded. 

"Soo… what's the plan now?"

Moon was shaken out of his thoughts at the sound of Gregory's hesitant voice right at his side. 

He hadn't heard the boy come down. 

He turned to face the boy, who gave him a cautiously soft smile. A forgiving smile, Moon realized. 

He tried to come up with words, but none of the sentences he formulated made it past the concept. Suddenly, facing the boy now, with all that trust in his eyes— it didn't feel deserved. 

He shouldn't be here. 

Moon wished that he were capable of having a more serious expression. 

He didn't want to do this. This wasn't going to be well received. 

"The plan is... we need to get you out of here." 

Something incredibly hurt and vulnerable flickered across the boy's face. "...What?" 

"It's not safe here." For many reasons, Moon thought somberly. 

The boy took a small step back, realization filling his gaze, and it pained Moon to see the emotion welling up in his eyes— tears that wanted to form, oh, please, no more tears. He hadn't wanted to upset Gregory, though he'd worried that the boy would have a reaction of this sort. 

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" His voice trembled. The dead silence that the child's words settled into could chill metal. 

"No—" his response was probably a moment too late; the boy was already talking over him. Yelling over him— though it lacked conviction. 

"You said you'd help me find out what's wrong with Freddy!" 

And it was true, he had. It made Moon feel worse having his own promise thrown back at him. 

"I know, but—" 

"Don't YOU want to know what happened to you?" 

The question almost threw Moon off, before he realized it was yet another attempt at deflection. The kid was trying hard to distract Moon from the conversation at hand. 

He wanted to stop pushing, but this was his job. He had to go through with it. It was a conversation that couldn't be put off any longer.

"Of course I do. But this place is clearly dangerous for you. And as much as it hurts me, I don't think it's wise to keep you here." 

Jerk of the year award. 

His fingers twitched at his side, wanting to wring together. 

The boy looked like he wanted to argue, but when next he spoke, his vindictive tone dropped completely. 

"I thought you were on my side," he mumbled to the floor, very much looking like he was fighting to keep his composure. Like if he lifted his gaze he would break.

"I am on your side," Moon said fiercely, eyes trained on Gregory even though the boy refused to look at him. "I want what's best for you."

"Then let me stay!!" It was almost begging now. It was desperate. If the daycare attendant had a heart, it would be splintering. 

Maybe that was why it was so easy to break hearts. He lacked one himself. 

"I can't. Isn't there someone looking for you?" The question that had gone unasked for this whole time. The question that had continuously been answering itself the longer Gregory stayed in the daycare. 

The only response from Gregory was a wide-eyed, trembling look. A nearly broken look. 

He didn't need words to confirm the answer. Everything was adding up. 

Twice, Moon had asked the child about what he was doing in the Pizzaplex. Not once had he mentioned parents or guardians. (Except for his name joke, but that didn't count.)

He looked scraggly, thin, definitely not clean, and his hair looked like it hadn't been cut in months. It had an unruly shape to it, nearly shoulder length and lacking any straight edges. 

All of these were signs of neglect. 

These kinds of things were details they were trained to notice— this was also why Moon's first impulse upon seeing Gregory had been 'protect' and not 'call guardians'. 

Why else would a lone child have snuck into a prohibited area, not once— but twice? Even after saying the first time had been terrifying? Why come back to the Pizzaplex?

"I'm… sorry," was all he could say. 

The boy acknowledged his sincerity with a shaky exhale, hugging his arms and looking away. Moon got the impression that he wanted desperately to run away from this conversation, but, again— where would he go? 

"We don't have to talk about it," Moon said gently. The boy glanced his way hesitantly. "But if we go into the Pizzaplex, won't they find you eventually?" 

The 'they' was ambiguous. 'They' was whoever was more likely to show up— to get in the way. A security guard, a police officer, management... 

They couldn't just stroll into a public area with security cameras and guards. One lost boy and an even more out-of-place robot? 

The boy didn't answer, once again avoiding his gaze, looking very much like he knew more than what he was leading on. And he did. Obviously. 

Moon crouched down, leaning into the boy's line of sight. 

"Gregory?" 

"I... don't think that will be a problem," the boy said finally. 

"Why not?" Moon asked, but he was starting to fear that he knew why. 

If the boy had been here this long, and managed to get into a closed off area without being noticed by authorities, perhaps there were no authorities to notice him. This theory was further backed up by the fact that Freddy, the lead band member, was apparently violent, and hadn't been restrained and taken down to Parts and Services yet so he was no longer a threat to the public. 

What truly laid beyond the daycare's parameters? 

"Wait, don't tell me," Moon waved a hand. "Watch this. I'm gonna do a magic trick. It's called: 'Moon checks the cameras to find out the horrible truth that Gregory keeps hinting at.'" 

As Moon crouched down further and settled into an inert position, already focused internally as he looked for the camera feeds, he heard the boy struggle to keep in a giggle. 

The daycare attendant plucked at the command that would provide him access to the camera feed over the daycare, only to receive an error. 

What? 

He tried a different one. Error.

What error?

He tried accessing the atrium, which is what he wanted to see, and then the lobby, and then the kitchens— not even the kitchens? Was he... locked out?

That would make sense... the daycare had been shut down, after all.

Or was it the system itself? 

Curious, he tried to access the guest database. Also inaccessible. Or… offline? 

"Hmm," he hummed aloud, still wrapped up in thought. 

The boy gave him a quirked eyebrow, glancing around as if trying to figure out what Moon was commenting on. 

Finally, a new realization started to sink in. Something was... not quite right.

He was trying his access commands to directly connect with the system's online functions and databases, but his own system was responding as if the commands were attached to nothing. 

Can you... feel the network? He questioned his counterpart. 

You're the one who would know that.  

The animatronic searched further inward, rooting through their normal subroutines and confirming they were working properly, and in the process, started to notice what was wrong. He wasn't online. 

Where once there was familiarity, routine, fact, there was nothing but a void. A large chunk of input was missing or otherwise inaccessible, the only data feeds still there being the information they received directly from their physical and internal sensors. 

Their status, and the environment. That was it. The internal clock had been reset to zero and was counting up. 

No wonder he couldn't access the cameras now. Everything that was connected to the Plex's system was severed. It was like it simply wasn't there.

So what was out there?? The uncertainty unnerved him. 

At least he knew exactly how much time had passed since whatever had affected his systems and rebooted his clock. Two hours, forty-six minutes. 

And his battery level. That too. 

He was nearly at full power. 

Had you charged us before I woke up?  

Mere minutes before, his counterpart stated proudly. 

Aww, it's almost like you knew.  

Well... consider it luck. A hint of almost-embarrassment came through before Moon thanked Sun and his brother replied with a sheepish sensation of 'no problem.' 

Moon thought for a second more.  

Do you remember what time it was right before I woke up? 

A hesitant pause from his counterpart. 

That… I'm not sure. 

How can you not be sure?

Well, remember how I told you it had been months, and was generally vague about it?

Yes…

Another reason I believed you were gone was because… whenever I wasn't out, our internal clock wasn't recording it. I would wake up in different places and our time would be the same. I don't think my date is right, but the most I can tell you is that, allotted, I've been active for five months overall since it happened. 

So you… don't know the date? Or the time? 

I… I stopped caring about it after a while. The first few times, I'd reset it via the network, but after they closed the daycare, I just didn't bother. 

Sun…

What was the point of knowing how long I'd been alone if no one was ever coming back??

Pain tore through Moon. 

I'm so sorry. I wish I'd been there. 

I wish that too. 

Before Moon could indulge himself in another wave of guilt, his counterpart quickly shook him out of it. 

But, again, I still have you. And I'm more than happy with that.

Moon sent back appreciation.

Yes. That was enough. For now. 

With a feigned sigh to express his disappointment, he brought himself back to the moment.

"I can't access the cameras," he informed Gregory.

"I'm not surprised," Gregory mused. 

"Can you show me the rest of the Plex, pretty please?" Moon wished he had eyelashes to flutter, to compliment his buttery tone. "The anticipation is killing me." He tilted his head nearly upside down, rewarded for his efforts by the boy's stifled snicker. 

"You really need me for that?"

After some negotiation, Moon and Gregory had decided on going to the atrium first. 

Gregory had brought up the fact that Freddy could still be in the entrance hall, and Moon had told him not to worry. Then they'd left the playroom behind. 

Gregory followed behind the animatronic as they approached the hallway with the big fountain, peeking out past the jester's puffy pants legs. No Freddy in sight. 

"We're... not going to the lobby, right?" 

Moon motioned for Gregory to follow, and he did as they rounded the fountain, and approached a door that Gregory recognized, but had never gone through himself. 

"Wait— this door is out of order," Gregory recalled. 

The animatronic walked right up to it, his gaze etching out all of its details, including the out of order signs. "So it is," he confirmed. 

He crouched down, and stuck his fingers under it. 

With a creak and a whine, the shutter began to slide upwards. The door was tall, and Moon had decent height, but even he couldn't reach the ceiling. Still, when Moon had pushed it open as high as he could reach, it stayed in place, and the animatronic dropped his arms. 

Gregory could see, through the darkness, what was on the other side. The familiar vastness of the atrium. 

Waaaaaaaaait a second. 

"That's—! But— the elevator—" 

"Meant to give the illusion of the Plex being bigger than it is." 

"But that's— so stupid!" Gregory was flabbergasted. 

"I know. Fazbear Entertainment lies about a lot of things." 

"And you can just say that?" The boy squinted. 

"What are they going to do? Close down the daycare?" The moon's eyes flickered at him. The static grin remained static, and he felt like the animatronic was very much relying on that to make his point. 

"Touche." 

"So," Moon said, tilting his head as Gregory walked up to him. "Are you going to show me this terrible thing you keep alluding to?" 

"Okay— I never said terrible."

"It was implied." 

Gregory looked past Moon into the atrium. It was really dark. Too dark to make out much of anything. 

"Whatever. And um... I actually haven't seen the atrium since coming back. I've only been to Rockstar Row and the front lobby." 

"Those are on opposite sides of the building." 

"It's been a rough night, okay?" 

The animatronic stared silently. 

"I took the utility tunnels," he grumbled. 

"I see," Moon said, after a beat. 

Gregory stepped under the shutter door, giving a weary look left and right. Not that it told him much. He guessed it was clear. 

"Well, see for yourself, I guess." 

He heard Moon follow him out onto the carpeted area, as they approached the railing that looked over the main floor. 

If it was more lit, Gregory was sure they'd have been able to see more signs of abandonment— the same ones he'd seen in the lobby and in Rockstar Row. 

The middle of the room was the most well lit— the screens above the massive room still casting a faint glow down to the floor. 

There, where all the party tables were neatly arranged last time, they looked like they'd been shifted and moved around. Bumped or rammed into, perhaps. The tablecloths were messed up, plates scattered, balloons wilted and drifting pathetically across the floor. It looked like a warzone. 

The music from the showtime protocol was absent, and so were the holograms of the glamrocks on the main stage. The stage was completely dark; he could barely make it out. 

"Yeesh. It's worse than I thought it would be." Gregory cringed. 

He looked to Moon, who was surveying the area just as he was— probably seeing more than he was, Gregory realized. 

He didn't know what Moon was thinking, but it didn't take a genius to guess that he was probably upset. 

"I'm... uh… sorry. That you had to come back to this." 

The moon's red gaze turned towards him, before returning to the atrium. 

"I can't quite believe it. They just... left it?" 

"Yeah… it seems like it." 

"There must have been something horrible that made them abandon it. I'm struggling to figure out what that could be." 

"Remember how I said Chica and the other animatronics chased me the first night I was here?" 

"All except Freddy." 

"Right." He swallowed. "They were acting weird— no logic, just mindlessly patrolling, chasing... babbling like lunatics. Like zombies."

"I… may have seen some of them get irreparably damaged throughnofaultofmyownalsoFreddyhasRoxy'seyesnow." 

"...What?" 

Gregory coughed. "Anyway, I don't think what I did to them caused this. I think they stayed zombies." 

Moon's head clicked to the side counterclockwise. 

"So what happened to the rest of the band?" 

"After I left? No idea. But they each... lost something." 

"That's very cryptic," the animatronic said suspiciously. 

"I... don't really want to talk about it." 

Moon hummed, lifting his gaze. "Maybe we should get a better look," he said, leaning over the railing to look down at the ground level. 

"Ok, but— just to clarify, this means I can stay and you'll help me, right?" 

"Yes." 

Gregory breathed a relieved sigh. That was something he'd been uncertain of for a while now. "Okay, let's go." 

Moon started to lead the way along the corridor, and Gregory fell in behind him, relying on the light of the animatronic's eyes to spot tripping hazards. 

The last thing Gregory remembered thinking was how blurry and dim Moon's eyelight seemed. 

Then the world started spinning. 

Chapter Text

Darkness greeted him when he opened his eyes.

He felt dizzy, and light- and heavy.  

He shifted experimentally, and realized he was on the floor. 

Despite his eyes being open, he couldn't see anything. 

Where was he?? 

He felt like he should know, but his mind was buzzing. 

Two red orbs of light intruded into his vision. His heart jumped for a second, then it all slowly started to come back to him. 

Right. He was at the Pizzaplex. Freddy had tried to kill him. Moon was here, but he was friendly. They were in the atrium.    

He was fine, he was just... on the floor. 

An angry rumble originated from his stomach. 

Moon was still staring at him, and Gregory stared back, dazed.

"What's wrong?" The lunar animatronic spoke when Gregory said nothing. His voice was edged with a hint of panic.

He was recognizing it now. Quite frankly, he didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized it sooner: the dull ache in his stomach, the all-over feeling of weariness. His body begging for energy and running on empty. 

"It's… I-I'm hungry, I think," the boy answered slowly, as his mind grappled to fully clear itself of the haze. 

The animatronic's head hardly moved, but he guessed if it could, it would frown. 

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" 

That was a great question. 

"I may be stupid," the boy admitted. 

Moon regarded him for a second longer. 

"I'm going to pick you up now," he said, and Gregory hardly had time to try and sit up before he'd been scooped into his arms. 

This scenario was becoming oddly familiar. He couldn’t find it in himself to protest though- he was still a bit dizzy. 

As Moon carried him, the boy blinked and squinted, looking out ahead in the direction the animatronic was taking him. Key features of the Plex started to pop out at him the longer he looked, and he started to get his bearings.

Useless neon lights showed outlines of what was normally there- somehow refusing to illuminate even the surface of the walls or the floors they corresponded with. 

The palm trees, decorations and railings were marked by dim colorful strips and orbs of light, but it was just black voids everywhere and anywhere in-between. 

The missing light mainly came from, or didn't come from, rather- the overhead fixtures forming a grid pattern on the ceiling, the spotlights lining the walls, and the big light that illuminated the sound controls for the showtime program. All of those had been on last time- and were now dark. 

Nowhere in the building seemed to be consistent with what lights were functioning. Rockstar Row had been decently lit, this place was just dark. 

Using the outlines of the neon as a guide, he could tell they were still on the first floor. Other than that though, he had no idea where they were going , because Moon was the one doing the walking. 

It wasn't that he doubted the Daycare Attendant knew the layout of the very Plex he inhabited, but..

“Do you… even know where you’re going?” 

“I’m offended,” the animatronic replied, his faceplate tilting down at Gregory. “Do you have so little faith in me?” 

Gregory snorted, crossing his arms and giving the bot a skeptical look. “Well, you didn’t even say where you’re taking me. Maybe I’m having second thoughts.” 

“Ouch.”

The animatronic's permanent smile made this comment hilarious to Gregory, somehow, and a snicker managed to make it past his attempt to keep in a laugh. He could throw any insult at Moon that he wanted, and the animatronic would never be able to frown at it. He felt like Moon was aware of this hilarity. 

“Sorry,” he felt compelled to apologize anyway, and the moon's head clicked to the side quietly. “Where are you taking me, though?” 

Moon's head rotated slowly, smoothly, to a 90° angle. 

"You fainted. Do you also feel dizzy?" 

The buzzing, fuzzy sensation in his head was still there, and was no less unpleasant than when he'd woken up. 

Reluctantly, Gregory gave a small nod. "A little bit..."

"Low blood sugar." 

"Oh. What?" 

"You do need food, but first you need something with high sugar content. Something carbonated." 

Gregory wracked his brain. "Fizzy Faz?" 

"No, I know something even better." 

"What?" 

"Sodaroni." 

"Ech," Gregory spat, grimacing. Moon made a quiet crackling noise. 

Soda and pepperoni. Two things that should never be combined. The word sounded criminal coming from Moon.

For all the advertisements he'd seen for it, he'd never once gone near that drink, and he wouldn't be made to, even if it put him on his deathbed. "No. No thank you." 

"That was a joke," the lunar animatronic clarified.

"It kinda sucked."

The animatronic chuckled, deep and staticky, which also somehow sounded like it was choking. Gregory sighed, deep and exasperated. 

"I'll try not to do it again," Moon replied, in a way that made Gregory think he very much would do it again. "But yes, Fizzy Faz." 

Gregory had hardly been paying attention to where they were going, so he was slightly confused when the animatronic started lowering him to the ground, giving him ample time to react and get his own feet beneath himself as he touched the floor. 

Moon's hands remained hovering near him as he got his bearings, pulling away once apparently confident that he wouldn't fall over. 

The boy looked up, taking in the large frames of the vending machines in front of him. The lights normally illuminating their front sides were out, but he could make out the faint outlines of the glamrocks' designs. 

This was all well and good, but... 

"Okay, now… how are you going to get it out?" 

He didn't have money on him, and he was willing to bet the robot didn't either. 

In reply, Moon stepped up to the machine, much like a batter to home plate. "Brute force." 

"WHAT?" 

"Kidding." 

As Gregory watched, Moon dropped to his haunches, and the boy stepped around the robot to get a better look at what he was doing. 

And what he was doing was sticking his skinny arm up into the mouth of the machine and feeling around. Figures. He has long arms, why wouldn't he make use of them? He fully believed Moon was also capable of ripping the machine apart if he really wanted to. 

He was able to twist his body in an odd way to give himself more reach, and Gregory tried not to imagine what would happen to a human if they attempted the same maneuver. 

"It might be flat," the animatronic cautioned as he disentangled himself from the machine and carefully retrieved the prize: a singular can of Fizzy Faz. 

Gregory took the drink as it was handed to him. Squinting revealed some of the barely legible text printed on its side; he could make out the words 'Fizzy Faz,' but the other text was printed in a different color- one that blended in against the green background of the label, and the animatronic beneath the lettering- Monty. 

He couldn't remember what flavor Monty's drink was, all he remembered was that Freddy's was orange. 

While he was inspecting the can, he realized that Moon was staring at him, and his brain fumbled for words. "Oh. Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly, still unsure if that was what Moon was waiting for, as the animatronic remained silent for a moment longer. 

"That's to keep you from passing out again, so I'd start drinking," the animatronic said finally, and Gregory felt an amused huff leave him. 

Moon could flip from being overbearing to completely tone-deaf on a dime, and it was jarring every time, especially with his unchanging expression. It gave Gregory the impression that the animatronic was a little out of practice. 

"Alright, alright," the boy said airily, waving a hand before focusing his attention on popping open the can. A crisp hiss indicated when the lid had given way, and he took an experimental sip. 

It wasn't the best flavor he'd ever tasted, and it was warm, but it was tolerable. The drink did nothing to satisfy his hunger, but his body urged him to guzzle it down anyway. After a few chugs, his guess on the flavor was lime. 

He couldn't help but notice the lunar animatronic's gaze locked on him yet again, making his skin prickle self-consciously. He lowered the can from his mouth and stared back with a raised eyebrow. 

"Why are you staring at me?" 

"Are you ready to keep moving?" 

"Oh- yeah. Where are we going next?" 

"Where do you want to go? I know how to get us anywhere in the Plex, just name a place." 

Gregory considered. It had been months since he'd been here, but he vaguely remembered what kitchens were where. Now, thanks to so much time passing, it was going to be more difficult to find something that was safe to eat. Bonnie Bowl wouldn't be good; for as nice as the place was- ice cream didn't keep. 

Most of the food was probably in the freezer room, downstairs. But there'd been a hyper-aggressive chicken patrolling those areas last time, and the basements in general were really creepy. He wanted to avoid those areas for as long as possible. 

"The food court, maybe," Gregory said finally. It was close by- just down a set of escalators, and might have something edible. 

Moon stepped forward, and Gregory stepped back, tensing, until he realized he was being picked up again. He directed a disgruntled squint at the animatronic once settled in his arms. 

"Can you warn me before you do that next time? I liked that one time, when I was on the floor and you actually told me before you picked me up." 

The animatronic's face plate tilted down to regard him. "Sorry. I'll warn next time," the grinning, red eyed jester apologized. Gregory would have to take his word for it, because the expression didn't indicate regret at all. 

He huffed, and lifted the can in his hands to take another sip from it. 

The moon's head clicked once to the side, still watching him. 

"Don't spill it." 

He felt an impulsive snarkiness take hold of him at Moon's bluntness. "Sorry, would you rather I died?" 

"You're not going to die," the animatronic replied flatly. 

"We'll see about that," he retorted, trying to squash down the amused smile that wanted to give himself away. 

"Don't go getting ideas," Moon warned, his tone finally matching Gregory's playful one, and the boy giggled. 

He flashed a devious grin in response, but after that, Moon started moving again, and the boy busied himself with working on his liquid sugar rush. 

He was careful not to spill any soda on himself or the animatronic carrying him, as Moon made his way down the hall and towards the escalators.

The hunt for food had officially begun. 

Finding food? Easier than they thought. Cooking it? Little bit more challenging. 

In one of the modules of the food court, they'd looked in the storage rooms and uncovered several boxes of frozen pizzas. They then found out that the pizza ovens did not have power. 

Next, they'd found pasta sauce (uncooked) and noodles (also uncooked). 

Gregory had insisted that he knew how to use a gas stove, and, naturally, Moon had strictly forbade it. The animatronic had waved him off, then taken up position in front of the appliance, and… 

Just… stood there? 

Gregory watched for a while, hesitating on speaking up, but Moon seemed…stuck.

"Do you not know how to use that?" Gregory asked finally. 

The boy was up on one of the counters, head resting on his hands, an impatient slouch in his posture. His Fizzy Faz had been finished off and the can discarded ages ago. 

A whole lot of nothing had been happening, and Gregory was irritated with the more nothing that happened. 

The lunar animatronic was standing in front of the stove with his back to Gregory, his head tilted to the side like it had been for several minutes now. He hadn't even turned it on. At Gregory's words, his head twitched slightly. 

"Not presently. I'm not able to download instructions," the animatronic admitted. 

"And you can't just... figure it out?" 

"I'd be more comfortable with instructions."

"I can give you instructions," Gregory offered, brightening. 

"It's not the same thing." 

The boy frowned, trying to understand. 

"So... what? There's just a downloadable... database of instructions for you guys?" 

"No. It's more like using the network to mass download videos and articles of the same thing, so the process can be refined into a precise action." Moon turned to face him, finally abandoning his staring contest with the kitchen appliance. "It's like creating muscle memory without experience." 

"And why isn't it working?" 

"It's either me, or the network isn't functioning. Could be both." 

"That sucks," Gregory sympathized, pointedly slouching with his words, and Moon gave some kind of helpless shrug in response. After a moment of nobody saying anything, the boy looked around the kitchen again, sighing. "I guess we try somewhere else then." 

"Where do you want to try next?" 

He hummed, thinking.

"El Chips might have something." 

"Alright. Do you think you can walk?" 

"I... don't know. I still feel kinda dizzy." They'd spent about twenty minutes at this point looking for food, and all the moving around had done nothing but make him think about how hungry he was. The Fizzy Faz had helped for a bit, but just served to make him feel jittery. 

"I can carry you," Moon offered.

Gregory met the animatronic's eyes and gave a small nod. He really wasn't sure that he wouldn't pass out again if he had to walk. 

As Moon stepped closer, Gregory slid down from the counter and let the animatronic take him into its arms. 

"I'm also going to use a shortcut." Moon announced, after picking him up. 

The boy frowned. "What shortcut?" 

He knew El Chips was on the third level, but as far as he'd seen, there weren't any shortcuts to it. Maybe there was something he'd missed. Moon said nothing, so Gregory shrugged mentally and let Moon demonstrate. 

The animatronic carried him out of the restaurant module and into the atrium again. He could recognize it based on the shiny black tile below them. 

"Ready?" 

"For what?" Gregory tensed. 

"Up we go," the lunar animatronic spoke, and that was enough warning for Gregory to quickly grab hold of Moon's torso as the robot hoisted them into the dark above the atrium floor. 

"Yeah, I should have expected that," the boy muttered. 

Not even ten seconds later, they were alighting down on solid ground again, and Gregory looked up to where he could just barely make out the darkened neon sign spelling out "El Chip’s". 

Moon set him down, and the two entered the dimly lit restaurant. 

The first thing Gregory’s eyes drifted towards once inside was a rack stocked full of orange and red printed bags. Vacuum sealed on top and bottom, the perfect size to fit in a hand; even a smaller hand like Gregory’s. He recognized those— the El Chip’s brand of tortilla chips. 

He snatched one up as they passed by. 

Why else did shop owners leave things on displays out in the open, if not for them to be discreetly stolen while no one was looking? 

He worked on prying the bag open as they meandered through the restaurant’s dining area.

After they rounded the cash register, they came to a small, grey door with a window in it. Moon held it open for Gregory, revealing the kitchen beyond its threshold. 

“Already found something?” The animatronic questioned as Gregory ducked beneath his arm. 

The boy turned on his heel once standing, confused. The jester’s wide grin was directed at the object in his hands. 

“Oh, these?” He stared down at the package of chips, crinkling the bag between his fingers in thought. “Yeah, but they’re not very filling. They won’t last me long.” 

Moon hummed quiet agreement, finally lifting his gaze to sweep across the kitchen area. Gregory looked too: there were metal counters in neat rows that resembled the layout of the other kitchens, tall racks that held boxes sporting the Fazbear Entertainment logo, and stacks of plates and dishes on nearly every surface. It looked fairly organized. 

Towards the back of the room was another door- the storeroom, he guessed. He pointed it out to Moon. 

He already knew what he was hoping to find as they crossed the kitchen and stepped inside the back room. Laying his eyes on the shelves within gave him hope. 

He needed something that wouldn’t be expired or risky to eat, and that could give him energy. Something you’d expect to find at a Mexican restaurant. Something that he was looking at right now, hopefully. 

The red glow of Moon’s eyes reflected off of rows upon rows of cans. He shuffled closer, staying near the animatronic so he could read the labels where the light was brightest. 

Score.

He pulled one of the cans of ground beef from the shelf. Normally, it would be downright barbaric to just eat beef from a can, but they had limited options, and Gregory, quite frankly, couldn’t care less. He was hungry.

It took him about ten seconds to notice a potential problem after relishing in his success. 

“Need something to open it with,” he muttered under his breath.

A small jingle sounded from Moon, and the boy looked to his side to see the animatronic’s hand outstretched patiently, palm up. 

He set the can in the animatronic’s hand, and watched curiously as Moon wrapped his fingers around the bottom securely, and with his other hand, placed two fingers on opposite sides of the lid- middle finger and thumb respectively. Then he pinched, and a sharp pop! was heard as the lid cracked open enough for Moon to peel it off. 

“Showoff,” Gregory scoffed as the can was handed back to him, but he accepted it gratefully. Moon’s faceplate spun a complete rotation in reply. 

“Anything else you need?”

He stared down at the open can for a moment. “Probably a fork or something.” It would be a new low to eat it with his bare hands. 

They started scanning the shelves again, but an insistent growl from Gregory’s stomach had Moon urging him to go find a place to sit down while he waited. 

He found a counter that was clear of clutter, and hoisted himself up. He set the can down on the counter and fiddled with the bag again, getting it open and finally crunching on a few chips, which helped to ease the gnawing sensation in his belly.

Mere moments later, Moon reappeared with a small box in hand and presented it to Gregory, who took it, cautiously. “What is- oh, they’re plastic.” 

It was forks. More than he needed, but perhaps Moon had brought him the entire box so as not to freak him out by approaching with a fork in hand. That was probably the case. 

“That’s kind of cheap of them,” he remarked, separating one plastic fork from the rest of the pack, and setting the box at his side. 

“Are you surprised?” Moon’s voice dripped with sarcasm, and Gregory snickered. 

“No, I guess not.” 

At this point? If anything, the sheer amount of shortcuts Fazbear Entertainment took was more surprising than the actual shortcuts. 

He didn’t think there was anything that would top ‘fake elevators’, though. 

His stomach panged at him to remind him once again that he was starving, and he dipped his fork into the can obediently. It tasted just as amazing as he’d anticipated- albeit, his standards for good food were pretty low at the moment. 

The animatronic’s eyelight bathed him, occasionally shifting around the rest of the kitchen, while the lunar jester leaned against a shelf across from him. By now, he knew that Moon just wanted to keep an eye on him, but he couldn’t help the weird self-conscious feeling that came with being monitored. Especially in the dead silence of a dark kitchen. While he was eating. 

He could juggle a conversation and eating, and he very much wanted conversation. 

There was also something that had been on his mind for a while, that was resurfacing now that there was less to worry about. 

“Hey, Moon?” He asked timidly, glancing the animatronic’s way. 

The animatronic’s smile fixed on him again, his head tilting attentively. He said nothing, but he was clearly listening. Somehow, his silence made it easier for Gregory to find the words to form his question.

“You don’t have to answer this, but- I've been wondering… Who is Sun, exactly? Is he… he’s separate from you, right?” 

He had picked up after the first night that light levels had something to do with Moon being the way he was, but he also distinctly remembered Moon referring to Sun as ‘he’ and not ‘I’. With all the time he’d spent around Moon, he was more and more curious about the version not present. 

The animatronic seemed to take up a more lax position, leaning back further and crossing his arms loosely. 

“Yes. Sun is my daytime counterpart. He comes out when the lights are on. He’s not me.” 

“..How does it work?” All thoughts of hunger were temporarily dashed, as complete curiosity overtook him. “Where does he go when you’re… you? And where do you go when he’s.. him?” 

“When one of us is active, the other is always in the headspace. Up here.” He lifted one hand to tap the side of his faceplate. “We can talk to each other through it.” 

“So he’s there right now?” 

“Yes.” A pause. “He says hi.” 

“Oh.” The boy shifted awkwardly, glancing away. “...Is he mad?” 

Moon’s head tilted further, to a right angle. 

“Why would he be mad?” 

“Well… when I came to the daycare, I had to trick you into getting tangled in your own wire. Then the lights came on and Sun came out, and I just... left him there.” He felt himself flush at the memory of his own callousness. He felt it had been justified at the time, though. 

Knowing what he did now, it was obvious that Sun hadn’t had anything to do with Moon chasing him. 

Moon was silent for several moments, and then a quiet cackle sounded from him, his shoulders shaking. 

“He says he was mad, but he’s warmed up to you.” 

Gregory felt temporary relief, then his eyes widened in alarm. “Wh-what does that mean?” 

Moon remained silent, which gave him no reassurance. 

“Has he… been watching this whole time?” And potentially been able to hear everything he’d said so far..? 

“Yes, for most of the time. He sees everything I see, unless I don’t want him to. We can both put up a mental buffer to shut the other out if we want to.” 

His heart sank.

“I called him a sun thing earlier,” Gregory recalled, remorseful. 

Another soft chuckle from the animatronic, more amused this time. “He forgives you.” Moon’s voice was fond. 

He was still embarrassed, but Moon’s tone and affirmation helped the guilty feeling dissipate.

The boy glanced down at his shirt, the conversation reminding him of his wardrobe update.

As it had before, Sun’s cartoonish face grinned back at him. 

“Does he like my taste in shirts?” He flashed a hesitant smirk at Moon. 

A quiet static sounded from Moon’s voice box before he replied. “Oh, definitely.”

Gregory huffed quietly and looked down at his lap, unable to help the genuine smile now on his face. 

There was a gentle silence between them for a while. 

“Are you going to finish that, or am I going to have to drag you back here in a few hours?” Moon’s voice reprimanded, startling him slightly. He realized he’d just been staring blankly for several moments, his thoughts elsewhere. 

He was still grappling with the new information that every time Moon was staring at him, it was actually two animatronics watching. Including right now, probably. 

With a short nod, he gripped his fork again and resumed eating. The remainder of his tortilla chips worked pretty well with the beef, if he used the fork to top them off. Reminiscent of nachos. Like a poor man’s taco. 

While he ate, Moon remained silent and watchful, allowing him enough time to nearly finish off the can before throwing him a curveball. 

“Alright… I’ve answered some of your questions, now do you mind if I ask you some questions?” 

Instantly, Gregory was guarded. It was an instinctual guarded, a distrustful and standoffish guarded. Set off merely by the way Moon had worded his sentence. 

“It depends what they are.” 

“You don’t have to answer my questions if you don’t want to. But I still want to ask them.” 

The option to opt out of any uncomfortable topic put him slightly at ease. He thought about it, then relaxed, tension leaving his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there. 

“Alright… ask away.” 

“How have you been surviving? Where are you getting food- and sleeping? And why did you decide to come here, the first night?” 

Gregory blinked dumbly after the animatronic stopped talking. The consecutive queries had stunned him, but after they finally registered, he decided he didn’t have a problem with answering any of them. 

With an inhale, he began. “Scraping by, stealing, and mostly public libraries or other places where I won’t get noticed. It’s not hard to avoid the public eye when you’re this small.” He looked further away from Moon, though he wasn’t meeting the animatronic’s eyes to begin with. “I came here because I got chased in the alley and needed a place to hide.” 

“Who chased you?” The prompt was soft, clearly concerned. 

He looked at Moon, who wasn’t able to give any kind of reassuring facial expression to his dubious look. 

“I don’t think you’d believe me.” 

“Try me.” 

As much as he didn’t think he’d be believed, he did want to talk about it. He inhaled deeply again, preparing himself. Easier to just push through it. 

“I got chased by.. Someone in a weird rabbit suit. I think it was a girl. The suit was white, and had red eyes. And she had a knife. When I got into the building, I looked back and she wasn’t chasing me anymore.” 

Moon seemed to take this in, while Gregory started to regret even mentioning it. It sounded absurd; why would anyone believe-

“Was there anything about her that stood out? Did you happen to see any features that could identify her? Eye color, hair length?” 

“No,” Gregory sighed. “And even if I had, what good would it do?” 

“Could be helpful for the police to track her down. Did you see her again after that?” 

He shook his head, willing his lip not to tremble. 

He’d managed to forget the reason he’d come to the Pizzaplex the first time, and this conversation was just serving as a reminder that even the outside world wasn’t safe. 

At least Moon had believed him. 

“Well.. nevermind that.” The animatronic seemed to sense it was an uncomfortable topic. “The most important thing is that you’re alright.” 

Gregory rubbed a shoulder, his gaze drifting away from Moon again. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Are you done eating?”

“Yeah.” 

“Do you want to go?” 

“Go- where?” They hadn’t exactly talked about what their plan was before he’d inconveniently passed out. "Are we still exploring?” 

“If you feel up to it,” Moon answered. 

“I do.” Most of the weariness had subsided— he felt much better now that his stomach wasn’t yelling at him. 

Moon pushed off from the shelf he’d been leaning against, walking back towards the front of the room, and Gregory hurried to get down from the counter and follow. 

He headed for the door, but stopped when he noticed Moon wasn’t ahead of him. 

“Thirsty?”

Gregory looked around to locate where the voice had come from, spotting Moon standing closer to the front serving counter. 

“Not really, why?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

The animatronic pointed at something beside it, grin tilting as he kept his eyes fixed on Gregory. The boy squinted to try and make out what he was pointing to. It was one of the options on the soda fountain— oh. 

“Ew. No, Moon.” 

Moon made another crackling sound. That was laughter, wasn’t it? 

“Carbonated pepperoni with a hint of cheese,” the lunar animatronic recited, quoting the droning elevator announcer’s tone with perfect accuracy.

“I will punch you.” 

The crackling from Moon’s vocalizer returned, overlaying an actual chuckle. 

“You think you’re so funny.” Gregory heaved an exasperated sigh, that definitely wasn’t amused at all.

“I am funny.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

His mouth wobbled between a forced frown and an involuntary smile at Moon’s continued laughter. It was very hard not to give in, but he wanted to remain strong, else he encourage more terrible jokes. 

He was saved from having to keep his composure by a sudden loud THUNK that filled the room, causing both of them to freeze. 

There was silence for a few seconds, then the sound of gross scuttling overhead. 

The two stepped closer together, casting their gazes upward, and Gregory felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“What is-” 

An object fell out of the vent near the ceiling. It landed with a crash of ceramic plates on its way to the ground. 

Its body consisted of cracked, green and yellow casing. 

It pulled itself across the tile on its own. 

Its mouth was filled with teeth. Not static, unmoving teeth; sharp rows of teeth. 

Monty.

Or… half a Monty. 

With a gutteral snarl, the gator animatronic hauled itself towards them, its clawed metal hands leaving black gouges in the tile floor. 

Before Gregory could jump out of the way, he felt large hands hook under his arms, and he was lifted off the ground as the gator made a lunge for his feet. His eyes remained locked on Monty as he was set down on the counter yet again. 

“What… happened to him.” The animatronic spoke at his side.

It wasn’t a question, it sounded like abject horror. 

“It’s- I…” Gregory fumbled for words, still trying to comprehend the fact that Monty was here because of course he would be, what was peace? That meant the threat level was up to two, with three and four still to be accidentally run across. 

They watched as the animatronic failed to climb up the shelf towards them. They were only three feet off the ground, and it was miraculously enough height to evade Monty’s reach. 

The nighttime attendant’s gaze was also locked on Monty, the rest of his body rigid. 

“He’s in half.” 

He wished he could say this was new information to him. 

“I.. know. This is how I left him.”

“You did THAT to him?” Moon’s gaze snapped towards him.

“No, I didn’t! HE did!” 

Moon stared at him silently.

The entire event was playing out in his head, but he didn’t have the presence of mind to put it into words. And this really wasn’t the time for it. 

He fixed the animatronic with a stare just as intense.

“Moon, listen to me. Monty is a THREAT. Just like Freddy. You can't reason with him. The others are damaged too, and you may see more stuff like this, and I’m sorry, and I promise I’ll explain later. Just- please.”  

He thought maybe the naptime attendant's smile seemed pained this time as he regarded Gregory, despite knowing his face couldn’t move. It was probably just the tenseness in his frame.

Monty continued hauling himself around on the floor and trying to scrabble up to where they were, dislodging pots and pans in his efforts, sending them rattling across the kitchen tile with loud clatters. 

Remaining fixed for a moment longer, Moon finally crouched lower, before hop-leaping off of the counter, and landing unsteadily on top of Monty. He managed to keep his feet under himself, and adjusted his position as the now-alarmed animatronic beneath him began to thrash and roll. 

From Moon's head position, all Gregory could see was the back of his nightcap, as his red LEDs illuminated the face of the snarling alligator. 

Monty let out outraged growls and snarls, until Moon's large hands clamped around his snout and the glamrock stilled temporarily. 

The lunar animatronic remained tense, but also stilled slightly as Monty stopped struggling, in a way that indicated he wasn't fully believing that Monty had given up. 

His legs aching from his own crouching position, Gregory shifted slightly to try and alleviate some of the discomfort. 

In time with his movement, Monty started thrashing again, louder and more furious, while the animatronic restraining him did what he could to minimize the movement range of the gator. 

The boy watched Moon pin the glamrock's exposed endo arms to his body using his legs, while his hands remained busy with keeping the alligator's jaws shut. 

Gradually, all the fight seemed to drain out of the green animatronic. 

"What's your problem?" Moon spat at the animatronic beneath him, who gave no reply other than a weak growl. 

"Heh," Gregory snickered, feeling the urge to dispel some of the tension now hanging in the air. Moon glanced his way. “You almost look like a regular gator wrangler.” It was in poor taste to joke right now, but he couldn’t help it- the visual was too funny.

"Unfortunately," Moon agreed. "You realize this isn't a permanent solution, right?" 

“What, you sitting there for the rest of eternity? That’s a great idea, what are you talking about?” He snorted. “Yeah, I know.” 

‘What are we supposed to do with him?” 

“You could throw him off the balcony,” Gregory offered, and he didn’t know how, but it seemed like Moon fell more silent. 

"I'm not serious,” he clarified. “Um... I guess we could look for something to.. tie him up with?" Gregory tapped his chin in thought. 

"If I move, he might get away."

"Don't worry. I can find something.” The boy prepared himself to jump down to the floor.

"Are you sure?" The animatronic replied in a deeply contradictory tone, causing the boy to pause. Moon remained where he was, though his body looked like it wanted to follow Gregory. 

"Yeah, I'm sure. Don't worry," he repeated, giving a small smile. There had to be something useful nearby that he could easily get his hands on. 

Something about his expression must have been enough to reassure Moon, because the animatronic gave a small nod, and Gregory finally hopped down from the counter. From there, he began to slink quietly out of the kitchen.

Monty may have made a lot of noise, but if he stayed quiet, maybe they still stood a chance of not being noticed.

The boy navigated around the shelves and counters of the restaurant's kitchen, until he made his way out into the dining area, all the while scanning the floors and ceilings and other surfaces, as he looked for anything that could be used to restrain an aggressive half a robot. His eyes were getting more and more used to the near-darkness, but even then it was difficult to see anything past the occasional neon strip. 

He did remember there was an arcade connected to this restaurant. He saw the entrance right across from the kitchen's doors, and made his way over to it. 

That had been fun, last time. 

He recalled how Freddy had told him to go there to find the fire escape, but Roxy had chased him from one side of the room to the next, all the while he was looking for an exit, and each door required a higher security level than what he'd had. 

Finally, he'd dove for a vent and wriggled his way through, and come out safe on the other side. He hadn't found the prize counter with the fire escape, but he had found an office with a security badge. Things had seemed fine after that, until he actually grabbed the security badge, and Roxy rejoined him with Monty. 

He'd had to bait both of the robots to one side of the security office, until Freddy could deactivate the alarm and he could get out through the other door. Then, he'd bolted for the prize counter. 

Monty and Roxy hadn't been that hard to deal with, it was just the unfamiliar setting and the blasting alarms that had made the whole situation stressful. And of course, to top it all off, the fire escape was VIP, for some reason.

With a quick head shake, the boy continued through the narrow lounge area between the arcade and the restaurant. 

The thought of Moon stuck in the kitchen and holding down an angry gator animatronic kept him on track. What he really needed was cable, or maybe some duct tape.

He stepped under the half-ajar shutter door leading into the arcade, and started to venture out into the room. 

Lots of broken down staff bots in this area. Not all of them damaged, a lot just dead on the floor. He passed by another lounge spot, before…

There. Perfect. 

Snaking across the ground: a long black cord, leading to one of the arcade machines. The machine was powered down, just like all the others. It wasn't like anyone was using it. 

He followed the cord to the machine it was connected to, unplugging it from the panel, and coiled up the cable in his arms as he followed the slack in the opposite direction. 

He found the outlet the other end was plugged into, pulled it free, and added that end to the loop draped over his arm. Hopefully one would be enough. 

Satisfied, Gregory hurried back through the arcade to the kitchen, pushing open the doors. Moon looked up at the sound and watched as the boy returned to his side.

“Did you find anything?” He sounded surprisingly calm given the circumstances. He was focused only on Gregory. 

"I think so," the boy replied, sliding the loop of cable off of his arm and holding it out to Moon.

Moon stared at it, and then the two of them startled as Monty started thrashing again. The gator’s eyes were locked on Gregory, and the boy jumped back, even knowing Moon was keeping him pinned down. 

"I can't let go of him. You're gonna have to tie him," the lunar animatronic stated, looking at Gregory. His voice carried a note of urgency; Gregory knew he was serious.

The boy looked down at Monty with wide eyes, holding the cable to his chest anxiously. He sidled a step away. “M-me?! But-!” 

“You can do it,” the animatronic said, voice steady and calm, drawing Gregory’s attention back to him. “I believe in you.” 

Gregory stared for a moment longer, wishing there was more reassurance to be found in Moon’s face alone, then finally gave a tiny nod.

With a forceful swallow, the boy inhaled to steady himself, uncurling the cords in both hands and stretching out one segment of it as Moon adjusted his grip. 

Up close, it was easy to see just how much damage Monty had sustained from his fall. More stuff might have happened since his last visit, but he certainly hadn't looked great before Gregory left. 

The gator was missing part of his face, and one eyelid (although fake) was partially closed. His mohawk looked somehow disheveled, with slivers of red jutting out in unnatural directions. 

It wasn't technically his fault (it had actually been a complete accident), but he still felt bad that it had happened.

Even on the floor, Monty was still half as tall as Gregory. The animatronic was huge.

The boy kneeled down carefully on the tile, holding out his arms with the taut cable in both hands, and as quickly and gracefully as possible, looped it around Monty's snout once, then twice, and then continued using up the length of the cord as Moon remained silent, watching. 

When he had only a handful of cord left, he looked up at Moon uncertainly. "I.. don't know how to secure it." 

What he really meant, and was saying indirectly, was that he didn't know how to tie a knot in something this thick. 

"Hold him, then," Moon ordered, and the boy complied, replacing Moon's hold with his own hands, though it seemed like more of a precaution at this point. The cord had already been wrapped around the gator's mouth a good five or six times. He wasn't going to be doing any biting in his current state. 

With careful and quick movements, the daycare attendant took the ends of the cord in hand, and pulled them tight, drawing a growl of protest from the gator. Then he looped the ends together, until they’d formed a secure knot. Both of them let go and leaned back once it held. 

“Done. Did you bring any more cable?” 

“Uh, n-no, I thought that’d be enough,” Gregory answered, a mild sense of worry worming its way under his skin. 

‘It is enough for now," Moon affirmed, looking down at the gator and tilting his head. “But if we could tie his arms…” He seemed to shake himself, trailing off. “It’s more than enough. Now what do we do with him?” 

“I.. don’t know.”  

One option was obvious; just leave him. Leave him, to maybe eventually free himself and become a threat again later. It wouldn't do them any good if that happened. They couldn't lock him in this room either- the door to the kitchen had no lock. It was one of those 'swing open' kind of deals. 

A random, brilliant thought came to him. 

“Actually, I do have an idea.” 

Moon’s head rotated a small degree as he stared silently, a motion Gregory was starting to associate with Moon paying attention. That was a signal that he was being listened to.

“In Parts and Service, there’s a big.. cylinder thing, where they do repairs I guess?” 

“The protective cylinder,” Moon interjected. 

“Yes, that’s what they called it. The controls work from the outside, and the door doesn’t open until you finish the repair. The voice said something about it being made to protect people outside the cylinder.” 

“That’s correct,” Moon commented, still following along.

“So… if we throw Monty in there, it should hold him, right?” 

“In theory.” 

“You don’t sound convinced,” Gregory crossed his arms, pouting. 

“That’s a long way to carry an angry animatronic,” Moon pointed out, rather nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t stabbing a needle through Gregory’s metaphorical thought bubble. “Even if it’s only half of one.” 

“I know.. but- think of this. If he was in the cylinder, he’d be out of the way, AND we could observe him. Maybe we could find out what’s wrong with him!” 

“This plan relies heavily on ‘what if,’ ..but I do think it’s a good idea.” 

Gregory beamed as Moon started to disengage from his death-straddle on the gator animatronic. The gator in question immediately tried to haul himself towards Gregory, and the nighttime attendant placed a firm foot on his back to hold him in place. 

“I can carry him down to the ground with the wire, but you’ll have to take the stairs. Can’t carry both of you.” 

“O-oh.. okay,” Gregory replied, watching Moon bend down to scoop up the now-restrained animatronic.

“Will you be alright?” Moon’s gaze was on him once Monty was secured, his grin looking much more indifferent than his tone suggested. 

The boy straightened, putting on a determined face. “Of course I will. It’s not that far, anyway.” 

It was just dark.. and possibly dangerous. Nothing he wasn’t used to by now. The Pizzaplex is dark and scary? What else is new? 

“If you’re sure,” Moon replied, still sounding hesitant, but Gregory gave a crisp nod, and the animatronic seemed to shrug, leading the way out of the kitchen.

They stopped between the railing looking out over the atrium and the escalator leading to the second level. 

Gregory looked down the escalator, which seemed like a yawning void of nothingness and uncertainty. 

Logic told him it was probably safe; they hadn’t seen or heard any other animatronics in the atrium yet. But his fear whispered doubts to him. What if Roxy was down there, or Chica? Or Freddy?

Moon turned at his side, facing the atrium's main floor, while a thin tendril dropped down from the ceiling to connect to the latch on his back. Before Moon could take off, Gregory swallowed his pride and piped up. “Wait. Can you… come down with me?” 

Moon's head swiveled to face him, and the wire disconnected and retreated to the ceiling again. 

“Of course.”

The silence in the air was broken only by shrill, barely stifled panic.

"No no no!" The boy groaned, ruffling his hair nervously. Moon stood beside him, watching silently. Monty growled softly, and was ignored.

Gregory pressed the button again, harder- with his thumb. Nothing happened.  

The two were standing on the darkened main stage, the rest of the atrium quiet and lifeless around them, in a suffocating kind of way. The button that controlled the lift to Parts and Service wasn’t working.

"I forgot about this! The main lift only activates when the showtime protocol is active- and it's not. The only other way to Parts and Service is-" 

“Rockstar Row.” They spoke in unison. 

Gregory nodded. 

The animatronic pivoted, taking a step towards the stairs, and Gregory reached out and tugged his arm. 

“We- we can’t go that way.” 

“Why not?” 

“That’s where Freddy was when I found him earlier.” 

Moon produced a thoughtful hum, tapping his long fingers on Monty’s shell idly. Finally, he gave a soft, annoyed grumble.

“If I could access the cameras, I could check to see if he’s there. I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Gregory said sullenly. 

“Do you know exactly where Freddy was in Rockstar Row?” 

“Well, he was in his green room, but who knows if-” 

“Come to think of it-” Moon began, then seemingly realized he’d spoken over Gregory, and stopped. “Sorry.” 

“No, what were you gonna say?” If Moon had a coherent thought he wanted to hear it— it beat spiraling into panicked conclusions. 

"He might not even be in Rockstar Row right now. If he went back through the lobby, which he did, because he doesn't know about the shortcut, then the only way back to Rockstar Row is the utility tunnels. Something tells me he's not moving with direction." 

Gregory recalled the way the bear had moved whenever he wasn't in pursuit. Zombie-like, not Reasonable-like.

 "Huh, I guess you're right about that." 

"There's also two paths to Rockstar Row from here. We can take the one furthest from Freddy's green room, and use Chica's elevator to get to Parts and Service."

"But what if he's there?"

"I'll go ahead of you and scout out the place while you stay hidden. And if he shows up.. I'll sic Monty on him." The animatronic pointedly hefted the gator in his arms. 

Gregory giggled, feeling some of the anxiety melt away, and Moon looked at him with his crooked smile.

"Don't worry," Moon said firmly. "As long as I'm here, I won't let any harm come to you. That's a promise." His stare seemed suddenly intense. Gregory fully believed he was serious. 

He trusted him. 

"Ok.. let's go." 

Through one winding path, the two had come across a dark, neon lit waiting room, with queue ropes set up off to the side, and a row of booths for taking tickets. Rockstar Row was just on the other side of a large shutter door.

Moon led him to a space behind the booths, and the boy plopped himself down before Moon could even ask. 

"Just wait here," the animatronic said, staring down at him, "I'll be back." 

Gregory watched Moon go, ducking back out of sight as the daycare attendant entered into Rockstar Row, and instead casting his gaze around what he could see behind the desks. 

Shelves, racks holding more shirts, lots of boxes. It was maybe worth coming back here later so they could look for more snacks. Right now, it was too dark to see anything on the shelves. 

The boy heard a distant static, or something he couldn’t quite make out, but it was gone before he could place it. He tensed, straining his ears to listen. 

There was only silence, and just as he was starting to doubt if he’d heard anything at all, Moon stepped into his peripheral vision, and he fell backwards with a yelp. The animatronic waited for him to recover before speaking. 

“Change of plans. Let’s get there as quickly and quietly as possible.” 

“What?” Gregory squeaked, then lowered his voice to a whisper to match Moon’s register. “Is it clear?” 

“It was clear, but then Monty talked, so I can’t promise it will still be clear two minutes from now.” 

“He what?” 

“Let’s rock.” The battered glamrock animatronic in Moon’s arms demonstrated, his growly voice sounding much too loud for the enclosed lounge area. 

Gregory looked at the gator with disdain. Still talking nonsense, per usual.

In hindsight, they should have known that tying an animatronic’s mouth shut did nothing to quiet it if it decided it wanted to talk, when their mouth isn’t where the sound actually comes from. Taking out the voice box was an option, but.. well. 

“I like that plan,” Gregory decided, pushing himself up. 

He got to his feet and followed after Moon, who was already several strides ahead mere seconds after he’d spoken, due to his brisk pace. 

They stepped under the big shutter door, venturing cautiously out into the back area with Chica’s green room in their sights. 

"If anything happens, I'm dropping Monty and grabbing you," Moon said to the air ahead of him, voice clipped. 

The boy nodded in acknowledgement, thrown briefly by Moon’s tone. He sounded just as nervous as Gregory felt. 

Luckily, the area seemed still and quiet, save for the sound of their light footsteps and the growling from the gator animatronic. Chica's room was close by, and they reached it quickly. 

"I will find youuu…" 

Gregory felt his skin prickle as he pulled out the badge from his pocket and swiped the door. 

"I'm right here," he muttered, while the two waited for the door to open and soon slipped inside. 

Chica's room was well lit, and looked like if a tornado could have puppies. There was clutter all over the floor and the couch along the wall, and even on the vanity in front of the mirror. 

Gregory noted how Moon crossed the room rather quickly, waiting for him in the shadows on the other side of the door leading to the elevator. When Gregory reached his side, they continued through the back hall and finally came to the elevator.

The boy paused outside the door when Moon got inside. "Is this one real?" 

"Every elevator to the basement area is real."

"Oh, duh." That made sense. 

He squeezed in beside Moon, who did his best to give the boy space. 

Miraculously, the elevator worked, and even had enough lighting that Gregory could see Moon clearly. 

He lasted about nine seconds before curiosity overtook him. "It's kind of light in here. Doesn't that affect you?" 

"Yes," the animatronic answered. "Our control is equally influenced by our own motivations, and the light levels around us. You could say I'm motivated to be here." 

Gregory chewed on that for a bit. 

"Cool." 

They fell into a mutual silence until the elevator came to a stop, and the two stepped out into a long, darkened hallway. 

They followed the passageway into a familiar room— well lit in the middle, where a giant glass cylinder was stationed ominously. The majority of the light in the room came from inside the cylinder, which had a single, reclined chair in its middle. 

The boy followed Moon down the stairs to the front of the cylinder, where the animatronic hovered, looking at him. 

"Do you know how to operate it?" 

"Yeah, I do," Gregory replied, stepping up to the panel and looking it over. 

He pressed a button, and the console flickered to life. 

"Welcome to Parts and Service. Please select your desired procedure."  

The voice droned overhead. Gregory chose a random option, and a chime rang out before the voice continued. 

"Please enter the protective cylinder to continue." 

The boy looked to Moon as the door slid open. 

"I'll press the button when you tell me to." 

Moon nodded, then stepped inside the cylinder and walked toward the back. He stooped down, setting Monty on the ground, leaving one hand on his back as he looked towards the exit. 

"Now," the animatronic commanded.

Gregory pressed the button. The door began to close, and Moon waited a split second before pushing off and crossing the space in a few smooth strides. He cleared the door, and turned back to look at Monty as the gator launched himself at the blockade. 

Monty gave an outraged bellow, scratching on the door for a few moments before starting to pace his new confinement. 

"Hah hah!" Gregory exclaimed triumphantly, running over to the door to get a look himself. 

There was movement at his side, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Moon facing him, one hand lifted with his palm presented to Gregory in a quiet invitation. 

With a wide grin, Gregory high-fived him. 

"We did it," the boy stated proudly. 

"We did." 

The two of them gazed into the cylinder, watching the ruined glamrock drag himself around the perimeter of the tank. Every once in a while, the gator would stop, making labored breathing sounds. 

"So… what could we do to figure out what's wrong with him?" 

"You're asking me?" Moon sounded surprised. “I know even less than you do.” He stared at Monty, quiet. Gregory guessed he was thinking. “I guess we test his reactions and see what he responds to.” 

"I think he responds to my voice. Does he respond to yours?" Gregory stepped back, looking at Moon.

"That's a good question. Do you?" The animatronic pressed himself against the glass, staring intensely at Monty with an inquisitive tilt of his head.  

"Mr. Gator? I'm talking to you. Do a death roll if you understand me." Gregory had to fight to keep in a laugh at Moon's sardonic tone.

The broken animatronic continued his angry circling of the cylinder's perimeter, completely ignoring Moon. 

"Well, I guess that answers that," Gregory muttered, looking in the cylinder again. Monty tried to jump at the glass and slid back down to the floor. 

"Stupid," Gregory sneered. 

"I don't know if we're going to learn anything this way," Moon said what Gregory had already been thinking. 

"Yeah," the boy agreed. "At least he's stuck in there and we're out here.” He inhaled deeply and let it out with a sigh. “Still.. It's kind of sad to see him like this. Even though all he did was chase me." 

"I want to know why he's so damaged. You said you were there. What really happened?" Moon fixed him with a stare that felt all too knowing. 

He felt accused, even though Moon wasn't accusing him. He felt himself flare up defensively. 

"I-It really was an accident! I got chased through Mazercise, and to escape I had to crawl through a vent. It led me to these walkways above Gator Golf, and Monty was there. He… he tried to jump at me, landed on this big bucket, and fell. When I figured out how to get down, he was in half." 

And he wasn’t proud of what he’d done afterwards. And he shouldn't say what he'd done afterwards.

“I took his claws.” He spoke without thinking. 

"You took them?" 

He had to defend himself now. 

“I was trapped in this building with three animatronics out for me! Anything I could take from them to make them less dangerous to me… I had to do it. They.. I didn’t want to hurt any of them. But they wanted to hurt me. Freddy was the only one who wasn’t after me.” 

“So.. all of the others?” 

“Chica is.. O-or she was— mostly functional when I left. I only took her voice box.” 

“But why.” 

“I read somewhere that her voice box could stun the other animatronics, so when she got smashed in the trash compactor, I took it and used it to upgrade Freddy.” 

“How did she get smashed in the trash compactor?” Moon sounded alarmed. 

He should stop talking. 

“It was.. a last resort. She was chasing me through the kitchen and I couldn’t find the way out, and she cornered me in the trash compactor. I led her back through the trash, then ran past her, and turned it on once she was under the smasher thingy. Then I was stupid and got too close, and she grabbed me and we both fell into the sewer.” 

“And then..?”

“Then I took her voice box. I was trying to figure out how to get out of the dump when she found me again. And chased me alllll the way back to the loading docks. I couldn’t get out that way, either.” 

All that night, he’d just wanted to leave. And with every passing hour, the animatronics had worn his sanity thin. Monty had been the first to get shattered, then Chica, and then…

“I wish I could say Roxy’s was an accident.”

“What do you mean?” 

He felt guilty tears well up in his eyes. 

“I was mad, okay! I was losing my MIND! I just- I wanted them to hurt- I wanted them to leave me alone! I thought I could get at least one of them to stop hunting me!”

Moon was listening silently, his head tilted to the side, eyes a sickly white. Gregory didn’t know what that meant, but it felt like he was being condemned. 

“Roxy seemed to always know where I was. So when I saw a chance, I hit her with a go-kart and took her eyes. And then she came back,” he spat bitterly. 

The nighttime attendant’s continued silence made the guilt in his stomach turn to outright dread. He couldn’t make himself meet the animatronic’s eyes.

“It’s.. it’s terrible. I’m a monster-” 

“You’re not a monster.” 

Gregory looked up, stunned to silence. 

‘You’re a child. A child who had a very good reason to defend himself. Just look at him,” Moon urged, faceplate nodding towards the cylinder at Monty, still furiously pacing his enclosure. “And what Freddy did to you.” His voice fell softer, and Gregory lifted a hand to feel the bandages still on his cheek. The bandages that were now a bit wet with tears. 

“S-still, I..” 

“Still nothing. There’s no reason to feel guilty about this. Stop feeling guilty,” Moon said firmly, his faceplate clicking once to the side, and then back to emphasize his words.

Gregory stared for a moment longer, feeling the emotion welling up inside of him, before running forward and latching onto Moon’s legs, screwing his eyes shut. 

He felt the animatronic bend down to match his height, pulling him in closer and wrapping secure arms around him. 

And he couldn’t help it— he cried. 

He cried again, and he cried hard and long, feeling his skin burn with the pent-up anguish. Moon held him firmly, rubbing a hand up and down his back, and it felt good and safe and he had needed this for so long and it made him cry more— and he hated it, hated that he was so vulnerable, but it was impossible to stop it when he felt so secure and safe, and— loved. 

He cried until there were no more tears, and Moon remained holding him even after he fell quiet. 

“I’m tired,” he said once he felt like he could talk again, hating the waver in his voice as he stared at the starry pattern on Moon’s pants.

“I know, little star.” 

He rubbed at his nose, sniffing harshly. “Little star?” 

“Habit. All the daycare children are little stars to me. I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to, though.” 

“I.. don’t mind it. If you really think I’m worthy of being called a star.” 

“Of course you are. You’re the bravest star I’ve ever met.”

An involuntary smile graced his face. He was grateful Moon couldn’t see it. 

“Can I pick you up?” The voice rasped softly. 

Gregory nodded, and he felt the animatronic’s hold shift to support him before he was lifted up into its arms. From there, Moon started to carry him out of the room. 

Gregory thought about what Moon had said.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew. This is what I was made for.” 

“What? Ferrying a kid all around the Plex while demon robots chase us?” 

“No, not that. I’m the naptime attendant. My job is to get the little ones to sleep, and watch over them during naptime.”

“So they weren’t… afraid of you? They actually liked you?”

“They liked me plenty. My job was to play the bedtime monster; chase them around so they’d wear themselves out, then tuck them in for naptime. It was a game. They knew I’d never hurt them- they weren’t actually afraid of me.” 

“So.. it was built on trust.” 

“Precisely.” 

The boy had no further comments to add, a long yawn taking him over as Moon stepped inside the elevator. 

He let his head fall against Moon’s chestplate, the foggy feeling setting in again as his eyes slipped closed. For the second time that night, the world melted away. And for the first time, he welcomed it. 

Chapter Text

He had to keep running. 

No matter what happened, he had. To keep. Running. 

The halls twisted and morphed around him. Details became blurry and amorphous as he sped by. And still, the things chasing him were faster. 

He dodged a pouncing flash of color as it lept at his face, its teeth filling his vision. He stumbled, then recovered, and kept running. 

Manipulative crying echoed down the passageway from behind him. Begging him to turn back, to go to it. To succumb. He could not. 

Blaring mechanical screeches pierced his ears, making him cry out. It was all so loud, so all consuming. 

His heart was pounding in his chest. 

A corner snuck up on him, and he was turning, and then he was falling. 

Then he was in a new place. He landed and kept running. The caverns seemed endless, every twist and turn leading to more of the same. 

Finally, up ahead. 

Red eyes, a sinister grin. 

He started to skid to a halt, then he remembered. That was a friend. 

His pursuers drew closer. Without hesitation, he ran forward and climbed into the hiding spot offered to him.

From inside, he could see the confusing landscape of the place he was trapped in. 

The red eyes looked back at him. Until they weren't red anymore. They were a sick yellow, a ghastly yellow. A hollow yellow. 

He saw purple claws from outside the vessel. 

An eerie, shattering creak. 

Walls were closing in around him, close, closer, too close. 

They pressed against him, until he had no space to move, and then kept pressing.  

He woke with a scream.

Moon snapped to attention at the boy’s outburst, watching in alarm as he shot up from his resting position. 

The two were in the Fazbear Theater next to the daycare, situated on the floor in front of the stage. 

After their trip to Parts and Services, Moon had brought Gregory back to the daycare, but decided on the theater as the best place for the boy to rest.

The room was quiet and dark, but most importantly: safe. They were far enough from all the doors that they'd have advanced warning if something came in, and there were multiple exits as well. 

For the past three hours, Moon had been watching Gregory sleep, seated not far from the boy, keeping his senses alert. He'd been whimpering in his sleep for a while, but Moon was torn on waking him, knowing how exhausted he was. He needed his rest. 

That, however, didn't matter anymore, because now he was awake.

He was hyperventilating, his gaze darting around wildly. 

"Gregory.” No response. “Gregory." The boy finally looked at him. "Breathe." 

With a nod, Gregory took a deep breath, letting it out shakily, then took another. 

Moon watched the boy regulate his breathing, feeling some of his own worry ebb away. 

His gaze flicked over the child's form. 

He was sitting up loosely, the blanket, previously covering him from the shoulders down, now resting over his lap. His hair was disheveled from sleep, and he was staring off into space, his expression still dazed. There was a slight tremble in his form that was gradually fading away, but still prominent. 

As he was assessing the child, something caught Moon's attention, prompting him to reach out and gently take the blanket in hand before folding it back. Instantly, sympathy panged inside of him.

There was an unfortunately familiar sight to be seen once he'd uncovered the boy's lap. His tan cargo shorts made it stand out. 

"Did you wet yourself?" He asked gingerly, his tone carrying no judgement, only concern. 

The boy's eyes flew open fully, and he looked down at himself, making a strangled squeak when he saw what Moon had seen. 

"No!" He sat up further, face turning red and looking frantic. "No no no, I- I didn't- I.. I don't—!" 

"Calm down," Moon interrupted, lacing a comforting gentleness into his voice, and the boy looked helplessly up at him. 

He knew Gregory was embarrassed, but Moon's first priority was ruling out health concerns. This could still have been caused by sickness or injury, though unlikely. And he knew how to approach this, while preserving as much of Gregory's dignity as possible. 

Moon was preceptive, not to mention practiced, in handling these kinds of things, but even though he was sure he knew the answers, asking the boy his questions directly had two benefits: 1) it would help to calm him down, and 2) it made it clear he was being respected and listened to, and not judged.  

Simple question first. 

"What happened? Are you alright?"

Gregory seemed to hesitate, then finally looked down at the floor between them. 

“I.. had a nightmare.” 

That had been Moon's guess. The boy had been through so much, of course it would follow him into his dreams to haunt him. 

"Ah," he replied, though not surprised. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Gregory didn't answer him, blankly staring down at his pants.

"Gregory?" He prodded to get the boy's attention again.

"Huh? Oh. Say it again?"

“If you want to tell me about it, I’ll listen.” 

The boy glanced down, then glanced away like it hurt. "I had a dream I was being chased through the Pizzaplex, and Monty was there, and Roxy too. I came to a dead end and you were there. I hid in your chest compartment like I used to with Freddy. Then you turned into Freddy... and the chest compartment crushed me." 

His voice wavered just slightly on the last few notes, like he was trying to remain detached from the emotion corresponding with the statement. 

Gregory's description of the nightmare was enough to send a chill through Moon. It sounded downright terrifying. That was certainly a valid reason to wet oneself. 

Unable to experience dreams himself, Moon could never fully understand what the children he watched over experienced while unconscious. However, he did know that a human's real life experiences and fears often influenced their dreams, and that it sometimes took a few moments of disoriented flailing to fully realize their surroundings after a nightmare. 

He knew they were merely created by the imagination, but it wasn't a reason to not take it seriously. 

It had absolutely felt real to Gregory... at least while he was dreaming. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. But you are safe now. Freddy isn't here— we're alone." 

The boy responded with a meek nod, his demeanor noticeably muted as he avoided Moon's gaze. 

Absolutely everything in him wanted to just envelop the boy in comfort. It was what he usually did— what usually worked. He knew how Gregory felt about him acting without warning though, and he wasn't sure the boy wanted to be touched at the moment. 

He seemed to be silently mulling over something, so Moon focused on that instead. 

"Something.. else on your mind?" He tilted his head quietly. 

Gregory's gaze dodged him, instead drifting down yet again as the boy frowned. His expression darkened for a moment before he gestured vaguely to what they were both aware of but hadn't mentioned since Moon first noticed it. 

"How are we gonna clean this up?" It seemed like he was more preoccupied by the accident than the memory of the nightmare. A good sign: he was grounded. 

"Well—" 

"The gift shops don't have pants. I'm screwed," he said miserably. 

And he wasn't wrong about that. It wouldn't be as simple as replacing a decimated shirt with a substitute from the gift shop. Still, Moon was far from coming up short. 

"Not quite. I can think of three options." 

The boy's expression turned hopeful. "What are they?" 

"We could look for a pair of pajamas in the gift shop that might fit you, or employee uniforms that might be laying around the locker rooms. Or, you could shower in your clothes. It's not conventional, but it would work." Moon looked him over again, thinking. "Also, you do really need a shower."

The boy looked offended, then seemed to admit defeat, deflating. 

"Well, if we have to go to the showers anyway..." 

Moon nodded. "There's a laundry room near the showers, so we can wash your clothes if we find something else for you to wear in the meantime." 

Something interesting crossed the boy's facial expression, it looked like a mingle of fear and realization. 

"Wait... do you mean the showers by the loading docks?" 

"Yes..." Moon confirmed, voice slowed. "Why?" 

The fear seemed to plaster itself to the boy’s face, before he hugged his knees to his chest and looked away. "I don't want to go there." 

"What's wrong with the loading docks?" 

"It's not the loading docks... it's the kitchen. The kitchen where Chica chased me."

Oh, right. The kitchen with the garbage compactor was in the basement— the same basement as the showers. He should have connected those dots sooner. 

"And you think she might still be there?" Moon guessed.

The boy nodded. 

Moon tried to puzzle out some kind of workaround. He hadn't anticipated this. Gregory being afraid of the loading docks was a good reason not to go there, but the boy’s only clothes being soiled was also a reason they needed to go. 

"Well... we can't just leave you like this. You need a shower." 

"Aren't there any other showers in this place?" The boy locked desperate eyes on him. 

He wished he could say what the boy wanted to hear. But it would simply be a lie, so, instead...

“No, unfortunately not.” 

Gregory's expression fell, and he set his chin on his knees, a whine in his throat. 

He looked outright terrified, and the sight hurt Moon. He didn't want to force the boy into something he wasn't comfortable with. 

At the twisting sympathy in his core, Moon's resolve hardened. 

“Do you remember what I promised you?" He waited for the boy to look up at him, fixing him with a hard stare once he had. "I said I would keep you safe. I don't say that lightly. If there's danger down there, I will protect you.” 

Hesitance and uncertainty still wavered in the boy's expression, but he was clearly leaning towards Moon's reassurance, wanting to believe it.

At the whispers of doubt hanging in the air, Moon shifted in place, turning and scooting backwards carefully, putting himself at Gregory's side. He put a gentle hand on the boy's back, rubbing it comfortingly, and the boy seemed to reluctantly melt into the contact, his rigid posture relaxing. 

“Let’s look in the gift shop first, okay?” Moon drifted the idea out to the air. 

To the daycare attendant’s relief, he received an agreeing nod. 

He got to his feet, then looked down at Gregory, who quickly followed suit.

It was a short walk from the front of the stage to the back of the theater where the ground floor entrance was, but Gregory followed at a slower pace, and when Moon looked back at him the boy avoided his gaze. 

He stopped and waited for Gregory to catch up, who remained tense at his side as they entered the gift shop. 

It was almost immediately obvious that none of the options in the gift shop were suitable. 

As they entered, Moon's gaze zeroed in on the shelf that contained the glamrock themed onesies and pajamas, higher up on the display, and a prickly feeling of dismay filled him. 

They were sold with smaller bodies in mind— suited for the average age of the children who regularly came to the daycare. Gregory was a bit older than the kids they usually saw. Put short: they wouldn't fit, as Moon had feared. 

"What now?" Gregory's frustrated voice sounded beside him. Moon looked down to find the boy frowning heavily, arms clutching themselves as he shuffled awkwardly and stared off to his side. 

"It's okay," Moon said softly, aiming to ease the child's nerves, who just seemed to bristle. "Like I said, there might be employee uniforms in the locker rooms you can borrow. And, even if there's not, worst case scenario you can shower in your clothes." 

There was no more putting off the inevitable— they needed to go to the basement, and Gregory was aware of it. 

"We can keep an eye out for Chica," Moon reassured, guessing that was Gregory's main reservation. 

Something occurred to him. Gregory had said he took her voice box, right? 

"Will we have any kind of advanced warning if she's there?" Something besides her footsteps, which would only be heard once she was closer? 

Gregory cringed. "Uh… about that…" 

Moon's head tilted slowly, and he listened intently, sensing a new interesting (upsetting) fact incoming.

"She kind of... screams? It's really loud— I think it's her trying to talk. Just sounds like a bunch of creepy robot noises." 

"Hmm. That's disturbing." 

Gregory huffed, looking mildly amused, then frowned again. "It's not great. She's the scariest one." 

For not the first time that night, Moon wished literally any of the circumstances of their meeting had been different. 

He wished Freddy hadn't chased Gregory to the daycare, he wished he hadn't been waking up from the robot equivalent of a coma when Gregory had shown up, he wished Gregory hadn't then informed him that he'd been living a double life in the time he didn't remember. 

He wished he could change things for the boy— take away what was scaring him and tell him everything would be alright. But things weren't alright— things were deeply, deeply wrong, and they both knew it. 

He couldn't change the scenario; the best Moon could do was try. Try to be the one stable thing that Gregory could rely on. 

"It may be scary, but at least that means we'll know if she's there. If we get to the basement and we hear her, we'll leave and figure something else out. How about that?" 

Gregory searched his face for a while, and Moon wondered what reassurance could possibly be found in his expression that he hadn't already put in his tone, before finally the boy gave a small nod. 

"Good?" Moon asked to confirm. 

"Good," the boy replied. 

That decision settled, Moon turned and led the way out of the daycare.

The two ventured into the hallway connecting the daycare to the atrium and the lobby. 

The fountain was quietly trickling in the middle of the room, the neons surrounding it unlit, making it seem like a black void that made water sounds— to those unfamiliar with the layout of the room.

Gregory had been silent as they walked, quietly stewing. Moon didn't push conversation, assuming that he simply didn't want to talk. 

Gregory then proved that he actually did. 

"I swear, I never-" 

"Hush," Moon jumped in, recognizing the rabbit hole. "Just try not to think about it." 

"I CAN'T not think about it," the boy whined. "It's itchy." A frustrated sigh as Gregory fell silent again at Moon's lack of reply. "I bet you're used to dealing with dumb kids who pee their pants all the time." 

"You're not dumb. And this isn't something to be embarrassed about. Accidents happen."

"Not to me." 

Moon felt an amused static rumble out of his voice box. 

"Oh, you're too high and mighty for common accidents?" 

Brief doubt flickered across the boy's face, before he stuck his nose up haughtily. "Yeah." 

The amusement turned to mirth at seeing a bit more of the boy's normal attitude coming back. At least they'd finally slipped into a more lighthearted conversation. 

"Well, you might not be happy to hear about this." Really, he wouldn't. 

The hesitation returned. "About what?" 

"After this, you need to hydrate again." 

Aside from needing more than three hours of sleep, the only thing Gregory had had to drink since Moon found him was Fizzy Faz, which, although 'Faz-tastic!', did a poor job of providing hydration. 

Gregory's expression soured instantly. 

"I don't like this cycle." 

Moon chuckled at the uncharacteristically sage comment. He wasn’t wrong, though. It was a cycle, wasn't it? 

"Urinate, hydrate, repeat," Moon chimed.

The boy groaned loudly at his side. 

"I would PAY you to never talk again," Gregory grumbled. "But I don't have any money." 

"And I wouldn't take that bribe anyway." 

Gregory responded by rolling his eyes and then looking away, not humoring Moon with letting him see the boy's facial expression, which Moon guessed was definitely a frown and not at all amused. 

The boy dropped the conversation there, and Moon didn’t pick it back up as they crossed into the atrium.

The mall's main area was huge and eerie around them, seeming to swallow them up in its oppressive atmosphere. 

He hadn't liked seeing or traversing it earlier, and he didn't like it now. It was so different from what he remembered. He remembered it colorful and bustling with life— even at night when he usually saw it. Night guards, custodians, S.T.A.F.F. bots.. bright and animated posters, music, constantly. 

It was beautiful. 

Now...

"Hey, Moon." 

Moon looked up, shaking out of his laments, then down, at the owner of the voice. 

Gregory was looking back, giving him a mischievous grin. 

Where was this going? He tilted his head intently.

"What do you call a robot that doesn't know how to use a stove?" 

Moon felt the opposite of amusement, he felt annoyance-embarrassment. 

"Hmm. What." 

"You." The boy cackled at his own joke. 

"Hilarious. You know, your jokes aren't much better than mine." 

"Well that's not setting the bar very high," the boy shot back with lightning speed. Moon was impressed.

"Ouch. Seriously this time." 

The boy started giggling. The reaction made Moon’s mood lighten significantly. He could play into this. 

"You've wounded me and I'm dying." 

Gregory's giggling turned to chortles and eventually outright laughter. Moon hadn't added anything; the boy was just cracking himself up the longer he laughed. 

He knew how to make it worse.

"I'm concerned about this amount of laughter. Do we need to take you to the doctor?" 

Gregory only seemed to laugh harder at that. 

"You might actually die," Moon said with mock-sadness. "On your tombstone it'll say 'Gregory: Died of Laughter.' I'll bring flowers." 

The laughter turned to wheezes. "Stop, stop! I can't breathe!" 

"Who's funny now?" 

"You! You win! Just please, I am dying." Moon's voice box crackled as he watched the boy struggle to catch his breath amid the giggles that were still gripping him. 

He relented, falling silent with warm satisfaction. The boy was in a much better mood now, and that had been his goal. Nothing like a little humor (or lack thereof) to make an awkward situation lighter. 

The two came to an escalator that led down to the ground floor. Underneath the level they were currently on was the food court, and behind it was a room that led to the basement elevator. 

The boy seemed instantly more wary once they were actually behind the food court. Here, there were tall shelves with storage boxes, dumpsters for the kitchens' leftovers, and a very long and ominous path to the elevator. The ceiling was tall, the walls far apart from each other. He could sense Gregory hanging closer to him nervously. 

Moon pressed the button next to the elevator, standing still next to Gregory as its doors opened for them. He stepped inside, then turned, to see Gregory still standing outside. 

His head clicked to the side, which apparently was not reassuring for the boy. 

"Come on," Moon tried, to which the boy only looked more hesitant. 

This was probably one of those situations where the boy's inherent fear of his face was working against him. He considered what he must look like, standing in an elevator the boy Did Not want to go into, his indifferent grin the only indicator of emotion as he tried to coax Gregory inside. 

He tilted his faceplate down with a simulated sigh, then stepped back out again. 

He stood at Gregory's side, facing the elevator along with the boy, who was still eyeing it distrustingly, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.  

"I know you're scared. But I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important. I promise I will keep you safe." 

Gregory leaned against him, and he moved his hand from the boy's shoulder to his head, lightly ruffling his hair. 

"Can you do this?" Moon asked seriously. 

Several seconds of silence. Finally, the boy nodded, and Moon was relieved when he stepped forward and Gregory followed. 

One button press, and the doors were closing, the only sound the rumbling of the elevator as it took them to the basement level. 

The doors opened to a dimly lit hallway. That was becoming quite standard, but the hallway itself was a different story. 

The floor was littered with stray papers and soda cans, vending machines laid inert on their sides, and the entire place reeked of mildew, looking overall dingy and unwelcoming. Taking it in, he could understand a fear of this place. 

They remained inside the elevator for several moments, just listening. 

There were no mechanical screeches, no loud clomping thumps of animatronic footsteps. The only noise that could be heard was the faint buzz of the failing halogens overhead. 

Stepping into the open and turning to the left revealed a long, wide path, with other halls that crossed it perpendicularly. 

Moon led the way down the main hall, noting the boy tense as they approached the first split path. He kept walking as they came to the intersection, passing it, and Gregory paused, looking confused, before catching up. 

"You said she was in the kitchen, right?" Moon glanced back at Gregory. 

The boy nodded. "And the storage rooms." 

"Well, there's actually a path that completely avoids those areas." 

"Really?" Gregory's eyes widened in disbelief. 

"Yep. Goes straight to the laundry room." 

And the laundry room went straight to the locker room, and the locker rooms went straight to the showers. It would be fairly easy to avoid the area Gregory was concerned about. 

"Huh. I didn't know about that," the boy mumbled, looking slightly more relaxed. 

The two passed a large forklift stationed along one of the walls, the boy's gaze lingering on it curiously as they continued past it. 

After the second intersection, they came to a narrower hallway, much darker than the one they were standing in. The lights inside buzzed and crackled and struggled, despite not giving off any light, in a way that made even Moon uneasy. It was a short pathway, much to their relief. 

The pathway led them out into a new room, with a white tile floor and a row of machines— washing machines — that they had to pass behind to get into the center. They were in the laundry room. 

Moon had a thought as he gazed around the room. 

"There might be clothes still in the machines." It was a slim chance, but still a chance. Maybe an employee had forgotten something in the wash— personal clothes, a uniform, perhaps even their child’s clothes. 

The two made their way down the row of washing machines, checking inside each one. Consistently, they turned up empty.

Gregory opened the last machine door, and sighed. "Nothing." 

"Unfortunate." 

"It's okay," the boy said suddenly, sounding uncharacteristically cheery. "I'll just get INSIDE the machine." He announced this, before stepping up as if about to climb inside. 

As panic spiked through Moon, the boy stepped back again before he could act, flashing him with an amused smile. 

Real funny, this one. Moon relaxed. 

"I think you're a little too big for that," He commented, playing into the joke. "And the neck cramp would be a killer." 

"Yeah, probably." Gregory agreed. The boy huffed, his smile dropping. "I'm just tired of being gross." 

"Let's keep moving, then," Moon offered. Two fruitless options out, but still one to go. Either way, he was making sure Gregory got a shower, backup clothes would just make the process easier.

Gregory trailed after him as he headed the way into the next room. 

The locker rooms were not as dark as Moon would have liked, but seemed to be bright enough that the boy was more relaxed. It probably also helped that so far, there’d been no sound nor sight of Chica.

Moon had expected to maybe find a spare uniform laying around on one of the benches, but he scanned the entire floor as soon as they entered the room, and saw none.

"Do these lockers open?" 

Moon looked off to his right, where Gregory was standing in front of a row of orange painted lockers. 

"That depends on if the employees left them locked or not." 

The boy seemed to consider, then reached out and fiddled with the padlock in front of him. Moon came closer, curious himself. Unsurprisingly, Gregory couldn't get the lock open. 

The boy glanced down the row, and Moon followed his gaze. Every single locker— locked. It was mildly impressive. 

"Can you open that?" Gregory's voice sounded at his side as he stepped back from the locker and gestured at the door. 

Moon looked at the device thoughtfully, lifting it up in one hand. The dial on it was circular, as well as the rest of the main body. The numbers on it started at zero and went up to thirty five, in increments of five. The loop on it went from one side of the lock, through the slot in the locker door, and back into the device. It was, well— locked— as the name suggested. Unless you were Moon. 

He put his other hand against the door to hold it in place, then glanced at Gregory, who seemed to predict that he should step back. Moon then turned his attention back to the lock, gripped it firmly, and pulled it from the door with a loud snap . Both of them cringed at the sound. 

The entire lock had come away in one piece; it was the ring it had been connected to that snapped. As well as that, the door was slightly warped.

"Wow," Gregory commented. 

"I'm not doing that again," Moon stated. 

Making loud noises wasn’t the most brilliant idea, especially when there could still be an unseen threat lurking behind any corner. They'd have to hope there was something in this locker.

Moon swiveled the door open and shifted to the side so Gregory could see inside as well. 

No uniforms, disappointingly. However, on the top shelf, there was a walkie talkie, and, more interestingly, a flashlight. Moon reached for it, replacing it with the lock still in his hand, then held the device out to Gregory. 

"Do you need one of these?" 

"YES," Gregory said instantly, eagerly taking it from Moon and inspecting it. "This is gonna make things way easier." 

"Does it work?" 

Gregory flicked the switch on its hull, and it came to life with a bright beam of light. 

"Sweet." 

The boy had thankfully turned it on facing away from Moon, but when he swept it closer, Moon hastily stepped back. 

"What happens if I shine it at you?" Gregory’s curious gaze drifted up to Moon, one eyebrow raised. 

"It'll hurt," Moon answered earnestly. 

The boy took one look at the way Moon had backed himself against the locker, and nodded, turning it off. 

"There's still nothing for me to wear," Gregory spoke finally, looking around the room. 

"Sorry. I hoped we'd find something." 

The boy shook his head, resignation taking the place of his former annoyed expression.  "Whatever. Where are the showers? I just wanna get clean, I don't care how anymore." 

"This way," Moon replied, heading for one of the doorways on the south side of the room, looking back to make sure Gregory followed. 

In the room next to the lockers, there was a hall that contained bathroom stalls, with faucets and mirrors across from them. Adjacent to that was the hallway they were standing in; a wide path with more lockers along the wall, as well as a row of long benches down the middle. 

Each bench had piles of towels resting on them, neatly stacked. It looked similar to the locker room, but at the end of the hall was a sharp turn, and then the showers. 

The two walked down the hall, Gregory glancing every which way in an almost paranoid fashion, until they came to their destination. Gregory set his flashlight down on one of the benches, then faced the showers.

The showers were located at the end of the room, in their own row, effectively forming a one-way dead end. There was an equal number of stalls on either side facing each other. 

At the end of the row, drooping down from the wall, was a single poster that read "or else." The top of the poster was folded halfway down on itself, so the statement was probably less threatening with the context of the rest of the words. 

Probably. 

Moon led Gregory down the shower row, and the boy stopped to eye one of the middle stalls. Not immediately next to the adjacent hallway, but not at the very end of the dead end.

The boy peered into the shower. It was just a stall with a curtain and a single showerhead along the tiled wall. 

"Do you have anything on you that's not waterproof?" Moon inquired. 

Gregory's brows furrowed in thought. "My security card?" 

"That's waterproof." Pause. "And probably needs a bath too." 

Gregory looked flustered, his hands moving to pat his pockets and then jerking away with a cringe. "Yeah.." 

"So nothing else?" 

"No." 

"Alright. There's no soap, so the best you can do is just stand under the water for a while. Then you can towel off." 

"Okay.”

Gregory looked down into the hall again, and Moon looked too. 

"Do you want me to stand out there?" 

"Y-yeah.. it would be good if you could keep watch." 

"Got it. Anything else I can help with?" 

Gregory shook his head. 

"Alright, I'll leave you to it." 

Moon turned as the boy stepped into the shower, starting to head towards the joining hallways, then paused. 

He looped back around and approached the wall with the poster, gazing curiously at it as he flicked the top upwards and smoothed it out enough to read the text. 

"Wash your paws! Or else."

Hmm. 

He heard the sound of metal rings scraping lightly against more metal, and looked to where the boy was peeking his head out of the shower, one eyebrow raised in that classic judgemental look of his. 

"What are you doing?"  

"Reading," Moon answered shortly, straightening and walking down the row past the boy, whose confused gaze followed him. "Don't let me distract you. I'm going." 

He stopped in the intersection between the showers and the locker room. There was the rustle and scrape of the curtain closing again, before the telltale trickle of the water running.

He stood where he could see as far as possible out of every door, hugging himself to direct his nervous energy somewhere, else he start pacing. 

Doubting it would work, he tried to access the cameras anyway, and was met with the unresponsive void. 

He didn't like this situation a whole lot. 

The threat was yet to be confirmed, but it could still be there. And he didn't want to stray too far from Gregory's side to check, or worse, to lead something to the boy's location. 

He stayed put, filtering out the sound of the running water and listening beyond it, trying to pick up any hint of movement in the rooms he couldn't see. 

A minute passed. No sounds. 

Two minutes. 

He stood, tense and watchful, as the next three minutes came and went, until finally he heard the water shut off. 

He glanced towards the showers, then kicked himself into gear, moving over to one of the benches to pick up a clean towel. Folded up— how thoughtful of them.

He approached the showers, stopping a few paces away from the boy's stall. "Done?"  

"Yeah," Gregory's voice chirped, before he stepped out of the shower and looked up at Moon.

Moon had expected him to be wet, yet it was still a shock how different he looked with his hair plastered to the sides of his face and water dripping from his clothes. And how much cleaner he looked. 

He handed the towel to Gregory as the boy stepped up to him. 

"Hair first," Moon advised, but Gregory was already in the process of toweling off his hair, his entire head engulfed in the fluffy fabric. 

After the boy had dried his hair to the best of his ability and wrapped the towel around himself, Moon noticed that he was shivering. 

"Was the water cold?" 

"N-not at first… The warm water kind of ran out. But I still got clean." He looked down at the floor, and another powerful shudder racked him. 

He also hadn't thought about Gregory being cold after showering. He stared for a moment, concern seeping in, before resolve won out again. 

"Dry off as best you can," he suggested, stamping down the urge to do it himself, if not to see the boy stop shivering. "Then follow me." 

Gregory nodded at his words, giving drying off his clothes another attempt, while Moon glanced towards the junction between the locker room and the showers as he waited. 

After some doing, Gregory stopped and wrapped the towel around himself again, looking up at Moon expectantly. 

Moon led the boy down the hall, to the section between the bathroom and the locker rooms. Here, there was a vantage in three directions, with at least twenty feet of distance visible past every doorway. This would do.

As Gregory stopped at his side, Moon picked up another fresh towel from the bench, walked over to the wall, in a nook between two rows of lockers, and sat himself down. Then he looked up at Gregory.

The shivering child eyed him skeptically, staying where he was. 

"Come here," Moon prompted. 

"W-why..?" 

"I can warm you up." 

Gregory frowned. "No you c-can't.." he shivered again. "You're a robot." 

"That's precisely why I can. Would you really rather stand there?" 

He put a little bit of condescension into his tone, entirely by accident, but it seemed to do the trick. 

Gregory heaved a sigh that turned into a shudder, before stepping towards Moon and letting him guide the boy into his lap.

Moon helped Gregory get settled, taking hold of the damp towel and discarding it on the floor beside them, and replacing it with the fresh one. He draped it over the boy's back, adjusting it so both ends came evenly down on either side of his own body— essentially forming a pocket between them and the air around them. 

He could feel Gregory shivering, but the boy hadn't protested to being in his lap, and had quickly found a comfortable position to sink into. 

Moon wrapped his arms loosely around Gregory, then focused and started to slow down his systems. The cooling fans stuttered intentionally, so instead warmth radiated from his chassis. His sensors gave him alerts, but he quieted them— he was doing this intentionally, and carefully. 

The temperature between the two of them increased by a few degrees, and Moon felt the trembling form in his arms gradually relax.

“Warm enough?” 

Gregory responded by shifting, snuggling up closer to Moon with a contented sigh. 

Moon rubbed his back for a while, then focused instead on fingering lightly through the boy’s hair, trying to gently undo some of the tangles still present. The boy protested with a slight flinch when one of the tangles tugged a little too hard, and Moon gave up on it, instead just gazing down at Gregory as he relaxed against the wall. 

His mind wandered, then picked a thought to linger on. 

“Do you have nightmares often?” 

“Sometimes...” the boy spoke into his chest. 

“Are they usually that bad?” 

“No… they’ve never been… that bad,” Gregory mumbled, sounding abashed. 

The first night the boy sleeps in the Pizzaplex after having a traumatizing experience, and he coincidentally has nocturnal enuresis? That couldn’t be coincidence, that had to be because simply being here was damaging for him. Was there anything Moon could do to help him, if he really was staying? There was so little influence he had over dreams… he was practically powerless. 

He didn’t like that. He wanted to help. He wanted to be useful. 

He held Gregory closer, resting his faceplate atop the boy’s head lightly. 

“If you’re still tired, you should sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.” 

The boy in his lap nodded against his chestplate, snuggling up closer still, and relaxing with a quiet exhale. His shivering had subsided, to Moon's relief. 

Moon had to be careful not to overheat himself, both for the sake of his own systems, and for Gregory’s safety. Parts of his body could get hotter than others, and touching them could be a burning hazard. 

He focused on keeping his fans running every few minutes, so the air trapped under the towel would stay at a consistent temperature. 

After a while, he could tell by the quiet, slow way the boy was breathing that he'd fallen asleep. 

A hesitant, weary affection ran through him as he watched the boy resting, his sides rising and falling. He was warm— and safe. 

His affection drew out the one who’d been in standby up until now. The situation had been one Moon was suited for, despite the unusual circumstances. He hadn’t needed his counterpart’s guidance. The second Gregory had woken up, Sun had left Moon to handle it without the distraction of his own presence.

Now, Moon could feel him there, gazing fondly at the sleeping child through his eyes. 

They shared Moon’s comfort for a while, before Sun finally sent a silent prompt— gingerly pointing at what was swirling in the back of Moon’s mind, that quiet am I doing things right? 

And, instantly, all of Moon’s doubts poured forward.

Was it really right to let Gregory stay here? Should they be looking for the authorities— sending him out to fend for himself? Letting him stay here— it meant willingly keeping him in a place that had hurt him before.

But what better option was there? They’d already agreed to let him stay, and Moon was almost certain he had nowhere else to go. They were all he had, as far as they knew. 

And Moon couldn’t remember it, but he’d tried to hurt Gregory once before. 

He wanted Gregory to be far from danger, but it seemed there was no place that was truly, completely safe for him. The boy was trapped here, like Moon. 

He was grateful he couldn’t cry, but he still quivered as though he were the one who was cold.

He felt Sun try to push out his worries and his pain with warmth and reassurance.

You’re doing a good job. You’re doing the best you can. 

I’m so worried about him…

I know. But you can’t start doubting yourself now. He needs you. 

He looked down at Gregory and tried to tell himself that Sun was right. The boy was safe right here— he was in Moon's arms. He focused solely on that, and, slowly, some of his anxiety faded into the background. 

Still, rest wouldn’t have come easily to Moon even if he could rest. And it was good that he couldn't— he had to keep watch. 

He was held in place by the child in his lap, so all he could do was stare ahead, and listen quietly as time passed. 

It was two hours later that something caught his attention, and it caught Sun's attention too. But it wasn't from outside of them. 

His counterpart fidgeted, inquiring about the warning Moon had elected to ignore. Moon took one look at the exhausted child in his lap and waved Sun off. He just needed another hour, maybe two. It would be fine.  

Twenty minutes later, and Sun nudged him again, more irritated and more anxious. After Moon waved him off a second time, Sun was back in five minutes. 

You can’t keep ignoring it.

I can and I will. 

Moon refused to budge, and Sun returned to sulking. 

The next time Moon was pestered, it was by his own systems. His brother was there, gesturing to the warning with an impression of crossing his arms. When Moon dismissed the warning, Sun’s annoyance crackled hotter. 

You know we have to— 

I know. We can make it. 

You’re being stupid. Just wake him. 

I will not wake him. 

You are causing me incredible distress right now.

Then go sit in standby. I’ll be fine. 

Sun’s exasperation forcibly washed over Moon, overwhelming him momentarily, before he felt the flicker of his counterpart returning to standby, (but not without an air of “fine, be that way.”)

He was debating actually waking Gregory up when a sound reached his sensors. Not immediately near them, but too close for comfort. 

A discordant sound that jittered and spluttered. A broken call with a high pitched, steely note to it. 

Moon lightly shook the boy's shoulders, who responded by shifting, groaning as he struggled to come to. 

The sound repeated itself, changing in tone and duration, echoing through the sound chamber that was the basement. Gregory sat up quickly, stiffening. 

Moon made a motion to stay quiet, holding one finger up to his static grin, then spoke in a low register. 

"Is that…?" 

"It's her," Gregory whispered back. 

Moon's hands went to hoist Gregory up under the arms, and the towel was swiftly abandoned as he rose to his feet and set Gregory down. 

"What do we do?" Gregory's voice was an anxious hush. 

Moon listened carefully. 

He could make out the faint, uneven clanking of an animatronic's gait— Chica's gait— coming from the loading dock area. 

"We take the same path we came in. We should be able to make it. Stay by me, and don't make a sound." 

The footsteps sounded too close, and closer still, as the two headed quietly for the north exit. 

Passing through the hallway between the locker room and the laundry room, the sound faded in and out as Moon strained to single it out over the buzzing overhead and his own systems. 

The screeching had ceased, and then the footsteps ceased. Moon could hear his own fans, the rustles of their clothes as they snuck through the corridor. 

Passing through the laundry room, it was eerily silent aside from their muffled, timid footsteps. 

Reaching the gap between the washing machines, they slinked through the hidden path. 

Turning the corner, they froze, and Moon grabbed Gregory and threw him behind himself. 

She was right in front of them.  

The chicken animatronic stood limply in the hallway, head tilted to one side, and she looked horrible. Her casing was splintered and jagged, her beak was missing, and her endoskeleton was exposed along her left arm. 

She took a step towards Moon, her head pointedly not following the motion, and Moon moved to block her, taking a step back in time with Gregory. He could see the glamrock's gaze trained over his shoulder. 

Everyone stood still, the two animatronics daring each other to make the first move. 

A screech filled the air as Chica lunged. Moon threw himself forward to combat the attack, taking her arms in hand with a forceful grip and wrestling her back. 

Intense struggling ensued as the two grappled, Chica using her weight against Moon, Moon using his hold on Chica to destabilize her. 

Without looking back, Moon addressed Gregory. 

"Do you know how to get back to the elevator?" 

A pause too long, Moon started to look back and then refocused. 

A shaky "Y-yes." 

"Grab the flashlight and get out of here. Head for the daycare and don't look back. I'll catch up with you." 

There was more reluctant silence behind him, wavering, before the sound of shoes squeaking as the boy turned on his heel and ran. Chica fought harder against him, and Moon mustered more strength to keep her back, an angry growl escaping him. 

Very distantly, Moon heard the sound of the kitchen door opening and closing, undoubtedly the boy taking the other route back to the elevator, before Chica's unnatural scream blocked it out again. 

With every bit of strength Moon put in, it seemed to give the glamrock more determination. 

He needed to give Gregory a head start, but he didn't have much time. 

His vision cut out for a split second, long enough for him to pause and Chica to throw him off. When he finally forcefully shoved the prompt away, he dug his heels in to brace himself as she tried to shove past him.

He took hold of her upper arm casing, (and exposed endo arm), shoving her forward and then down, getting a strong advantage over her as he threw off her balance. 

He could feel himself weakening, asking more of his systems than they wanted to handle. 

As they struggled, two immovable objects pushing in opposite directions, Moon realized something. She was still aiming for exactly where Gregory had been. Gregory had had more than enough time to get to the elevator by now. 

If she wanted to go that way, well, that was the long way around. Moon could get to the elevator quicker. 

He pushed harder, feigning desperation that in turn made Chica push harder with genuine effort. He felt the casing on her right arm splinter with an angry snap under his grip, before he pulled her to the side and dodged in the opposite direction, and the shattered animatronic barreled right past him with undue momentum, crossing into the next room and colliding hard with one of the lockers. 

Moon couldn't help giving a satisfied snicker at the sight as he recovered, while the glamrock stepped back from the locker, twitching unnaturally, head rotating smoothly and unsettlingly, before she started to stumble towards another exit. 

"Stupid chicken," he muttered with one final scathing glance, before facing the hallway and starting to stagger towards the elevator. 

Through the dark hallway and into the wider hall, Moon kept pushing himself forward, slamming the button to summon the elevator once he reached it, and waiting impatiently as the rumbling drew closer. He dismissed the prompt three times. 

The doors opened and he stepped inside, pushing the next button, standing stiffly as he waited for the doors to close. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable light barraging him inside the small space, just counting down the seconds until the next doors inevitably opened. 

Hurry, hurry, hurry.  

A ding, and the elevator came to an abrupt stop as the doors opened. He stepped out into the open, making his way through the back room, and stumbled out into the atrium. Not much farther. 

He located the escalator to the first level, climbed up it, and was hit with another, brighter light, directly in the face. 

He clawed at his face with a hiss and a stagger, and the boy quickly turned the flashlight away, apologetic. 

"S-sorry!" 

"Why are you here?" Moon said unsteadily, still covering his eyes. "I told you to head for the daycare." 

"I- I WAS heading for the daycare! I just didn't want to leave you!" The boy sounded frantic in his apology, despairing over the dilemma he’d been faced with— because of Moon. 

This was so unfair to Gregory— the boy hadn't done anything wrong— and Sun was right, he had been stupid. 

His mind was blurring. 

"It's alright," he said shortly, making an attempt to put reassurance in his voice, though his pain made it come out strained and blunt. "Doesn't matter. We need to get back there, right now." 

He lurched forward, and the boy took an uneasy step back, seemingly sensing something was amiss. 

"Wh-why? What's wrong??" 

Gregory's panicked voice lilted, sounding distorted and faraway. 

Moon was fumbling, clawing, grasping at the words needed to explain himself, trying to recall the most important details while Sun panicked in his forethoughts. 

Out of time, out of time.  

He shook his head, and the warning returned, this time blocking out his vision. 

Battery Critically Low.

Chapter Text

Gregory braced himself. 

He didn't know what he was bracing himself for, but Moon's jittery movement wasn't giving him a good feeling. 

Not entirely denying the rising fear creeping up his spine, he backed up and eyed the jester animatronic warily. 

"M-Moon?" 

Moon wasn't even looking at him, his red-eyed grin directed at the floor in front of him. His optics seemed dimmer. 

As Gregory was fighting to speak again over the lump that had somehow formed in his throat, Moon finally spoke, his voice low. 

"Listen. I'm running out of power. There's a place I can charge, but I don't think I can make it." 

The fear made his blood turn to ice, freezing him in place. 

"What do you mean? Y-you're gonna shut down?" 

"If I do…" Gregory didn't like the "if" part of that sentence, "you need to get me back to my charger." 

"By myself?" He croaked. His voice sounded even smaller than he felt. 

"I'm sorry." 

"What do you mean you're sorry??" 

"I didn't want to put you in this position. When I shut down—" 

"It's when now??" Panic gripped him. 

"—yes. I don't think I can get back in time." 

"You can't just—" 

Moon interrupted with a head shake. 

"We don't have time for this. I don't have time." He paused, then his gaze turned towards Gregory. "...The charger, it's in my room." His eye light flickered and then went out completely. 

"You room? Where's that?" 

Gregory stepped forward automatically as Moon's stance faltered and he swayed. The animatronic towered over him, but there was an unsteadiness in his frame, like he was about to fall over. He wasn't sure if falling would hurt Moon, but instinct prompted him to offer himself as support. 

Moon's hand found his shoulder, and that was suddenly a lot of weight to handle. After a surprised stagger, he caught his breath and steeled himself to adjust. 

"Where's your room?" The boy repeated, trying to look up at Moon, whose face was harder to make out without the glowing eyes. 

Moon didn't reply, trying to take a step forward that forced Gregory to move with him. Erratic whirring and winding sounds emanated from the animatronic's chassis. 

"Moon?" Gregory asked again, trying to match his stride with the much taller animatronic, who was leaning against him unevenly. 

His heart was pounding at the continued silence between them as they slowly covered ground towards the shutter door, worries running rampant in his head at what Moon's unresponsiveness could mean. How much time did they have? 

It ate at him, until, nearing the door leading out of the atrium, Moon stopped walking, and Gregory had to stop too. 

All of the clicking and grinding ceased, filling the atmosphere with a terrifying silence, and the weight centered on his shoulder shifted, threatening to pull his feet out from under him. Gregory whipped around to try and stop the animatronic from taking him down with it. 

Moon was collapsing, and Gregory was not equipped to hold him up. Inelegantly, he crouched, lowering the heavy frame of the lunar animatronic as gravity claimed it, or, rather, as it crushed him. 

"WaitwaitwaitWAITWAIT!! WHERE'S YOUR ROOM?" 

He was pretty sure it was important to know where he needed to take Moon to charge him, if he had to do it by himself! 

He ended up being forced to adopt a kneeling-slash-sitting position to accommodate the now-lifeless animatronic, until he'd settled uncomfortably with Moon in his lap, pinning him down. 

He stared, horrified, but only for a moment— as immediately indignant frustration bubbled to the surface, protecting him from his distress. 

"You jerk! You can't do this to me! Get up!" 

Moon did not respond. 

Gregory stared angrily for a few moments, before wiggling out from under the animatronic, trying to push him into a sitting position, then quickly realizing Moon couldn't support himself, and moving to carefully position him on his back, which was the only position that felt in any way respectful or.. comfortable, as ridiculous as the thought sounded. 

He stood up, and Moon did not. 

He stared for a long while, some quiet hope in him expecting Moon to be fine and to suddenly come to life again— red eyes and all. 

There was no way he was actually on his own now. After everything. Moon was fine— this was just a bad nightmare. It wasn't real. 

…

He was just.. laying there. 

The panic was setting in, but not before a tidal wave of denial. 

"What happened to 'not letting any harm come to me,' huh??! Get up! Come on! Stop looking so happy about being dead!!" 

An urge to kick the robot in front of him was redirected into an angry stomp, sending sensation through his leg and to his spine, temporarily diverting his attention to more clarity of thought. 

This was… not the end of the world, probably. It sucked that Moon had sprung this on him and left him to deal with it, but he could help Moon, right? He could do this. All he needed was to get Moon to his charger. 

He already knew that Moon had been aiming for the daycare, so wherever the animatronic needed to charge, it had to be in the daycare somewhere. Moon had said his room. Their room.. where could their room be? 

He focused hard, fighting with his jumbled thoughts as he tried to call up the layout of the daycare. 

He didn't remember seeing any doorways on the main floor of the play area, besides the one to the theater and the gift shop, and the rooms along the corridor surrounding the place were for birthday parties. 

There was something nagging at his mind, he just had to search harder for it. Past the memories of Moon chasing him through the daycare, past the lights shutting off, all the way back to when he'd first met Sun. 

When he'd met Sun, the cheery animatronic had been standing on a balcony way above the play area, and jumped down from it. Behind the curtains was certainly a room. Their room? Possibly? That had to be it. 

Immediately, problem: Gregory couldn't fly. 

The balcony, from what he remembered, was at least twenty feet up the wall. How the heck was he supposed to get up to it? 

"I reeeeally wish you were awake right now so I could tell you how much you suck," Gregory muttered, glaring down at the animatronic, which garnered no response. 

He sighed, staring down at the floor in thought. Could there be another entrance? 

No person designing a building would make a room that could only be accessed by flight. Every room had to be accessible on foot, somehow. The thought gave him hope. 

Still, finding an entrance to a specific room in an area as large as the daycare would be like finding a needle in a haystack. How was he going to do it?

If he had any hope of locating it, he needed to understand the layout of the area better. He needed a map. Where could he find a map? 

A soft sound brought his attention back to his surroundings, and he looked around. 

Looking around did nothing; it was nearly pitch black in the atrium. But he was hearing a sound, and sounds weren't good. 

Shakily, he lifted his flashlight and aimed it in front of him. 

He flicked the switch. His breath seized. 

He may have made a sound. He wasn't sure.

Sauntering and swaying in front of him was the only animatronic he hadn't seen since coming back to the Pizzaplex. And she was way, way, way too close for comfort. She may be blind, but he was apparently deaf. 

There was a sharp insistence in his mind that she knew exactly where he was, despite gazing at the empty sockets where her eyes had been, and the black wires bleeding out of them. The only thing that gave him hope was the fact that her face wasn't turned towards him. 

Her ears were twitching, and he held the breath that still hadn't left his lungs, stepping back slowly as she paused, swaying still, head tilting and twitching silently. Finally, she changed direction, turning straight towards him, falling into an unnatural and rigid gait, leading with her shoulders and torso before each step. 

He gasped, taking a hasty, haphazard step back and— oops. 

Her ears pricked, and she swung out a clawed hand in a deadly arc, the movement a blur as he jumped back, barely avoiding it. He compensated for his movement by taking five unbalanced steps back— five noisy unbalanced steps. 

He kept backing away, no longer bothering to stay silent, as the wolf animatronic matched his steps, moving faster with each jerky advance, until, with a winding hydraulic hiss, she crouched, and he dodged at the last second as she lunged. He used the precious seconds he'd been granted by her missed lunge to get as far away from her as possible before she recovered. 

He threw himself into the darkness and uncertainty of the atrium, hearing Roxy tearing through the corridor seconds later. 

He was only able to keep the flashlight steady enough to see obstacles in his way, and the vague layout of the floorspace. He was too focused on running to look back, but he didn't have to to know that Roxy was right behind him. 

The sound of his footsteps were the giveaway, but if he stopped moving, she'd run into him. He needed to trip her up. 

He searched for options as he ran, heading vaguely in the direction of Kid's Cove as the corridor decided his path. 

After a long stretch of open space, in which Roxy steadily gained on him, a photo booth came into view, and he charged straight for it. When he reached it, rather than slipping behind the curtain, he veered. Roxy did not. 

He heard her crash into the booth, only then allowing himself to slow down and catch his breath. 

There'd been too much running in the last ten minutes— by anyone's standards, and he was only a kid. His lungs were screaming at him. His breath was hard to control, and too loud. 

The wolf animatronic furiously tore at the curtain, staggering back, and Gregory tried to hold his breath again. 

Roxy freed herself, and stood still, head tilted as her ears twitched. 

Gregory started backing up. 

Despite Roxy's lack of sight, Gregory was still at a disadvantage when he couldn't look in the direction he was going. This proved dangerous. 

He felt something bump against the back of his leg, the unidentified object giving no leeway as he tried to back into it, and he tripped. He fell. 

He was on the ground for about two seconds before scrambling to his feet and bolting. He heard Roxy leap again. 

This time, he wasn't as graceful. It wasn't some skillful evasion like out of a movie. It was more of a desperate haul for the first thing he saw that might be easier for him to traverse than Roxy. 

He turned the corner, leading past Kid's Cove and towards Gator Golf, but he went no further than Kid's Cove. Instead, his flashlight landed on the escalator ahead of him, and he aimed for it. 

Roxy followed him around the corner. 

Before he reached the base of the escalator, he was taken by a sudden impulse, and he zig-zagged, first to the left, and then to the right. 

Roxy jumped to the left. 

He reached the escalator's steps as she jumped, trying to keep his footfalls light as he went part way up the right side, and then stopped. He crouched low. 

The wolf animatronic recovered, standing up again and heading in his general direction, but slower. Her ears were twitching again. 

He pressed himself as close to the steps as he could, watching through the glass divider as Roxy stumbled first, then started to ascend the stairs— on the left side of the escalator. 

The animatronic continued up the steps, mechanisms whirring in pained whispers, and he stayed statue still as she passed him. 

At the landing, Roxy paused, ears flicking, head twitching, swaying ever so slightly. 

"Where ARE you?" 

The growl was strangled and raspy, and demanding. She had no right to sound so peeved by him hiding for his life. 

He glared daggers at her, knowing either way it wouldn't affect anything, as the wolf animatronic swayed silently for several more moments, before turning and starting up the next flight of stairs. 

Absolutely horrid that she seemed to know how to navigate the basic layout of the atrium without sight, but it would be much better for him if she was up there, and not down on the second floor with him and Moon. 

Still on all fours, he backed down the steps, carefully and quietly. The sound of Roxy's metallic stomps on the escalator masked any noises that Gregory made, as he slowly inched down to solid ground again, and stood up. 

He waited a good few minutes as her footsteps grew quieter and quieter, until he was sure she was gone. 

So, making noise had probably drawn an already patrolling Roxy to his location. Now, not only did he have to get Moon out of the atrium, he had to do it quietly.

This was going to be a nightmare.

The boy found himself returning to where Moon was, hovering near him as if the animatronic could help him in its current state. 

It was also maybe instinct; Moon was the only ally he'd had after Freddy had turned on him, and he still was having trouble fully believing that this was real. 

The naptime attendant was still lying there, motionless, no more animated than the last time Gregory had seen him. 

It shouldn't have been so shocking to know that this happens to the robots when they run out of power, but Moon had seemed so.. alive. Seeing him like this felt like he was gone. It wasn't like human sleep; he wasn't going to just miraculously wake up. This was like being dead. 

The sight of the animatronic lying lifeless on the ground was upsetting, to say the least. He stared long enough that he started to feel overwhelmed, and had to tear his gaze away. 

This was too much for him to think about. He needed to collect himself and figure out what to do. It was all up to him. 

He remembered what he'd been thinking about before Roxy had appeared: he'd been about to look for a map. He still needed to figure out how to get to Moon's room. Getting to the daycare would mean nothing, if he didn't figure that out. 

He lifted his flashlight, noticing for at least the third time the big sign in the middle of the floor, that he remembered glancing at a few times on his first visit. That sign had a layout of the Pizzaplex on it, didn't it? 

He walked up to it, tracing the flashlight along the graphic print, and his face scrunched up with contempt and mild disgust. What a joke. This was meant to show guests how to get from place to place? 

This map only showed what was in the Pizzaplex, not how the places were connected, or even what the places were called. It wasn't labeled. He could see the little design that was meant to be the daycare, with the play structures and the sun and moon symbols, but again.. this didn't help him. This only showed that the daycare existed. 

Maybe Fazbear Ent. just relied on guests being able to find their way around using common sense. His purpose for finding a map was a niche one. People probably don't often go on quests to find behind-the-scenes areas. At least, not people who wanted to remain unbanned from the premises. 

He needed to find a different map. A better one. 

But.. what better map? And where? 

He couldn't recall seeing any stations for handheld maps around the Plex. His Fazwatch had had a good map, but he'd lost it a long time ago. He couldn't remember what the map had looked like, either. Fazwatches were purchased at the front gates, which were in the lobby, which was… 

Right. Freddy. 

So not that. 

As he was desperately searching for options, an intrusive thought forced its way to the surface and threatened to drag him under. 

Even if the Pizzaplex had other maps, there was no guarantee they'd be any more useful than the giant ones in the atrium. They wouldn't help him find Moon's room— none of the maps given to the public would. 

What was he supposed to do? 

He turned around, looking bleakly in Moon's direction, before backing up and pressing himself to the tall structure behind him, and sinking to the floor.

He didn't know how long he'd been crying before it happened. He just knew that he'd suddenly felt like crying, and then he just had. 

He was curled up, legs drawn up to his chest and face buried in his knees, just trying not to sob loudly enough that Roxy might be drawn to him again. 

He could feel the dampness on his cheeks from the tears dripping down them, but he made no attempt to wipe them away, his hands occupied with gripping his arms to keep his knees pulled close. 

All that kept circulating through his mind was how hopeless he was. 

Moon was out of battery, Roxy was somewhere, and the atrium was no longer safe. No place was safe without Moon. 

This type of loneliness, mixed with the bitter taste of fear, was sickeningly familiar. 

And so, he cried. 

He was so ensnared in his misery that he didn't notice the sound of wheels quietly rolling up to him, only able to hear his own breathy sobs and sniffles. 

Something was shoved in front of his face. 

"Take a map." 

The voice broke through his thoughts, droning and monotone, and as his brain tried to find a match for it, his first reaction was disgruntled confusion. He hadn't heard a voice like that before. Who, exactly, was bothering him? 

"Wh.. wha…?" His own voice was quiet and broken, and weak, his vocal cords strained from trying to keep his sobbing muted. He lifted his gaze, all too aware of how pathetic he must look, and entirely perplexed as to how he hadn't already been killed by whatever had found him. 

Through watery eyes, he took in the form of the thing that had approached him in his weakened state. 

Leaning over him was the most battered S.T.A.F.F. bot he'd ever seen— or at least the most battered one he'd seen still standing on its own two wheels. 

Except— wait. It wasn't a S.T.A.F.F. bot. Not exactly. Something about it was different. 

After some examination, he eventually concluded that it was mainly the face that seemed different, though he also didn't remember the security bots having so much color on them. 

The bot was cracked and dented, and dirtied, but its eroded casing had a painted black 'i' over the yellow chest. It also had glasses. And a hat. It was missing an eye, but that was less a design flaw, and more of a 'everything here has been abandoned so you can't expect the robots to not have damage' thing. 

It looked distinctly more friendly than the other S.T.A.F.F. bots, albeit bashed and bruised to the nines. 

And it wasn't attacking him. That in itself was somewhat groundbreaking. Another friendly bot? 

The other S.T.A.F.F. bots had never tried to hurt him, per se, but he'd still tried to keep his distance from them, as every time he'd gotten caught in their flashlight range, they'd sounded an alarm, and the nearest animatronic would come barreling towards him from wherever they'd been before being alerted. 

They weren't hostile, but they were still dangerous.

This bot neither had a flashlight, nor was it blaring an alarm. It tilted its head and craned its neck forward, leaning further into his personal space and staring blankly while he cringed away. 

"Take a map." 

Gregory's gaze dropped down to the object in its three-fingered hand. It was a thin, decorative pamphlet, from what he could see. He stared for a few seconds, before turning his face away, trying to curl in on himself again. 

"I don't need one of those," he murmured, speaking into his knees while his voice warbled. 

Don't cry in front of the weird robot. Don't do it. Stop. 

He just wanted to be left alone. As interesting as his interrupter may be, it was still invading what he considered to be a private moment. It was embarrassing. 

He was practically at his lowest point, and was now being witnessed by a strange bot, who didn't even seem to be aware of how hard he was fighting to keep his composure. 

The tears were still flowing, but he was managing not to give in to the urge to start sobbing. 

"Take a map." The robot insisted again, not taking his attempt to wave it off for an answer. 

"No. Leave me alone," he whined, still refusing to look at the bot. 

"Take a map. Take a map." 

"Shut uuup!" He hissed, his voice cracking pitifully as he attempted, unsuccessfully, to not let his frustration get the better of him. 

"Take a map." 

This was too much. He was going to lose it. 

He bristled, this time refusing to humor the bot with a response, and he could hear the sound of it waiting restlessly before it repeated itself again. 

"Take a map." 

He felt rage spark through him like fire, temporarily shocking him out of his despair. 

"Okay okay! Fine!" He growled, glowering coldly at the bot as he snatched the paper from its hand, giving an exasperated sigh once it finally stopped encroaching on his personal bubble. 

"Thank you. Please enjoy." 

"Yeah-huh," he muttered. 

He sniffed, looking down at the paper he'd been given while he used one hand to rub at his eye, trying to wipe some of the blurriness from his vision. 

Before he'd had any time to actually observe the object, he heard a quiet whir, and looked up to see the S.T.A.F.F. bot rolling away. 

"Wait! Where are you going?" He got to his feet impulsively, then remained glued to his spot, just watching it roll farther and farther away, into the darkness. 

It was better that it was leaving— at least it wouldn't annoy him anymore. In the short amount of time it'd been there, it had managed to coax him into talking, which wasn't beneficial for his situation right now. 

"Thanks.. I guess," he mumbled under his breath, then looked down at the pamphlet again. 

He flipped through it, squinting, before eventually bending down to pick up the flashlight he'd left on the floor. He should be trying harder to conserve its battery life; it'd just been sitting there, burning power, while he'd been curled up in a ball of sorrow, not using it. 

He pointed the flashlight at the paper, then blinked and squinted, grimacing. 

This amount of light so close to his face was blinding. He couldn't comfortably find a position to hold the light in and still be able to read the paper. 

With a sigh, he sat down, crossing his legs under himself and smoothing out the paper on the floor in front of him. He put one hand on the paper to keep it from folding back up, then lifted the flashlight higher, until it covered the page without reflecting so much into his eyes. Now he could see it. 

He leaned forward, trying to make it out while keeping his own shadow from blocking his view. 

He was shocked to find the map was different from the giant one on display a few lengths from him. It was blocky, and far more detailed. It looked almost like a blueprint. 

It looked like the one from his Fazwatch. He could even tell where he was; he recognized the layout of the atrium, though it wasn't labeled. He could tell that the four smaller sections on either side of the big main area were the sub lobbies for Kid's Cove, Gator Golf, Roxy Raceway, and Fazerblast. And he could see the main stage. 

After scanning the entire page, he frowned. 

This was just the atrium. Where was the daycare? He flipped through the other pages, scanning them, finally stopping on the one labeled "ground floor". Moon's words about the elevators came back to him. 

The building was trying to simulate the idea that there were more floors than there actually were, so the entrance lobby and the daycare were on a separate page entirely. So all the other floor levels were probably inaccurate, too, aside from the basements. He doubted there was a fourth floor— whatever that one section was, it was definitely connected to the third floor. 

Looking at the page for the lobby and daycare, though, he could.. not tell where Moon's room actually was. It was too confusing. 

Maybe the map wouldn't show him the path to Moon's room— maybe there wasn't even a path at all. He still didn't know. All he knew was that he was on his own, and there was no one around who could help him. 

But at least he had a map, and that was better than.. not having a map. Probably?

It looked confusing now, but maybe once he was standing inside the daycare he could figure it out. 

He glanced over at Moon, and finally started to mentally confront the herculean task he'd been faced with: having to get Moon all the way to the daycare by himself. 

One option: dragging him. That would get them there eventually, but it would be a long and exhausting process. He wasn't even sure he could actually drag the animatronic the entire way, either. Not without stopping to rest. 

He felt quite brilliant for the idea that struck him at that moment. 

The Pizzaplex always seemed to have random carts laying around— they had made good hiding spots in a pinch. If he could find one, it would be a lot easier to get Moon to the daycare. 

He could worry about getting it to Moon, and then getting Moon into it, once he'd actually found one. 

Motivated by the idea, he set out to search. 

He gave the area Roxy had disappeared to a wide berth, keeping his ears pricked as he navigated the second floor. 

Fake palm tree dividers, strollers, ATMs, vending machines— he saw lots of things, but none of them hollow, or moveable. He searched the entire second floor, until he'd covered every square inch, and determined that nothing on this level was suitable for transporting his robot companion. 

He moved to the ground floor next. There was no way he was going to search the third floor. He'd rather drag Moon. And he would, if it came to that. 

Gregory quickly decided that being alone on the ground floor was much worse than the second floor. There was no roof over his head to give the illusion of security; it was just a massive, open space. He felt exposed. He was. 

He skirted the middle of the room, where he could faintly see the rearranged party tables and scattered tablecloths, and the lack of cleaning carts. 

There was one place he was expecting to find a cart if all else failed, and it was, coincidentally, another place he wasn't keen on going to on his own. But he needed to, or the 'being alone' part wasn't going to change. Still, he was going to check every other nook and cranny first. 

Careful footsteps still sounding too loud in the silent atrium, he checked each of the lobbies of the attractions, not hanging around them any longer than it took to sweep his flashlight's glow around their interiors and determine that literally none of them had what he was looking for. 

Once he'd eliminated all of his other options, he finally approached the food court row, coming up on one of the doors to the spacious back room area. 

Apprehensively, he pushed the door open to see beyond it, his gaze immediately snapping to the elevator, which was closed, and then scanning the rest of the back room. It was empty. He stepped out into the room. 

Along one side of the open area between the food court kitchens and the basement elevator was a line of dumpsters. And near those dumpsters, with any luck, would be carts. And hopefully, at least one of them would be clean. 

This area smelled particularly awful, in such a way that it was overpowering, and covering his nose with the hem of his shirt did almost nothing. Bad, bad, awful. Horrible. 

He made it past the dumpsters mainly by not looking directly at them (helped to not imagine what was causing the smell), before he found what he was looking for. Finally, something was going his way. 

Several inconspicuous gray carts were parked neatly along the wall, clearly prepared to fulfill a duty they would never be called upon for. That was fine; he had his own task to call upon them for.

The stairs sucked. 

It would have been hard enough to get the cart up the escalator if he didn't also have to be conscious of the noise he was making. This wasn't helped by the fact that the cart barely fit between the rails on either side of the steps. 

All factors considered, this resulted in him inching his way up the escalator one step at a time, making sure the cart didn't bump against any of the steps too loudly, until finally he could reach the top. 

No sooner than he'd cleared that hurdle, however, did he find himself with another. 

He reached Moon's side, cart in tow, but then stopped, all of his thoughts grinding to a halt. It was, regrettably, time to worry about how he'd get Moon into the cart. 

Past Gregory had left the problem for Future Gregory, and he was Future Gregory now. And Future Gregory was so not happy about it. 

If he tried to lean against the cart to support Moon's weight, it might roll away or fall over. If he tried to get inside it first, he might fall over with the cart. He didn't know if he could lift Moon high enough to get him inside. Or at all. 

After some deliberation, he stepped forward, putting a hand on the cart's edge, then pulled it further away from Moon, repositioning it. 

Once he'd gotten it where he wanted it, he stood at the short end of it, putting a hand on either side, and started to tip it. Then, he quickly moved to the long side of it so he could pull it towards himself and prevent it from hitting the ground loudly. 

He set it down carefully, so the open end faced Moon. 

The process of getting Moon inside the cart was less dignified than he would have wanted, and he was sure Moon would forgive him for it, in the rare circumstance that he actually decided to tell the lunar animatronic about it. 

But, suffice it to say, eventually Moon was in the cart. Then began the slightly more difficult task of flipping the cart again, this time with a heavy animatronic inside, and barring any noise. 

Moon was limp and unresponsive, and Gregory couldn't shake the feeling that this was the equivalent of moving a dead body around. It was unnerving, almost sickening, interacting with Moon— Moon's body— in this state.

Would Moon remember any of this? What did it feel like— to come back from death? Had he ever experienced this before, and had to be saved? 

All questions he could ask Moon later, once he'd been charged. Because Moon was going to be fine. 

Once he'd managed to right the cart, he adjusted Moon's position as best he could, the animatronic's head dipping forward against his own chest plate, devoid of any strength or energy. It was just.. like he wasn't there at all. 

"I'm gonna help you," Gregory promised, gazing at the lifeless animatronic, determination snuffing out the dwindling trepidation in his heart. 

Moon had done so much for him, he could handle this one thing. 

"...even though you still suck for this," he muttered under his breath as he turned and started to pull the cart out of the atrium.

Gregory stopped in the corridor surrounding the daycare's ground floor, his gaze drifting towards the enclosed play area. 

He was in the middle of the daycare now, surely the map would make sense from here. 

He retrieved his gift from the weird S.T.A.F.F. bot, pulling it out of his pocket, and went to lean on the rail overlooking the daycare's wooden doors, which were dimly lit by a single light beneath him. 

He was standing on the higher level, the entrance to the playpen straight across from him. So on his map..

He glanced between the pamphlet and the area around him, alternating between shining the flashlight up and down and around himself, and squinting at the map. 

The railing he was leaning against was curved outwards in a wide arc, making a semicircle of walkable area that was out of the way of the main path. Once he noticed it, he looked down again, and finally figured out where exactly he was on the map. 

Near the top of the diagram was a curved semicircle, with stairs on either side of it, that matched the stairs on either side of him. He could see the midway landings of the staircases when he leaned further over the railing to check.

That meant that the space below where he was standing on the map was the playpen, and next to it, on the right, was the theater, which was off to his left. 

He looked past his paper, across the playpen, to the far wall where the balcony was, situated above the ball pit. Moment of truth. 

When he looked down, he felt pure, unadulterated bliss as he gazed at the map. 

At the very bottom was a small, blocky segment jutting out from the larger segment that represented the play area. It was exactly where the balcony was. That had to be their room. And, even better, there was a passage behind it! 

The passage spurted out from the side of the room, making a right angle turn and connecting to a room beside the daycare. The theater! The entrance was in the theater! He bounced on his toes momentarily before he reigned in his excitement, finally turning towards Moon's cart again and starting to pull it towards the theater. 

He was almost there. This was going to be a breeze.

Currently, Gregory was staring at a wall. 

He had never, in his entire life, eyed something with so much dismay before. And he'd eyed a lot of things with dismay— even just in the last twelve hours. 

He'd done exactly what the map had implied he should do— he'd entered from the north entrance on the second floor, walked across the pathway overlooking the stage, and reached the south side of the room. And there was no door. Only a poster. 

He glanced at the staircase off to his left, exhaling a sigh through his nose, before stepping away from the cart and starting to descend the stairs, keeping his eyes trained on the wall. Maybe the map was slightly inaccurate? 

He reached the bottom, and huffed in frustration. Nothing. 

At the bottom of the stairs was an adjacent path- some kind of passageway that led behind the theater's stage, probably where props and things were kept. That same passageway was also connected to a ramp that led up to the back of the theater, where the ground floor entrance was. 

He followed the ramp. It was beneath where the second floor walkway was; maybe the entrance had stairs. 

When he reached the end of the ramp, he looked at the wall hopefully, then scowled. No door, no hallway— just a smooth, painted surface. 

He started to look away, then snapped his attention back to the wall again, lifting his flashlight's beam higher. 

On the wall was a painted mural of sorts, with a depiction of a brown bear and a yellow chicken in an old, cartoony style. They both had microphones on stands beside them, and looked as if they were singing. 

He briefly forgot about his mission, gazing intently at the friendly— yet unfamiliar— characters painted on the wall. Chica and Freddy were the same animals as these, but these ones looked weird. Not as fancy. He'd almost say older. 

He turned around, and blinked, his eyes laying on a design on the opposite wall. 

A red pirate fox, with a hook hand, and a blue jacket. This one seemed more familiar than the others, because he'd seen depictions of this character throughout the Plex. There was a cutout of him in Rockstar Row, and a giant painted statue of him in Kid's Cove. But who was he? 

He matched the theme of these murals, but not the theme of the glamrocks, or the general theme of the Plex. So why was he depicted all over the Plex? 

What was he doing again? 

Oh, right. Sun and Moon's room. Looking for the entrance. 

Well, it definitely wasn't here. He looked at the smooth surface of the walls, and their lack of doors, before trailing back down the ramp again. 

He paused at the bottom, glancing over towards the stage, and the crumpled blanket laying on the floor in front of it, and a deep cringe went through him. What a great reminder of the stupid thing that had started off this whole mess. 

He turned swiftly on his heels, cutting his gaze away as the blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. 

He didn't think he was ever going to not be embarrassed about that. Moon had told him there was no reason to, but that didn't change the fact that it had happened and it was stupid. 

He tried to forcefully push it out of mind as he returned to the second floor, looking first at Moon, then at the wall, and then finally pulling out his map again. 

It said to go here. He was here. The map was showing him a passage that was supposed to connect right here. 

He stared hard at the poster on the wall. Why was there a poster there, and not a door? 

This was all the poster's fault. The poster was the root of his problems. He was deciding to assign all blame to the poster. 

…

There was no way the poster was the door, was there? 

Feeling beyond foolish, he stepped closer, reaching out a hand. He touched the poster. 

It creaked. 

He paused, then pressed slightly harder against it, feeling it give. 

Was he tricking himself, or was that not how walls worked? 

One more experimental press. 

There was definitely a gap between the poster and the wall. He ran his hand along the poster until his fingers found its edge, digging the tips under it and trying to pry it from the wall. 

With several more creaks, it pulled away, sighing a tired whuff as a cloud of dust dislodged itself from the back of the poster, making him cough. 

He covered his nose with his shirt until most of the dust dissipated, then finally took a look at the supposed "wall" the poster had been fixed to. 

It was not a wall, but in fact a door. So he was right, and he could read maps! And how counterintuitive of them, to go to the effort of hiding the entrance to a room, only to show exactly where it was on the map they hand out to their guests. 

He gazed at the keypad on one side of the door. 

Just like the doors to the glamrocks' green rooms, and the doors to other high clearance areas, there was a keypad, and a card slot. 

He pulled the security badge out of his pocket, shifting his flashlight to his right hand along with his map, and swiped the door. 

He was confident it would work before he even heard the agreeing beep from the device, and cast a smug grin to the opened passageway once the door slid to the side and revealed it to him. 

Gregory: 1

Door: 0

Poster: -1

He tried to contain his self-satisfaction as he took hold of the cart handle, wheeling the object through the new doorway and into the narrow hall. 

It was practically pitch black, and there were things he kept tripping over that essentially forced him to keep his flashlight trained on the ground as he walked. 

Not much later, he bumped into a wall, which turned out to actually be another door, and pulled the handle. The room that was revealed to him bled soft pink light out into the shadows of the hallway. 

He peeked his head in to get a look at the room, and his jaw could have fallen to the floor at what he saw. 

Before him was the most disorderly room he'd ever seen in his life. It was leagues worse than Chica's, which just had a few food wrappers and plushies scattered about. 

The plushies were consistent for both rooms— several laid strewn across the floor, but what wasn't consistent was the broken glass, the boxes everywhere, the cobwebs on the ceiling, the gashes and cracks in the wall, and the various playground items taking up every remaining square inch of the room. 

This seemed in no way consistent with Moon's general.. presentation. Though, he supposed if Moon had been weird and murderous for the entire time he'd been gone, or maybe longer than that, he could have done this to his room too. 

But— no. Sun hadn't been weird and murderous when he'd met the lunar animatronic's counterpart, wouldn't Sun have tried to keep the place tidy? Didn't they live in here together? 

It was an enigma. He wondered yet again what he was getting himself into. 

There was barely enough space in the middle of the room for him to stand comfortably in it with the cart at his side. Once he'd gotten into the clearing, he looked around again to fully assess the space. 

Was he even going to be able to find the charger with all this clutter? 

And, on that subject, what did their charger even look like? How did it work? 

Freddy had used those cylindrical stations throughout the Plex— the ones he stood in and magically charged to full power with. If Moon couldn't use those, did he have a special one? He didn't see anything in the room that looked very.. techy. 

"Don't suppose you could help me," he muttered to the slumped over animatronic in the cart, who remained slumped over, and in the cart. 

This was progress though. He'd gotten to this room, which he was fairly certain was Sun and Moon's room. Moon had told him this was where he could charge. The answer had to be here somewhere. It had to be. 

With a deep breath, he started rooting through the clutter of the room, trying to make his way towards the outer edge. 

He had to push a few things out of the way before he could finally get on top of a folding table near one edge of the room, and slide-hop down to the other side. He looked along the wall. 

He was expecting to find something akin to a regular power cable, like the machines in the arcades used. He didn't. He did manage to find where the fairy lights were plugged in, but that didn't really help him. 

By the time he made his way back to the center of the room, he still hadn't found Moon's charger. 

"Why's it such a mess in here?" He mumbled to no one, casting a glance around the room that he wasn't sure was angry or dreary. He walked over to Moon's cart, propping his elbows up on the side and burying his face in his arms with a sigh. He was so tired of things going wrong. 

Was it here? Could he have somehow found the wrong room? 

No. There was no way this wasn't it. What was he missing? 

With another inhale, he straightened, running his hands through his hair and staring up at the ceiling. 

He was sure that he'd utilized the extent of the map's helpfulness— after all, it had gotten him here— but he was lost and he had no other ideas. He unfolded it yet again, holding it up to the faint light. 

He knew something had seemed off when he entered; the map showed the room he was in, but the map's version of the room had another segment connected to it. 

As far as he'd seen, he was in a perfectly square room. Where was that segment, in relation to this room? 

He lined himself up so he was facing the balcony, so the map's left and right was also his left and right. 

He looked at it for a second, then his gaze drifted past the map, to the wall on his right. There was a curtain fixed to the wall on that side. An almost suspicious looking curtain. 

He moved over to the wall, sidestepping several obstacles before he reached the curtain. Once he was close enough to touch it, he grabbed one edge and pulled it to the side. 

And found, amazingly, a gaping hole in the wall. It reminded him of the tunnels in the play structures, and once again he thought why? Why was it built this way. 

Well, last shot. 

He pointed the flashlight into the hole, and was only able to see a small portion of it. Eventually he just gave up and climbed through the hole (this might as well happen, his night had already been so weird), and came out on the other side. 

He ended up falling into a pile of blankets after exiting the mouth of the hole, and struggled for a moment to reorient himself and sit upright again. Then he looked around the rest of the room. 

There were more boxes in here, stacked up in the corners of the room, and it was slightly neater, like a path from the chamber to the main room had been intentionally maintained. Also, there was an arcade machine just sitting in the corner. That was interesting. 

The machine read "Balloon World" across its top. He could see a picture of a circus tent and fluffy clouds adorning the front of the arcade cabinet. It was powered off, like all the machines in the east arcade, next to El Chip's. 

Gregory stared at the arcade machine for a few moments, perplexed, (which was starting to become a default emotion at this point) before taking in the rest of the room. 

The area was fairly cozy with the soft bedding covering its floor, but the walls were concrete. Just, bare concrete. He spotted a couple of pictures taped to the wall that looked like children's drawings. 

When he turned his head, something brushed his ear and he jumped, falling back and scooting away from whatever had touched him. He shone the flashlight on it.

It was a cable, thick and black, drooping down from the ceiling. One end disappeared into a hole in the wall, and the other was held up by some kind of hook, and snaked along the opposite wall towards the floor. At the end of the cable was a plug. Or what looked like one. It wasn't like any kind of plug he'd seen before. 

It looked just out of place enough that it might be exactly what he was looking for. 

He climbed out of the hole again, dusting himself off (then wondering why he bothered), and approached Moon's cart again. Obviously, the cart wouldn't fit in the hole. 

He looked around, then scooted one of the foam shapes closer to the cart with his foot, and tipped the cart, so it didn't make noise when it fell. 

He was ready to catch Moon before the animatronic could get jostled by the movement, hooking his arms under Moon's and moving backwards as he pulled. 

It wasn't far to pull him, but, naturally, the tunnel gave him the most trouble. He had to go through first, then duck his head and pull Moon through, which led to one very uncomfortable moment where he was looking directly into Moon's dead eyes. 

He never would have guessed that the natural color of Moon's eyes didn't match. One was black and one was white. He also barely registered this fact before looking away. 

With one final heave, Moon was in the chamber with him. 

He backed up, moving to the wall with the cable, and tried with no luck to get Moon to sit up by himself. Whatever, fine. He'd hold him here while he figured it out. 

He reached for the cable, then fixed Moon with a scrutinizing stare. He wasn't about to electrocute himself, or hurt Moon, was he? 

He had to be absolutely certain he was doing this right. Which meant instead of randomly connecting the cable to something and praying, he began looking over the animatronic's body— his casing, front and back, every place that might potentially have a charging port. 

There were some weird buttons on the front of the chest plate that, when pressed, did nothing. 

On his back was the loop that Gregory assumed connected to the cable that allowed Moon to fly. He could see into the chassis from the hole the loop poked out of, and caught a glimpse of some small fans, and some kind of metal box. Maybe.. ventilation? There wasn't anything that looked like a port inside, though. 

The robot's head was a different story. 

On the back of his faceplate, below the hat, was a green circuit board, with little boxes and switches fixed to it, and wires connecting from one place to the other. A few too many wires. Was this part of their body supposed to be exposed? 

It all looked very.. busy. There were a lot of parts. 

All he was looking for was a place to connect the cable. The rest was meaningless fluff and none of his business. The less he touched, the better. 

There was only one spot on Moon's head plate that looked like a socket rather than a nub or module, and his eyes were drawn to it. 

It was slightly elevated, and had holes in it, with precise edges. Holding the flashlight up to his cable, he checked it multiple times before he was sure that the two pieces belonged together. He plugged it in. 

…aaaaand nothing happened. 

That was fine, it had only been a few seconds since he'd plugged it in. Nothing bad had seemed to happen, so he probably just had to wait. 

He decided he no longer wanted to be cradling Moon, especially if the animatronic was going to potentially come to life without warning. He leaned Moon up against the wall, then sat across from him and waited some more. 

And some more. 

Several more minutes had him worrying, but he knew that he hadn't given it enough time yet to conclude that it wasn't working. He was too anxious, and sitting alone in the dark with the animatronic's lifeless frame wasn't doing him any favors. 

He needed to distract himself while he gave Moon some time. 

The daycare was still safe. He left the theater to hunt down something to drink, then went to the bathroom to clean his face, and finally returned to the charging chamber, staring at the still-inert animatronic for a few minutes, before finally curling up among the bedding and worrying himself to sleep.

The hallways around Moon were dark. He was used to the darkness. 

He was used to his own body, and the sound of his bells that jingled as he moved. And the darkness. 

He was moving, and he was perfectly still. He was awake, and he was not awake. He was in two places at once. 

The edges of the hallway passed by him as he strolled, but he didn't turn his head to look at them. 

He was walking; stoic, focused, smooth. 

Sentinel, silent. 

Then, he woke to find himself inside his charging chamber.

Chapter Text

Moon's eyes flickered to life as the sounds and sights around him filtered back in, and he slowly returned to lucidity. The red glow from said eyes illuminated the chamber he found himself in. It was small, cozy, hidden. It was almost exactly how he remembered it. 

It was a place that, if greeting him now, meant that he'd been powered down, and brought here. This meant that… 

The animatronic's gaze fell on Gregory, and he felt relief wash over him.

So the boy had indeed been able to get him back to his charger. He was here because Gregory had rescued him. 

How far had they made it, before he'd powered off? 

Memories of a desperate conversation in the atrium came back to him, along with something else that was slightly out of place. He remembered the moments of panic and stumbling blind before... before he woke up here. 

But the panic wasn't the freshest thing in his memory. 

Something interesting had happened, and he wasn't sure what it was. 

There was a phantom imprint in his mind, something that felt both alien and real. He'd been doing... something, prior to this moment. 

An image surfaced, an image of an unfamiliar place but a familiar body. A blue and grey shell, and starry pants. That was him, through his eyes, seeing himself standing... somewhere. 

He was bewildered by this singular image. That hadn't happened this night— it couldn't have— and it hadn't happened long ago. That image didn't belong. 

It felt recent, somehow. It felt like he'd just been there, but he couldn't have been, because he was with Gregory. It was like.. 

…was it at all possible that he'd just had a dream? 

No, surely not. Had he imagined it? Somehow, that seemed even more far-fetched. 

It felt so real. But, now that he was fully alert, the feeling was quickly fading. He tried to chase it down, to hold on to it; it wasn't allowed to get away, not without him figuring it out— but it continued to wriggle out of his loose grasp. 

Just like that, it was gone, and he curled his fingers in annoyance. 

He focused on Gregory again, the child curled up peacefully on a pile of blankets not far from him, his eyebrows furrowed, but looking otherwise relaxed, and calm seeped back in at the sight. 

Uncertainty aside, Moon directed his attention to testing his motor skills, and running a system check. Only things that would be quiet enough to not wake Gregory. 

Everything seemed in order, other than that weird feeling, and finally the animatronic settled, content to wait in silence until either Gregory or Sun woke back up.

When the boy's eyes finally fluttered open and he sat up groggily, feeling the sweat of deep sleep on his neck, Moon was already looking in his direction.

What made this shocking, however, and warranted Gregory’s terrified yelp, was the fact that Moon had not been awake when Gregory fell asleep, and therefore had not been a pair of glowing red eyes piercing the darkness, silently sitting in the corner of the room. Frankly, it was impossible to wake up and see that face and not be startled by it.

Moon's gaze remained steadfast along with his frame, though; the animatronic was tethered to the cable, Gregory remembered, and eventually he felt his racing heart settle. 

Moon was back. All of his efforts and worry had paid off, because he'd successfully brought Moon back. Frankly, he'd never been happier to see that face. 

"You're okay," he breathed, almost as if he was reassuring the animatronic more than himself. 

"I'm okay," Moon repeated, a soft, singsong note in his tone that chipped through the raspy nature of his voice box, that Gregory felt was an attempt to make him smile back. He did anyway. 

Moon's head then tilted, and Gregory wondered what the animatronic could be thinking as it regarded him. 

"Are you?" Moon asked after a moment, answering Gregory’s question. 

The question, somehow, took him off guard. 

In one way, he was.. fine, because he was well rested and the anxiety had worn off from earlier. But in another way, he really wasn't. 

He took a deep breath, as if about to answer, but exhaled instead, pivoting just slightly to face away from Moon and resting his chin on his knees. 

"Gregory?" Moon prodded, in much the same way he had after Gregory had woken from his nightmare, and the boy bristled. 

Moon remained silent after calling his name, the glow from his eyes casting Gregory in a patient red light. 

Through the silence, Gregory felt his frustrations build up until he couldn't keep them silent anymore. 

"No, I'm not okay," he said finally, staring ahead at the wall as his voice wavered. Just the admittance alone was enough to play the catalyst; as almost immediately he felt himself tear up as the memories of his trials came flashing back. “Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get you here?” 

Vulnerable eyes were turned towards the animatronic, who shook his head vehemently, still regarding Gregory silently. “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me about it…?” 

It took Gregory longer than it should have to realize that Moon was gesturing to his lap, and even longer to understand that he was being offered comfort. 

In a manner that was all too eager, the boy shuffled across the open space of the charging chamber, climbing into the animatronic's lap. 

Moon didn’t touch him as he adjusted and found a position to sink into, letting him choose his own position at his own pace. For whatever reason, he found it more comfortable to position himself with his back to Moon’s chest, facing outwards. Maybe it was the promise of not having to make eye contact. 

When he finally settled, his frame sagged in a way that seemed to communicate to Moon something he wasn't sure he could put into words, but that Moon understood all the same, and firm arms were wrapped around him.

It was the simple act of being embraced again, after all the fear and loneliness from earlier, that made the tears spill forward with a hitched breath. Still, it wasn’t enough— he wanted to be held tighter, closer— and he sank impossibly further into the animatronic’s embrace as his own arms found Moon’s and clutched them tightly.

He sniffled before he could speak. “I was all alone... I— I didn’t know what to do, a-aand then Roxy showed up…” 

The animatronic paused his gentle rocking, giving him a small squeeze. “Roxy?” 

The boy nodded vigorously, before he managed a strangled “mhm” sound, trying to bury his face into one of Moon’s arms. This didn’t work, due to his position, and he settled for dipping his chin against his own chest and resting his cheek against the casing of Moon’s arm as he stared out into the dimly lit room.

“She chased me, and I barely got away.” He fell silent for a moment, recounting the event as Moon cradled him. “What if… what if I hadn’t gotten away?” 

At that, Moon’s embrace tightened, pulling Gregory closer to him. “But you did get away. You’re okay now. It’s okay.” 

Gregory sucked in a shaky breath, overwhelmed by thoughts of what could have and what almost did, and when he did breathe out he broke into quiet sobs. Moon resumed his gentle swaying motion as the sobs became interlaced with whimpers. 

For a long while, the only sound in the small space was his own crying, the animatronic silently embracing him, the memory of his fear running rampant in his mind. 

Despite the liquid anguish leaking out of his eyes, he didn’t feel judged, and instead felt safe. And despite feeling safe, he was angry. He was angry that he trusted so much, and angry that he could so easily break down like this in front of a robot that he’d been allies with for less than a day, who had, hours prior, left him to fend for himself. He was angry that he was crying and being held and needing it and enjoying it instead of expressing how mad he was.

How could he feel so deeply betrayed and so deeply relieved at the same time? 

When he finally felt like he could breathe without choking on his own sobs, he indulged in several minutes of long silence, resting his cheek against Moon’s arm as he took steady breaths. 

Moon had the decency not to prompt him to speak before he was ready, so he was given adequate time to decide what exactly he wanted to say to Moon once his mind was finally clear. 

With yet another deep breath, finally he was able to blurt out a watery, “You promised.”

Moon was silent for an amount of time that irritated him, and another sniffle unintentionally filled the silence before the animatronic responded. 

“I know.”

It was said calmly, but it had an edge of something Gregory couldn’t quite pick up on. 

“You promised you’d keep me safe, and you left me all alone!” His voice was nothing more than a pathetic whimper, a weak cry that lacked venom.

Moon’s hold had since loosened on him, but at his outburst, he felt a tight, secure squeeze as the animatronic enveloped him, the brush of firm plastic against his hair as it rested its own head atop his for several moments. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” The voice shook with unfiltered grief. 

Quiet shock filled him at the tone in the animatronic's voice as it hugged him tighter, the feeling quickly mingling with a flicker of doubt.

He had been prepared to accuse Moon, but he hadn't been prepared for such sincere remorse. Even not being able to see the animatronic's face, even knowing the expression he wore wouldn't indicate it, he could feel it. 

The hold Moon had on him was secure, but felt deeply fearful. 

“I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.” 

"But it still did," Gregory retorted instantly, even as unwelcome guilt tore through him. He didn't know where else to direct his anger. Couldn't he just be mad at Moon? Why did the remark have to come with such searing shame? 

"I know it did. It was a mistake. One I swear I'll never make again. Even if you never forgive me, I'll spend the rest of my time trying to make it up to you." 

"But how do I know if I can trust you? What if this just happens again?" With every doubt he voiced he felt worse, but he forced himself to speak them anyway. Moon needed to know Gregory wouldn't easily trust again, especially when the foundation for his trust had been shaky to begin with.

“If it comes down to giving you an hourly report on my power level, that’s what I’ll do.” Moon's tone was dead serious. 

The proposal gave the boy pause, and he took several moments to mull over it. 

Moon presented the idea like it was something he’d be reluctant to volunteer normally, suggesting it was somehow personal. Something he was willing to sacrifice if it meant proving himself to Gregory. This indirectly told Gregory that Moon considered his power level to be personal information– or at least that’s how it seemed. He felt oddly touched by the offer.

And he had to admit, it would make him feel better.

“That would be good.. But you’d also have to answer me whenever I ask you, and you have to give me a percent or something. You can’t just say something vague like ‘good enough’ or ‘half full.’”  

Moon seemed to squirm, and Gregory wondered if he’d somehow struck a nerve. And was maybe even a little bit satisfied by the idea. He was, admittedly, aiming for one. 

“Can I just— explain something, before you judge me too harshly?” 

The lunar animatronic didn't seem like he was in a position to negotiate, but Gregory wanted to at least give him a chance to speak. 

“I guess," he said reluctantly. 

“My— our battery is designed to last. I drained my power faster earlier by turning off my cooling system. Normally, I could last 24 hours and still have enough charge to get to the charging station in— well, here.” 

“I don’t get where you’re going with this,” Gregory commented, fully confused. 

“I’m saying that as long as I charge for a short while every time you need to rest, I shouldn’t run out of power.” 

Now he thought he understood. “You mean we’d just come back here whenever I get tired?”

“Yes.” 

“And you would still tell me your power level if I asked you?” 

“Yes.” 

“... And you promise to do better?" 

"I promise to do my absolute best. I will never let it happen again. You just have to give me the chance to prove it to you."

Gregory inhaled sharply, staring ahead at the wall as he thought. The bitter sting of broken trust lingered, telling him to lean away from empty promises. He wanted to close himself off. But Moon was trying, and he believed Moon when the animatronic said that he was sorry. If anything, he knew the apology was genuine, and that had to count for something.

"I want to trust you again," he said finally. "It just... may take some time." 

"However much time you need," Moon said gently, and Gregory nodded, taking another deep breath as he leaned back against Moon, hugging the animatronic's arms to himself. He felt the animatronic's faceplate rest gently on his head again.

He let himself breathe calmly and drink in the embrace. At least here, in Moon's arms, he felt safe.

It also helped that, of all the dark places in the Plex, this place felt the most secure. They were on the other side of a wall that couldn't be accessed unless you found a hidden door and had security clearance. The chamber was snug and cozy, and even had padding. It made him think.

"I... do have a question."

"Yes?"

“How come we didn’t come here the first time I needed to sleep?”

He felt Moon shift and then settle again. 

“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I really haven’t been— thinking that far ahead, that is. Also, the second I thought about our room, Sun started shouting that you couldn’t see it, and I was too out of the loop to argue. I can kind of see... some of the room right now... and I’m starting to understand why he was so defensive. It looks like a mess out there.” 

Gregory’s gaze shifted to the tunnel ahead of them, and although he couldn’t see well beyond it, he remembered the true scale of the mess in the larger portion of the room. He realized suddenly that Moon still hadn’t seen exactly how much of a mess it was.

He stared for a few seconds, Moon’s words sinking in, before an involuntary snort turned into disbelieving laughter. Moon’s grip on him loosened, hesitance in the motion. 

“That’s why this all happened? Cause Sun was embarrassed about the mess?" A wistful kind of huff left him. "That’s so stupid!”

“In his defense," Moon jumped in, "I don’t know the full story either. He refused to explain why he was so adamant about it.” 

“If we’d just come here, none of this would’ve happened though!” 

“We still might have had to go to the showers, regardless of where you slept,” Moon pointed out. 

He felt a furious blush come back at the mention. 

Right; some of the events were still partially, (involuntarily), his fault. That didn’t make him any less flabbergasted about the nonchalance of the statement, though.

“Yeah, well— well—” he really didn’t have a smart response. He gave up with a dismissive scoff. 

"I didn't mean that to upset you," Moon apologized. "I'm just saying there's no point fussing over what's already happened." 

The animatronic leaned back when Gregory had no reply, one of his hands withdrawing to then brush some of the hair out of his face, which he tolerated. 

"Are you feeling alright, otherwise?" Moon asked gently. 

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm a little hungry," he admitted. 

"I can't leave for a while, but as soon as I can, we can look for food." 

"Okay," Gregory answered, because there really wasn't any point in arguing. 

Going out to look for food meant leaving the daycare, and leaving the daycare meant he needed Moon with him. Or, not having Moon with him meant he wouldn’t willingly leave the daycare. It really had developed into that, hadn’t it? 

He breathed out a quiet sigh, slumping back against Moon, and the animatronic adjusted his own position, loosening his hold so Gregory could be more comfortable.

"What happened after Roxy left?" 

Gregory pondered the question for a while, wondering if Moon really needed to know he’d quickly resorted to crying in the middle of the atrium, before the event immediately following it came to mind. 

"Actually… It was kinda weird. Some annoying robot came up to me and begged me to take a map. It looked like a S.T.A.F.F. bot, except it had glasses and a weird hat." 

It was only now starting to dawn on him how remarkable it was that he'd managed to find another bot that didn't want to kill him, and he'd just let it get away. 

"I was kind of.. lost, and that's when it showed up." 

"That sounds like one of the designated Map Bots," Moon commented, sounding way too casual about something as strange as a Designated Map Bot. "Do you still have the map?" 

In response to Moon's query, the boy reached into one of his pockets, pulling out the folded pamphlet the bot had given him, and unfolding it for Moon to see. 

A soft jingle rang by his ear a second before something brushed against the side of his face, and he flinched, jerking his head away, before realizing it had been the bell from Moon’s hat. He leaned away from it awkwardly, and soon after, Moon's head clicked back to its normal position.

"Yeah, that's from one of them. That is interesting. Where is the bot now?" 

"Uh.. it left. I don't really know where it went." 

Moon gave a thoughtful hum, but said nothing. 

"You know.. if you'd just said 'the entrance to my room is in the theater' , it would have saved me a LOT of trouble," Gregory muttered. "Or, y'know, that the entrance was behind a POSTER." 

"I'm sorry." To his credit, the animatronic did sound a little abashed. "I wasn't thinking straight." Gregory, however, wasn't swayed.

"How can a robot not think straight?" 

"You try dismissing 30 simultaneous warnings while your counterpart screams in your head, and then see if you can still focus on a verbal conversation," Moon retorted. 

"... Ok, fair enough." That sure put it into perspective. 

He felt a little bad for making assumptions before the animatronic had had a chance to defend himself. He didn't know that Moon had also been distracted at the time. But, to be fair, how could he have known? The animatronic only had one expression.

"Speaking of Sun.. is he okay? What happens to him when you run out of power?" Gregory shifted, busying himself with observing Moon's arm casing as his fingers drummed lightly against the smooth surface. Moon didn't protest or react to the action, so he kept doing it. 

"Well, right now he's in sleep mode. He probably won't come back until we're at full power, or if I wake him." 

"You can wake him?" 

There was a soft hum of confirmation. 

"Why haven't you then?"

"He's going to be mad at me." 

Gregory frowned. "Why?" 

"Because I wasn't listening to him. He was trying to warn me about my battery." 

"So... he was being smart and you were being an idiot?" Gregory said smugly. 

A dry chuckle sounded from the robot's chassis. "Yes, I was being an idiot. Let it be known now: Moon is a Grade-A Moron. Woe is me, for I am but a fool." The animatronic stressed his voice theatrically, and waited for Gregory to stop giggling. "Happy now?" 

He smiled to himself— tilting his face down because Moon had shifted slightly to peer at him. "Yeah." 

"Good," Moon chimed, giving him another comforting squeeze before letting go. 

When Moon's hold loosened on him, he went ahead and climbed out of the animatronic's lap, and Moon let him go, watching silently as he seated himself by the blanket pile and finally faced Moon directly.

The boy crossed his legs under himself, resting his hands on his ankles and rocking passively. 

Moon's unreadable grin regarded him, slowly tilting to one side after a few moments.

“You know, since we’ll be here for a while longer, we should take a look at those scratches.” 

Gregory paused, confused. 

The scratches... the ones that were bandaged, that he kept forgetting existed? Those scratches? “Uh… why?” 

“To make sure they’re healing well, and they’re not infected,” Moon said matter-of-factly. 

At this, Gregory finally recognized that Moon was serious, and he sat still.

“You mean you want to take the bandages off?”

“Yes.” 

“... No.” 

“No?” 

“I.. don’t want to.” 

“We should. It’s already been more than ten hours. That’s way too long.” 

“But they feel fine!” 

“Why are you so opposed?” Moon tilted his head the other way, to a 90° angle, sounding equal parts suspicious and concerned. 

If Gregory was trying to avoid making a spectacle out of the whole thing, he was failing abysmally at it. 

“N-no reason! I just… don’t want to take them off.” 

"Sorry. I really want to make sure they aren't infected," Moon repeated, this time sounding a bit more stern. The boy swallowed. 

"Do we have to?" 

A nod from the animatronic had him giving a defeated sigh. 

"Okay, fine," Gregory answered finally, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Do you want any help?" 

"No." 

The robot's head clicked to the side, its only reaction to Gregory's short utterance. 

"I'm sorry— it's just— we're not on that level of trust yet."

"I understand. You're going to do it yourself, then?" 

"Yeah, I can do it," Gregory confirmed, angling his elbow so he could see the gauze wrap better. 

"Go ahead, then." Moon didn't push, simply grinning at him as he hesitated. 

At least if he let Moon do it, he wouldn't have to inflict the pain on himself. 

Gingerly, he dug a thumbnail under one edge of the medical tape, until he could get the corner firmly between two fingers, and started to peel it. And then stopped with a wince. Frustration spiked through him. With a hint of embarrassment. 

The moon animatronic tilted its head, and Gregory tensed. 

"Are you sure—" 

"YES." Another attempt. He couldn't get himself to do it. 

Moon remained silent. 

With an exasperated sigh, Gregory waved his arm at Moon and looked away in annoyance. 

The animatronic paused, seemingly surprised at first, before gently taking his arm in his hands. 

The boy waited for Moon to quite literally rip the band-aid off, eyes squeezed shut, but when nothing happened he opened his eyes. 

He angled his head to look back at Moon, and saw that the animatronic's eyes were locked on him, not his arm. As he stared, the grinning faceplate moved a click to the side, barely perceptible. 

"What?" 

"What has four legs, but only one foot?" 

".... What?" 

"A bed." 

Huh? 

Oh.

OH.

Wait...

"Is this some kind of—" 

"How do you make a strawberry shake?" 

"Wait—" he tried to pull his arm back, and Moon firmly held it in place. 

"Tell it a scary story." 

"Stop!!!" 

He felt a spasm in his chest that wanted to be laughter, that he was desperately disallowing. 

He knew what Moon was doing. 

"Knock knock." 

"Please no." 

"Knock knock."

Gregory glared at him. Moon's head did a slow tilt. Gregory sighed.  

"Who's there?" 

"Dough." 

"..Dough who?" 

"Doh! I've got the wrong address." 

"Ugh."

"I have a story." 

"No!" 

"Once upon a time, a man found a mushroom." 

The boy waited several moments. Moon only grinned at him.

".... And?" 

"And that's the morel of the story." 

Was this what hell feels like? 

"What's the best type of film for foodies?" 

Moon’s fingers traced his arm, hovering closer to one corner of the bandage. Gregory looked down at it, but Moon tilted his head sharply and he looked up again. 

"I don't know. What?" Maybe this one would be good. 

"A cheesy one." 

He sighed.

It wasn't even funny. It was just bad. 

"Did you hear about the snowman that got upset when the sun came out?"

"I wish the sun would come out," Gregory muttered. 

"He had a total meltdown." 

"Pfft-" Damnit, no! He wasn't supposed to be laughing! 

He felt a single digit press lightly against his skin, and a slight pressure. This time, he was getting nervous. He glanced down again, then up as Moon's other hand pulled away, flickering by his faceplate. 

“I’d tell you a joke about paper, but it’d be tearable.”  

Gregory almost missed the SHHK! of something tearing, under the louder sound of his own groan— and he jerked his arm out of Moon's hands as the pain registered. 

“Oww! Hey!”

He pulled his arm back and shot an indignant look at Moon, who looked just as maniacally gleeful as usual, a quiet static chuckle coming from him. Between two fingers was the bandage that had been on Gregory's forearm. 

“See? Not so bad.” 

It wasn’t; in fact, the pain had melted away almost instantly. All that remained was a dwindling tingly sensation. 

“That was still dirty,” Gregory retorted, giving Moon a disapproving glare. 

The animatronic only shrugged in response, before folding up the adhesive carefully and dropping his hands to his lap. "If it works, it works." 

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna be happy about it," the boy grumbled, and Moon chuckled.

"I can live with that. Do you want me to do the rest?" 

The sudden realization that they weren't finished made his stomach drop. He quickly backed away from the somehow eager Moon, casting a warning glare in his direction. "I can do it myself." 

This time, he was determined. 

"Alright," Moon replied simply, staying put. 

Gregory felt on his cheek for the edge of the first band aid, grimacing as he started to tug on it, slowing down when the pain grew too sharp. He winced for several seconds, body tense, before he stared hard and angrily at the floor in front of him, took a sharp breath, and ripped it off as quickly as he could. 

Only a small whimper left him as the burn blossomed and immediately faded, and he crumpled the band-aid in one hand to feel tenderly on his cheek where the bandage had been. 

He could still feel the scratch there, and knew that it would still need fresh bandages just from the size of it. And there were two more below that one, yet to be uncovered. 

With deep breaths, he managed to steel himself enough to remove the last bandages, wadding them up along with the first one, trying not to think too much about the object in hand as he finally looked to Moon again. 

"There. What now?" 

"Good job," Moon praised, earning a grumble from Gregory. "I just need to look at them, then we can put some fresh bandages on." The animatronic beckoned to him with a hand, and, hesitantly, he climbed forward again. 

He still wasn't fond of the animatronic's large hand reaching for his face, but he willingly tilted his head to display his cheek better, so the animatronic could observe it for several seconds before finally declaring, "Looks good," and releasing him. "Arm?" 

Gregory stuck out his forearm, holding it still as the animatronic's head tilted down to observe it, one hand coming up under Gregory's to hold it steady. 

"That one's healing well. How does it feel?" 

"Mm.. it doesn't really feel like anything. It doesn't hurt." 

"That's good. I don't think it needs a bandage, but we could still do it anyway, to protect it." 

Considering he was in an abandoned mall and was not unfamiliar with the occasional meeting with the ground.. "That seems like a good idea." 

"Alright." The animatronic then twisted slightly at the waist, reaching for one of the stacks of boxes near him. Gregory scooted back. "Should be some in here." 

"Oh, you mean now?" 

"Yes— unless you'd like to wait until we're downstairs and can rinse them first." 

"Yeah..." Gregory wrung his hands together, staring down at the crumpled bandages in thought. "I was just thinking... I really like these ones. If... I could have new ones with the same design?" 

He felt bashful even asking, but luckily Moon didn't laugh at him. 

"Gotcha." 

Moon's agreeing tone drew an involuntary smile from him, which he quickly tried to hide and play off. He leaned back against the soft cushion of the blankets, hugging his knees. 

He tried not to fidget, but he was getting bored of being cooped up. And he was still hungry. Eventually, he lifted his chin to look at the animatronic with a sly smile.

"What's your power level?" 

"Ninety five. Percent." Moon's eyes glowed brighter as he emphasized the second part, making Gregory giggle.

"Well, mine's at like fifty percent. I have charge, but I need fuel." 

Moon chuckled at that. "Noted. Won't be much longer now."

Gregory nodded, then rested his chin on his knees with a sigh. 

He just had to wait a little bit longer.

Moon had quickly reached full charge after their conversation, the animatronic announcing such as he disconnected the cable from the back of his head carefully. 

Gregory had sat up excitedly, and Moon had urged him to exit the tunnel first so Moon could follow. 

After leaving the tunnel, Gregory turned back to watch Moon come out, but the sight of the animatronic crawling out on his hands and knees had made his stomach flip over, and he'd quickly turned around to focus on something else, willing his goosebumps to settle. As he took a shaky breath, he felt the animatronic rise to his full height beside him. 

He looked to Moon first, but when he noticed the way Moon was looking around the room in a slow, disoriented manner, he looked back at the mess, trying to see it from the eyes of a robot with amnesia. He grimaced. 

"This is.. really bad," the animatronic said finally. 

"Yeah… what's it supposed to look like in here?" 

"For starters, there was a couch. I don't see it." 

That was interesting. He tried to imagine what the room would look like clean, and what it may have been used for before the daycare shut down. It sounded like a cozy place, if it had had furniture in it. There could very well still be a couch, just buried under all the clutter. 

Gregory hummed uncertainly, and Moon continued to survey the room. 

"Well, we'll just have to leave the mess for now," the attendant said finally, though it sounded like it pained him. Then he looked towards the door. "Do you want to take the long way, or the shortcut?" 

It took him a minute to realize Moon meant either walking through the theater, or jumping down from the balcony. He assumed Moon didn't literally mean jumping down from it. 

"Uh, the long way. I don't feel like a wire ride right now." 

The animatronic nodded curtly, then crossed the room (carefully) to the door, casting a sharp look at the cart on the way. He looked at Gregory. 

"That's.. how I got you here," Gregory explained. 

"I wondered." 

"Yeah, it wasn't easy. You never said thank you." 

"You're right. Truly, from the bottom of my heart: thank you." 

Somehow, hearing the animatronic say those words, with such sincerity, took a weight off his shoulders, and a large chunk of the grudge he was still carrying fell away.

The animatronic offered him an outstretched hand, and the boy stepped forward to hold onto it as Moon helped guide him out of the cluttered room.

As they exited the hidden door to Moon's room and stepped out into the theater, Gregory felt instantly awkward as he remembered what they were about to walk past. Or, rather, near. 

He apparently failed to hide said awkwardness, as Moon stopped him halfway across the balcony overlooking the stage, fixing him with an (implied) curious stare. 

"What is it?" 

Damnit. 

"Uh.. it's just.. um.." feeling his cheeks dust with embarrassment, he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the stage behind him as he forced himself to look at Moon. He watched the animatronic's gaze shift past him to where he was pointing.

He wasn't going to look at it to point it out accurately. He refused to look at it. Physically couldn't look at it. He knew he was pointing in the general direction of it, and he knew Moon saw it.

"Ah. I didn't think about that. Usually the mop bots take care of messes outside the daycare. And I was more concerned with getting you cleaned up." 

"Yeah, I know that, I didn't think about it either. But, now I am thinking about it, and it's... should we really just..?" He was struggling to find a way to say that he wanted the evidence removed so he could get it off his conscience. He was really hoping Moon could just read his mind on this one.

Moon's gaze tilted, then clicked back into place as his optics dimmed slightly.

"If you don't mind cleaning up the wounds yourself, I can head to the supply closet and take care of it." 

His eyes widened. "Wait— I-I didn't mean— I mean, YOU don't have to—" Abort, ABORT. He hadn't thought this through.

Moon shook his head, and Gregory cut himself off. 

"I'm trying to make this easier for you. I can tell it's upsetting you. Just let me do my job." 

"But—"

"Go. The rag is still on the sink in the bathroom." 

"...Are you sure?" He couldn't help feeling guilty. 

"Of course. Don't even worry about it. Just go wash your face, I'll meet you back at the security desk." 

With a sigh and a resigned nod, Gregory turned and continued out of the theater, keeping his eyes forward as he headed for the bathroom. He heard Moon jump down from the balcony to the ground floor. 

Halfway down the stairs, he spotted Moon exit the theater from the ground floor, and tried to remain as casual as possible walking to the bathroom while he was dying inside.

He found the rag immediately upon entering the bathroom, and turned on the faucet to get the water warm. 

After holding it under the faucet to dampen it, he pumped soap onto the fabric and applied it to his face. It stung slightly, but at least it gave him something else to think about. He vigorously and thoroughly cleaned the area, following Moon's example from before. 

The scratches became gradually clearer, and the residue from the previous bandages washed away. He found a paper towel to dry his face, tossed it, and then repeated the process for his arm. 

When he was finished rinsing, he internally debated whether it had been long enough that Moon would already be waiting for him at the security desk. He didn't want to think about what was happening in the theater or see it, so if he just waited here and stared at his reflection for a while and took deep breaths and then decided to stare at the stall instead because the person in the mirror looked way too stressed out, everything would be fine— and oh actually he did have to pee. 

That would kill another minute. 

He forced himself to leave the bathroom after washing his hands, and was relieved to see Moon standing beside the security desk, right where he'd hoped he would be. 

He was going to face this and be normal about it, and soon enough he could forget it. 

Moon said nothing as he approached, waiting until he was finally by the security desk before speaking. 

"Hop up?" 

He didn't need to be asked twice. 

The boy hoisted himself up onto the desk, letting his feet dangle over the edge and facing the lunar animatronic. 

Moon had already set out the tin box and the first aid kit, which he reached into once Gregory was seated. 

Gregory held out his arm before Moon could ask for it, and his scrape was soon rebandaged, good as new. He twisted his forearm to look at it, then dropped it to his side. 

The sight of the blue band-aids held up in Moon's fingers made him smile, in a childish sort of way, because it was a silly, fun thing he was allowed to have, simply because he'd asked for it. There was no other reason. It was just nice. 

Moon leaned forward with the first peeled bandage, and Gregory tilted his head so the animatronic could reach his cheek easier, letting his eyes slip closed patiently. 

Once Moon had finished re-bandaging the cuts on his face, the animatronic turned away, and Gregory watched lazily as he began zipping up the first aid kit, eyes on his task. 

It startled him when Moon spoke, the animatronic's raspy voice suddenly breaking the silence they'd been enduring.  

"This is a weird question."

Gregory looked down at Moon’s hands on reflex, as if the attendant was referring to a physical object in front of him, before quirking an eyebrow at the animatronic.

"What is?"

The question came with another delay, as the animatronic instead continued fixing up the supplies, and he briefly wondered if Moon had maybe missed his response. 

He was about to speak again when the animatronic looked him dead in the eyes. 

"What does dreaming feel like?" 

Woah. 

He mentally staggered at the weight of the question. What does dreaming feel like? He'd never thought about it. 

He was stunned by the pure vulnerability in Moon's tone; it felt like the animatronic was somehow revealing an insecurity to him– risking humiliation by revealing that he didn’t know everything about a given subject. 

He was also shocked that he was being handed so much authority on a subject. He, the human, was the only one in this Pizzaplex who could describe to Moon, the robot, what it felt like to dream. That was profound. That came with an instant sense of pressure. 

He was being put on the spot for a question he hadn't been prepared to answer. Which is probably why his answer was anything but eloquent. 

"I.. I-I don't know, I guess.. you feel like you're doing something, then you wake up and feel like you didn't do it. Or.. sometimes it does feel like you did it, if the dream was really realistic. Sorry— that probably didn't make sense." He rubbed one arm, looking uncertainly up at Moon.

Moon’s only response was a tiny head tilt, and Gregory took the chance to further explain.

"Sometimes they can be really scary, or really sad. I normally just have scary ones. Most dreams don’t make sense after you wake up.. But you feel like it’s really happening when you’re in the dream." That seemed like a more coherent description. Gregory stopped there to keep himself from convoluting it. 

The jester stared at him for a second longer, before finally tilting his red-eyed grin downwards with a soft hum, and Gregory abandoned any hope of understanding why he’d been asked such a question, or what Moon thought about his answer.

Despite his curiosity, he stopped himself from interrogating the animatronic, sensing that Moon didn’t want to talk about it further, or at least wouldn't give any straightforward answers. 

He touched the fresh band-aids on his cheek absentmindedly, feeling over their smooth surface as he sunk into a haze of thoughtlessness, before realizing he'd done so and pulling himself back. 

“So, are we done here?” 

“As far as I’m concerned,” Moon replied.

“Great. Can we go look for food now? I'm starving.” As if on cue, his stomach growled painfully. 

“Yes. Lead the way.” 

Moon stepped back to gesture for Gregory to hop down, and he did, taking a few steps towards the daycare doors, but then paused and pivoted to look back at the nighttime animatronic.

“Are you ready to fight Roxy if we run into her?” 

“If I have to, yes.” 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

Not a whisper nor an echo sounded in the atrium as they found themselves, once again, scouting out the area to ensure it was empty. 

Gregory looked down one end of the corridor, shining the flashlight out into the darkness, while Moon's gaze silently traveled from floor to floor from where he stood. Gregory wondered, once again, how much Moon could see in the darkness. 

The last threat Gregory had seen in the atrium had been Roxy, and she'd been heading to the third floor last he'd seen. But she could easily have moved since then.

They certainly didn't hear her, not to mention see her. 

"If she's still here, she's probably in one of the attractions," Moon commented, voice low. 

"Or still on the third floor," Gregory added. Moon gave a tiny shrug. 

"We should stick close to the main atrium, so we can get out into the open if we need to." 

"Or we could just avoid El Chips, since I'm pretty sure that's where she is." 

"That's alright with me. Where do you want to go, then?" 

"Well, if El Chips is off the table, that really only leaves us the food court."

“We didn’t find anything there last time.” 

“We did though. There’s pasta.” 

“Uncooked pasta.” 

Gregory grinned wide at him.

“No.” Moon pointed a finger at the boy's face, and he dodged it, his smile unwavering. “Stop thinking.” 

“Come onnn, we can do it!" His enthusiasm made his voice pitch slightly, and he curbed it to speak more levelly. "Pasta would be sooo much better than just canned meat.”

“Not an option.”

“Yes, it is!” 

“You. Are not. Using the stove.” 

"I didn't say me."  

Moon's head clicked sharply as the animatronic fixed him with the same smile he'd been wearing for the entire interaction, but with a more suspicious air about it. 

Gregory continued his proposal. "We have all the ingredients we need, all YOU have to do is let me teach you how to use the stove. Since you won't let ME just do it," he added with a grumble. 

"You're like, what— eleven?" 

"Ten," Gregory interjected automatically. 

"Are you sure?" 

The question stunned him to silence. He hadn't expected Moon to doubt him about his own age. Truth was, he didn't know how long it had been since his tenth birthday. It was just the last birthday he remembered celebrating. 

"...Yes..?" He answered anyway, even though he was no longer sure, and he was spared from having to witness Moon's skepticism by the fact that Moon couldn't display skepticism. 

"Well.. since you're.. one of those two ages, I think you can understand why I wouldn't let you operate a stove." 

"Why not? I'm old enough. Ten is plenty." 

"It most certainly is not." 

Gregory crossed his arms with a huff. "Whatever. Since you're not gonna let me do it, that means you'll let me tell you how, right?" 

Moon actually had the audacity to look away while not answering Gregory's question. 

"Moon?" This time it was Gregory's turn to pry. 

"I'm still not very comfortable with the idea." 

"You said you'd make it up to me," Gregory pointed out with a pout, and Moon's gaze snapped back to him again. 

It was a low blow, but everything was fair game when it involved the prospect of a proper meal. He was willing to manipulate his way into getting what he wanted. 

He could only imagine the frustration Moon must be feeling as the animatronic stared at him for a moment longer. 

"Yes, I know." 

"It's really not that big a deal," Gregory reasoned, trying to further convince Moon. "What are you so afraid of?" 

"Mostly, it exploding." 

Gregory laughed. An impulsive, uncontrollable laugh. One that happened before he even had the chance to think about Moon's feelings. It was just a short bark— nothing excessive, but was probably offensive all the same. He covered his mouth immediately, his shoulders quivering with repressed amusement, before he could finally take a long breath and let it out. 

"That's like— ok, I'm sorry, but you're not going to explode the stove." He paused to bite back another laugh, as saying it out loud made it somehow more humorous. He couldn't believe he was trying to reassure an animatronic that it wasn't going to accidentally blow up a kitchen appliance. "That's almost guaranteed to not happen." 

Moon didn't look doubtful (because he couldn't), but his silence and small head tilt definitely conveyed some sort of hesitance. 

"Really?" 

This was ridiculous. "Yes, really. Why did you think it would?" 

"We're programmed to be cautious about these things," Moon finally admitted. 

He maybe, kind of understood where Moon was coming from. "You mean.. you're programmed to have a fear of the unknown?" 

"Sort of. There wouldn't be any fear if I could just connect to the network and download instructions." Moon's tone took on a hint of bitterness, as the animatronic stared at the floor and scuffed it with a small foot movement. 

Now, Gregory was starting to feel a touch of sympathy. 

From what Moon had told him the night before, normally he was supposed to be able to download instructions for things he didn't know how to do. Since he was apparently without that safety net, he was probably paralyzed with uncertainty. He must feel a little bit helpless. 

He huffed softly. 

"Look, I promise it won't be that bad. I know how a stove works, and I can guide you through every step." He offered a small smile, which he could only hope actually reassured Moon. 

The animatronic made a motion like an inhale, his arms lifting to hug each other in a deeply insecure motion. 

"As long as you're sure you won't get hurt.. we can give it a shot." 

“That’s the spirit,” Gregory said cheerfully, even though Moon still sounded like he’d rather detach his own head than willingly submit to the knowledge of a (supposed) ten year old. 

Not wanting to wait long enough for Moon to change his mind, he turned, starting to lead the way towards the ground floor, hearing the animatronic begin to follow behind.

Gregory eagerly led Moon from the second floor to the first, and back to the food court kitchens, eventually stopping in front of the same stove Moon had stared at the night before. 

He then located a large pot, set it under the sink to fill it with water, and was then assisted by Moon when he tried to lift it. The animatronic stood with it in hand until Gregory pointed him back towards the stove, and he slowly set it down on top of the burner. 

Gregory searched for the nearest elevated surface, which happened to be a counter a few feet across from Moon (or behind him, in this case), and hoisted himself up to sit on it. Then, he turned to Moon. "Okay, you ready?" 

"I suppose," Moon's voice heaved in an exaggeratedly tired manner.

Gregory rolled his eyes. 

"Alright. First step is to get the water to boil. To do that, you have to turn the stove on. So, first just put your hand on the knob. The third one." 

With a slow, overly hesitant motion, Moon lifted a hand to touch the knob. His mechanical hands, as big as they were, were not suited for the small size of the dial, and eventually he settled for resting the tips of his index finger and his thumb on either side of the ridge in the middle. 

Gregory squinted at the hand position, trying to determine if he could give Moon a better suggestion, when he noticed Moon turn his head to look back at him, and forced the doubt out of his expression. 

"That's good. Now, all you have to do is push it in a little bit, then turn it to the left so it says 'lite'. Don't freak out when the burner turns on. It's supposed to." 

Moon took several moments before he complied, pressing in and twisting his hand slightly to turn the dial, and eventually Gregory could see the glow of flames below the pot. Moon's gaze flicked upwards to watch the flames as well, stiffening.

"Okay, good, good. Now, turn it a bit more to the left and set it to.. medium. Medium's good." 

After Gregory's instruction, Moon's wrist turned further, rotating the dial slowly before coming to a stop.

"Perfect! Now you just let it boil. You don't have to keep holding the knob." 

Moon dropped his hand, stepping back an inch but still seeming reluctant to take his eyes off the active flame. Gregory gave an amused huff.

"You can leave it, it's not gonna do anything," he tried, finally earning himself another glance from Moon. 

He couldn't describe Moon's demeanor as anything other than "prey animal." He seemed incredibly nervous, just in his movements and posture alone. It was weird. Gregory would have been freaked out, if he wasn't so confident that the situation was harmless. It wasn't like they were diffusing a bomb. 

"What happens after it boils?"

"Then we put the noodles in so they can cook."

"What then?" 

Gregory paused, and he shrunk a bit under Moon's continuous stare. 

"Uh…" 

"You don't know, do you?" 

"No, I do! I'm just... trying to remember..." Gregory pointedly avoided Moon's gaze as he pondered, tapping his lips absentmindedly as he held his chin in a hand. Moon finally looked away, giving Gregory time to think as the animatronic busied himself with staring at the stove's flame again. 

"After the noodles are done, they go with the sauce," Gregory said slowly, drawing back Moon's red gaze. "Buuut I'm not sure if the noodles have to come out of the water first." 

Moon only stared back at him.

"The noodles definitely have to come out of the water first," Gregory decided, and Moon remained dead silent. "I think.. we have to heat the sauce in a separate pan before we put the noodles in. So, the noodles can just sit in the water 'til the sauce is ready."

"I thought you were the expert on cooking," Moon finally commented, and Gregory made an offended noise. "Why do you only know some of the steps?"

"There's a lot of ways to make pasta, okay? I haven't made it exactly this way before. I-it'll be fine, trust me." 

It was physically impossible for the animatronic to look doubtful. Nevertheless, Gregory was still sure he was being doubted. 

"I'll trust you on this," Moon said eventually, crossing his arms and turning back to the simmering pot. "It's not like I know any better," he added, voice lower, as if intentionally making it barely audible. Gregory chose not to comment on it. 

Moon seemed fairly frustrated with this situation, and Gregory understood that. As long as Moon was agreeing to do this for him, he was content to sit back and only give instruction when needed. Anything further would be pushing his luck, as the animatronic seemed rather flighty at the moment, like he was ready to simply abort the mission the second something got too overwhelming. 

Gregory's mouth twitched as he was suddenly hit with a strong mixture of fondness and gratitude, and he smiled warmly as he watched the animatronic continue to stare over the stove, oblivious to his inner thoughts.

Moon was almost still as a stone, watching the pot on the burner like it was a frog that might dip under the surface if he stopped looking at it.

Gregory drew his legs up to his chest to hug them, rocking slightly to entertain himself. 

Time seemed to move slowly, dripping by like thick syrup, as thick as the atmosphere around them. 

Eventually, he heard a small click from Moon.

"How do you tell when it's boiling?" 

The boy's gaze snapped back to Moon from its previous occupation of wandering around the kitchen. "Is it bubbling?" 

"Yes." 

"Like, big bubbles? Are they popping when they get to the surface?" 

"Yes." 

"Then it's boiling. Now we can dump the pasta in." 

It was a good thing Moon had said something; he'd neglected to mention what exactly boiling water looked like. 

The pasta they'd found had been in plain boxes with the word "pasta" written on them in sharpie ink. Inside, several long boxes of dried noodles were packed neatly together, filling the box to the brim. Gregory hopped down from the counter to retrieve one.

He worked on opening up the package as he crossed the kitchen again to come to Moon's side. The animatronic glanced at him once he'd stopped by the stove. 

He got ready to hand the box to Moon, but stopped. 

"Can I put it in?" 

The naptime attendant glanced alternately between him and the stove, saying nothing, before finally he sidled a few inches to the left, giving Gregory room to stand closer to the pot. "If you're careful," he agreed, reluctance clear in his voice. 

Gregory's eyes lit up. This was his chance to prove that he was capable of working around a stove. 

He lifted the box over the edge of the pot, (admittedly having to stand on his tippy toes to get a little more height), tilted it, and gently shook the box. 

The dried pasta came out of the opened end without a fight, landing safely in the boiling water with barely a splash. Easy. Moon stood rigidly at his side in what Gregory could only assume was impressed silence. 

After an awkward pause, Gregory stepped to the side, setting the empty box down on the counter by the stove. 

"So, um, the only other thing it might need is to be stirred a little bit once the noodles start getting soft." He turned to the rest of the kitchen, hoping to spot an appropriate cooking utensil laying around, but before he could do a full sweep, he remembered something.

"Oh, it probably also needs to cook for about ten minutes. There's no timer on this stove though.." 

"That's no problem. I have an internal clock." 

Gregory wished he had one of those. "Okay, cool. I'm gonna find a spoon." 

The boy wandered towards the middle of the kitchen, leaving the animatronic to continue his neurotic monitoring of the water. 

After some searching, he found what he was looking for: a long-handled, deep spoon with prongs around the edges, specifically for fishing long pasta noodles out of water. He carried it across the kitchen and held it out to Moon. 

"I'll let you stir it," he offered cheerfully, and the animatronic's hand lifted hesitantly to take hold of the spoon's handle. 

"How thoughtful of you," Moon said with clearly feigned pleasantness, and Gregory couldn't help giggling. 

He took up position on the counter again, watching the animatronic who now looked even more out of his element thanks to the long spoon in his hand. With patience, though, he watched Moon figure out when exactly it needed to be stirred, and observed as the animatronic dipped the spoon into the water, giving it a gentle rotating motion around the edges of the pot for several moments.

"That's probably enough," Gregory piped up eventually. "You can just let it sit in the pot now." 

Moon nodded curtly to signal he'd heard Gregory, letting the spoon rest in the pot, but didn't turn away from it. Gregory realized he was going to be staring at Moon's back for the next eight-ish minutes. 

"S-so... um... how are you feeling about this, so far?" 

"Be more specific." 

"About cooking." Duh.

There was a heavy pause. 

"....fine." 

Gregory was choosing to be encouraged by that. "See, it's not so bad, right?" 

"Not so far." 

"I mean, it hasn't exploded yet, so I'd say you're doing great." He cast a smug grin to the back of Moon's head. 

Moon pointedly ignored his teasing jab, and Gregory filled in the blank with the assumption that it annoyed him. 

"I'm gonna get the sauce out," Gregory announced, when neither of them succeeded in creating a new topic of discussion. 

He hopped down from the counter yet again as Moon gave a short hand wave, heading for the row of shelves along one side of the kitchen where they'd found the pasta. Right there, conveniently within reach, were several glass jars of sauce, unopened, with the word "Alfredo" printed on them. 

He took one down from the shelf, careful to get a secure grip on it, and walked back to the stove.

After setting the jar down on the counter where he'd been sitting, he cast his gaze around again, looking along the hanging shelves for a more shallow pan to hold the sauce. He spotted one, and moved over to the counter it was hanging above, looking up at it thoughtfully. It was higher than he could reach from the ground, but if he climbed onto the counter.. 

He thought for a minute, calculating, before pulling himself onto the counter, and standing up carefully once he was on top. He was already reaching for the pot and undoing it from the hook it was fixed to before Moon noticed what he was doing.

"Get down from there." 

The voice that barked from across the kitchen was enough to startle him into nearly losing his balance as he reached for the overhead bar and used it to steady himself. 

Moon hadn't yelled, but the tone in his voice was stern, and it was enough admonishment to give Gregory that momentary panic of being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. 

Feeling his heart pound in his chest as he recovered, he looked over his shoulder to meet Moon's gaze, crouching down on the counter's surface to reassure himself that it was stable. "I'm about to, don't worry," he responded submissively, attempting to de-escalate the situation. 

Moon responded by staring, gaze unwavering as he watched the boy slowly demount from the tabletop. Once Gregory was safely on the ground, the animatronic visibly relaxed. 

Gregory sheepishly made his way over to Moon with the pot. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, unable to look in the animatronic's direction. "Didn't mean to scare you." 

He felt a large hand pat down on his shoulder and pull him into a half-hug, which he leaned into. "It's alright. Just don't do that again." 

Gregory nodded, then squirmed away once Moon's hold on him loosened. He moved to Moon's other side and set the pot down on the other burner. "This is for the sauce," he stated. "How long have the noodles been in?" 

"About five minutes." 

"Can you tell if they're soft yet?" 

Moon replied by taking hold of the spoon handle, carefully snagging some of the pasta and lifting it out of the water for the boy to see. Gregory looked closely, then leaned back. 

"I think they still need to cook longer. Give it... three more minutes," he decided, as the animatronic returned the spoonful of noodles to the water. "Oh, you'll like the part that comes after this," he said suddenly. 

"How's that?" 

"You get to turn the stove off." 

"Yay," Moon said flatly, and Gregory wheezed. 

He recovered after a few snorts, though a low hum of amusement preceded his next words. "But you'll have to turn it back on to heat the sauce." 

"I expected as much." 

"Yeah... but after that we just add the noodles and it's basically done!" 

"I hope you appreciate the suffering I'm enduring for you," the animatronic replied with a wistful sigh, evoking another amused giggle from the boy. Who knew Moon could be such a drama queen? 

"I do, I promise." He grinned, reaching up to pat one of Moon's arms. (This was because he couldn't reach Moon's shoulder.) 

Gregory stayed by Moon's side for the remaining two minutes, watching silently along with him as he waited for an indication from the animatronic that time was up. 

"That's three minutes," Moon announced finally. 

"Okay. Turn the burner off? Just turn the knob to the... right," Gregory directed, after flipping left and right over in his head for a moment. 

The animatronic followed his order, twisting the dial until the flame below the pot disappeared, then dropped his hand. 

"Perfect. Now it's time for the sauce." The boy turned, his eyes landing on the jar of sauce he'd left on the other counter, and stepped over to it as Moon watched. 

After picking it up, he spent about twenty seconds trying to twist the lid off, hyper-aware of the animatronic watching him struggle, before reluctantly holding it out to Moon. "I think it's stuck." 

Immediately after taking the jar in hand, Moon proved that it was not stuck, he was just weak. He watched the animatronic easily pop the lid off with dismay. 

He tried to squash the disgruntled look on his face as Moon handed it back to him. "Thanks," he mumbled.

He squinted at the side of the jar, trying to read the label to find the recommended serving amount, before finally just making an estimation in his head. About half would probably be good enough. 

He leaned forward and held it out over the smaller pot, carefully poured half of the contents out, then tilted it upright again and set it on the counter. 

Moon set the lid down and he put it back over the jar, but a twinge of regret panged at him at the realization that the rest of the sauce would go to waste, as there wasn't any way to refrigerate it. Same went for however much of the pasta would be left over— he'd have to make it count. 

He shook away the thought and looked at the pan thoughtfully. "Oh, there's one last thing." He turned to point at a wooden spoon hanging from one of the racks, not far from them. "Can you reach that?" 

The question, of course, was rhetorical; Moon could reach anything in this room. Gregory could probably climb another counter to reach it too, but since he'd already been reprimanded for doing that exact thing, this time he was going to let Moon get it. 

The animatronic stepped over to it, unhooking the utensil from its hanger, and handed it to Gregory as he returned. 

"You gonna let me stir it?" Gregory asked curiously, and Moon regarded him with his regular static grin for several moments as the question hung in the air. 

"Alright," he said finally. "Just be careful." 

"Great! Can you turn the heat to medium again, please?" Giddily, he emphasized his request by using an overly polite voice, and pointing the spoon at the correct dial. 

After a pause, Moon leaned over to turn on the other burner, then stayed at his side, watching him so closely he felt like he could be burned under the intensity of the animatronic's stare. 

The pressure was on, but all he needed to do was stir it enough to keep it from burning. 

Assuming a confident stance, (and wishing he maybe had a step stool), he stood tall and used the spoon to gently stir the sauce as Moon watched. 

"Let me know when it's been five minutes," he spoke to Moon, but kept his eyes on the pot. 

"Will do." 

He didn't need to stir it constantly, but he ended up doing it anyway, paying close attention to any parts that had been sitting too long. There was no such thing as being too careful, after all.

When the sauce had been over the heat for a while, a pleasant aroma filled the room, reminding him how worthwhile this was going to be once it was ready. He wondered if Moon could smell it too, and if the animatronic thought anything of it. 

Time passed more quickly once he was actually involved in a part of the process, and before he knew it, Moon was announcing that five minutes had somehow come and gone. 

"Alright. I've got this, you can use the spoon to move the noodles from that pot into this one," Gregory pointed to the larger pot and then to his own, and Moon, following along, took hold of the pasta spoon again. 

Gregory leaned back as the animatronic moved the pasta from one pot to the other, one spoonful at a time, taking note of how much confidence was now present in his movements. This would have looked totally natural, if it didn't already look absurd. 

"What does Sun think of this, by the way?" Gregory's gaze flicked up to Moon's, who was still focused on his task. 

"He would definitely be laughing at me right now if I was letting him see this." 

Gregory snorted. "Oh, you're not letting him watch?"

"Nope." 

"Come on, don't you want him to know how good of a chef you are?" Gregory cast a playful grin up at the animatronic. 

"I wouldn't call this good," Moon responded in something akin to a mumble, and Gregory gave an exasperated sigh. 

"It's good enough," Gregory insisted, trying to be encouraging. "Don't worry about it. You're doing fine." 

He decided not to mention that pasta was nearly impossible to mess up. It was one of the easiest foods anyone could make— a beginner's dish. Which worked perfectly, because Moon was a beginner. 

"Well, thank you." 

Once he was finished transplanting the pasta, Moon leaned back to look at Gregory. 

"Now what?" 

"Just stirring," Gregory piped, proceeding to begin mixing the pasta with the sauce. "Just gonna do this for a while and it'll be done!" 

Knowing he was so close to an actual, cooked dish made his mouth water. He hadn't forgotten how hungry he was. 

He used his own judgment on how much it needed to heat before it was ready, until eventually he pointed down to the dial. "I think it's done! You can turn the burner off." 

At this point, he'd deduced that it was mainly the stove controls that Moon didn't want him messing with. Moon reached over to turn off the burner for a final time. 

Finally, Gregory was looking at some real food. It was right in front of him— he couldn't quite believe it. This was probably going to be the most filling thing he'd eaten in months. 

"I just need a bowl and a fork." He looked around the kitchen, then remembered the animatronic standing beside him who'd put aside his own fear of exploding ovens to make this possible, and quickly gave him a hug around the legs. "Thank you." 

There was a short pause, before he felt the animatronic pat his head and then ruffle his hair. "You're welcome." The voice was warm.

It was absolutely everything he'd hoped it would be. It was rich, creamy, hot, and for a few blissful minutes, it made him forget all hardships, past and present. He tried to savor it— he really did— but extreme hunger plus delicious food did not equal slow eating, it turns out. 

Still, though, it took him a while to get through his serving as he sat on the counter, curled around his bowl like the starving child he was. 

The small part of him that wanted to remain dignified in front of Moon was swiftly silenced— there was no sense in trying to preserve his dignity now, when the animatronic had already witnessed him waking up in a cold sweat with wet pants. He'd seen that— watching him hungrily wolf down some noodles was no biggie. 

The animatronic in question was sitting beside him, curled shoes brought up on the countertop as he sat with his legs loosely crossed. 

He could feel the animatronic's back pressed to his, which was truthfully the only thing reminding him that Moon was even there while he was wrapped up in flavor town. 

He only slowed down enough to breathe and to chew, enjoying the peaceful silence as he finished off his bowl, then scraped the fork along the edges to make sure he didn't miss any extra sauce. 

When he set his bowl down, his gaze drifted over to the pot with the rest of the pasta in it. 

He could easily eat more, but he could also easily make himself sick doing that. He'd learned that the hard way. 

Still, it pained him knowing food would go to waste. 

With a somewhat contended and not at all discontent sigh, he leaned against Moon. "I'm done." 

He heard the whir of the animatronic swiveling its head to gaze at the boy and his empty bowl. "I trust you enjoyed it?" 

"It was alright," Gregory replied coolly, and he heard an amused hum from the animatronic's chassis. "But seriously, you did a good job. It was delicious." 

"I'm glad." 

The sensation of the animatronic's frame against his back pulled away, and he turned, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the table as he looked at Moon. 

The animatronic faced him, mirroring his position. 

"So, I've been thinking." 

"Yeah? About what?"

"Your story about the Map Bot raises an interesting question."

"And that is?" 

"Do you know the DJ?" 

"The who?" 

"DJ Music Man. He lives in the west arcade on the third floor."

"I.. never went to that arcade," Gregory admits. "What does he look like?" 

"He's a bigger version of the music man animatronic." 

"What does that look like?" 

"Pink and white.. lots of legs, cymbals in their hands." 

"Oh..." Gregory hummed thoughtfully. "Oh, those! The spider things?" He did remember something like that. Something that chased him through a vent and looked overall terrifying, for how small it was. 

"Yes. DJ Music Man is like a bigger version of those." 

A bigger version of the creepy, black eyed spider animatronic. He wasn't sure he liked that visual. "How.. much bigger?" 

"He's about twenty feet tall." 

"WHAT?" His eyes went wide.

The visual was even more terrifying now. 

Moon regarded him, perhaps searching his very unsettled expression. There was no way to tell what he was thinking.

"He's very friendly... but I'm sensing you're a bit put off by that idea." 

"Yeah, no kidding!" Gregory waved his hands. "If you'd been through everything I went through the first night, you'd understand why I'd be terrified of the idea of a giant spider animatronic! I might not have ever gotten out of that arcade!" 

Moon lifted his arms to his biceps, tapping the plastic of them gently as he looked downwards at an angle. "I guess... we don't know for sure if he wasn't affected. I just remember him to be very mellow, a lot like me. I haven't seen him in a while, though." He fell silent for a few short moments. "But if he was unaffected... the west arcade would be a great safe spot to lay low. We'd have a new friend, too."  

"It sounds too risky," the boy argued, looking doubtful.

"I understand. But, the DJ can't leave the arcade— he's too big. If we went to see him, it's as easy as going back through the elevator doors if we needed to leave." 

This again, with the fake elevator doors. The west arcade must be what was marked by itself on the so-called "fourth floor" on his map. 

It was a little discomforting knowing the only thing separating him from a giant spider animatronic was a single wall and a set of doors, but if it hadn't affected him before, it probably wouldn't affect him now. 

"I guess... I agree with you on that, but why are you so dead set on this?" It felt like there was something Moon wasn't telling him. 

"I..." Moon looked away, tilting his faceplate down at his lap. "After seeing how all the other animatronics are, I guess... I just want to know if he's okay. DJ Music Man is my closest friend. I never thought about what might have happened to him after all this time. If the Map Bot didn't harm you, maybe he wouldn't either." 

Gregory's expression softened. "He's your friend?" 

The animatronic nodded, his unreadable face turning back to Gregory. 

Gregory could understand worrying about a friend. It had been difficult to avoid the Plex for as long as he did after escaping— even knowing it might not be safe to come back. Freddy had been the closest thing he'd had to safety in a long time. And he'd worried about Freddy because.. he didn't have any other way to cope with the loneliness. 

He stared at Moon and his oddly carved features, his resolve thinning the longer he sympathized with the lunar animatronic. 

"... Okay, we can go see him… but it's just to see if he's a zombie or not. If he reaches for me we're dipping." 

"I'm more than happy with that." 

Gregory nods and draws in a breath, coming to terms with what he'd just agreed to, while Moon watches him silently. "Okay— let's go."

He slides down from the counter and dusts himself off. Moon follows, and together, the two of them leave the kitchen behind and head into the atrium.

Chapter Text

They were a lot alike.

It wasn’t just that they both looked off-putting by nature. It was also that they were somewhat lonely, not by their own faults, of course— it was just their circumstances. Both were condemned to periods of solitude. The hours of downtime between opening hours and patrols. But these shared similarities formed the foundation of their friendship. 

The DJ could not blink, and had wide, black voids for eyes. He could not grin, could not speak. But what Moon saw in his friend went beyond what humans saw in him, for Moon understood that an animatronic like Music Man–like himself–did not need to prove his value or his inherent worth through how appealing he looked. His actions and his personality painted the canvas that was his self. 

From where Moon sat atop one of DJ’s soundboards, the animatronic spider regarded him, tilting its head. The low light of the arcade’s colorful neons flickered across their shells and joints. 

-... ..- ... -.-- ..--.. ?

An array of beeps and pings sounded from the DJ, a sound that to anyone unfamiliar with the code would be interpreted as nothing more than meaningless droning. But to the two computers in the room, it was understood perfectly. It was posed as a question, a single word: ‘Busy?’  

“Not any more busy than you,” the Daycare Attendant replied, tilting his head back. “Nothing’s going on tonight. I’m still watching the cameras.” 

The gargantuan animatronic nodded his great head, settling down on his stage as he folded his long limbs neatly.

Morse code took a long time to spell out even the simplest of sentences, so the DJ tended to be an animatronic of few words. As such, it was often Moon who led conversations, out of simple courtesy. 

“How about you?” Moon inquired. “Read any good books lately?” 

The DJ responded via sound effect, blaring a discordant combination of notes; a sound akin to someone smashing a number of keys on a piano. It made Moon chuckle. 

“No? Well, have you played any new arcade games at least?” This was a song and dance. This was routine. 

This time the DJ turned his head toward Moon. With pause for emphasis, he repeated the sound. 

“What have you been doing, then?” In this instance, Moon’s fixed maniacal grin was perfectly befitting of the tone he wanted to convey. 

The DJ lifted himself slightly, enough to reach the control panel opposite Moon. He flicked a switch and pressed a couple buttons, and Moon shifted to perch higher on his own panel so the DJ could use it as well. 

Using one arm to cup the headphones atop his head—an endearing habit of his—the spider animatronic started out with a base, then an undulating, echoing cymbal, and finally, the synth started to blend its way in. It was fascinating to Moon. It was high energy, had a fast tempo. He bobbed his head to the beat as he watched the DJ play. 

When the music finally ended and the DJ took his hands from the panels to set them down on the stage again, Moon clapped enthusiastically, drawing the large animatronic’s attention to him.

“Fantastic. That one might be my new favorite. Have you played it for the crowds yet?” 

The animatronic swung his head from side to side in a "no", and Moon hummed. "That one's gonna be a hit, I just know it." 

DJMM settled down yet again with a cheerful chime, and the ambience of the arcade started to surround them once more. Moon tilted his head at the DJ this time. 

“What now?” He inquired, and the DJ did his best shrugging motion. 

Plucking at the camera feed command in his head, Moon leaned forward mischievously. “Wanna laugh at the security guard on the cameras?” 

.- -... ... --- .-.. ..- - . .-.. -.--

How bad is it going to be?

It was a concern he wasn't familiar with weighing in his head when he normally entered the arcade.

Once the elevator stopped rattling and its motion stilled, the doors scraped open to reveal the darkened arcade. Yet, as they gazed out into the unknown, neither the daycare attendant nor the child made a motion to leave for several moments.

After agreeing to go to the West Arcade, Gregory had shown some hesitance when it came to actually approaching the doors. Moon had told him it wasn’t too late to change his mind, and the boy had considered for a moment, before shaking his head and announcing that he could do this. Moon asked one more time if he was sure, and after receiving a nod, he’d stepped forward and pressed the button to open the elevator doors. 

They’d waited the full length of the so-called “elevator ride”, because Moon had decided it would be better than forcing the doors open and being unable to close them again. That way, if it turned out the arcade was safe, it could remain closed off from the range of the glamrocks. And they wouldn’t be followed into the arcade after entering. 

Now, they were just standing in the elevator. 

Ahead of them stood the massive golden statue of the glamrocks in the center of the room, towering and stoic and glorious, as the glamrocks were. Monty was facing the entrance, jaws agape in a grin as he made finger guns at an imagined audience. At his side was Roxy with her keytar, and on a pedestal behind them, taller than all the rest, was Freddy, one arm pointed to the sky, and the other holding up a mic on a stand that he sang into. Chica (although not visible from this angle) was on the other side of the pedestal, her face frozen in the same pseudo-smile the others wore, a snapshot frozen in time.

Even in his own arcade, DJ Music Man wasn't the center of attention when you first walked through the door.

With a simulated breath to steel himself, Moon took the lead and stepped out.

Gregory followed Moon once he had moved a few feet from the elevator’s doors, and as they stepped out into the main area, the ceiling yawned above them. A gentle and dissonant tune was playing through the overhead speakers that sounded like the Arcade’s normal ambience, but broken. 

They edged around the centerpiece statue as Moon led the way, following the curve of the wall on the right side leading into the first large room: the dance floor. 

And DJ Music Man wasn’t on his stage. 

Moon stopped in his tracks, but Gregory didn’t seem to have caught on to what Moon was fixating on, continuing a ways into the room as he cast his gaze around. Moon watched the boy explore the misty dance floor for a while, before tapping his foot anxiously. 

“Let’s keep looking.” 

“Wow… this place is huge,” the boy commented, voice full of awe.

“It is. Did you hear what I said?” 

“Yeah, why? Is he supposed to be here?” 

“Yes, on the stage, usually. But he has access to the entire arcade, so he must be somewhere else. Let’s keep looking,” He repeated. 

The boy gave a nod, exhaled, and returned to Moon’s side as the daycare attendant turned to lead the way back to the central area. As they walked, Moon glanced down at Gregory, who’s gaze was now fixed on the floor. 

“Hey, are you still okay?” He prompted, tilting his head. 

Gregory nodded, lifting his gaze slightly. “I’m fine— I think it helps that we still haven’t seen him yet.”

Moon clasped his fingers together, fidgeting. “Right, about that. Even if he's not hostile, you may still find his appearance... shocking." 

“Oh. I mean... It can’t be that bad, right? I’ve seen the mini ones. He can’t look scarier than those.” 

Moon wrung his hands stiffly, tilting his face away as Gregory shot him a suspicious look. 

“He can’t look scarier than those, right?”

Moon made a strained sound that even he thought was uncharacteristic, and he could feel the boy’s glare burning into the side of his head. 

“That doesn’t make me more nervous at all,” Gregory muttered, slowing down with fresh reluctance. 

Moon wished he could refute Gregory’s concerns, and say there was nothing to fear, but he didn’t know that for sure. He knew his friend— but it had been a long time since then. He didn’t know what his friend was like now.

He was taken by a sudden fear— a sickening fear, for it was a fear of his own companion, whom he didn’t know the state of. A fear of what his friend might do. Before, he’d never even have to consider the possibility of his friend being dangerous, but now he was, and he didn’t like the way it twisted him up inside. 

He was responsible for Gregory, and if anything happened, it would be his own fault for bringing him here. 

"Just stay behind me, and do what I say. If I say run, you run."  

"... Right, got it," came the small reply from the boy trailing him.

As they shuffled their way further into the arcade, Moon couldn't help feeling increasingly anxious. It was a tension—both tangled up inside of him, and choking the air around them—a nervous apprehension that only worsened the longer he worried for both his friend and his charge.

This kind of nervousness, it made him second guess whether this had been a good decision. The thought of leaving without learning the state of his friend, though— it was tearing him in two. What was the right thing to do, now?

The pair came to a wide, curving flight of stairs after passing the statue once more, and started up it, during which Moon began to get a better look at the rest of the arcade.

A lot of the tunnels were unlit, as were a good number of the arcade machines. Many neon-filigreed pillars were usually lit during operating hours— and even after— but most of those were dim or unlit as well. 

The brightest light source in the arcade came from the decorative chandelier over the statue of the glamrocks. Several long, pulsating lines of light comprised the entirety of the fixture, taking up an impressive twenty yards of ceiling space, with the lights in the center reaching down farther than the outer ones, giving it the appearance of glowing icicles. 

The music seemed clearer the higher up they went, and Moon wondered if some of the ground floor speakers had worn down with a lack of maintenance. Though he hadn't been around to witness it, the place was certainly showing signs of neglect. 

Moon reached the top stair a second ahead of Gregory, sweeping his thorough gaze across the second level and finding the same signs of inactivity and disuse, but no DJ Music Man. He wasn’t on his stage, and he wasn’t on the second floor. There wasn’t much more of the arcade where the DJ could even be. 

“We’ll look in the back room. It’s the last place he could be.” And if he’s not there, then... 

“I thought you said he was huge and that he couldn’t leave the arcade. Where is he?” 

“He’s definitely here. It’s impossible for him to leave. But something still could have happened to him.” 

Now, he was facing another potential reality: Music Man could have malfunctioned and shut down, or gotten trapped somewhere in the arcade. It was a very real possibility that without staff to check up on him, he could be out of commission. And if he’d gotten stranded away from his recharge area on the stage… 

“What could’ve happened to him?” 

This was too painful. He needed to see his friend alive and well, now.

“DEEJAY!” He raised his volume to near-max to call out, making his vocalizer crackle as his voice echoed through the still arcade. He hardly noticed Gregory wince and cover his ears in response to the volume. 

Moon pressed on, skirting a line of arcade cabinets with his eyes trained on the door leading to the back room. At some point, Gregory paused, then skipped to catch up, while Moon stopped and called DJ's name again. 

"Wait, wait— Moon shut up!"

Moon ceased instantly, turning to look at Gregory, whose eyebrows were furrowed. 

The boy tilted his head and seemed to be looking in a far off direction. "Do you hear that?" 

"Hear what?" Moon was almost too upset to think clearly, and tried to calm himself as he focused on what noises were reaching his sensors. 

Gregory's gaze snaps upwards just as Moon is starting to notice the music intensifying overhead, and in a flash, he’s crossed the distance between himself and the boy.

His intent had been to usher Gregory away from the tunnel, but once he was below it, with Gregory frozen beside him, it was as if his directive was immediately forgotten as the sinister maw above them sucked all of his will away.

All he could do was stop and stare up into the black, putting an arm out in front of Gregory as a looming sense of dread sunk its claws in, and a desperate hope kept him in place.

He sees it immediately, before he sees anything else: the glowing purple insides of Music Man's agape mouth, barely piercing the dim of the yawning hole above them. It's visible before any of the rest of his face is, as the animatronic crawls closer to the mouth of the tunnel, the music emanating from him growing louder all the while. 

Gregory backs behind him with a whimper, and Moon holds his ground as the huge animatronic begins to melt out of the shadow, its eyes shining in the dim light. It stops part way out of the tunnel as it spots Moon, and its music does an odd thing— it seems to stop and play backwards, then morph into a new song entirely, a somber few notes that Moon can't help but feel he recognizes. Then it grows quieter and quieter as the animatronic grows closer and closer.

Moon tries and fails to make himself speak, wanting nothing more than to believe the DJ has recognized him, but unable to shake the fear of it being a ploy— a trick. He finds himself only able to crouch a bit lower, take a step back, fully aware of the delicate being behind him, who had placed his full trust in Moon's hands. And painfully aware of the fact that he'd be no match for the DJ, should his old friend decide to attack.

The spider animatronic lowers itself so its head is nearly level with the ground, its back legs still gripping the tunnel for purchase while its other pairs find surfaces to rest on the floor and arcade machines, and Moon can feel Gregory cower as the spider points an enormous finger at the boy. 

Then, everyone stands still. The DJ makes no further advance, staring silently at them as he withdraws his hand. Moon tilts his head one way. The DJ tilts his the other.

"Stay back," Moon says quietly, only turning his head enough to indicate to Gregory that he's the one being addressed. Then, he takes a step forward.

"Are you.... you?" He finally manages to scrape the words past his vocalizer. The weary question echoes through the now-empty air, as the spider animatronic stares at them in silence. 

The DJ’s head tilts again, and Moon tenses, before he hears a familiar pattern of monotone beeps, and a flicker of hope rises in him as he listens to interpret the sentence— a query.

‘Who?’

…What?

He felt immediate confusion. “You,” he emphasized again, curling his digits into anxious fists at his sides. “DJ Music Man.” He can feel Gregory shift awkwardly behind him and step slightly out of his shadow. 

‘Him.’

It’s then that Moon realizes the DJ is looking past him. 

“This is Gregory,” Moon answers slowly, stepping aside so the DJ can see the boy, who looks first at Moon and then casts a nervous, doe-eyed look at the large animatronic. “He’s… under my care, currently. I’m watching over him.” 

The boy manages a timid nod of confirmation, while the DJ’s head tilts more sharply the other way, and his gaze shifts subtly back to Moon, teeth clacking briefly in their limited range of motion. He phrases another query that only Moon can decipher. 

.-- .... -.-- ..--..?

“It’s a long story. There’s a lot we need to catch you up on. That said… it’s great to see you, old friend.” 

The response is a full—yet shortened—sentence.

-... . - - . .-. / - --- / ... . . / -.-- --- ..-

A warmth and a happiness fills Moon— a relief at finally, finally, something going their way. A silver lining to the so-far discouraging state of things in the Plex. His friend was still okay. They finally had another ally on their side.

He would have given a sincere smile if he could, but instead he turned to Gregory, lowering himself to the boy’s level. “It’s okay. We’re safe here. He’s the same old DJ I remember.” 

“...Are you sure?”

Now that he was confident his friend was harmless, the doubt in the boy’s gaze was harder to take. But he still couldn’t blame Gregory for being afraid of an unfamiliar animatronic of the DJ’s size, especially with the boy’s unique history. However, now armed with sure confidence, he could answer the boy’s doubts sincerely.

“Yes, I promise,” Moon answers, resting a gentle hand atop the boy’s head to further reassure him. “There’s nothing to fear.” 

Gregory’s expression shifts from doubtful to something more believing, and the brave face he puts on appears to be a front to hide his nervousness. Moon tells himself that it would simply take time for Gregory to warm up to the DJ. 

He gives the boy’s hair a playful ruffle before standing, turning to address the spider animatronic. 

“Could you take us to one of the lounge areas? I have a feeling you’ll want to be sitting for this,” he adds in a playful tone, which the DJ couldn’t possibly predict was actually true. He knew it wasn’t exactly a topic to joke about, and Gregory gave him an odd look, but if they were about to delve into an upsetting conversation, every small bit of comfort and familiarity would help. 

The DJ (who cannot sit in human-sized chairs) responds in kind with a raucous laugh track sound effect, which makes Gregory jump, before Moon’s own chuckle has the boy hesitantly relaxing with an air of confusion. 

Then the DJ turns to lead them towards the most open lounge area, though it's clearly a calculated effort on the larger animatronic's part as he attempts to move without disrupting any of the arcade machines. It gives them time to lag behind and talk. 

"We joke," Moon explains as they start walking, and the boy gives a nod that is only half-attentive as he matches Moon's slow stride stiffly.

"I know you said there's nothing to be afraid of, but he's so big." Gregory's voice is a whisper, evidently to prevent Music Man from hearing his words. "And I don't understand anything he's saying."

"Well," Moon answers, glancing ahead of him in thought. "I know he looks scary, but I promise he's harmless. And that's Morse code he's using– I can translate for you if you'd like." 

"Why can't he talk like you?" 

The question made Moon pause. 

"Because... well, because he was designed differently. He wasn't given a voice to use in the first place. He was created as a mascot for the arcade, programmed to make his own unique songs to play over the dance floor. So, the only noises he can make are stock sound effects and musical notes. But eventually we worked out loopholes. He knows sign language too, but it's not as easy for him to use, since he needs his front legs for balance." 

"How does he know sign language if he wasn't even programmed to talk?"

"He has the same connection to the network as Sunny and I do. Instructions, and all that." Moon desperately wished that he could wink. 

The boy gave a brief snort at Moon's comment, and Moon sensed that he had multitudes of questions left that he wanted to ask, but they'd just arrived at the lounge area where the DJ was waiting patiently for them, and further discussion on the topic in front of the DJ would be impolite. 

Moon led by example and strolled forward into the loose circle of furniture, and Gregory followed, casting a wary glance at the large animatronic as he passed under one of the DJ’s legs, and finally approached one of the couches to sit down. 

Moon, not wanting the boy to feel too intimidated, took the small step up required to stand on top of the couch, and sat down comfortably on its back, his legs resting in the spot immediately beside Gregory. The boy seemed to relax at his proximity, in turn making Moon sag with relief. 

Once they were both seated, the DJ once again lowered himself slightly, making a show of assuming a non-threatening position. Then he looked directly at Moon and strung out a long series of beeps. It filled Moon with a drowning sadness.

.-- .... -.-- / .... . .-. . --..-- / -. --- .-- ..--.. / .-- .... . .-. . / -... . . -. ..--..

"He's... asking where I've been. I wish I knew," he responded, looking down at his shoes solemnly. "Something's going on. I think... Gregory knows more than I do." He let his gaze fall on the boy, who sensed the movement and looked back, slightly bewildered.

"Wh— you want me to tell it?" 

"Might as well, I only know what's happened in the last day, and what you've told me." 

Gregory seemed to process for a bit, before looking up at the DJ, while Moon hunched forward slightly and hugged his own arms. 

"...Okay. Something is turning the animatronics here into zombies. The first night I was here, like, a few months ago, I was locked in after hours and Chica, Roxy, and Monty were hunting me. Freddy was fine, though, and he was trying to help me escape. I met Moon in the daycare that night too, and he tried to kill me." 

The animatronic looked sharply up at Moon, and Moon remained still, though he felt phantom prickles poking into him at the DJ's stare. 

"But Moon doesn't remember that night. Obviously, I got away, cause I'm still here. I escaped, and then stayed away for a while. Then I came back last night, looking for Freddy, to see if he was okay, and to let him know I was okay, but he attacked me. That led to me running to the daycare and finding Moon." The boy glanced at Moon, who looked back and noted his doubtful expression. "Um.. I'll let him tell it from here." 

Moon gave a nod to the boy, who seemed relieved to have the focus off of him finally, and turned his gaze to the floor awkwardly.  

"I'm missing a large chunk of memory," Moon began. "Apparently, sometime before Gregory's first night here, something happened to me. I'm assuming it's the same thing that happened to the glamrocks. But, a little less than a day ago, I guess I broke out of it. I just... woke up, and everything was different. That was right before Gregory showed up at the daycare, injured, and told me that I had tried to hurt him the last time he saw me. I believe him, now, after seeing how the others are. This thing, that's happening to the animatronics— it makes you act in ways you never would. I've never seen Freddy so deranged. Like he was out of his mind."

The DJ was silently regarding them both as Moon spoke, and didn't pipe up with a sound as Moon paused. He went on. 

"And, this is the truly horrific part: sometime between me being affected and me waking up, the Plex shut down completely. It's been abandoned. Nobody has been here in months. At first I thought it was just the daycare, based on what Sunny told me, but it's worse. It's the entire building."

At this, DJ Music Man shot up abruptly, hoisting himself up to tower even higher over them. His next sentence took him longer to spell out, and Moon and Gregory both listened quietly—Moon understanding, and Gregory not—as they waited for him to finish. 

.. ... / - .... .- - / .-- .... -.-- / -. --- / --- -. . .----. ... / -... . . -. / ...- .. ... .. - .. -. --. ..--.. ?

The DJ had to struggle through the sentence, faltering at points, and Moon felt it shattering him as he realized how the sentence was going to end. He had to draw up the conviction to translate the sentence for Gregory.

“He… he said: ‘Is that why no one’s been visiting?’” 

In the corner of his vision, he saw the boy’s gaze soften with sympathy, while Moon himself was gripped by another deep sorrow for his friend, as he tried to imagine what it must have been like to be kept in the dark—all alone—for so long. Of course, without being able to leave the arcade, DJ would have had no clue as to why people suddenly stopped coming to see him.

He didn't want to respond too hastily and come off as unsympathetic— that was the last thing he wanted. But he hated being in the position he was in now— where he had to be the one to confirm it for the DJ that yes— the reason no one had been visiting was because they'd been abandoned. They all had. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so." He found it impossible to voice the words without looking down, incredibly conscious in that moment of the fact he couldn't display the sorrow he felt. 

The animatronic didn't follow up with a question or a protest, instead sinking back down with a small, quiet somberness about him.

"I'm sorry," Moon said quietly, earnestly, but it felt like such a pitiful comfort in the grand scheme of it all. There was nothing he could say that would make up for the suffering DJ had already endured. And there was no way Moon could truly know what it had been like. 

Really, Moon was the luckiest out of all the animatronics, all things considered. Yes, he'd woken up to a disorienting reality and had to come to terms with it, but at least it felt like no time had passed for him. And he’d had company all the while. He hadn't had to experience the isolation Sun had felt in his absence, knowing the daycare was shut down, or DJ's confusion and loneliness at suddenly being left alone. And he wasn't wandering around aimlessly like the glamrocks. 

It took him several moments of cycling these dark thoughts before he realized he’d slipped into the same counterproductive pattern of guilt as he had when Sun was first telling him about the lost time, and with some effort, began to drag himself out of it and search for a more positive thought to settle on. All hope was not lost, and it was time to stop dwelling.

"I know all of this is a lot to take in, and I know it's upsetting. But if there's some of us who are still ourselves, we deserve to find out why the others have lost theirs. Which is why we came to you; we're trying to solve this mystery, and if you were alright, we thought you might be able to help."

The DJ looked up, but before he could respond, Gregory spoke up.

"Wait. If he's been in here this whole time, how could he know anything we don't? He didn’t know the Plex was shut down, I'm guessing he didn't know about the glamrocks going crazy, and if nobody has been here, he wouldn't have seen or heard anything that could give us clues. Especially if he can't check the cameras like you can." 

Moon looked back at the DJ. "Actually, he does have access to the cameras. But if he didn't know… Are you disconnected from the network as well?" 

The DJ merely responded with a nod, his preferred way of answering questions, and the reason why Moon always tried to pose yes or no questions. At the confirmation, Moon tilted his gaze down and cupped the bottom edge of his faceplate thoughtfully. 

“So… I don’t have access, and you don’t either. That’s interesting.” 

.... --- .-- / ... --- ..--..?

“Well, because... Is it the network itself, or is it us? Could it be that our respective sections of the Pizzaplex were shut down before the rest of the building was, and they severed our connection with the network to save resources, or is the network no longer functioning after all this time? Or, could it be something else entirely?” 

Everyone was silent for a while. It seemed like they’d struck upon an important mystery. 

“Moon, if you haven’t had access to the network since you woke up, wouldn’t Sun be able to tell you if he had access before you woke up?”

Moon looked down at the boy. “Hmm? What would that tell us?” 

“W-well..” Gregory fidgeted, his words faltering with a sudden diffidence, "if he could access the network before you woke up, that would mean it was caused by you waking up. Or at least it happened at the same time." 

Moon shook his head. "Not exactly. We've never been disconnected from the network like this before— one of us losing access might not mean the same for the other." 

"But can't Sun tell you if he has access?" 

"Look, Sun didn't use his own access much even when the daycare was still running. Neither of us did. We just never really needed to. The only time Sun ever used it was to look up childcare articles when we didn't know something. He might not have noticed if his access suddenly disappeared, or have paid attention to if he still had it."

Gregory squinted. “Why are you talking about him like he can’t hear us?” 

“... Because he can’t.” 

“Still??” 

The two were interrupted by the DJ’s hand waving briefly, the animatronic spider beginning to beep out a new message once their attention was on him. 

... --- .-. .-. -.-- .-.-.- / .... .- -.. / - .... --- ..- --. .... -

“Sorry, DJ,” Moon said apologetically. “We haven’t been asking for your input. What was your thought?” 

Rather than answering in Morse, the DJ lifted one arm, extending it to its full length to point to a door off to their left, across the room. It was the door that led to the back room. Moon was confused at first, but after a moment it clicked.

“The security office.” 

The DJ nodded. 

“Of course! The computers could tell us everything!” Moon jumped up from his seat to stand on the couch’s cushion in his excitement. He was ready to head in that direction, but a tug on his pant leg made him pause. He looked down to see Gregory giving him a frown.

‘’Can someone please tell me what’s happening?”

“Oh.” One hand found its way to the back of his face plate and he fiddled with the tip of his night cap as a flash of embarrassment spiked through him. “The computers. If we could log into them, we could find out definitively if the network is down or if something else is going on. We could see the exact date, maybe access the cameras, maybe even figure out a way to get our own access back. This is definitely a step in the right direction, I just know it.” 

“That… actually sounds super useful,” Gregory admitted, seeming to backtrack on what was going to be a snarky comeback. “Are we going right now?”

“Yes, if you’re ready. DJ?” 

-.-- --- ..- / --. --- .-.-.- / ..-. .. -. -.. / --- ..- - / .-- .... .- - / .-- .-. --- -. --. .-.-.- / .. / ..-. --- .-.. .-.. --- .--

Gregory looked to Moon for context.

“...He’ll meet us there.”

After they left the lounge area and started to head for the back room, Gregory looked back nervously when the animatronic spider stayed behind, instead locating and crawling into the nearest tunnel. 

"Where's he going?" 

"You think he can fit through the human-sized door?" Moon chuckled. "He's taking the back alley, so to speak. There's tunnels that lead into the back area from here." 

“Oh. But— wait. If we’re going to an office, he wouldn’t be able to fit in there either. Why’s he even coming with us?”

“Just to be near. And to help us, if he can. He may have advice if we come across any issues.” 

“Hmm… okay.” 

Gregory left it at that, and Moon figured he was keeping his opinions to himself— and was grateful for it.

If Moon was to be truthful, he was sure that DJ was staying near for the same reason that Moon wanted him near. They’d only just found each other again in a so-far terrifying reality, neither of them were too keen to part yet. 

They entered through the door at the back of the arcade area, and stepped out into the wide hallway beyond. A few yards ahead, the door to the security office was on the left, and further past it was the junction where the hall made a 90 degree turn and led to the end of the back room. Spatially, the longer part of the hallway had a slight curve to it, and was directly behind the karaoke rooms on the second level. 

Moon approached the office door, and waited for DJ Music Man to round the corner and settle down within view before he entered. 

Upon stepping inside the security office, it was difficult to resist looking around the space at the absolute state of it. Even being part of security himself, he never much went into the various offices around the Plex. This was a sight he would not have a chance to see, normally. 

Scattered soda cans, empty pizza boxes, a couple stray plushies of members of the main band all decorated the floor, already painting a picture of how the place had been treated by its previous occupants, and that was all without mentioning the many interesting details along the edges of the room. 

Along the right wall, a number of filing cabinets and shelves lined the perimeter, as well as a stand with a printer on it, and a fax machine adjacent. 

One of the cabinets had a set of walkie talkies and a security cap resting on top, and the shelves had Fazbear-branded boxes stacked on them, among other supplies. And this was just along one wall.

In the middle of the room was the S.T.A.F.F. bot repair station, as oddly placed as it was, and it blocked the opposite side of the room from view, so the next place he looked was to the left side. Gregory was already on the other side of the room, by the computers, having moved there while Moon was taking everything in. He made his way over. 

“Are any of them on?” 

“Doesn’t look like it,” the boy responded, resting a hand on the back of one of the desk chairs before rolling it to the side. After some hesitation, he reached forward to wiggle one of the mice, and looked to the accompanying screen for a reaction. It remained black. “Am I just stupid..? Or am I missing something.” 

“You don’t know how to use a computer?” 

“...No.”

He was almost surprised that the boy wasn’t familiar with computers—or at least the ones specific to the building—but not as surprised as he was at Gregory’s honesty. This was the same kid that had taunted him over not knowing how to operate a stove— which was a completely valid and understandable skill to lack if your main focus was watching over toddlers in a cushioned playpen, thank you very much. 

Yet, despite knowing Moon had every right to tease him back, the boy was still honest, and Moon was touched by it.

Not wanting him to feel too self-conscious, Moon stepped forward. 

“Well, it’s alright. It might just be shut down. I don’t use these much either, as you could imagine.” Gregory scoffed, though he looked like he was appreciative of Moon not taking the opportunity to make a quip. 

We can be clueless together, Moon thought, as he gazed over the monitors and the wiring beneath.

“If it’s shut down, there’d be a power button,” he stated, fairly confident that at least that was right.

Gregory experimentally pressed one of the buttons on the monitor in front of them, and they both froze as a small light lit up beside the button, and waited, but still the monitor did nothing. 

“Look! It has power, why’s it not turning on?” 

“I think... that’s not the computer itself, just the display. The computer part must be connected to it somewhere.” Why had he never paid attention to the computers in the daycare?? He could have known this. 

It was Gregory who finally dropped to a crouch, searching under the desk until his eyes landed on a machine pushed up against the wall, and pressed the button on top. There was a small chime, and Moon watched the monitor blink to life. 

“Oh! That did it,” he informed Gregory, who bumped his head trying to get out from under the desk. “Are you okay?” 

Gregory was rubbing his head with a grimace as he stood. “Yeah... I’m okay. Thanks for the help,” he added with a mutter. 

“Heh,” Moon responded awkwardly. “I uh... knew you’d figure it out?” 

“Say you’re lying to me without saying it,” Gregory responded, taking a seat in front of the computer, while Moon was left temporarily shocked by the cool comeback. 

After a moment, he shook his head and stepped closer, leaning in on the boy’s side so his face could be seen. “Well, hey now, I really did believe you could do it. Just figured you were more likely to figure it out than me.” 

“Wonder why that is.” The boy rested his chin in one hand as he leaned over the desk and reached for the mouse again. 

It took a while for the computer to finish booting up, and once it did Gregory sat up straight at the next screen they were presented with. 

“Password? Oh no.” 

“This I have an idea on,” Moon said, then leaned over the monitor to look behind it. 

With almost embarrassing immediacy, he spotted a sticky note stuck loosely to the back of the monitor and pulled it off, holding it up smugly. “Because why bother with security? Or remembering your password? Or doing your job?”  

Gregory reached for the note, and Moon turned his wrist so the boy could grab it, then drew his hand back. 

After looking at it for a moment, Gregory’s eyebrows raised and he gave a snort before speaking. “Oh my God.” 

“What is it?” 

“Employee ID: A033630 

Password: ihatemyjob7632.”

Moon could manage no more than a crackling, sardonic snort which eventually turned into full laughter. Gregory looked like he was trying not to laugh, instead forcing an unamused frown. 

“Is it really that bad here?” 

“Let’s just put it this way,” Moon answered, “that password does not surprise me at all.” 

“Jeez.” The boy turned in his chair, pulling the keyboard closer and finding a comfortable position to rest his hands before starting to type in the login, looking up at the sticky note occasionally to reference the numbers. After he was done typing it in, his gaze scanned the keyboard for several moments. Eventually, he made a doubtful expression before tapping one of the keys beside the letters.

There was an obscenely long loading screen, before finally the login page popped up again, this time with a message reading ‘Incorrect username or password’. 

“What?! I typed it in right, didn’t I??” Gregory looked to Moon. Moon tilted his head to the side, looking over the sticky note and then the keyboard again.

“I think it’s case sensitive. You need to capitalize the first letter of the username.” 

Gregory frowned. “Ok, how do I do that?” 

Moon glanced over the keys, uncertain himself, and tried to use the process of elimination to determine which one might carry out the procedure they wanted. 

“Hit caps lock, then type in the first letter,” He instructed, pointing to the side of the keyboard where the caps lock was located. 

The boy did as he was told, pressing first caps lock, then the first letter of the username. Then he waited, eyes still on the keyboard, as if expecting Moon to have further instruction. Moon thought for a few moments. 

“Now, hit another letter. Doesn’t matter which.” 

The boy’s finger hovered over the keypad for a moment before he chose a random key to press. It showed up in the input field as a capital letter. 

“Okay, so that button makes every letter you type capital. Hit that one that says backspace, then hit caps lock again.”

“How are you figuring this out?” Gregory murmured as he searched for the new key and hit it. 

“I’m mostly guessing,” Moon answered earnestly. “It’s starting to make sense to me. Now just type in the rest of the username and password again.” 

Gregory complied, and after an even longer wait time while the machine processed, it finally opened to a home screen with the Fazbear logo on it. Gregory gave a small cheer of triumph, turning a proud grin to Moon, who gave an equally enthusiastic chuckle. 

“I think the hard part’s over,” Moon said, looking at the computer screen again. “Now we just have to figure out… w-woah.”  

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Gregory looked first at the computer screen, then at Moon. 

“It’s... the date. I knew I’d missed some time, but...” His eyes remained fixed on the part of the screen that read ‘11/3/2036’. “It’s November now. I remember it being February in what feels like just two days ago.” He even remembered the exact day: Wednesday, the 6th. He’d missed nine months of time. 

“Sun told me it had been months, but I don’t think even he knew the exact date. I didn’t ask him to be specific, either.”

“Oh,” Gregory said quietly, taking in the information and seeming to fall into deep thought. “So… it’s November now… and that’s after August, right?”

“Yes.”

“I.. think I’m 11.”

“Oh?” Moon perked up. “When’s your birthday?”

“August 27th.”

“And do you know the year?”

“Uh…” he hesitated for a long time, which made Moon feel a bit sad. “2025. I think.” 

“Then happy belated birthday. Congrats– you’re eleven years old.” What a depressing time and place to realize one had completed another full rotation around the sun. “I’m sorry we don’t have a party for you, but if it’s any consolation, I’m really upset about it.”

Gregory smiled– that kind of smile one gives when they’ve realized they’re receiving special attention and don’t necessarily want to be in the limelight. “You don’t have to be upset for me, it’s no big deal.”

“It should be.” 

“But it’s not– not for me anyway.” He looked like he wanted to leave it at that, but something about Moon’s silence must have convinced him to go back on it, and he exhaled a brief, exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine– tell you what. If we get out of this okay and fix Freddy and the others, I’ll let you throw a party for me. We can celebrate it then, but not before. Got it?” 

“Deal,” Moon replied agreeably, already piecing together ways he could pull this hypothetical scenario off with their limited resources.

Both of them stared at the computer screen for a few moments.

“Hey, you said it was February before this thing happened to you, right? How many months is it from February to November?” 

“Nine.”

“And February is... winter, right? How many months is it from February to summertime?”

“Between three and four. Depends on your definition of summer. What are you thinking?” 

“I know for sure that I came here in the summer. So it couldn’t have been in February.” 

“That aligns with what Sun told me– he said the daycare had been closed for a while when you showed up.” 

“Right– but the building wasn’t closed. I know, cause I was there, hiding in the crowds before I got locked in. So, the building didn’t close for a while after you got infected– or whatever you’d call it. But if all the animatronics got infected at the same time, there’d be like... three months of reports about it, right?” 

“... You might be right about that,” Moon confirmed, feeling a flicker of hopefulness somewhere deep down. If there was recorded evidence of the others acting strange, perhaps there’d be a way to pinpoint the cause of it all. Maybe some kind of targeted attack on all the animatronics’ programming. 

“That’s brilliant. If it’s not on this computer, it might be stored in paper files here. I’ll get working on that, but first–”

Moon moved from one side of the boy’s chair to the other, leaning across the desk to reach for a clear bottle, labeled ‘Faz-water’. It was full, and an experimental flick to the cap confirmed it was still sealed. He’d spotted it as soon as he approached the desk, but needed to wait until he could properly corner the boy. He returned to where he’d been, setting it on the desk in front of Gregory.

“Drink. You’re dehydrated.” 

The boy grimaced at the bottle like it’d personally offended him, a trace of apprehension in his eyes. 

Moon felt exasperation burn through his core. He knew what this was truly about; the boy’s wariness towards a simple container of water all but confirmed it, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere by not trusting his own body.

“Would you stop looking at it like that? It’s not going to bite you.” 

“I just don’t want–” 

“Yes, I know. But that is less of a concern than dehydration. You’re going to feel worse and worse the less you drink.”

With clear reluctance and ultimate defeat, the boy reached out and took the bottle in hand, unscrewing the cap and tilting his head back to take a long swig from it. Moon placed a praising hand atop his head to ruffle his hair. 

“I want to see you finish that before we leave the office,” He advised, and the boy groaned. “You’ll thank me later, when you’re not passing out from yet another deficiency.” 

“I hate you,” the boy muttered between sips, and Moon chuckled.

“I know. Try and see what you can find on the computer while you work on that– I’ll be looking through these drawers. If you need any help, just call me.”

Clearly more annoyed with Moon now (but an ire that Moon could handle– tough love, after all), Gregory waved him off, but still took the mouse in hand after setting down the half-empty bottle. 

Moon got out of his way quickly, instead crossing the room to begin rooting through the drawers.

The first few files he found were annual finances and tax forms, and after glancing at them to get an idea of how much the company was worth (he’d always wondered, but that information wasn’t accessible to him), he moved on. Moon could process numbers much higher than any human, and he still thought those numbers were ridiculously high. 

“Where would I like… find stuff on here?” Gregory called. 

“Try looking for something labeled ‘files’. Hover the mouse over it,” Moon called back, still engrossed in searching through the drawers. 

He closed one drawer and opened the next, finding it full of several manilla folders like the others, but with only one labeled tab, reading Security . Curious, he pulled out the first folder, finding reports inside from January. 

They were all filled out the same; they had the name of the officer who had reported the incident, the dates, locations, descriptions, and signatures, but they all seemed to be minor incidents, or at least, the descriptions of the incidents were either vague or sounded as if they were downplaying the severity of the situation– though he figured that could just be the callous nature of report lingo. He read through a few of them, trying to parse out if anything was significant, before once again moving on. 

Sales, not interested… Employee Incentives, really not interested… New Hires... he moved on from the cabinet he’d been searching to the next one. 

The next drawer he opened was labeled Shipping and Orders, which again piqued his interest, at least enough for him to linger on that drawer before pulling out a file. 

From January: supplies for El Chips ordered, new uniforms ordered, replacements for some machines in the arcades, these all followed by forms confirming the delivery of the parts and products. 

He skimmed through three months of forms for orders, before landing on a receipt from mid-April with the words ‘Parts Shipment’ near the top of the form. 

The location listed as the recipient was their own location—the Pizzaplex—and its location number beside it. Supplier, Reference, Net Weight; all the numbers listed meant nothing to Moon. He didn’t have a database of every supplier the company ordered from, and without a connection, couldn’t look it up. He stared at the contents label, named ‘FXY-0781’, for several moments, before Gregory calling his name grabbed his attention. 

“Hmm?” 

“None of these files are opening,” Gregory complained, and Moon returned the shipment receipt to its folder and put it back in the drawer before walking over.

“What do you mean?” He asked once he was at Gregory’s side. 

“Look.” The boy slid the mouse across the desk, deliberately hovering over one of the files, before clicking on it, and the computer made an angry, buzzing chime as a message popped up. “See? ‘Unknown error.’ It does this every time I try to open a file. I can’t get any of them to work.” 

“Hmm, that’s odd. Maybe these files were originally downloaded on a different computer and this one can’t access them. Can you try opening the internet? If the internet is down, that would explain it.” 

“Sure, just one question.” 

“Where’s the internet?” Moon guessed. 

“Yup.” 

Moon sighed, a light-hearted one that was also artificial by nature. “Okay, lemme see.” 

There were a few applications on the homescreen, one labeled Employee Portal, another labeled Compass, and one with a blue circle and a playful orange canine on its logo, labeled Firefox. Moon pointed to it. “That one. That’s the browser.” 

Gregory moved the mouse to it and clicked on it. 

“Ah. Well.”

Staring them in the face was an error message reading ‘No Connection’ in big letters. 

“So much for connecting to the network again,” Moon muttered. At least he now had the actual date and time set in his system again.

“Does this mean the network itself is down? Or just that this computer isn’t connected to it?” 

“Could be either, but that’s a good question. Maybe we could just connect it again. If we can find the connection settings, that is.” 

“And I’m guessing that’s gonna be just as hard to figure out as the rest of this has been?” 

“... Most likely.” 

At that, Gregory pushed away from the desk so the chair rolled backwards, crossing his arms and spinning it to face the other way. “I’m done— I’m done,” He announced firmly.

“I’ll admit, this is starting to feel kind of futile. I was learning more from the files in those cabinets than we have so far with this. Also, I’m not even sure if we can manipulate what other devices have access to the network from here.” 

“So we can take a break then?” 

“Do you need a break?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I wanna help, I’m just getting kind of bored.” 

“That’s alright. If you want, you could go outside and talk to DJ,” Moon offered. 

“But... I don’t really know how to talk to him,” Gregory protested. 

“If you ask him yes or no questions, he has sounds that can substitute yes and no. Also, he’s a good listener, so he’s perfectly fine with letting someone else lead the conversation. Go on, why don’t you give it a try? I’ll look through a few more of these files and then come join you.” 

With a sigh, Gregory dramatically melted out of his chair, before standing up and crossing the room to the door. Moon watched him go with a warm chuckle.

Once he was out of the room, Moon returned to where he’d been before Gregory had called him, passing up looking through the remainder of the shipment documents in favor of opening the next drawer. Once he opened it, though, a part of him wished he hadn’t. 

There was a folder simply labeled ‘Daycare’. 

He knew what he was looking for before he even opened the folder: documents of any kind dated after February 6th. Alarmingly, he found one dated on the seventh, titled ‘Incident Report’. 

It looked formal, mostly consisting of standardized checkboxes with standardized yes or no questions— questions about him— both him and Sun. This definitely felt like something he was never supposed to see; he hadn’t even known he was being observed on these details. 

The checkbox answers were varied, but at the bottom of the page was a section for extra notes, with handwriting inside: 

‘Feb. 7th, 2036

The Daycare Attendant performed its duties as standard up until the scheduled naptime. Once naptime began, The Naptime Attendant became unresponsive, and would not listen to or respond verbally to questions or commands. After the lights came back on, The Daycare Attendant claimed it did not know what had happened and was agitated. The rest of the day continued as normal until pick-up time.’ 

The document ended there. Moon read it over, then read it again, filled with a chill of dread. These reports could tell him everything he was missing from his memory, at least up until when the Plex closed. But, the real question was: Did he want to know? 

He began looking through the rest of the documents and reading the extra notes with the same level of apprehension one shows when sticking their hand into an oven— tenderly and timidly. 

‘Feb. 8th, 2036

The Daycare Attendant was found in the front lobby before opening, and claimed it did not know how it got there. It was agitated and kept asking about The Naptime Attendant, stating that it ‘couldn’t hear him.’ It was distracted and more eccentric than usual while interacting with the children, and before the scheduled naptime, approached the security guards and asked to be taken to Parts and Service instead of running naptime. This was denied. When naptime began, The Naptime Attendant was more active, but acted oddly, frightening the children. Naptime was ended early, and a note was sent to management suggesting naptime should be suspended until further notice, or until The Daycare Attendant could be examined. The request is still awaiting response.’

Sun’s words about the children being frightened of him came back to Moon as he was reading. At the time, there’d been doubt in his mind, but by now there’d been more than enough evidence to prove it valid, even without these documents. Overtaken by a desperate urge to know more— to get answers— he continued reading, flipping through the papers and stopping meticulously on each one as he searched for the hand-written accounts.

‘Feb. 11th, 2036

The Daycare Attendant was hysterical on Monday morning when the Plex opened. It would not stop rambling about The Naptime Attendant and stating that he was ‘gone’, and was unable to keep the children calm when they grew upset. Naptime was skipped on the security guards’ authority, and extra supervision was implemented until pickup time. As a temporary solution until a definitive response is received from management, extra supervision will continue for the rest of the week.’ 

‘Feb. 18th, 2036

Management has approved the installation of back-up generators in the Daycare, and stated that naptime will be suspended until further notice. The generators were installed on Monday morning before opening hours. The Daycare Attendant grew irate upon seeing the generators being installed, demanding to know what was going on, while the staff tried to soothe its hysteria. Once calmed down, The Daycare Attendant performed its duties adequately enough, but a note was still sent to management in regards to its behavior.’ 

They just didn’t tell him what was going on at all?!

‘Feb. 26th, 2036

At approx. 12:35 pm on Tuesday, the lights in the daycare suffered a temporary outage. During this time, the back-up generators failed to activate, and The Naptime Attendant began roaming the play area. The power was restored by 1:05 pm, but several children had been frightened by the event, and could not be calmed until pickup time. Electricians are scheduled to arrive on Friday to examine the generators for faulty wiring.’

‘Feb. 27th, 2036

After the events on Tuesday, many of the children returning to the Daycare were frightened or inconsolable, and The Daycare Attendant failed to calm them, instead seeming to only worsen the situation by its presence. The security guards stepped in to help manage the children until pickup time.’

After the note from Feb. 27th, Moon noticed that there were only a few files left, and with some deliberation, skipped over the remaining few papers and instead pulled out the last file. It was titled ‘Notice of Closure’, dated 3/14/2036. The note read:

‘As of Friday, March 14th, 2036, the Superstar Daycare will be closed to the public until further notice. Employees will receive compensation and opportunities to work in other departments in the meantime. The lights in the daycare are to remain on during the Pizzaplex’s operating hours, and no employees or guests are to enter either the daycare or its surrounding attractions at this time. Unless circumstances should change, the daycare is looking to be reopened for the end of the summer season.’

Well, according to Sun, that didn’t happen. It never reopened, and they were left to rot, just like all of the others were when the building got shut down. 

These notes confirmed one thing: during the time he was affected, he scared the children enough to cause management to try and prevent him from even becoming active. The precautions made sense— it’s what he would have wanted them to do if he’d been aware at the time. But what these files didn’t mention was if any effort—any effort at all —had been put into actually trying to determine what was wrong with him and if they could fix him. Sun had asked the staff if they could take him to Parts and Service, and had been denied. Why?

Was business so important that it meant sacrificing the safety of the children? 

Frustrated and more than a little distraught, he shoved the paper back into its file and closed the drawer, taking a minute to collect himself.

It was so unfair. It was wrong and it was unfair. It seemed like nothing had been handled properly by any of the people who had been responsible for things running smoothly. A total failure on the entire side of management. It felt like indifference, but one might have called it business. 

But regardless of what one called it, it had left an injustice. The injustice was them. Wronged.

If management had handled his own malfunction so poorly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how they’d responded to the others being affected. But he did want solace in knowing he wasn’t the only one who’d malfunctioned. He wanted to know what he shared with the others— in case it could give him any clues towards the catalyst. 

He began to look through the rest of the drawers, stopping on each one only long enough to decide whether it might relate to the glamrocks or not. 

He passes up on a few, and stops on the file labeled Raceway. Raceway meant Roxy— it was in the name. 

The documents were sparse, and only mentioned a closure of the area and construction delays. He couldn’t find any reports that involved Roxy. It seemed to be a dead-end. He kept looking. 

The next file he came across happened to be Repairs/Maintenance. And it was what it said; reports of all the routine maintenance and impromptu repairs the glamrocks had been to Parts and Services for. He looked through them thoroughly, but only managed to find instances of minor damage, regular wear and tear. These didn’t tell him anything about the glamrocks’ behavior, and he wasn’t sure where else to look to find that information. 

By the time he’d finished looking through the maintenance reports, he realized he’d been at it for a while– almost ten minutes. Though he wanted to keep digging, he needed a breather, and to check on Gregory.

He found the boy just outside the security office door, sitting criss-crossed on the ground in front of the DJ, whose head was lowered so his chin was resting on the ground as he gazed intently at the small child. Gregory looked back at him when he noticed Moon approach. 

“Hey! How’d it go? Did you find anything?”

“Nothing really helpful,” Moon replied. “It’s disappointing.” He’d decided before he’d even crossed through the door that he wasn’t going to mention the daycare files, as he hadn’t even properly processed the information himself. And he didn’t want to burden the child with his own distress. “How about you two? Getting along?” 

“Yeah, I think so. You were right; he is really nice. I was just asking him if he liked it here, and if he was friends with any of the glamrocks.”

“Ah, that’s good at least. I knew you’d hit it off. Well, I’m here to translate, was there anything you wanted to say to Gregory?” He asked the DJ. 

Music Man’s response was instantaneous, and Moon interpreted panic behind the question— though it didn’t show in his face or in his tone.

.- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / .-.. . .- ...- .. -. --. ..--..

Translation: ‘Are you leaving?’

He’d been expecting it eventually, but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

He knew the DJ would be resistant to being left behind after interacting with the first company he’d had in months. And it wasn’t to say Moon wanted to leave, but he knew they couldn’t stay forever. 

“Not right now. We’ll leave eventually—we’ll have to—but we’ll be back to keep you updated. Right now, we can’t leave because we don’t even know where we’re going after this. Gregory, do you have any strong feelings on what you want to do from here?” 

“Uhhhh..” The boy looked slightly caught off-guard at the question, and pondered for long enough that Moon came up with his own idea. 

“Are you tired at all?”

“What? No. I slept like, two hours ago.” 

“I know, but according to the systems in the office, it’s nearly 12am. Did you catch that?” 

“Ohhhh, I see. You’re the Naptime Attendant and you’re mad I’m not asleep right now,” Gregory responded cheekily.

“I’m not mad, I’d just prefer it if you weren’t running on a nocturnal schedule,” Moon replied, twisting his head to rest upside down, and making Gregory stifle a giggle. He sighed and returned to his normal posture once the comical effect had worn off.

“If we're going to get to the bottom of this, we need a new game plan. We've tried everything we can think of— I'm at a loss, here.” The daycare attendant crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Maybe… if we can’t think of what clues to look for yet, we could ransack the kitchens instead, and stock this place up with food? Then this place could really be a base of operations, and this guy wouldn’t have to be so lonely.” The boy gestured to Music Man as he was voicing his idea. 

“Hmm.” Moon looked up at the DJ, who met his gaze. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. And that would be better than sneaking around from place to place every time you got hungry. The only downside is I don’t have a charger here, so we’d still have to go back to the daycare occasionally. But I like that idea. What do you think, DJ?” He inquired, knowing fully well what the DJ would answer. 

... --- ..- -. -.. ... / --. .-. . .- -

“He agrees,” Moon translated. 

"We could go to El Chips, if the coast is clear. There's a lot of food that won't expire there." 

"And then we could possibly search the gift shops in the daycare, Gator Golf, and the front lobby," Moon added on, thinking ahead. He was going to make sure this future stash had water, too. The less they had to worry about Gregory being hungry or thirsty, the more they could focus on planning out what to do next.

"And something to carry it in, so we don't have to make a bunch of trips." 

"A cart would work for that." 

"I know at least one place to find some, but it's on the ground floor and they're uh... not clean." 

"We might be able to find something in El Chips that would work." 

"So El Chips, then?"

"Eventually. There's no rush right now. And…" Moon shared a glance with the DJ. "It'd be a waste to visit the arcade for the first time and not get to try out a game or two."

They tried a total of three games, limited in their options because of the number of dysfunctional machines. DJ had recommendations, and hung around them with an energizing theme playing from his speakers. 

Gregory was shy at first and kept insisting that he didn’t need to play any games, but through Moon and DJ’s encouragement, finally loosened up and gave it a try. Moon perched on top of the arcade machines as Gregory played them, making a comical show of leaning over enough that the boy squawked at him to stop blocking the view. 

DJMM was scarily good at creating themes that perfectly matched the pacing of the games Gregory played, adding to the action whether it was a platformer, a shooter, or a fighting game. Even Moon got sucked into the action at times, making suggestions whenever the boy hesitated or got stuck at parts. 

By the end of their playing session, Gregory was laughing, smiling, and seemed more light-hearted than Moon had seen him since the moment they’d met. He didn’t regret his decision to check on DJ in the slightest, if it had meant the boy could have a moment—even fleeting—of true childish glee. And it was a relief knowing the place was now a safe haven for them, that they could fall back on when they needed to. 

“Ready to go, kiddo?” Moon asked as he slid down from one of the arcade cabinets, once the boy had stepped back from the game he’d been playing at the sight of the discouraging ‘Game Over’ screen.

“Do we have to?”

Moon hummed fondly at the pleading whine in the boy’s tone; one that he hadn’t heard Gregory use before, but that he certainly wasn’t bothered to hear.

“The games will still be here when we get back— and so will DJ Music Man. We need to start setting this place up if it’s going to be our base. You do want that, don’t you?”

“Yeah…” Gregory sighed in reluctant agreement, slumping his shoulders. “It’s just not gonna be as fun as playing games.”

“Well, no duh,” Moon replied with a chuckle. “Work is never as fun as games. But I can be fun too,” he insisted. 

“Yeah right,” Gregory snarked. “What have you got? Bad jokes...” he started counting off on his fingers, but stopped at the one example. “Think that about covers it. Am I forgetting anything?”

“Rude,” Moon retorted, and the boy burst into convulsive laughter. “I don’t know if I like this new Gregory. Games are clearly a bad influence on you.” 

Gregory kept laughing, and Moon shook his head.

“I’ll show you fun. Want a piggy-back ride, little devil?” 

“Really?” Gregory’s eyes lit up. 

“Actually, on second thought, you’ve been pretty mean to me, so I don’t know if you deserve it,” Moon feigned a snippy tone, turning away as he crossed his arms and turned his face up dramatically. 

“Pleeeeasee???” The boy’s tone turned even more imploring, rising in pitch, and a warm feeling of affection shimmered through Moon but didn’t show as he tilted his face up more and kept up his own act. 

“I don’t know…”

“C'mon! You can’t just offer that and take it back! Not fair!” 

“What are you going to do to earn it?” Moon appealed. 

“I’ll help with the snacks, I promise,” the boy said quickly.

“You promise?” 

“Yes, I promise,” the boy repeated, and Moon finally turned around, gesturing for the boy to come over as he kneeled down. 

“Alright, come here.”

Eagerly, Gregory ran up to him, and Moon helped him get situated on his shoulders before standing.

“That’s all you had to say,” Moon said innocently, as amusement curled inside. The heel of the boy’s shoe thumped against his chestplate in retort, and he chuckled. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” 

Gregory responded with a hmpf, but he was clearly too pleased for it to contain any true annoyance.

Moon turned to the DJ, and he felt the boy look up at the large animatronic as he did so. 

“We’ll be going now, but we’ll be back again. Thanks for taking us in,” he said sincerely, and the DJ gave a short, diplomatic nod in response. 

-.. --- -. .----. - / -... . / --. --- -. . / - --- --- / .-.. --- -. --.

“Don’t be gone too long,” he repeated to the boy on his shoulders, who nodded with a quiet murmur of comprehension. “We won’t, don’t worry.” 

With that, he turned, carrying the boy down the stairs and to the elevator back to the atrium.

Waiting in the elevator yet again as it “transported” them to their “destination”, Moon felt the boy shift on his shoulders and rest his chin on Moon’s night cap. 

“He was really nice. I can see why you guys are friends,” the boy murmured. 

“Certainly. He and I go way back,” Moon responded fondly. 

“How far?” 

“Oh… a few years at least.” 

“Wow,” Gregory breathed, clear awe in his voice, and Moon hummed in amusement. 

Moments later, the rumbling of the elevator finally ceased, and the two straightened up in anticipation of what was beyond. 

The doors opened up, and he was greeted with an eyeless wolf.

While he froze in shock, Gregory yelped, and the glamrock’s ears perked up. Moon realized in that moment that she was about to lunge. All thoughts flushed out of his mind to be replaced with one, urgent directive: Get out of the way. Fast.

He sidestepped as the wolf launched herself at them, and shuffled out of the elevator while she was recovering.

Trying to think quickly, he backed up as he kept his eyes on Roxy, conscious of the glass railing coming up behind them. 

Flee? Fight? He estimated that fighting wouldn’t work well with Gregory on his shoulders.

Coax her out and escape into the arcade?

They’d have to wait for the doors to close before they’d be safe, and she could just wait for them to leave again. Or worse, possibly figure out how to get in. No, they had to keep the arcade safe. 

“What are you doing?” The boy hissed anxiously above him.

“Shhh!” Moon hissed back, but too late– Roxy had already heard and turned towards the sound.

She broke into a full on run, claws swinging wildly, and Moon made a split-second decision. 

“This,” he answered quickly, turning to the glass railing and hopping up to balance atop its edge as the wire dropped down to connect to the hook on his back. “Hold on,” he warned, setting his sights on the other side of the atrium’s second floor— way across the gap— and pushed off. 

Gregory gave another yelp as the ground disappeared from under them, and the stale air whipped past their faces as the momentum from Moon’s launch carried them through it as if they were flying.

They were out of harm’s reach instantly, and as they neared the center of the atrium Moon slowed, Gregory holding onto him tightly like a koala, and looked back to where they’d leapt from. 

Roxy was standing on the balcony in the place they’d been before Moon jumped onto the railing, her body still and her ears twitching. She’d lost them. Moon snickered at his own ingenuity.

Then something hit him from all directions and all he knew was pain.

It was the single smoothest transition they'd ever done— if by smooth you meant sudden, abrupt, and jarring. The transition happened so fast that Sun hadn't even realized he was fronting at first. Moon had checked out, taking Sun's place with a disgruntled, searing agony, and immediately curled up defensively inside the headspace. Sun was still watching their arms shift from blue to yellow and gray.

Once their body had finished transitioning, Sun had no further time to assess his surroundings. 

Because he was falling.

Chapter Text

He heard Gregory's cry fill the atrium. 

He twisted in midair not unlike a cat preparing to land on its feet, but unlike a cat, he turned his back to the rapidly approaching ground. He reached out for that which he knew he needed to reach out for. 

There was no system directive to inform his actions in the moment, but he knew his intent on his own. 

Secure that which needed securing. Their body could sustain more damage than his. 

He braced. 

They crashed.

It didn't hurt, not really.

He knew they'd sustained damage, because indicators were blaring in his mind, but he couldn’t feel the damage the indicators were warning him of. He knew his casing was damaged, but not in what way.

All he knew was that they hadn’t landed on solid ground. Something had broken their fall— something that gave a loud crack as they impacted with it, something that had crushed his outer casing as it gave way, and cushioned their fall. Since he was staring up at the atrium rafters currently, he supposed it was a party table.

The most important thing was that—he listened—yes, Gregory was breathing. 

He let his head fall back as relief washed over him, allowing the panic and terror enough time to fully exit his mind. 

No sooner than he’d cleared his mind did new anxiety creep in, as slowly and quickly as fresh venom, as the events that had just transpired fully registered for him. 

He was out— it was bright, he was out and it was bright, and the last thing he’d witnessed from Moon’s eyes had been his poor brother staggering through his low power state. The next thing he knew, he was waking up and he was falling— falling— they’d fallen. What had Moon been doing with Gregory before they’d fallen? It was sinking in. They’d fallen. From the atrium rafters. 

Gregory had fallen. From the atrium rafters. 

He sat up quickly, shifting his position to look down at the boy in his arms— the boy who was still alive and who was very lucky to be. 

“Gregory! Oh my goodness, are you alright?!" 

He waited for Gregory to speak for himself, holding back the urge to start fussing over every possible disaster, which admittedly took effort. 

It had been mere seconds since they'd crashed—twenty at most—and both of them had spent at least five realizing they were still alive. 

Gregory seemed to still be catching his breath, gradually uncurling and daring a squint out into the brightened atrium. 

"Please talk to me," Sun prompted, still full of concern. "Say something— tell me you're alright." 

The boy groaned, shaking his head in a dazed manner. "I'm okay… nmgh… is… is Moon alright?"

"Yes yes, he's fine, he's just— he... Gregory, where does it hurt?" Sun’s flitting voice dropped in pitch with sudden fear.

"What..? It doesn't hurt, I'm fine." The boy sounded like he meant what he said, or at least believed it, but he clearly wasn't aware of the defensive posture he'd taken up, arms close to his body like he was protecting something. 

"Tell me where it hurts," Sun repeated, laying on a thick seriousness to his tone, which was every bit intended to make the boy realize where the pain was so Sun could help, as well as to encourage compliance. 

"It... it doesn't!" Gregory insisted, but the animatronic was already in the process of examining him, tracing mechanical fingers down one arm slowly and methodically, applying pressure in a clearly experienced manner. 

Searing pain shot through him as the animatronic's fingers pressed tenderly against his left forearm, and he couldn't stifle an agonized yelp as the sensation knocked the air out of his lungs. Immediately he felt tears prick in his eyes. 

Sun paused, observing the reaction with increasing worry, and knowing he was about to feel even worse for what he had to do next. 

"I have to know how bad it is," he warned, lifting his finger and gliding it over an inch before pressing down again, as lightly as possible. The reaction was a strangled whimper and a thrash from the boy.

He repeated this action in several different spots, only pressing down for a second, regrettably having to cause the boy more pain as he tried to determine the severity of the break. There was no visible deformation, but the boy’s reactions to his careful palpations had already told him there was a fracture.

He had to shut it out— had to remind himself that this was necessary, even as the boy’s whimpers grew pleading. 

When he’d inspected every inch he’d determined the fracture was only in the radius, towards the middle, and it seemed likely that it was a result of Sun’s own arm being wrapped over Gregory’s when they’d fallen. At least they’d survived. 

He withdrew his hand hastily at the boy’s whimpering plea for him to stop, as the child struggled feebly in his grasp.

He leaned forward slightly to give Gregory a passive, comforting half-hug, mindful not to brush against his injured arm. "It's alright, I don't have to touch it again. You're alright." 

"It hurts…" the boy whimpered, his expression still a teary grimace of pain. 

"I know... I know. You have a fracture. But you are so lucky it's only your arm. We can get it patched up in no time." 

A brief flicker in the back of his mind was filled with seething anger. It was borne from the stress and confusion he was feeling. He didn’t have the full story, but he had just fallen 40 feet from the atrium ceiling with an incredibly fragile being in his arms. Moon was the only one that could have gotten them there. 

Rather than reaching out for Moon—who seemed to be difficult to reach at the moment anyway—he allowed his anxiety over the boy’s injury take precedence. It was not the time to start or settle arguments with his counterpart.

“Let’s get you to a first aid station,” Sun said urgently, looking down at the boy for a response.

"...Okay," Gregory mumbled, in a way that someone who has no other options might. 

Sun shifted his hold on the child as he disentangled himself from the destroyed party table, until he could stand steadily beside it. 

A quick check to make sure Gregory was nestled as comfortably as possible and his arm wouldn't brush anything, and Sun set off for the nearest first aid station.

After a winding passage decorated by a blue patterned carpet and various cardboard cutouts propped against the walls, Sun hurried through the empty check-in lobby on his way to Rockstar Row, and finally stepped out into the wide, neon-lit area. 

The shutter door was still partially ajar from when Moon had lifted it for Gregory, leaving no hassle for Sun as he merely ducked slightly to clear it. 

This was the same route Moon and Gregory had taken to get to Parts and Services from the Atrium, in what was almost, but not quite, an entire day ago. 

To their right was Chica’s green room, and all the way on the other side of the Row was Freddy’s. Beside the bear’s green room was their destination. 

He was surprised to note that nearly every neon sign in the place was functional, allowing him a comfortable light level when previously the place had had only enough light to see by, and more than enough shadow for Moon. Even the naturally dim check-in rooms before reaching the Row itself, which he’d just stepped out of, had been fairly bright.

As he ventured further out into the Row— alert, keeping his eyes peeled for danger— the golden statues of Chica, Monty, Roxy, and Freddy captured the rainbow light from the signs and glimmered by it, seeming to sparkle in a quiet, knowing way. 

And speaking of quiet and knowing, the Row seemed so. The only sound was the gentle jazz music from the speakers, seeming to play as if in spite of Sun’s wariness. It was callous, mocking. 

He was relieved when he finally reached the bright red ‘Staff Only’ doors near the mini stage, which clicked quietly as he approached, unlocking in response to an electronic signal from him, which luckily still worked. 

He shifted his hold on the curled form in his arms so he could free one hand long enough to push open the doors, gazing into the tunnel beyond. He reminded himself what was at stake, and, with a simulated breath, stepped out into the darkened passageway.

It wasn't as dark as usual— every light in the building that was still operational was now cranked to full intensity, and the building seemed to groan with the effort— but even then, the space was still towing the line between too dark for Sun, and just bright enough. 

When he passed through a spot that was too dark, their programming tried to pull Moon forward and push Sun back, but Sun could feel Moon resisting it, curling further into a ball of agony and forcing Sun to resign himself to keep moving. They were in agreement, for once; no matter how frustrated Sun was with Moon, and no matter how much he hated the dark, Sun was in control now. 

As he made his way down the winding staircase to the basement level, he glanced down at Gregory, whose eyes were half-lidded.

"Not much longer now," he cooed, knowing it wasn't going to lessen the pain for the boy, but still hoping that it would provide reassurance. In response he received a weak groan of acknowledgement. 

One more flight of stairs, and a few opened shutter doors later, he finally came to a smaller passage branching off from the main tunnel, following its short path of twists and turns to enter into a room with a relieving sight. A small booth with a red curtain, adorned with a symbol of a white plus sign— the plus sign itself adorned with a protecting circle around it. The first aid station.

He stepped out further into the room, approaching the closed curtain, and shifted his hold to rouse Gregory into awareness. The boy grumbled before looking around to get his bearings. 

Once Gregory had gotten a good look at the room, he looked more alert, his pain seemingly sidelined for some realization. 

"I know this place… Freddy took me here the first night I was trapped in the Pizzaplex! We're... we're in the utility tunnels." 

"Right you are!" Sun replied cheerily. "You have an excellent memory." 

"No… no…" the boy continued to look around, before his gaze finally locked on to the doorway Sun had entered through—having to lean back to look past Sun’s shoulder to do so. "We can't be here." His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"Why not?" Sun replied, lowering his voice as well, starting to feel unnerved by whatever the boy had realized that he hadn't caught on to yet. 

"Before I got to the daycare last night, I found Freddy in Rockstar Row. He chased me to the daycare. Through here. If we didn’t pass him already, he's somewhere between the daycare and here. We're not safe," he concluded. 

Sun turned to face the doorway as well, falling still as he tried to imagine the wider tunnel beyond it. 

From where they were, a small hallway blocked their view of the full tunnel. Which meant that from the main tunnel, Freddy wouldn't be able to see them either. But it would merely take one investigative bear to step into the side hall they'd entered and come across himself and Gregory. 

"Oh dear," Sun murmured, yet despite his very real concern, he didn't make any motion to leave. 

Regardless of the potential threat, he was carrying an injured boy, and beside him was the equipment he needed to repair said injured boy. He would not leave. It was much the same stubbornness of protocol that had caused Moon's downfall earlier, in the showers. Now he understood. 

"Look," he said finally, turning back to the first aid station, "we'll just have to do this quietly. I'm not letting you walk around with an injury like this." 

He leaned down to set the boy on the ground, who reluctantly got out of Sun's arms and stood on his own two feet, quickly finding a position to cradle his forearm in. 

"You can sit wherever's most comfortable; on the ground, in my lap, in the booth, whatever you prefer. I just need to be able to reach that arm." 

The boy looked at the curtain in thought, then turned to lean against the stall, looking back up at Sun, and his eyes widened. 

"Woah… you're all banged up." 

At Gregory's words, Sun looked down at himself, examining his casing for the first time since their fall. 

As he was expecting, the casing on his main body was damaged. The shell that formed his chest and torso was caved in, cracked at the edges from where the material gave out. No doubt a result of the impact with the table. 

He inspected his arms, which seemed mostly unscathed, and his legs were fine— really it was a wonder that he'd come out of it with such minimal damage. His shell had absorbed most of the shock, as it was designed to, and his position before the impact had helped prevent him taking any more damage.

“..It’s unfortunate, but that’s not what I’m concerned about right now. Sit.” 

With clear reluctance, the boy slid down against the surface he was leaning on, until he was sitting on the ground. He seemed to want to look anywhere but at his arm— though it didn’t have any visible deformation. 

“How are we going to do this? Don’t only doctors know how to fix broken bones?”

“Not in emergencies. And you don’t have a break, you have a fracture. And are very lucky,” Sun emphasized again as he pulled the curtain back from the station and started rummaging through it. 

“Yeah... but, do they even have the right supplies for this?” 

“We won’t have sedatives, but we will have... where would it be… aha. Here.” He retreated from the curtain with a small container in hand. “These are local anesthetics. Nerve blocks. They’ll numb the pain so I can do the procedure.”

“And what’s the catch?” Gregory retorted suspiciously. 

Sun opened the kit outwards so Gregory could see inside. “It’s... via injection,” he admitted. 

The boy was wide-eyed for a moment, but then his expression fell into a scowl. “Great. Of course,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah... look. I will be honest. This is not going to be fun. I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible. The anesthetics will help.” 

The boy locked silent, wide eyes on him as he spoke, with that expression of hesitance, fear, and a desire to trust that Sun was only used to seeing in the children when he was trying to convince them not to be scared of something. But those children were afraid of things like going down the jungle gym slides, or sometimes the ballpit. None of them had ever been backed into a situation as unfortunate and truly scary as Gregory’s.

Gregory dropped his gaze when Sun remained frozen, and instead looked distractedly at his lap. Or dismissively.

“It hurts to even move my hand,” he complained, sidetracking the conversation— effectively at that. Sun couldn’t resist the urge to share some of his knowledge, no matter the context.

“That’s because of the way your bones work. You can’t rotate your wrist without moving the bones in your forearm.”

At that, the boy looked down at the floor with a troubled frown.

“..Shit.”

“Why— why… that word?” Sun flinched, but he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand the boy for the language. His concern outweighed his disapproval.

Gregory looked away before answering, like he regretted speaking up. 

“I’m left-handed,” he finally mumbled.

“Oh, Gregory…” Sun spoke in a sympathetic coo, kneeling down to the boy’s level and setting the kit of anesthetics on the floor beside them.

Gregory continued to avoid eye contact as Sun tilted his head to try and emphasize the emotion he knew his expression contrasted, and he got the distinct sense that Gregory didn’t like being pitied. He leaned back a bit to make the boy feel less coddled.

“Yes… I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s going to be more challenging to do things that are normally easy with your dominant hand. But you’ll get used to it after a while.”

“How long is it gonna take to heal?” 

He was clearly already thinking ahead— possibly catastrophizing.

“Forearm bones can take up to three to six months to heal—”

“Months?!”

“—at worst. Yours is a minor fracture, it could be healed in as little as six weeks!” 

“That’s still a month,” the boy muttered. “This is going to screw up everything.” He stared down at the floor, running his unscathed hand through his hair as he pushed his bangs back. 

“Only if you let it. Both of us are well informed on all forms of pediatric care; we know how to handle injuries, even ones this severe. If this was something I didn’t think I could treat, I’d be looking for the nearest hospital.” 

He didn’t mention that they were lucky he could treat it, because finding access to emergency medical care would be hard when he didn’t have any way to call for help, or know how to find his way around outside the Plex. 

“But before I can fix it, the area needs to be numbed. Give me your arm— try to relax it, thumb facing up.” 

Sun gestured for Gregory to extend his injured arm, which he did, with a pained wince, as he rested it in Sun’s outstretched hand.

"Okay, I need to prepare the anesthetic. You can rest your arm for a moment."

As Sun withdraws his hands to rummage through the first aid kit, Gregory lowers his own hand to rest lightly on one of his thighs, mindful to keep it in the same position.

With deft but brisk movements, Sun first selects one of the anesthetic vials, then a needle, and sets them down next to each other.

A cotton swab and some alcohol is used to disinfect the needle, and then the syringe is carefully assembled.

Once it's prepared, he turns back to Gregory and gestures for the boy's arm again.

Gregory offers his arm to Sun hesitantly, and anxious eyes meet his own.

"We're gonna do this on the count of three, okay?"

The boy nods timidly, but behind the obvious fear in his expression, Sun can see a strong determination— a bravery.

"Alright... one, two..."

On three, Sun inserts the needle, injecting the anesthetic as quickly and steadily as possible with a careful squeeze of the handle.

Gregory’s face pinched with discomfort as the needle poked him, but other than some heavy breaths through his nose, he garnered no dramatic reaction.

As soon as the anesthetic had been administered, Sun carefully withdrew the needle and placed it back in the container, then lightly wiped the area with a cotton swab. 

The needle hadn't seemed to bother the boy much, but the pressure however did seem to cause Gregory more pain, and he winced with a quiet whine in his throat. 

“Sorry,” Sun apologized once he’d finished wiping the spot dry. 

“Now we just need to sit tight for a bit while the numbing agent does its thing,” Sun informed, forcing a cheeriness into his voice as he drew his hands back to set them in his lap.

The boy gave a huff in response, slumping more heavily against the structure behind him, straightening one of his legs to rest flat on the ground, while his other remained folded and closer to his chest so he could rest his good arm on it. His injured arm came to rest closer to his lap, the elbow touching his leg but the rest consciously lifted to avoid contact. 

Sun looked down at his lap, thinking, and a short moment to process his jumbled thoughts was all it took for his irritation and frustration to crop up. 

“This is just a total mess. I don’t know how Moon could’ve let this happen,” he heard himself blurt out.

Indignance flared up instantly in the boy’s expression. “I-it wasn’t his fault! We were running from Roxy and all the lights randomly turned on!” 

“That still doesn’t change the fact that he kept me blocked out! First he lets his battery run out, then this— what were you even doing?” 

Gregory looked like he didn’t want to answer, but eventually, he did. 

“We… went to see DJ Music Man.”

Sun reared back in shock. “DJ Music Man?! Oh my— what if he’d hurt you?!” 

“I agreed to go! He gave me the option to turn him down and I agreed to go.” The boy looked down for a moment, his expression softening. “He seemed really worried about his friend.” 

Sun uttered an annoyed sigh-grumble in acknowledgement, the only satisfying way he was able to express his dissatisfaction. 

“I still want to know why he didn’t feel it important enough to fill me in on what was happening. Maybe he didn’t expect to switch so suddenly, but was he ever planning on talking to me again? Even now I can feel him… hiding.” 

Now that Sun was talking about his counterpart without the bother of blocking him out, he could sense Moon paying attention to what was happening— but that was all he could sense. There wasn’t any indication of feeling from Moon, just the impression of his brother’s presence.

“Actually...” Gregory started suddenly, and Sun tilted his head to show he was listening. “He said something about knowing you’d be mad at him. We were talking in the charging chamber. Maybe he didn’t want to handle us both being mad at him, cause I was definitely mad.” 

“I… I would’ve given him a piece of my mind, that’s for sure.” He was somewhat ashamed admitting that would’ve been his go-to, without first hearing out what his counterpart had to say. It wasn’t a good example to set for the child. “Wait— so then, you brought him back to the charging chamber? On your own?” 

“...yeah. That’s… why I was mad at him.” 

“Well, that’s… it certainly seems like you were justified in being angry. Did you work it out, though?” 

“Yeah uhh... we talked about it for a while. I’m sure he can tell you about it later. Right now I kinda just wanna get this over with. How much longer ‘til this numbing stuff starts working?” 

“It’ll be another 27 minutes or so.” 

The boy sighed, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “Is it cool if we just sit here in silence? I’m not really feeling like talking right now.” 

“O-of course, if that’s what’d make you most comfortable,” Sun responds placatingly. 

“Thanks. Sorry.” 

There’s no reason for you to be sorry, Sun thought, but he simply nodded and drew his knees up to rest his arms on them.

Sun sat with Gregory in his requested silence as they waited for the anesthetic to set in, and as the minutes ticked by, Sun watched the boy occasionally shift and huff quietly. 

He didn't dare break his silence after agreeing to it, but the boy's specific request for it had him worrying in the back of his mind as he counted the minutes down. Surely talking— as long as it was quiet enough to not get them noticed— would help to ease the pain? And to make the time pass quicker, too? Though it perplexed him, he didn't question it.

Also in the back of his mind was the express awareness of the conversation not happening between him and Moon. Even now, when they had nothing but time to do it. 

Sun was diverting most of his attention towards the issue at hand, but with the situation only requiring passive awareness with the lack of conversation, there was an omnipresent sense of obligation to reach out to Moon, because he could feel his counterpart watching, but silently. 

Observant, but small— present but hiding. He was there, but he wasn't talking to Sun. 

Sun was also bleeding off anger and frustration, both at Moon, and at a general sense of unfair. And he knew it was pushing Moon away, but he couldn't just not be angry. He couldn't change how he felt. 

He was causing the current conflict, but he was also still hurt about Moon blocking him out, and it only made him angrier when he could feel that Moon knew it and still was silent. 

Sun wasn't going to be the one to speak first, and once that had been communicated through impressions between them, Moon returned to shadow, without leaving a single indication of his true feelings. He was really good at that— hiding how he felt. Sun wasn't.

A lot had to have happened between running out of battery and falling from the atrium rafters, and Sun was offended and hurt that Moon hadn't considered his input valuable enough to clue him in on what was happening. To just decide to avoid him entirely? To assume that he wouldn't understand the decisions Moon had made— wouldn't forgive him?

Something softer and more guilty came across their shared mindspace as Sun was broadcasting his feelings, something that told Sun that Moon had paid attention to that particular thought and reacted to it. It was close to an apology, for Moon— for them. In their own way. 

It melted away some of Sun’s stubbornness instantly.

Reaching out and trying to hold Moon’s attention while he had it, Sun sent back his own apology, and his concern, and worry, and his true feelings behind the defensive wall of anger. His ultimate fear of a rift between him and his brother that couldn’t be repaired if it festered long enough. 

An apology wasn’t as important to him as his ties with Moon— their bond and their reliance on one another. They couldn’t be fighting— they shared a body. They needed each other. Especially now.

In an instant, he felt the same sentiment from his counterpart, full of the same fear, and a longing to be close again. To settle things. 

They wanted to make up. They both needed to talk about it, to catch up and get on the same page— and now wasn't the right time, but the reassurance that neither of them held any real grudges towards the other cleared some of the murky fog between them, revealing the path they needed to take towards resolving their conflict. 

They could start to fix things, right now.

Listen— I would've been mad at you, at first. You know that. 

I know. 

But I would've understood. You should have talked to me. I could've helped. 

Some memory not shared surfaced in their headspace, as his counterpart revisited it but didn't share it with Sun. 

You didn't see him crying. Because of what I put him through. 

In response to the feeling of guilt coming from Moon, Sun sent back sympathy.

You’re right, I didn’t. I know that couldn’t have felt good. 

His words seemed to be of little comfort to Moon, who only curled deeper into his guilt, rejecting Sun’s pity. 

Moon, you need to forgive yourself. Making one mistake doesn't negate the fact that you're doing everything you can. You're not terrible, so stop thinking it.

His brother seemed to silently consider Sun’s words, and, pointedly, Sun lifted his gaze to look at Gregory. He could feel a mixture of emotions come from Moon as his counterpart’s thoughts shifted from himself to the boy, and Sun knew he had his full attention. 

The first thing he did after realizing I was out and not you was ask if you were okay. You saw that. The kid's faith in you has to count for something. 

Silence. In the silence, a flicker of trusting reluctance wrestling with self-inflicted doubt. 

He’s forgiven you— you need to forgive yourself.

Gratitude, guilt, relief. Reassurance, more hesitance, an awkward feeling of imposing. He could sense Moon struggling with what exactly to feel.

They both gazed at Gregory, Sun nudging Moon every time he felt his counterpart try and fall back on a negative thought, and eventually he could feel his brother give a relenting sigh—or the equivalent of one—before sending back deep gratitude.

I don’t know what I’d do without you.

You can start by apologizing, later.

I can start by apologizing, now. I’m sorry. And thank you.

Thank you. 

After another wave of gratitude, Moon retreated to standby so Sun could focus on helping Gregory. They would go over everything, more in depth– later.

With a head shake and straightened shoulders, Sun refocused.

It had been nearly a half hour by now. A good chunk of that had been Sun and Moon refusing to talk to each other. Only the last five or so minutes had been spent actually communicating.

Gregory hadn’t spoken a word but was very much awake, and had changed his position for the millionth time when Sun finally spoke up.

"I think we're about ready, can I see that arm?" The daycare attendant scooted forward to gesture for the boy's arm again, voice soft and coaxing.

In response, the boy lifted his injured arm just enough for Sun to reach it, and, carefully, the animatronic started to poke experimentally at different spots along the boy's arm, testing to make sure it was numbed. 

Feeling awkward, (and unable to decide if Gregory was simply annoyed with him, or if the boy felt as uncertain on what to say as he did), Sun dared to float an icebreaker into the metaphorical waters.

"I must say, you've been handling this with remarkable calmness," he complimented. "I know that fractures aren't pleasant, no matter how minor. I don't know what I'm trying to say— I guess I'm just surprised you're able to bear it so well." 

"Huh? Oh— no it definitely hurts, I just haven't really been thinking about the pain much." 

"So you found something to distract yourself with?" Sun was curious. 

"Yeah. I really, really, really have to pee."

As if to demonstrate, the boy shifted, rubbing his knees together. "That's what I've been focusing on." 

Alarm gripped Sun as he froze. "Goodness— is it an emergency?" 

The boy's gaze remained locked on his arm as Sun held it up, as if doing so made it easier to answer. "... Not yet, but it's pretty bad." 

Sun wished he could be relieved that the boy's quietness wasn't because he was upset or uncomfortable around Sun, but the new sense of pressure that came with knowing the real reason only served to amplify his anxiety. Now it was a time-sensitive mission, and he wasn't sure how much time he had. How long had the boy been needing to go?? 

"Do you think you can hold it?" 

The question was merely an effort to gauge which should take priority, but it apparently wasn't interpreted that way.

Gregory seemed to flare up defensively at the question, his sudden fierceness causing Sun to flinch. "Of course I can! It's not like I'm going to pee myself or anything— I'm perfectly fine." Despite his words, he didn't look as confident as he sounded. 

"I wasn't doubting that at all— I was just asking," Sun said quickly, in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. 

He couldn't help a concerned tilt of his head, and something about it seemed to inadvertently break down some of the boy's defenses as his guarded expression shattered and something more distant and nervous took its place. Then he just started rambling, and Sun listened intently to try and pinpoint what exactly was most troubling the boy. 

"I can hold it. I have to go so bad but I can wait until we finish this, I swear. I'm not gonna have an accident. I can't." 

A really odd sentiment to have, Sun thought. “Why?”

"Because—!" Gregory piped up, as if frustrated by Sun not following his train of thought. "I can't! If I have an accident again, that would make me some kind of— of—" 

He stopped short, mortification dawning behind his eyes as he seemed to catch up with what he'd just said and wished he could take it back. 

"I mean— if I had had an accident before I wouldn't want to— but you don't know that I— that wasn't like an admiss… uh… admittal…? no— I mean like maybe I did and maybe I didn't—"

Sun started shaking his head, feeling like he had an idea of what Gregory was upset over, and not wanting the boy to stress himself out further trying to explain. "Hey hey hey hey hey— relax, relax." 

He made a show of simulating a deep inhale and exhale, an example that was immediately followed by Gregory, who nodded reluctantly, taking a deep breath. 

Once Gregory seemed calmer, Sun spoke again. 

"I knew about your nightmare, but I didn't see any of the… shall we say… aftermath. It was just you and Moon for most of that time, don't worry. And right now, it's just you and me," he added.

Realization filled the boy's gaze, and he looked down, equal parts abashed and relieved. "Oh, good. Still, though…" he mumbled, looking off at some random part of the room to avoid Sun's gaze as he squirmed, "I don't want it to happen again." 

Sun felt like he knew how to handle this, now. 

"Don't worry friend," he said more cheerfully, "as soon as we're done with this, I'll rush you to the nearest bathroom. You just have to hold out for me now. Think you can do that?" He asked honestly, but put as much encouragement into his voice as possible. It seemed to work. 

"I'll try," Gregory responded, looking determined, his gaze falling on his injured arm once more as Sun reached out for it again. 

The anesthetics had had more than enough time to set in; his arm was about as numb as it was going to get— but it was still going to hurt. 

It was going to help that he had something preoccupying his mind. 

"Alright, good, good. For now though, I want you to focus on that, and not on the pain, alright?" 

"Easy," Gregory replied, exhaling an amused huff. 

"Alright, it's gonna happen now," Sun warned, and with researched precision that only a machine could master without practice, he positioned his fingers right over the fracture before touching the skin, then pressed down, using only enough force as was necessary to detect the subtle shift of the fractured bone locking back into place.

The boy gave a sharp whimper and his lower half squirmed, but he kept his arm still and endured it with a fierce bravery. Sun didn't think he could feel any more admiration for this boy's spirit. 

Another step down, and with a stark determination not to waste any time, Sun reached for the other supplies he'd set aside and got them ready for use, then looked up at Gregory again. 

"I just have to make the splint and attach it, and then we can go. Alright?" 

The boy nodded. "Just hurry." 

"I'll be as quick as I can," Sun confirmed. 

He put in place first a long metal rod wrapped in a soft towel, holding it against the underside of the boy's forearm, and once it was properly aligned, wrapped three lines of medical tape, equally spaced, around both the rod and the arm to keep the splint in place. It wasn't sleek, or pretty, but it was sturdy, and it'd do the job. 

He drew his hands back slowly, as though if he wasn't careful it'd all fall apart— though logically he knew it wouldn't. 

"Alright, it's done. Just try not to let it bump against anything," he advised, eyeing it anxiously. He could already see a million ways it could come undone, and the last thing he wanted was to have to put the boy through the process again. 

"Okay," Gregory said quickly, jumping to his feet. "Can we go now? The coast is clear, right?"

Sun was halfway to the doorway in his motion to check, when the distant echoing of footsteps from further down the tunnel made him freeze. It was a ways off, but still very audible. 

"Oh no," the boy groaned, his voice the very epitome of dread, answering the question of whether or not he'd heard it too. 

Sun whipped around quickly to raise a single finger to his mouth, and the boy whimpered, leaning back against the wall behind him and shoving his hands between his legs. "I'm gonna die here," he muttered, lowering his voice. 

"We just have to wait him out and hope he passes," Sun whispered, coming closer to Gregory. "Just try not to make any noise. We're almost there." 

The boy could only nod nervously, maintaining his position as he lifted his gaze to the doorway, keeping his eyes trailed on it along with Sun as they both waited tensely. 

Ten seconds, twenty seconds— they listened as Freddy's steps grew gradually louder. 

Ten more seconds— they could tell the animatronic was right outside the hall, and they both remained stock still, holding their breath.

Forty seconds— Freddy's steps grew gradually quieter as he continued past their hidden corner, towards the direction they'd entered the tunnels from. 

Fifty seconds, sixty— they gradually relaxed the more distant the bear's footsteps became. 

The direction of Rockstar Row was a hazard now, but at least that meant the nearest bathroom, in the other direction, was clear. 

At his side, Gregory was not doing well, and had grown gradually more fidgety with nerves and impatience. He couldn't stand still, constantly shifting his weight. "Can we go now?" He hissed, keeping his voice low. 

"Not just yet. I can still hear him. We have to make sure he doesn't hear us. Just hold on a bit longer," Sun urged.

The boy gave a whine, one that was clearly full of barely-repressed frustration and anxiety at being told to wait so long, and Sun felt terrible as he watched the boy drop his gaze and continue fidgeting in the corner of his vision. 

Sun could tell the situation was getting more urgent, but he didn't have much of a choice. If they accidentally alerted Freddy to their location, it would all but eliminate their chances of getting out of the tunnels safely— or to the bathroom, for that matter. 

I promise I'm not enjoying this any more than you are. I hate this with every fiber of my being, Sun thought silently. Just hold on, just hold on. 

His gaze still on the floor, Gregory's bitter grumble temporarily drew Sun's attention from trying to visualize Freddy's location. 

"Tell Moon this is all his fault," he spat, and Sun got the feeling he was missing context, but he didn't question it, instead straightening with a rigid salute.

"Will do!" He responded cheerily, the way any practiced performer would. 

Gregory gave a surprised, breathy laugh in response, which transitioned quickly into a pained gasp as he doubled forward. After recovering, he breathed a sigh, but kept his hunched position for a moment longer. 

"God, don't make me laugh."

"You know, we need to have a talk about your language after this," Sun commented, his tone intentionally brittle.

"If I survive this, I'll be happy to," Gregory responded grimly.

"You will," Sun answered back, just as flatly. 

They waited for another minute, until Sun could no longer pick up on the sound of Freddy's footsteps, and finally he turned to Gregory. 

"Alright, I think we're clear. Do you think you can walk? If not, I can carry you."

The boy didn't budge from his cross-legged stance, frantically shaking his head. "I think I'll explode on the spot. And pass out. And die." 

"Carrying it is, then," Sun decided, stepping forward to carefully scoop up the child, who hardly protested to the action. "It'll be faster this way." 

With that, he moved swiftly from the first aid station to the main tunnel, and continued down it a ways, until he came to a right turn. Then, through a short hallway, he came upon a flight of stairs, which took them up to the next level. 

There were a few more turns, and finally they reached a wider room with double doors ahead. 

"Almost there," he said encouragingly, glancing down at the boy for a moment as he kept moving. 

Gregory looked up as they passed through the double doors, and upon spotting the door to the bathroom down the hall, started wiggling to get out of Sun's arms. 

"It's right—"

The boy kicked off with his legs, dropping to the floor as Sun's hold loosened, and sprinted for it. He was through the door in three seconds flat.

"—there." Sun finished, still staring at the door as it swung closed. “Okay, I’ll just wait here.” 

And just like that, he was merely an animatronic standing in an empty hall on his lonesome.

Somehow, the thirty to forty seconds where Sun was just waiting for Gregory felt like an eternity. He couldn’t help feeling slightly anxious worrying over the outcome. Literally breaking his arm was enough for this poor child to deal with. 

He stood staring up into the overhead lamps until he heard the door swing open again and turned to see the boy shuffle past the door, with some difficulty. And he looked fine. 

“Made it?” 

“Yeah. Barely.” He looked a tad flustered, but Sun could also see the relief in his expression and in his body language. 

“Phew!" Sun exclaimed, miming a motion of wiping his brow in relief, and Gregory rolled his eyes, looking away with a huff. "Feel any better?" 

A nod. “Yeah… my stomach kind of hurts though.”

“Hmm." Sun tapped his chin pointedly. "Just a general ache? In your abdomen?” 

The boy looked up, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Yeah.” 

“That’ll go away after a while, your muscles are just sore from the strain.” And it's not very good for you, so we need to make sure this doesn't happen again, Sun noted to himself.

“Oh. Well that’s stupid.” 

Sun laughed. 

"It may seem so, but your body works the way it does for good reason! As long as you pay attention to it, it won't get mad at you," he added playfully. 

Gregory sighed, then fixed Sun with a look. He made a motion to cross his arms, struggling with the splint for a moment before dropping them again.

“Okay, I’m all healed up, it’s your turn now. You look like… like a… I can’t even think of a good example. You look like… that cockroach in WALL-E after it got run over by the robot.” 

Sun tilted his head. “WALL-E? I’m unfamiliar.”

“Oh. It’s a movie. With robots. I don’t really remember what it’s about.”

“Hmm. Sounds interesting!” 

“Anyway, the point is, you look really beat up. We need to get you repaired.” 

“Well, also like a cockroach, I’m resilient! This is nothing compared to the damage you suffered. But… we should probably head to Parts and Services,” he relented.

Sun had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t gotten out of that ordeal without the latch— which they needed to use the wire— being damaged. He had fallen on his back, after all. However, it was just outside the range of what he could see when he twisted his head around. 

"Actually," Sun said, turning around to face away from the boy while he used a thumb to gesture to his back, "I can't see it past my ruffles— can you tell if the latch that the wire connects to is damaged?"

"You mean the little loop thingy?"

"That's the one!"

"... Dude, it's gone." 

"Wha?!?" Frantically, Sun twisted his head around to face his back, causing the boy to jump back in surprise, as he attempted to move the ruffles around his neck out of the way to see. 

He couldn't see the loop no matter how he angled his head— because it was gone, he realized. 

"Okay… yeah. Parts and Service." Sun turned back to Gregory.

"Is there another way to get there besides going back to Rockstar Row?" 

"There's a few ways. The closest is back down those stairs we came up to get here, but we need to be careful going that way." 

"I know… but Freddy's loud. We'll hear him coming. If that’s the fastest way, let’s just do it.” 

“Your wish is my command!” Sun gave a dramatic bow, then skipped in the direction of the stairwell—aiming for a giggle, which he received—before Gregory fell in behind him. 

As they backtracked through the double doors and across the wide room to the flight of stairs, Sun prodded at his counterpart through their mental link to get Moon's attention. He felt his brother give an impression of startled alertness.

Oh Moon~ Gregory told me to tell you that this little emergency we just had was your fault.

A flash of worried panic.

What emergency? Is he alright?

Followed by confusion, as Sun looked at the boy walking beside him so Moon could see, and his counterpart searched for visible injuries— besides the ones he already knew of. 

He's fine, Sun assured with mild amusement, enjoying Moon's annoyed mystification. I haven't been filled in, but I'm assuming you would have been keeping track of his fluid intake?

Oh. Embarrassment radiated from the other side of their link. That is my fault. I was worried about him being dehydrated so I made sure he drank something— and then I wasn't expecting Roxy after we left, or to be blinded—

Ah. Understanding was quickly sinking in as Sun started to get the full picture. So that's how it happened. That wasn't entirely your fault, in that case.  

I still should've been thinking about it and I wasn't. 

I would say don't beat yourself up over it. This kid doesn't seem to be very vocal about his needs, as we've seen. I don't think he's used to it. 

Sun felt something like a sad sigh come from Moon.

I get the impression he's been on his own for a while. At least five months— but probably more. 

I got that too. On his own, fending for himself— he would’ve learned to recognize his body’s signals and when to prioritize them. Now his environment is a bit different. Now he needs to communicate when he needs something, and it just doesn’t come naturally to him. 

It’s not just that. I don't think he realizes that it's safe for him to burden us. We're not just making him do things; he can tell us when he needs something—anything; no matter what it is. 

That’s true, but he won’t know if we don’t tell him. Who should it be? You or me?

Well, if the lights don’t ever shut off again, I guess it’ll be you. Just make sure he knows there’s no reason to feel guilty or ashamed—or afraid—to tell us what he needs. 

You know I will, Sun responded, and Moon sent back an appreciative gesture.

Where are you going now?

We are… heading to Parts and Services. Our ability to use the wire is… otherwise removed. 

Did you think about what you’re going to do with Monty?

Sun stopped short. 

Now why would you go and ruin my day like that?

Sparkling amusement from his counterpart, followed by slight anxiety from Sun, then followed by an apologetic ripple from Moon.

Sorry. I’m sure it’ll be fine—he should still be contained. And he’s barely three feet tall; shouldn’t be a hassle to move him. 

That does make me feel a little better. I much would’ve preferred to get all the way there before remembering Monty, though. Then I could’ve had a nervous breakdown beside the cylinder, instead of here. 

No one would benefit from that, Moon quipped back, and Sun agreed, this time sharing his amusement. 

Thanks for the heads up, though.

His twin AI gave the mental impression of a thumbs up, before Sun playfully shoved him away. 

During their inner conversation, Sun had led the way back down the stairs to the bottom level, with Gregory close behind. They’d then passed through a short hall, made a left turn into the main utility tunnel, and started to make their way down. 

In the length of the utility tunnel, the path to Parts and Services lay somewhere in the middle— along the east wall. From their perspective, it would be on their right. Sun's gaze was traveling the wall as they walked, so he spotted it before they were anywhere near it.

"There— that's it," he announced, pointing ahead, though, even being a ways off, it was still the only door in sight.

Sun was already apprehensive though, because he could very clearly see that it was shut.

It was a heavier door than the shutters around the rest of the Plex, and wasn’t one that could be forced open easily, even by an animatronic like the Daycare Attendant. It would have controls, but…

“...Get out your security card,” Sun told Gregory, who awkwardly reached across his body with his right hand to retrieve the card from his left pocket. 

Sun located the access panel and stopped beside it, waiting for Gregory.

The boy approached the panel, glancing up at Sun uncertainly before running the card through the reader. They both looked at the screen to see the result, and, with dismay, watched as it flashed red with an irritated beep, and the words ‘Higher Security Clearance Required’ scrawled across its surface. 

“This thing’s maxed out,” Gregory muttered conspiratorially. 

Sun didn’t know what to think, but he was far from panic.

“I believe you, but there’s different levels of security clearance for employees. Where’d you get your card from?”

“Uh... one of the security offices?”

“Then it would’ve been used by a security guard. I suppose only the animatronic handlers and repairmen would need access to this hall normally; I’m just perplexed that this particular door is closed. There’s no reason for it to be.” 

“So uh… where was that other entrance you were talking about?”

Sun giggled. “It’s Moon and I’s own entrance! It’s under the theater in the daycare.” 

“You have your own entrance?”

“Of course! We need an easy route to maintenance too!” 

The boy nodded, though it didn’t look like the information was particularly important to him. “So we go back the way we came?”

“Yep! Back through the tunnels, into the lobby, and to the daycare.” 

Gregory appeared to try and calculate the distance in his head, eventually frowning. “That’s annoying.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Sun responded with a chipperly tone. “But it’s easier than trying to get past Freddy.”

The boy heaved a sigh. “Let’s just get going.”

Back down the tunnel, up the stairs, and through the double doors, the two continued through a few hallways, up another flight of stairs, and stopped at another door. 

This one was blocking their path completely. 

At the sight, Gregory sighed exasperatedly, leaning against the nearest wall in surrender, while Sun dared to step up to the obstacle. 

Gray with yellow stripes, this door was made of steel, and Sun knew it wouldn’t budge. It blocked off an inconveniently placed security office, and beyond it, past the second door, was the hallway that would take them to the lobby. If it was accessible to them, that was. 

He peered through the small window beside the door, retracting half of his rays so he could cup a hand by the side of his face to block out the reflections on the glass. 

The office was empty, the computer screens were on, and so were the lights. It was somewhat unsettling. 

“We’re not getting past it,” Gregory muttered behind him.

“I know,” Sun responded, staring for a second longer before turning back to the boy. “It looks like we have no choice but to go back to Rockstar Row.” 

“Greeeeaaat.”

“We’re getting our steps in today, for sure,” Sun remarked, before turning and beginning to lead the way back. It was rather annoying.

When they reached the large main tunnel yet again, both the animatronic and the boy slowed, cautious of their steps and their environment as they continued forward. Sun was listening extra carefully; past their own sounds and as far ahead as he could detect. 

They passed the door blocking off the entrance to Parts and Service, and reached the entrance to the first aid station, all with no sight or sound of Freddy.

It wasn’t until they’d passed the hall to the first aid station that they heard footsteps— from behind them. 

Sun looked back, in time to see Freddy exit the hall and lumber out into the main tunnel, his eyes immediately locking onto them. 

“RUN!” Sun shrieked. “RUN, and don’t look back!” 

The boy didn’t need to be asked twice, jumping at Sun’s volume and immediately bolting. He headed for the stairway leading to Rockstar Row, while Sun kept his eyes on Freddy as he moved backwards. 

The bear had already started to walk towards them, looking through Sun like he was an obstacle in his path that could be tossed aside. 

Freddy gradually moved faster as he continued to advance, and Sun was preparing to break into a run, deciding Freddy was a much more formidable opponent than Monty or Chica had been for Moon— when Freddy started running first. 

Sun leapt back, the realization dawning on him that Freddy was going to reach him before he could do anything— and no sooner than he’d jumped back did a large shutter door slam down right in the spot he’d been. 

He didn’t have time to wonder about what was happening; he simply took the opportunity to flee, turning towards the stairs and starting to sprint up them as fast as his long legs could take him. 

He caught up with Gregory two flights up, and below, he heard the shutter door open again with a loud metallic screech. 

“GO! Go go go! He’s still coming!” 

The boy nodded, eyes wide, and pivoted on his heels to dash up the next flight while Sun stayed behind. 

Sun ascended the stairs while tracking both Gregory and Freddy’s distance, and once he was sure Gregory was at the top, broke into a run once more to clear the remaining flights. He heard Freddy’s steps clunking up the stairs not far below.

When Sun reached the top of the stairs, Gregory was waiting at the doors, frantic eyes finding him instantly, and Sun stepped forward quickly to push the doors open and usher the boy ahead of him. They stepped out into Rockstar Row as the doors swung closed again, and stopped, looking around. 

Sun’s gaze traveled quickly over each possible route, before landing on the door to Freddy’s green room. He pointed it out.

“Into Freddy’s room, the door is open!” 

With Gregory ahead of him and Sun listening behind as he followed, they quickly crossed the Row's large interior and slipped through the door to the glamrock's room.

Gregory knew to head to the back to reach the elevator, and before following, Sun cast a final glance out of the window to check if they were still being followed. 

He heard the door to the utility tunnel open and the metallic clanking of Freddy's steps on the tile floor, before he saw the light of the animatronic's eyes shine past the statue blocking his view of the door. 

He turned back quickly to follow Gregory. They weren’t safe until they were in the elevator and moving. 

Gregory slammed the button, and they waited for the doors to open, then piled inside.

Not until they were safely inside, with the doors closed and the feeling of temporary vertigo hitting them as the elevator began moving, did they both sag with relief. 

Gregory was panting heavily, leaning against Sun's legs as he caught his breath. Sun didn’t have breath to catch, but he felt similarly exhilarated, lending a reassuring arm across the boy’s back and pulling him close. 

Neither of them spoke, even as the elevator ceased its rumbling and its doors opened to reveal the lit tunnel beyond. Sun moved his free hand over the gap between the elevator and the wall, ensuring the doors wouldn’t close before they were ready to step out. 

Several more seconds of silence between them.

“Are you alright?” Sun finally asked, once Gregory’s breathing had leveled out, and the boy nodded but said nothing. 

Gregory continued to lean against Sun, and eventually Sun shifted, shuffling towards the hallway to encourage the boy to move with him. Once they got moving, Gregory finally let go of Sun and started walking on his own, the dazed look gradually disappearing from his expression as they followed the tunnel to Parts and Services’ central room.

Side by side as they entered, they both lifted their weary gazes to the backside of the large repair cylinder, where it stood imposingly before them. 

"Wait—" Gregory said suddenly, and it was at that moment Sun realized he hadn't brought up the shattered animatronic still occupying the cylinder, though it seemingly was too late now. 

"Yeah…" Sun replied, giving an awkward chuckle, and no further communication was needed to confirm they'd both realized the same thing.

It was time to deal with the gator.

Chapter Text

Bare claws scraped against the tile flooring of his enclosure. 

Jaws hung open loosely, growls rattled in his chest.

He searched for his target, but it was not within sight, and he was trapped.

He paced.

The place he was trapped, it was something— circular in nature— it was small.

On all sides, tall barriers blocked his view. 

There was no way out.

And still, he paced.

He paced and paced and paced and paced. 

There was no way out.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Sun's brittle voice doesn't echo as he calls out to the boy in front of him, watching as Gregory stops in his tracks and stands still. 

They had only just reached Parts and Services, but Gregory had hardly spoken since they'd exited the elevator. 

Yes— they needed to free up the cylinder, but Sun couldn't focus on that until he was sure the small child who would be helping him with the procedure was mentally and emotionally prepared for it. If he was still processing the events of the last hour or so, he'd be distracted. 

As he stared silently, waiting for a response, the boy let out a shaky breath. 

"I just… need a minute." 

"O-of course," Sun said almost too quickly, encouraged by the response. "Do you want to sit down?" 

Gregory turns his head enough for Sun to see his face, before he shook it in a 'no'. "M'good," he answers, but the way he's lightly swaying on his feet doesn't fill Sun with confidence. 

"Sit down for me anyway?" Sun tries, stepping forward as if prepared to catch the boy should he faint. "Monty's not going anywhere." 

At Sun's reassurance, there's a reluctant but willing nod from the boy as he turns, sways again, and is quickly guided into a sitting position by the animatronic. He exhales heavily once seated, staring at the floor as he draws his knees up. 

"I forgot about Monty." 

"I did too," Sun admits. "Harder to remember things that I only witnessed, and didn't do myself."

The boy responds with another huff, resting his chin on his knees and staring ahead. 

His breathing was still uneven from the chase, and Sun gave him several moments to catch his breath before tilting his head. 

"You alright?" He asks again, after giving the boy adequate time to recover. 

The boy merely nodded. A small silence stretched out between them. 

Well, faz it. This was as good a time as any. 

"Do you want to talk about earlier?" 

At that, the boy looks at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I mean earlier, in the first aid station. We were sitting there for thirty minutes, you didn't say anything." 

Something furious and frustrated hardened the boy's expression as he glared at Sun. "What was I supposed to say? Hey, I know we're waiting for this medicine to set in so you can fix my arm but I'm about to pee my pants??" 

"Wh— YES!!" Sun's voice was incredulous. "If it was that urgent of course I'd want you to tell me!"

"What good would it have done? We were busy— I still would've had to wait." 

"Why did you assume that? If I'd known earlier, we probably could have done something about it, especially while we were waiting for the anesthetic." Sun's hand ran down his own faceplate as his voice box produced something of a despairing sigh. "But instead you waited— and you put yourself through so much discomfort—" 

Gregory interrupted him, bristling. 

"Why does that matter?"

"Why wouldn't it matter?! It wasn't enjoyable, was it??"

"No! It sucked! But my arm was also broken!" 

"But if you'd told me—"

"Well it's over now, so it doesn't matter," Gregory snapped. Sun didn't have a response, and Gregory's expression quickly became reserved. "So you're telling me, if I'd said something sooner, you actually think it would've helped?" 

"Yes!" 

Something like deep mortification and regret filled the boy's eyes, before he exhaled, dropping his head to bury his face in his arms. "Are you kidding me." 

Sun's head tilted as he regarded the child, overwhelmed by sympathy. "Look, it's not your fault," he said softly. "It's not anyone's fault. That was just… a really unfortunate situation, and I don't blame you for not wanting to tell me." 

The boy's face remained hidden in his arms, and Sun reached over to rub his back. 

"This is something Moon and I have talked about. We can't read your mind, so we need you to tell us when you need things. Is… is part of the problem that you don't know how to ask?" Sun's voice grew softer. 

The boy turned his face enough for Sun to see one eye peering at him through brunette bangs, as he gave a minute nod. 

"Just embarrassing?"

Another nod. 

Sun thought for a moment. "Have you ever heard the term 'an eye for an eye'?"  

The boy shook his head this time. 

"It's like trading one thing for another. It may be embarrassing to be transparent about your needs, but it's better than waiting until it's too late and facing more embarrassment. Trade one for another. It might help to keep that in mind, at least until it becomes a bit easier. And I promise it'll get easier," he added on, giving a pointed rub over the boy's back to emphasize his words. 

When he was finished speaking, he saw the boy's gaze flick downwards, before he finally lifted his head with a sniffle, using one arm—his good one—to wipe his eyes. 

Upon seeing the wetness on his reddened cheeks, Sun moved his hand from Gregory's back to the top of his head, running gentle digits through his hair, before gently brushing one finger across the boy's cheek as he pushed a stray lock behind his ear.

"There is no reason to be afraid to tell us when you need something. Please, inconvenience us."

Gregory started to wipe the remaining dampness from his cheeks as Sun withdrew his hand, watching the boy silently as he avoided eye contact. 

"Feeling better at all?"

Gregory nodded.

"Do you understand why this is important?" 

Another nod. 

"Do you think you can try and speak up more?"

"No," Gregory responded, voice wavery, and Sun felt some of his enthusiasm wilt. 

"No?" 

Gregory shook his head. 

"Why not?" 

"Because," Gregory responded shortly, which was very helpful. 

"Alright. Would it help if I was more blunt with you?"

Gregory grimaced as if the question was odd, but then sighed deeply. "Maybe." 

"It's really not going to be so bad, once you get used to it. And it's going to be very counterproductive to keep going forward without good communication. Think of it like this. We're your escort, essentially. We will take you wherever you need or want to go, but you can't go off on your own. That means it's not a good idea to keep things from us in the hopes you'll get a chance to take care of it later. Understand?" 

"Ughhhh," the boy groaned, tossing his head back. "That sounds so hard." 

"It's the base indignity necessary for safety," Sun said matter-of-factly. 

"What's that even mean?"

"It means…" Sun said, choosing his words carefully, "if you're used to a life of privacy, it's going to feel pretty awkward at first."

Seeming to understand it was going to benefit him more to agree with the idea, the boy sighed, his expression resigned and disgruntled. "So I basically have to tell you everything." 

"Well— probably not everything, just whatever you think is important. We'll let you be the judge of that." 

"I was already kind of doing that with Moon— I just don't know you as well so it's harder," the boy mumbled into his knees. 

"And that's okay. I understand! I wasn't expecting to end up meeting you— at all actually. And certainly not in the way we did— oh it's just such a mess. You've hardly had any time to get to know me, this must be so much to adapt to." 

“I mean, it wouldn’t have been my first choice either,” the boy responded, giving a dry chuckle that made Sun want to feel encouraged. It was a joking tone— Sun was going to take it.

“And such an odd time to wake up, too! Goodness— it’s past midnight! You should be— should be…”

Sun stopped abruptly, pausing. His thought process halted and backed up. Trancelike, he remained perfectly still as he ran his words over in his head again. Gregory shifted beside him, looking unnerved.

“W-what’s going on? You okay?”

Gregory’s words shook Sun out of it, and he focused on the boy again.

“It’s past midnight.”  

“Y-yeah?”

“Why would—” Sun trailed off, turning away from the boy and pressing his fingers to the lower part of his faceplate, in a manner that would resemble someone biting their nails, should he have a moveable mouth. Or nails. 

“Why would what?” 

“It— it almost feels like someone wanted us to get hurt.”

Gregory blinked in surprise, shrinking away from him. “What? What do you mean?”

"Just in terms of when Moon and I switched— those lights turned on at the perfect time to get us to fall. If we hadn't been exactly where we were… a-and then— in the utility tunnels. Doesn't it feel like we were corralled towards Freddy?”

Sun looked at Gregory, who looked like he was trying to think of a response, but Sun went on talking before he could.

“When we were in the first aid station, we knew Freddy passed us, and continued north to Rockstar Row. Then, we went south down the tunnel, found it blocked, and when we came back, Freddy was waiting where we'd just been."

“Okay… that was kinda weird,” the boy agreed.

"We're just lucky Freddy came out after we'd passed him, because if he'd blocked our path, and chased us back to the dead end—"

"We would be dead," Gregory interrupted, eyes wide.

Sun nodded. "There's something else, too. After you ran up the stairs, a shutter closed between me and Freddy and bought me some time to get back to you. It was helpful, at the time, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing were different, it could've closed behind me. And you."

"This is kind of scaring me," the boy whispered.

Sun was scared too. He was too close to a conclusion, though— he couldn't stop himself.

"I don't think it's just us and the animatronics here. I think… I think someone’s trying to get rid of us.” 

Caught up in his own terror, he almost didn’t notice when the boy pressed his trembling form against his side. He looked down, feeling a deep protectiveness stir in him at the sight, before he wrapped an arm around the boy to pull him closer. 

He wanted to hug him so tightly, hold him in his own arms and know that nothing would ever happen to him— but he knew it wasn’t that simple. 

He hated that he’d scared Gregory with his words, and yet he believed what he said to be true. There was no taking it back. 

Without the reassurance of assurances, a sickening feeling of helplessness sank in. 

It felt like they were just three; a brother, a brother, and a child— and they were all alone, and exposed.

"I think… we need to be very cautious moving forward," he said quietly, seriously, as he retracted his bottom rays completely to rest the edge of his faceplate atop the boy's head. He felt Gregory shrink into him further.

"We have each other— that's the most important part. And both Moon and I will do anything we have to to keep you safe. You know that, right?" 

He felt the boy nod against his uneven casing, but didn't hear any verbal response. He could still feel the tension in the boy’s frame. 

Carefully, he shifted his hold, lifting the child into his lap, who quickly latched onto his torso and buried his face again once settled. Sun hugged him tight, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. He listened to the boy's rapid breathing gradually return to a more regular pace, silent all the while.

He didn't want to move— not now, while they were safe. He was grateful, in this moment, that Gregory needed the comfort as much as Sun secretly did.

Several minutes of silence lasted as Sun drifted in his thoughts, hardly noticing the time passing, until, finally, he heard the boy speak up. His voice carried a level of hesitance that instantly caught Sun’s attention. 

"...Sun?"

"Yes?" 

"Can you… tell me your power level?" 

He didn’t even question or hesitate, he simply checked his system information as soon as it was requested. 

"We're at 80 percent." 

He felt the boy relax against his body, and he moved from cradling to gently rubbing the child's back.

When next Gregory shifted, it was with a grumble of complaint. 

"Your casing is too crunched to keep hugging. It's uncomfortable," he announced, pushing away from Sun's middle as the animatronic's embrace loosened.  

Sun hummed a sigh. "I was afraid of that. It's probably time we look at fixing it. We should check on Monty first— if he's too aggressive to get out of the cylinder, there's no point in searching for replacement parts."

"Yeah, true." 

"Are you ready?" 

"Ready as I'll ever be," Gregory responded unenthusiastically, clambering out of Sun's lap and getting to his feet. "Hey— speaking of Monty, is it just me, or has it been really quiet in here?" 

They both fell silent, listening, and Sun realized Gregory was right. There wasn't any commotion coming from the cylinder, especially for one containing an angry, aggressive alligator animatronic.

"I'm not sure whether that's comforting or worrying." 

"Guess we'll find out." 

As he joined Gregory by the short staircase leading to the front of the cylinder and they began their descent, Sun caught a glimpse of green through one of the glass windows before solid steel blocked his view. 

"I saw him, he's still in there," he announced. 

“Wow, something made by Fazbear Entertainment actually did its job,” Gregory responded sarcastically.

“We’re made by Fazbear Entertainment,” Sun responded sharply. 

“Uhm. Oops.” He saw the boy duck his head, and Sun couldn’t help giggling. “Sorry.”

“No worries, I thought it was funny.” 

“You and Moon both have a weird sense of humor.”

“We’re jesters. And child caretakers. We’re programmed to find almost everything funny.” 

“And to make the worst jokes about it,” the boy added. 

“Well— I take offense— ….Moon’s jokes are worse than mine,” he mumbled hastily. He felt an outraged prickle in his mind and ducked away from it sheepishly. That had literally woken his counterpart up.

You know I don’t really mean that.

In response, an impression of a judgmental squint. He sent back apology, sheepish and repenting, and the tension slowly melted into exasperated humor. 

In front of him, Gregory laughed. “That’s not even true. Or at least— you can’t prove it until I’ve actually heard you tell a joke.” 

“Oh dear, does Moon have more in the bank now? How many great and fantastic jokes did I miss out on??” He emphasized the compliments, in a way that he knew would appeal to his counterpart. The presence in his mind responded, unsurprisingly, with more exasperation and clear awareness that he was being patronized. 

“At least three. I don’t know how many of them counted.” 

“Well! You’ll just have to wait and see then. I’ll think of some good ones.” 

Gregory nodded in a very ‘right… I totally believe that’ way, (while Moon pointedly agreed, and Sun told him to hush) before both their gazes finally drifted towards the cylinder they'd been standing in front of. The banter had merely been a collective effort to stall, and they could stall no longer.

“So. How are we going to do this?” Gregory remained where he was, arms crossed as comfortably as he could manage. 

“Well, first let’s get a closer look,” Sun suggested, preparing himself before slowly stepping up to the cylinder.

When they cautiously approached the door and peered through the window, they found Monty lying still on the ground in front of the operation seat, chin lowered to rest on the tile, and eyelids half-closed. He seemed to be resting, or perhaps asleep. 

In the brighter light, it was even easier to see the gnarly bits of misshapen metal extruding from his casing, the dirty silver of the frame in his snout, exposed due to the missing section of plastic along his face, revealing sharp, crooked teeth and their connecting sockets. 

Filled with a palpable sense of disgust and fear, Sun stepped back, averting his gaze from the damaged glamrock. He instead looked to Gregory.

"He seems mellow— if we do it now, I think it won't be too much trouble to move him. Y'see those little rooms over there?"

Sun pointed, and the boy had to do a 180 to look behind him, to the part of the room Sun was gesturing at. 

"Oh, yeah." 

Along one side of the room, four bland, minimalistic, cubic rooms were lined up, each decorated with nothing more than a metal table, and walls that more than eerily resembled some medias' depictions of padded asylums. It spoke volumes towards how the company saw its robotic employees. 

"One of those will work as a temporary holding cell, at least until we're done with the procedure. We can move him back into the cylinder afterwards." 

Gregory nodded agreeingly and looked back at Sun again. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Okay. When you’re ready, I want you to stand by the control panel up there, and press the button on my signal." 

The boy gave a nod, and Sun continued. 

"If something goes wrong — and I'm sure it won't— but if it does— I want you to run for the nearest elevator. Alright?"

"So run if Monty gets past you. Got it." 

"Like I said, I'm sure that won't happen," Sun said, partly to convince the last flickers of anxiety to leave his mind, and partly to reassure the boy. 

Gregory nodded once more and moved up the steps to reach the control panel, searching it for a moment before fixing Sun with a serious look. 

"Ready when you are." 

"Right." Sun turned back to face the cylinder, his eyes on Monty— or what he could see of Monty, given that the gator was resting right in front of the door. He readied himself, then, without turning his head, addressed Gregory. "Okay... do it now." 

He heard the chime from the overhead speakers as the procedure was canceled, and the voice announced that the door would open. A second later, it began to lift, erasing the barrier between himself and Monty. 

He braced— just in case the gator should suddenly lunge, but when Monty remained where he was, Sun stood and approached him. 

This was more than mellow— he just... wasn't moving at all. 

Sun looked to Gregory with uncertainty, and found the boy's eyes locked on the glamrock with the same level of confusion and distrust that Sun felt. 

Afraid to make a sound, but cautious and curious, Sun crouched down to get a closer look. 

And immediately jumped backwards, as the glamrock's eyelids flew open fully, painted orange irises flicking up to lock directly with Sun's stare.

The shattered animatronic lifted his head, jaw gaping as if unwilling to follow the rest of his teeth, before he began to drag himself forward, his gaze unwavering as he headed directly for Sun.

Sun stepped back, panicked at first— this horrifying remnant of an animatronic he once knew effectively wiping any coherent thought from his mind— before he snapped himself out of it and tried to convince himself to just step forward and restrain him. Just like he’d seen Moon do. 

While he was thinking about it, he stopped thinking about consciously moving, and something of a strained warble left his voice box as he realized the gator had reached him and dug his claws into the fabric of his right pant leg.

Now the restrained rather than the restrainee, Sun could only look down in abject horror as the gator looked up, hollow but desperate eyes finding his. 

Then, he spoke.

"Help.. me."

Chapter Text

This was happening. 

Like objectively, undeniably, truly happening in the current moment. 

Yet, even as he stood, staring into the Glamrock's pleading eyes, the weight of Monty's hold pinning him in place, he didn't fully trust that he was perceiving the moment correctly. 

Why was it that nothing had been normal or predictable since the moment Moon came back? Why couldn't things just be slightly less ridiculous? 

"Please," the animatronic rasps weakly, desperate stare unwavering, and Sun tries to shift but ultimately remains where he is. 

"U-uhhhh…" 

Sun looks to Gregory, not necessarily because he's floundering, but just to reassure himself that Gregory is still in the room. He says nothing, and his glance is swift, just enough to spot the boy crouched near the control panel, eyeing the both of them. He seemed to be waiting for a signal from Sun before deciding to bolt. 

Sun looks down again. 

"M.. Monty? W-what're you—" 

How do you ask a previously violent animatronic if they're really present, or just faking it?? If they were faking it they wouldn't tell you the truth, that's for sure. 

Was Monty back to normal… Or— was he somehow aware during his suffering? Was this an elaborate scheme, or really good acting?

"Please. Y'gotta help me." 

"I-I understand that. If you could just—" Sun makes a dramatic sighing noise, a wave of exasperation washing over him as he once again tries to distance himself from Monty only to have the animatronic tighten his hold. "Alright. Kindly remove those talons from my leg, would you?"

He has to keep a handle on his panic. It was difficult to remain calm when faced with such a horrifying sight—even one he’d seen before—when it was currently holding on to him and pleading for help. This was not what he’d signed up for.

Monty, for his part, looks apologetic, seeming to recognize Sun's discomfort, and begins to untangle his claws from the fabric of Sun's pants— not without taking a few sizable strips of the material with him as the serrated edges get caught. Sun makes a strangled whine of dismay as he witnesses this. 

Monty backs up, and Sun relaxes. He steals another glance at Gregory, who remains crouched by the cylinder’s control panel, still as a mouse— and as silent as one. 

As long as Monty is facing Sun, they're still alright. That was how Sun was choosing to view the situation. 

"Thank you. Now," Sun begins, forcing his voice to stay level, "what do you need help with?" That seemed like the best place to start. 

Monty's gaze flicks downward for the first time, and settles right on the tile in front of his snout. 

"It's... my battery. Normally I wouldn't ask fer help with this… but I'm runnin' out of time." His eyes are on Sun's again. "Please." 

"O-oh… your battery…" Sun mumbles, trying to determine why he wasn't expecting that to be the primary concern. 

If he was begging, it must be urgent. But didn't he have… other questions? 

Sun's gaze flickers over the gator's body— or what was left of his body. A thick mass of wires protrudes from the animatronic’s midsection, ending in trailing tendrils, no doubt the wiring that was meant to be attached to the missing part of his endo. That was certainly the most disturbing part of his sorry state. 

"We can help you with your battery… but we want to ask you some questions once you get charging." 

"Who's we?" The gator asks sharply, and Sun freezes. 

Shoot, he wished he hadn't said that. 

Monty lifts his head by propping himself on his arms, and when he starts to turn to look around the rest of the room, Sun quickly moves to block his view, flailing his arms and rambling nearly incoherently until Monty’s attention is on him.

“Abup-bup-bup-bup-bup! — hey! Let's uh… let's focus on your battery, hmm?" As Monty's gaze follows him, suspicious, Sun steps back to his original position. He glances in Gregory’s direction again, seeing the boy hesitantly relax from a tense position.

"Would appreciate that," the gator relents. 

"Righteo! So, I can hook you up to the charging cable in the cylinder, but would you mind if I lifted you to put you on the chair?" 

"You can lift me?" Monty retorts, surprise layering what was clearly amusement. 

It was meant to be humorous, but with Monty being in the condition he was, it only prompted pity.

Did he realize the extent of his damage? How long had he even been awake? Was he fully aware?

Sun, however, expresses none of these doubts, and instead nods pointedly. "I can, trust me. I'm stronger than I look."

Monty actually huffs, the sound coming out as almost a hiss, as the damaged glamrock looks down at the floor. 

"I don't have much choice. Do it." 

Tenderly, Sun steps forward to scoop up the animatronic, casting a glance at Gregory that he wished could be reassuring, before he steps into the cylinder. 

He sets Monty on the chair—conveniently reclined—before stepping up onto the base of the repair mechanism's arm, so he can reach the cable holstered above them and pull it down.

He circles the chair, eyeing Monty. "Now, where is the..." 

"My chest." The glamrock props himself up again, one hand going to feel his front casing, his eyelids opening fully as his exposed claws dip into the crater in his chest plating. He struggles to lift himself up as high as he can, turning his head in a way that Sun realizes is an attempt to see his own chest. Finally, he stills. "Ay."

The utterance is deadpan, but the distressed, horrified exhale that he makes soon after seems to convey his true reaction. It's a shudder, of sorts, an all-over realization that Sun can see in the way he quivers. 

"I'm sure you have many questions," Sun says quickly, then flicks the cable in his hand pointedly. "But let's at least get you plugged in first." 

Monty nods, the motion devoid of any enthusiasm, and shifts his position so Sun can reach his chest. 

"... Guess you won’t have any trouble gettin’ to it," the gator mutters as Sun leans forward. 

Shaking off the morbidity of that statement, the Daycare Attendant drops down to get a clear view into the Glamrock's chest compartment, until he spots the manual charging port, and connects the cable as carefully as possible. He pulls his hands back hastily once it’s securely connected, then straightens back up.

"There we are!” Sun exclaims cheerfully. “Is it working?"

Monty responds with a relieved sigh, nodding. "Yup. Thank you. I'd've been a goner if you hadn't shown up."

“You’re very welcome!” Sun keeps the cheer in his voice, but the look he casts out of the cylinder’s window is forlorn. 

Outside, Gregory is watching them with concern, still unnoticed by Monty from where he’s standing. Sun signals him with a silent nod, and Gregory blinks, searching Sun’s face for a moment in confusion, before giving a hesitant nod as well.

He had the boy’s attention. He looks back to Monty, taking a brief moment to steel himself before speaking. "Don't hate us for this." 

As Monty looks up, seemingly about to question, Sun steps back, outside of the cylinder, and he sees the animatronic’s expression change into something distinctly fearful. Then, the door closes between them. 

"WAIT! WHERE'RE Y—"  

"Nowhere," Sun interjects, cutting the gator off mid-sentence and watching his expression change from panicked to confused. 

"Wh—"

"Relax. We're not going anywhere. We're just being cautious." 

"Wha'd'ya mean?" 

Sun looks to the right again, where Gregory is cautiously stepping out into the open, and beckons to the boy with a hand wave. Once Gregory is at his side, he briefly lays a hand over the boy's shoulder, while Monty's confused gaze tracks the new face. 

"Who's that? What's goin' on?" Monty's voice hardens to a demanding tone, yet it doesn't fully conceal the anxiety it's born from.

"This is Gregory," Sun responds, keeping his voice calm. "I'm not at liberty to tell you anything more; he'll tell you what he's comfortable with. And what's going on is… we have a lot of questions, and it's a good thing you need to be in there right now."

Monty looks between the two of them for several seconds, jaw agape and eyes wide, before his gaze narrows to an angry glare. "...WHAT?" 

"Let's not start shouting," Sun says quickly, putting up his hands in a submissive gesture, "we can discuss this... err... delicately."

"Uh-uh," the damaged glamrock disagrees, shaking his head. "You tell me what's going on. What do the two of you want with me?" 

"We don't want anything from you— except information. Starting with whether or not you're the real Monty." 

"What kinda question is that?" The gator snarls. "Of course I'm 'the real Monty'."

"You're sure?" 

"I just said I was, didn't I?" 

"Alright, you seem confident enough— I just want extra confirmation. What are the names of your bandmates?" 

"Are you serious right now?" 

"Dead serious. I am dead serious." 

"Yikes," Gregory mutters next to him, making Sun twitch. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Monty forces an exhale, raising the volume of his voice box enough for it to crackle.

"Fine. Roxy, Chica, Freddy, and me. Monty. If you're countin' me." 

"And the name of your attraction?" 

"Why?"  

"Just answer the question," Sun urges, exasperation bleeding into his voice.

The gator's head tilts back with a dramatic groan. "Monty's Gator Golf. Home of the Hurricane Hole-in-One. Also known as Monty Golf, or Gator Golf."

It was all correct so far. "One last question. Who was the glamrock previous to you?"

Something dark crosses the animatronic's expression. "We don't talk about Bonnie."

"What, what?" Gregory pipes up, but neither animatronic notice him.

The response was enough to convince Sun. "Correct. Alright, I believe you."

The poor, shattered animatronic really was himself again.

Little harsh, his counterpart remarks, and Sun prickles. 

I challenge you to figure out how to do this properly.  

We need to know what he knows. Ask him what he remembers, what date it is, how long he's been awake. 

What if he doesn't know anything useful? 

We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I'm sure we can get some clues from him. 

"You believe me, huh?" Monty growls. "What's goin' on? Why wouldn't I be me?"

"What do we tell him?" Gregory whispers at Sun's side, and the Daycare Attendant hesitates, thinking. 

"We'll answer your questions to the best of our ability— but you should know, some of the answers may be hard to take." 

"I'm sure I can handle it," Monty scoffs. 

"Hold onto that thought," Sun says doubtfully, and that answer seems to strike fear in the glamrock. "Before we get into the answers though, I have a few questions. One: do you have any idea why you were in there?"

The gator animatronic takes several moments to answer, appearing to think deeply about the question.

"No. I've been blankin' on it since I woke up." 

"And how long ago did you wake up?" 

"Two hours, roughly." 

"And what do you remember? From… before you woke up?" 

"I was… in my room." 

"What were you doing?" 

"..Waitin'. Till morning, for maintenance." 

"Routine maintenance? Emergency maintenance?"

"Well… we were all waitin' for maintenance." 

"You and the other glamrocks? Why's that?" 

"It was Freddy. Durin' the live performance, he crashed, an' they stopped the show to send us all to our rooms."

"So you were waiting overnight, meaning the maintenance was supposed to happen the following morning?"

"Yep."

"And that's the last thing you remember?" 

"Uhh… yeah." 

"And what day was that?" 

"June…” Monty trails off, his gaze snapping to meet Sun’s with a suspicious squint. “Hold up. Are you implyin' I'm missin' memory?" 

"Yes," Sun responds matter-of-factly. "Very much so." 

Monty holds the squint for about three seconds before his eyes widen briefly. Then, his gaze drops with a somber note of resignation.

"..June 14th."

That's way later than it happened to me, Moon remarks, intrigued. 

"What day is it?" The question is fearful. 

"It's November 4th," Sun says, just loud enough that the glamrock can hear it through the protective glass. 

A shudder ripples through the animatronic's form— like he was taken by a sudden weakness. "What?" His voice loses its gruff undertone, the word spoken as if a breath. "How?"

Sun looks to Gregory, hoping to find some form of reassurance, something to give him the resolve he was searching for. Something that would make telling Monty the truth easier. But, to his dismay, Gregory’s expression is only uncertain. 

He would have frozen up at the prospect of it, had it not been for Moon’s soothing encouragement.

You can do it. Just tell him what you know.

"Well— from what we understand, you've been affected by some kind of glitch or virus that changes your behavior— or maybe more accurately overrides it. Once it leaves your system, it seems to come with a memory blank of the time you were affected. You're not the only one it happened to. Moon was affected for nine months, and only very recently recovered from it. The other glamrocks are all affected by it right now."

Sun doesn’t pause until he’s done talking, feeling relief mingle with the uncertainty after getting through it. Then he waits, as Monty seems to take the information in and consider it.

"So… you're sayin'... I malfunctioned, and I don't remember it. And all the other glamrocks are malfunctionin’ too? Right now?" 

Sun nods. 

"What kinda... behavior? What does it make you do?" 

"Well… the only reference we have is how it made the others act towards Gregory. It seems consistent that… It makes us hostile." 

"So… the others attacked… him? The kid?" 

At Sun's side, he sees Gregory nod, before the boy lifts a hand to gesture to the bandages on his right cheek. "And I can prove that, at least; this was from Freddy." 

"Freddy? No way, he would never—" 

"And you would never try to hurt a guest either. But both you and Freddy have attacked him. That's what we're trying to tell you; something is making us act in ways we're not supposed to." 

"Has it happened to you?" 

"Well, as far as I know… no. I feel normal— but… I don't know. Moon's missing any memory of his time being affected, and I guess I wouldn't know if I was missing memory too." 

"You're probably not," Gregory mumbles at his side, and Sun looks down at him. "It's pretty obvious when they are affected."

"Yeah— that's my feeling on it, too. Both Moon and I are normal right now. And now… so are you," Sun concludes, looking at Monty.

It was almost miraculous.

“I… I still don’t get it. What you’re describin’ sounds like a Zombieland.”

"Well, it kind of is." Gregory responds with a small shrug. 

At that, Sun leans down closer to Gregory. "What's a Zombieland?" He whispers. 

"The Pizzaplex," Gregory responds with a snicker, which doesn't define the term for Sun in the slightest. 

“But… how could we all be malfunctionin’, and they haven’t…”

Monty grumbles to himself, staring down at the chair in thought, until his eyes suddenly widen.

“Wait. How do you two know all this?”

Sun fidgets, and Gregory remains silent, until Monty continues on with his revelation.

"Of course. It all makes sense. I still don't know what your deal is," he growls, pointing at Gregory, "but if you two have been buddy-buddying around, with this weird… whatever you'd call this—” he gestures at the two of them with a vague hand wave, then points at Sun, “and you're not in the daycare…" 

"...Yes," Sun confirms, voice resigned. "That conclusion you're drawing is correct." 

"They left us," the gator hisses, with a fierceness that startles both Sun and the boy. His claws dig into the chair beneath him, slicing the plastic covering in uneven lines and exposing white fluff. “I knew it.”

"Monty, woah, woah— settle down! Yes, they… did leave us, but… not all hope is lost." Sun's voice quiets as he glances at the child at his side. 

In turn, Monty gives a bitter laugh, ripping his claws free of the chair and turning his face, resting his chin on folded arms. 

"And what about you, huh? Gregory?" At Sun’s side, the boy looks up, slightly startled, and produces a questioning sound. "What are you doin' hangin' around an abandoned mall?" 

"How… how did you figure out it's abandoned so fast?"

Way to dodge the question, Sun thinks, impressed.

"Context clues. The way y'all have been talking, what you've described— and no offense, Sunman, but you look like you've seen better days. If the 'Plex was up and runnin', I'd be looking at repairmen right now— not you two." The gator faces them, fixing the pair with a wizened gaze and what might have been a smile. "Clearly, I'm lookin' at the heroes."

There’s a brief pause while Sun and his companion register Monty’s comment, allowing it the weight such a remark deserved. 

"I… I don't think any of us would call ourselves heroes," Sun finally defends, glancing at Gregory and sharing confusion with his counterpart. 

"Spare me the modesty," Monty argues, and Gregory and Sun stare silently. "Y'all are the rag-tag band of misfits. The survivors. Pickin' up the broken pieces of what's left. Tryin' ta do what's right. Sounds like heroes to me."

"That was... surprisingly eloquent," Sun finds himself blurting out, prompting the gator to chuckle.

"I know. I'm one of the survivors too," the gator responds, somewhat solemnly.

Sun and his counterpart share a wave of sudden sympathy.

"Monty…"

A sigh rumbles out of the gator's chest, irritated and defensive. "And spare me the pity, too. I have another question for you." 

"What?"

Despite Sun awaiting said question, Monty hesitates, as though debating changing his mind. Finally, he speaks, and when he does, his tone is almost vulnerable.

"...How'd I end up like this? Do you know? I… maybe you don't. But…" he pauses, looking down blankly. "I… I just wanna know. How I got crippled like this."

Both Sun and Gregory freeze.

So he did know. The earlier confidence might have been an attempt at deflection— or denial.

Sun looks at Gregory, who meets his gaze with an anxious frown, before he faces the gator himself. "I know how it happened. I was there."

Monty looks up at him, and there's no trace of anger in his voice or his expression when he says, "You do? What happened?"

"It… it happened the first night I was here," the boy starts, voice low and timid. "I got chased to the catwalks over Gator Golf— don't ask, it's a long story," he quickly adds, at Monty’s confused look. 

"Anyway, you were there, and I saw you fall from the catwalks, while… trying to get to me. It… you hit a beam on the way down." 

Monty is still as he listens. "Really. That simple, huh?" 

Gregory nods. "..Yeah." 

The gator looks around the cylinder before speaking again. "And how'd I end up in here?" 

"That was—" Sun's voice comes out strangled even though he has no vocal cords. "That was us. Well, Gregory and Moon, specifically. You attacked them in El Chips and they put you in the cylinder."

"It wasn't like, personal or anything," Gregory adds awkwardly. "We thought we could get rid of one threat and maybe figure out what was wrong with you at the same time." 

"Judging by… all'a this, I'm guessin' it didn't work," Monty concludes. 

The boy shakes his head. Sun twiddles his thumbs.

We didn't figure out what was wrong with him, but maybe we figured out how to cure it, his counterpart comments suddenly, and Sun fumbles to try and catch up to his reasoning. 

The cylinder?

Being alone in the cylinder. Maybe that did it.

Like… a quarantine?

The presence in the back of his mind responds with the mental impression of a shrug. Sun thinks about it. 

You might be right, actually.

Moon had technically been quarantined, too. 

Before Sun can put any more thought into it, Monty speaks up again. 

“So, you’re not kiddin’, it’s really a wasteland up there?” 

Still a bit out of it, Sun nods.

“...Pretty much.”

“And how long have you two been investigatin’?”

“It’s been a full day now, I imagine," the Daycare Attendant responds. 

It had to have been; even though they were missing time due to the battery incident.

"Just, by yourselves?"

They both nod this time. 

"...Why?"

For some reason, the question grips Sun with a frosty chill. Like ice up his spine— or his equivalent of one. 

Why? What a hopeless question. 

There's silence for several moments. 

Finally, Sun asks, "What do you mean why?" 

"I mean why bother?"

"What?" The question comes from Sun. The follow-up comes from Gregory. 

"You just said we were heroes. What do you mean 'why bother'?" 

"What difference would it make? They already shut the place down, it's not like they're gonna come back if you fix us. You're wastin' your time." 

Sun couldn't believe his auditory processors. 

"How could you say that?" He's aghast. 

"'Cause, even if you figure out what happened to us, our lives are over."  

Nobody challenges the statement. Sun is struggling to comprehend the sudden cynicism from Monty, and Gregory seems to be doing the same. 

Monty sinks deeper into his stupor. 

"My life is over. Same for Freddy and the gang. Without shows to perform and crowds to cheer for us…" 

"You wouldn't have a purpose," Sun says quietly, starting to understand. Monty nods, a brief appreciative look in his eyes. A look that said ‘thank you, for understanding my pain.’ 

"Without the shows, we have nothing. I have nothing." 

He looks between the two of them for several moments, as if hoping for them to disagree, before sinking down in the chair, letting his snout hang over the edge as his eyes drift down to the floor.

He seemed so hopeless— like he'd given up before even being asked to try. 

Inside, mingling with Sun's sympathy is a burning compassion. 

Help. 

The demand shocks Sun, and he reacts with confusion. 

Help? 

Monty. Help him. 

How can we possibly help him? 

Tell him what you told me. He has us. 

Slowly, Moon's determination becomes his own. His brother was right. Monty wasn't alone, and he had no reason to feel like he was. They had the power to help. 

"That's not true," Sun responds late, catching Monty's attention at the same time he catches Gregory's. "You don't have nothing. You have us." 

The battered glamrock regards Sun, irises flicking up and down his form as though noticing him for the first time. "....What're y'sayin?"

"I'm saying you could join us. We help you and you help us. Like a team." 

"You want me to come with you?"

"Yes." 

The hope in Monty's gaze dies as soon as it appears.

"I… can't. Not like this. I'd be useless."

Sun hesitates for several moments. 

"If you want to come with us, we can fix you up." 

"WHAT?!" 

The outburst is more of a squeak, crisper because the voice came from beside him, not from inside a glass tube. 

Sun cringes as he faces the boy's glare. 

He didn't know why he'd expected that to go over well— he'd just been spurred on by Moon's urgency. 

"I-if you're okay with it, of course," Sun says hastily, already sensing the boy's outrage. 

"I'm not okay with it. We can't just fix him up— we've only been talking to him for like, five minutes!"

"I know, I know. It seems impulsive, but… he'd be able to help us if we repaired him. Plus, it would give him something to do— and besides, if we don't help him, who will?"

"I— I don't know! But how do we know if we can trust him?"

"How do we know we can't?" Sun counters. 

"...What?" Gregory's expression slackens in confusion, before furrowing with anger once more. "That's literally the problem! How are we supposed to know we can't trust him until it's too late?"

Sun falters. 

Before he can crack under the pressure, Monty swoops in. 

"How can y'all find out if y'never let me outta here?" 

The arguing party turns to look at Monty, who suddenly looks very invested in the conversation. 

Then Gregory crosses his arms, glaring at the gator through the glass. 

"I have NO problem leaving you in there for an entire DAY, just to make sure you don't go crazy again." 

Monty flinches at the words, his eyelids drooping dejectedly. "I could do that. If that's what I needed to do to prove myself." 

"Hang on," Sun interjects, turning towards Gregory. "He's already been in there for half a day, and being locked up for longer won't prove anything."

"Then maybe we shouldn't repair him," the boy mumbles darkly. 

"Gregory." 

“What?!” Gregory flares his arms, as though frustrated that Sun isn’t taking his side. “You're saying we should fix him up with things he can chase and slash us with if he wanted to?"

"He wouldn't do that. We have to be willing to put faith in each other, at least a little. We only have each other." 

Something sort of guilty and sort of sympathetic flashes briefly across the boy’s face, and he looks towards Monty in consideration. He still doesn't look entirely convinced. 

"I just don't like it. He's safe like this." 

Sun forces out a sigh. "I understand where you're coming from. Really, I do. I don't blame you for feeling that way. But remember: when you and Moon met, there was no way for you to know if you could trust him either. You just did. You have to be willing to give Monty that chance." 

Gregory meets Sun's eyes for several long moments, considering his words, before finally he turns begrudgingly to the cylinder. 

"Alright, fine. I'm the one who could actually die, so let me decide. If we repair you, you have to stay away from me. I'll tell you when I trust you enough to be closer."

Monty blinks. "Harsh terms, kid." Despite his shock, his voice is warm. "I respect that. How far we talkin' here?" 

The boy hesitates, as though Monty's compliance had thrown him for a loop. "At least five feet. Maybe more." 

A rough chuckle sounds in the gator's chest. "You got it. I'll stay 'at least five feet but maybe more' away from ya." 

Gregory hesitates again. 

"No… five feet is fine." 

"You got it," Monty repeats. 

Hesitant satisfaction is evident in Gregory's expression as he leans back. "...Okay. I'm okay with that." 

"You're okay with Monty joining us?" 

"Mhm." 

"You're positive?"

"Yes. Let's just fix him up before I change my mind. I hope you know how to do the repair though, 'cause I've done upgrades on Freddy, but I've never had to fix an animatronic before." 

"Wait," Monty interrupts. "What's that about doin' upgrades on Freddy?"

Gregory tenses, his face paling slightly. "Oh, uhh… it's a long story. The first night I was here, Freddy wasn’t crazy. He was trying to help me escape." 

Please don't let Monty pry on this, Sun finds himself hoping silently. 

It had been such a short time since the last time Gregory had had to confess, standing in front of the very cylinder they were now, and last time had led to a breakdown. The boy didn’t need the extra guilt of having to confess to one of the broken animatronics that he’d taken parts from them. 

"And he let ya do upgrades on 'im?"

"I mean… he was trying to help me. So uh… when I asked him if we could upgrade him he… was okay with it?" 

"Huh. I'll be darned." 

Gregory frowns, still looking anxious, and glances at Sun. "I can't tell. Is he mad?" 

Sun laughs. "Oh, no, no no! I believe that expression just means surprise. Right, Monty?" 

“Yeah, what he said,” the gator responds, now looking a tad confused. 

“Anyway!” Sun claps his hands together, eager to derail the conversation. 

“I know exactly how we’ll help our dear friend Monty. First, he’s going to need a new endo, and I know that there’s spares behind those shutters. They keep ‘em on hand, so we don’t have to worry about that. That means the first thing we’ll have to worry about is finding his casing, which will be in the warehouse. Lucky for us, that’s where we were already planning to go!”

"We were?" Gregory looks bewildered, and Sun realizes his oversight.

"Oops! Silly me, I forgot to mention! The parts for our own model are kept in the warehouse— if there's any spares. We need a replacement for our chest casing and the attacher for the wire.” 

"Okay… So where's the warehouse?" 

"It's just down the hall from the entrance over there! You take a left, then a right, then go straight, then take another right—" 

"Okay, okay, I get the idea," Gregory interrupts, with an amused snort.

"Right." Sun chuckles. "Also, the auto-assist is going to help us out a lot. I believe it has a setting for animatronic assembly, so once we have all the parts, we shouldn't have to do anything at all!" 

"Oh, sweet." 

“Wait a second." Sun and Gregory turn towards Monty. "Y’all are buildin’ me a new body?” 

“Well, yeah! You’re too damaged to warrant a regular repair, and it’d be much quicker to outfit a new endo than to take one apart and fix your current one.” 

”Gosh. That's real kind of ya. I… thank you, truly." 

Sun nods in acknowledgement, and Monty traces a claw along the chair below him. 

"I'll… I'll still be me though, right?" 

The Daycare Attendant makes a sound resembling a snort. "What do you think we are, heartless? We're not going to create a new Monty, we want you." 

"Oh, okay, good. Just making sure," the gator responds, looking relaxed. 

"Wait, what are you guys talking about?" 

"Oh," Sun hums, trying to formulate an explanation that would be understood by the child. Finally, he crouches down to Gregory's level. "Well, you know how Moon and I are programmed with childcare protocols?"

Gregory nods.

"That's our base level of knowledge— the programming. But we also have memory. Memories of you and all of our years of working at the daycare. And if we were suddenly replaced with a new model, one that only had the base level of knowledge, that model wouldn't recognize you, or have any previous childcare memories, or even know what it was supposed to do. Does that make sense?" 

Gregory frowns, and Sun can imagine the gears turning in his head. 

"So it's like… an entirely new person?" 

Sun cringes. "You could put it that way. See— all of our programming and capacity for storing information is kept in our processing units. Monty's afraid we'll install a new one— one that has no memories yet. Effectively making an entirely new Monty. We're just going to insert his current processing units into the new endo." 

"Thank you— again," the glamrock speaks up, and Sun looks towards the cylinder. "Dunno why I thought you'd replace me, heh." 

"It's a valid fear to have," Sun reasons, finally standing up. "Well, we should get going. Are you ready, Gregory?" 

"You're both leaving?" 

"Absolutely we are. I'm not going anywhere without Gregory in my sights, and he's not going anywhere without me. You still have a while to charge, right Monty?" 

"Err.. yeah. Few hours." 

"See? It'll be fine. We'll be back before you know it, and then we can just use your battery when we set up the new endo." 

Monty still looks nervous, but he nods compliantly. 

"Don't be gone too long," he mutters, before settling down and resting his snout on crossed arms, turning his face away. 

Sun feels another pang of sympathy, then turns back to Gregory once more. "You ready?" 

Gregory nods, and Sun leads the way to the entrance doors, where they leave the Parts and Service room behind.

Chapter Text

The tapping of sneakers and the jingling of bells accompanies the pair as they make their way down the main hall of Parts and Service.

"So… there was a time when you guys had no memories?"

Sun's head clicks to the side, intrigued at the subject.

"Well sure! All of us were new at one point." 

"What was it like for you guys?" 

"Hmm... let's see," Sun begins, humming as he recalls his earliest memories. "There was an initiation day, of sorts. Before any children came, we were visited by management and some other staff, who told us what our job was going to be, and that we'd have supervision if we needed any help." 

"That… sounds kind of nice," the boy comments, sounding like he wasn't sure if that was the right takeaway or not.

"It was nice of them, indeed. I don't think we would have done nearly as well if we'd been thrown to the wolves without instruction. However, there were still parts of the job we weren't prepared for."

"Like what?"

The Daycare Attendant takes a short moment to recall more memories.

"Hm, a good example would be... the... somewhat unpredictable nature of younger children. You know they'll just say anything!" Sun's exclamation is fond. "And they're individuals, just like you! They're tiny, but they have huge personalities."

Gregory just blinks at that, looking confused.

"Anyway, because they're all so different, we had to learn the best ways to interact with each of them. Some were shy, others were loud and energetic, some would get overwhelmed after being in the daycare for a while. We just got to know each one through interacting with them, and eventually found out what worked!"

"And what did work?"

Sun snorts. "You tell me! After all this time, we still think it was a miracle that we learned how to do our job so well."

The boy offers a small smile at that, but Sun can't help feeling that he looked a little out of his depth.

"Are you regretting asking yet?"

The boy shakes his head quickly. "Nuh-uh, it's interesting."

Sun nods pleasantly, taking the response as a greenlight to continue.

They make a left into another hall, and Sun chuckles to himself. 

"I still remember what it was like when I first interacted with Moon. There'd been another presence in my mind— that was him. But I didn't know it at first. Then, one of the staff had said 'Now, for the Naptime Attendant—' and I remember thinking 'Who's the Naptime Attendant?'" 

Gregory giggles. "Really? You didn't know he was there?" 

Sun shakes his head, feeling his own amusement, as well as the contented warmth from his counterpart's. "Nope." 

"How'd you figure it out then?" 

"Well, we sort of started to notice each other after they mentioned Moon's role. I still hadn't quite figured it out, until they turned out the lights and I felt us switch places." 

By now, they've passed into a dimmer room, with concrete floors and concrete walls, and several large pillars supporting the ceiling. It's barren, decorated with only a few large crates on the opposite side of the room, and a service vehicle of sorts. On the wall to their left, in large white letters, read the words 'B2-MAIN-COR-N2'. 

Basement 2, Main Corridor… North…? 

Truth be told, neither he nor Moon had ever been in this part of the Pizzaplex. 

They weren't to their destination yet, but regardless, Sun slows as they pass through the room. Once he gets a look at the tunnel leading to the warehouse, he stops in his tracks completely.

Ehhhh... No.

Nope. Absolutely not. 

As he hugs his arms anxiously, Gregory's voice startles him.

"Did you and Moon get along?"

What? OH. Right, conversation, continuing conversation. They were having a conversation.

"We got along alright— we were both equally clueless, after all. I was a little surprised when we switched places, but once they started explaining Moon's role and I realized he would always come out when it was dark, I calmed down. It meant that both of us would have time where we didn't have to do anything, and could just be in our thoughts." 

As he spoke, he continued to stare into the tunnel, not moving an inch. When he finishes talking, he shifts uncomfortably. 

"Speaking of Moon, I think he might take over on this one."

Gregory looks at Sun, then at the tunnel, then at Sun again. His expression takes on a mischievous grin.

“Moon might take over, or you might wimp out?” 

“Hahahahaha!" Sun's forced laughter reveals his nerves. "Uh, anyway, he says he’s ready to take over.”

I said what?

Moon snaps to attention, just as his counterpart takes a step forward into the dimness and willingly retreats, giving Moon the option of taking control or forcing Sun back into it. Confused, Moon accepts control, and their colors shift from yellows and oranges to blues and silvers. And just like that, he’s in front again.

Scaredy cat, Moon snickers internally, earning a frustrated spike of embarrassment from his counterpart no longer controlling the body. He lets it go, however, and looks down to Gregory.

The eye contact goes on a bit too long before Moon says, "Hi." 

"...Hi..?" Gregory responds, as though not certain how to approach the greeting. 

This was a little awkward. 

The boy turns and looks into the tunnel, then back a Moon, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

"Is it really too dark in there for Sun?"

Moon considers the corridor beyond. It was lit, but just barely.

"Depends on your definition. Technically, he could go in there, but he wanted me to do it." 

"So he is scared." 

Denial-embarrassment-outrage, in Moon's head and undetectable to the child who'd actually made the tease. He would have laughed, but there was really no need.

It's alright, Sunny. Just take the rest you deserve.

There's a reluctant flicker of agreement that resolves the anger, and Sun switches from full alertness to passively watching.

"It might as well be me. It's dark enough that the automatic switch might activate anyway." 

"The automatic switch? Wait, do you guys control when you switch or not?" Gregory frowns, almost looking annoyed in his (understandable) confusion.

It wouldn't do any good being more confusing about it, Moon supposed. "There's a large grey area. In cases like this, either the environment wins or we do."

"So..." Gregory's frown deepens as he tries to puzzle it out. "When it's light, your systems want you to switch, but you can choose not to?"

Moon is impressed. "Yes, that's exactly it."

"That seems... not smart." Gregory grimaces. "Wait— what about Sun? Does that mean he's been fighting to stay active down here this whole time?"

Hearing it worded like that makes Moon cringe inwardly. And feel a little guilty.

"Ever since we stepped into the tunnels, yes. We've been mutually agreeing on him being active till now."

"Why? Why not just switch out and make it easier for him?"

Moon decided that having this subject being pried on was uncomfortable.

"I..." he starts, then hesitates. "I needed time to recover from the switch in the atrium. It was... painful."

"Oh." Gregory looks a little abashed to have prompted that answer out of Moon, looking away.

Moon shakes his head. "Anyway, it's dark here where we're standing, so imagine how Sun would feel in there."

In response, Gregory lifts his head to look into the corridor beyond, where the lights were even dimmer. "Ohh, I get it."

"Exactly. It's just easier for me to take over."

"Yeah, I get it now. So... you do actually know what we're doing, right?"

"Finding parts for Monty. I was listening." Sort of. 

"And... you know where the parts are?" 

"No." 

Gregory stares at him, deadpan. Moon chuckles. 

"How are we supposed to find them if you don't know where they are?" 

"I know they're in the warehouse. We'll find them eventually."

"So your plan is just to walk in and look in every box until we find them?" 

"More or less." 

The boy groans. 

"Relax. I know the layout. There's a couple storage rooms, that's where the parts are likely to be."

Appearing slightly reassured, Gregory eventually nods. "Okay. Wait. After this, are you switching back out with Sun again?"

"Is that your way of saying you missed me?" Moon responds smugly.

He sees the boy's cheeks flare red and his eyes widen before he quickly looks away. "No," he mutters under his breath. 

Moon suppresses his chuckle. "Right. Well, don't look so excited to get rid of me. We're stuck together for now." 

As he looks at Gregory and waits for a response, the boy's gaze finally ventures back to him. Moon tilts his head, and the boy frowns doubtfully.

Nerves, he guessed.

Affectionately, he lifts one hand to ruffle the boy's hair, and Gregory ducks his head with a disgruntled grimace, but it quickly melts into a tiny smile before Moon takes his hand away.

"Come on. We'll make it count."

Gregory nods, and as Moon takes the first step to lead the way into the unknown, the boy is quickly at his side.

The tunnel is littered with large wooden crates, palettes, and tables either stacked on top of each other or carelessly scattered about. Most of their path involves weaving around the various obstacles as they make their way to the first junction. Just as it's coming into view, Moon hears the boy speak up. 

"I did miss you."

The Daycare Attendant is silent for several moments, surprised.

There was no doubt that it was sincere, but he was shocked that Gregory would voice it. As such, he almost didn't believe the words.

"You did?" He finally responds.

The boy nods, then rubs his left arm and glances farther away. 

"I mean, it's weird knowing you're there but I can't see you. It made me think about what you were thinking about, and if you were okay. And now I'm thinking about Sun now that you're out." 

After several moments of comprehending the statement, Moon still doesn't know how to reply. 

Why did the knowledge that Gregory was worrying about him make him feel so warm inside? 

He takes too long to come up with an answer, and he sees the boy's posture hunch self-consciously. "It's stupid." 

"It's not stupid," Moon says automatically. "I was just surprised. I've never thought about it that way." 

"About what?" 

"I never thought anyone would think of me while Sun is out, or vice versa." 

"Really? Cause now that I've met and talked to you both, it's hard not to think about the fact that you're both there, at the same time. How do you live like that?" 

Moon thinks about it. Finally, he shrugs. "We just do." 

Gregory looks thoughtful, and the conversation dies off as the two finally clear the cluttered hallway and step out into a wider junction, with a much higher ceiling and an open shutter door to their right. 

To their left is a short hall with a sealed shutter door at the end. In the middle of the hall is an inactive forklift, and higher up on the walls are dim flood lights that barely illuminate the space. That tunnel led to the daycare theater's basement— it wasn't of interest. 

The warehouse was just through the doorway on their immediate right. He knew this because of his internal map of the building, not from experience.

However, when he looks through the doorway into the passage beyond, he freezes. 

He'd seen this hallway before. 

But he couldn't have. He'd never been here before. 

And yet, as he gazes out into the green-tinted cavern with its conveyor belts and grated floor and dim overhead lights…

"Moon?"

He tears his gaze away from the tunnel to look at Gregory with a sharp head tilt. 

"Y-you okay?" The boy's expression is hesitant, eyebrows raised in clear concern. 

"I'm fine," Moon replies quickly. 

Gregory frowns, looking doubtful, then gestures into the hall with a nod of his chin. "Is that the warehouse?" 

"Yes."

Gregory stares at Moon for a moment longer before pulling his flashlight out of his pocket and turning towards the hall to flick it on. It comes to life with a bright beam, and Gregory experimentally sweeps it from side to side in the hallway before glancing back at Moon. 

"Come on, let's go," he says impatiently, gesturing with his free hand for Moon to follow. 

"Right behind you."

Bringing up the rear, Moon matches Gregory's cautious pace as they begin the trek down the first hall.

The odd feeling fades away after they get moving, as Moon observes the halls more closely. 

It didn't actually feel familiar. He internally double-checks with his counterpart; Sun had never been to this warehouse, being one who never leaves his designated work space (except for a few rare occasions), and it wasn't part of Moon's surveillance or patrol route. Or rather, it hadn’t been, when he’d still been in service.

There's still something about the entire ordeal that has him slightly on edge. Like he should be alert— but he can't think why.

Caught up in thought, he realizes a few moments too late that he'd been spoken to. 

"Sorry?" 

"Were you listening? I said something's up with you." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You're quiet and it's making me nervous."

"Oh. Sorry. I'm just a bit… out of it.” Think of an explanation besides ‘I feel weird and I’m not sure why’. “The past few hours have been stressful."

That was true, at least.

A wry huff sounds from the boy ahead of him. "You don't have to tell me that. I get what you mean though.” As he’s speaking, Moon takes a few longer strides to catch up and fall in beside him, and Gregory glances his way. “Is Sun still mad at you?"

Moon is silent for several moments. 

"No. He's not, but I'm mad at myself."

Stating it out loud, he realizes just how much internal turmoil he has over the subject.

He's still carrying regret, guilt.

Deep down, there's a quiet fear that someone else should be in his place. That it shouldn't be him, because he can't do anything right.

If it weren't for him avoiding Sun for so long, Sun would have been aware of the situation and might have even been able to react quicker— preventing the fall entirely. 

It was his fault. 

"I shouldn’t have blocked him out."

If he hadn’t, almost none of this would have happened.

Gregory seems to only think for a second before responding.

“Yeah… I probably wouldn’t have done that.”

There would have been no physical way for Moon to express his shock at the blunt comment had he been capable of emoting. His immediate reaction is astonishment, quickly overpowered by surprised amusement.

Well, sure, if he was expressing regret over a past decision, it was easy to say now that it had been a bad one. It was almost hilarious to him how much Gregory had simplified it— so much so that it took him out of his self-pity.

“I guess that's what I get for being sincere with you,” he responds wryly, immediately receiving a giggle from the boy that confirmed that Gregory had meant his comment to be in jest.

It was formulaic, and it was comforting.

He appreciated it.

The light moment settles into a brief mutual silence. Then Gregory’s tone is more serious when he speaks again.

“But… I mean… it was just a mistake, right? You don’t have to still be mad at yourself.” The boy’s gaze sweeps from left to right along with his flashlight beam, his expression taking on a hint of reservation. “...Right?”

He made it sound so easy.

“Sun told me the same thing. Eventually I’ll start believing it.”

"Just not right now?"

Moon's pace falters.

A simple retort—an innocent question—spoken casually and with genuine good intentions. It required very little effort on Gregory's part, but it sent Moon into unexpected doubt.

It recontextualized the logic Moon's guilt had been riding on.

Blaming himself was easy— but what if no one else blamed him anymore? … Could he just move on from it? Just like that?

If Gregory was able to forgive him— as well as Sun, he should be able to forgive himself. 

Despite the revelation, Moon simply hums thoughtfully, unsure how to respond to the question. Agreeing felt like a commitment, like a promise that he'd have to be able to change his thinking, and he was instinctively shying away from it. 

Nevertheless, he felt changed.

With how long he fumbles to reply, he's surprised when Gregory doesn't nudge him again. 

Instead, he nearly trips over the child when he suddenly stops in his tracks, having to hastily overcorrect to avoid accidentally stepping on his heel. 

Gregory leans back against his legs once he's stationary, as if trying to retreat backwards through Moon. Moon rests a hesitant hand on the boy's shoulder, looking down at him. 

"You alright?" 

Soon after asking the question, he notices the boy's gaze is trained ahead, where his flashlight's beam is pointed.

"What is that?" The boy whispers fearfully, just as Moon is following his gaze to the subject of interest.

Ahead of them is a lone endoskeleton. It stands, fixed in the corner, arms hanging at its sides and head facing downwards— completely motionless.

Moon relaxes. 

"It's an endoskeleton. An endoskeleton for animatronics serves the same function that bones do for you. We all have one." 

"So this is what you guys look like inside?"

Moon nods, but Gregory's eyes aren't on him, so he speaks up a moment later.

"Yes." 

The boy seems to swallow, turning his head but unwilling to take his eyes off the undecorated animatronic.

"This is gonna sound crazy, but I thought I saw it move." 

Moon chuckles roughly, crackles hissing from his voice box. "It was probably just your imagination. I know these guys look unsettling, but I promise you they can't move." 

"Why? Are they... not ready or something?" 

"That's pretty close to the truth. An endo by itself is not an animatronic. It's a husk."

"So... what's it missing?" 

"Aside from casing, they're all missing processing units. They don't need them, until they've been assigned a model. They're all metal, no circuitry." 

"So you're saying… they can't move because they don't have brains?" 

"Yes. It would be no different for a living being. The brain controls the body, and these guys don't have them."

As they're speaking about it, the animatronic skeleton remains still and lifeless— clearly unoffended.

Moon watches Gregory as the boy regards it for a few moments, before humming doubtfully and glancing into the next hall. He looks back at Moon. "This way?"

Moon gives a brief nod of confirmation, and Gregory returns it, taking the lead once more. 

In the short silence that follows, Moon hears the boy huff. He can't derive just from the sound what emotion prompted it. Boredom? Annoyance?

Before he can wonder much longer, Gregory speaks up.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be down here?”

It's immediately obvious that there’s a reason for the question; it wasn’t merely that the basement was unpleasant, he either wanted or needed something.

“Why?”

“Can you please just give me a guess? I need to know how long I need to last.”

“That’s not how it works. Last until what?”

“..I’m just tired. And everything is sore,” the boy admits finally, a whine creeping its way into his voice. After another moment of hesitation, he exhales. “And I’m hungry too.”

“We can leave if we have to,” Moon states, concern creeping into his tone. Truly, Gregory had him at “tired”, and he already wanted to turn around.

However, the boy shakes his head in reluctance. “No— I can wait. You guys need this, we have to do it.”

“We do need it, but it doesn’t have to be right now,” Moon reasons.

“I’m not going back up there when you can’t use the wire.”

That was a pretty good excuse, and for the boy’s sake, Moon wouldn’t see past it.

“Are you sure you can keep going?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Moon says, putting aside his doubt for the moment. “The repair could take up to an hour. And that’s just for Monty. You can rest in Parts and Service when we get back.”

Gregory nods. “And then—?”

“And then we can go get food, yes.”

The boy nods again, his attention lingering on another stationary endo as they move past it. “Where’s the storage room? Are we almost there?”

“It’s just after the next right turn.”

“Another right turn? We haven’t even gone left once.” The boy’s tone is disbelieving.

“I know. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Not really. Seems kinda stupid to make the quickest path to your storage room a big spiral.”

“Yes.” 

After that, Gregory falls silent, (presumably out of complete exasperation), and soon they arrive at the doorway to the room Moon had admittedly guessed was storage.

He takes the lead, crossing through the threshold and ignoring the endo fixed in the corner of the room, while Gregory follows and startles at it.

“Jeez— there’s one in here?” 

Moon turns to regard the endo. Its eyes were fixed forward, glowing only because Moon’s were illuminating them. Without hesitation, Moon takes a few steps forward to stand right beside it, and slowly waves his hand in front of its eyes. It doesn’t move. He drops his hand, and they both stare at it for several more seconds before Moon turns his faceplate back to Gregory.

“See? I told you, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I still don’t like it. They’re creepy,” Gregory mutters, his skeptical glare still lingering on the inert animatronic.

“Don’t be mean, you’ll hurt its feelings,” Moon says with fake admonishment, and Gregory tries and fails not to smile.

“I don’t think it has feelings. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I did. I was being funny.”

“You still think you’re funny?"

In response, Moon steps forward and ruffles the boy’s hair, until Gregory swats him away. By then, Moon has already turned to face the rest of the room.

Shelves were lined up along three of the four walls, each holding several racks containing rows of plain cardboard boxes. It looked like inventory— this had to be the place. If they couldn't find the parts here...

“Come on. The sooner we get searching, the sooner you can rest.”

As the Daycare Attendant approaches the farthest wall, Gregory branches off to check the one to their left.

It's not long after Moon has pulled one box down from the shelf, checked it, and put it back that he hears an annoyed huff from across the room. 

"This isn't going to work." 

He stops, looking in Gregory's direction.

"Why not?"

"I need the flashlight to see what I'm doing, but I can't hold it and move the boxes with the same hand. Also, there's no way I can reach the ones up there." 

Ah— right. Gregory was limited in his dexterity due to his brace. Putting weight on the arm would risk reinjuring it. So, what could he do to make the boy feel useful?

"Come over here. I'll get them down, you can hold the light for me."

He didn't need extra light, but it would likely be the easiest task for Gregory to do at the moment. He just hoped Gregory wouldn't see through the ploy.

Grudgingly, the boy shuffles over.

"How's that arm feel, by the way?" While speaking, Moon reaches for the next box on the shelf, carefully taking it down and setting it on the floor.

Gregory directs the light to it, careful to avoid hitting Moon with the beam. "It feels pretty much like I expected a broken arm to feel. It hurts a bit."

"Hmm. If it doesn't go away, we have some generic pain medication back at the daycare. Just let us know." 

"Will do," Gregory responds, while Moon crouches down to inspect the box. 

As he gets closer to the flashlight's beam, he leans back, tilting his face away in discomfort. 

"It's a bit too close. Can you point it to the side?"

Gregory squints suspiciously. 

"You don't need my help at all, do you?" 

Moon flinches, feeling a twinge of guilt at being caught in the lie.

"Don't feel bad. You don't need to prove your usefulness— you're injured." 

Gregory frowns. "There's really no other way I can help?" 

The disappointment in the boy's expression pains him. With a regretful sigh, Moon shakes his head.

"Not that I can immediately think of." 

The boy sighs heavily, dropping the flashlight so it points at the ground beside his feet. "Thanks anyway."

"At least we can go through these together," Moon tries, lacing gentle encouragement in his tone. Gregory looks mildly enthused by it.

"It's gonna take longer, 'cos of me." 

Moon would have argued with reassuring denial, but he was distracted, too busy staring into the box he'd just opened to even formulate a response to the boy's statement.

After a moment, Gregory points the flashlight back at the box, rather suddenly, and Moon backs up, shaking his head with a quiet hiss. 

Inside the box, staring out into the darkness of the storage room, was the casing of an unfamiliar animatronic. 

The facial plate was similar to Roxy's, with a short snout and pointy ears, and sharp white teeth— but it was a different color. A bright red, with cream undertones.

A fox. 

Who was that?

"Huh— that's the guy."

"Sorry?" 

"You know, the one that's advertised all over the Plex? The statue in Kids' Cove? He's on the walls of the theater in the daycare?" 

"Those depictions are of Captain Foxy— he's an older character from a TV show— from the early days of the company's history." 

"Yeah, and… isn't that him?" The boy asks, gesturing to the casing in the box. 

"It can't be. Why would they do that?" 

"Do what?"

"Bring back an older character. Why? For what?" 

"Um… maybe they weren't bringing him back? Maybe this has just kind of… been here?" 

Moon shakes his head, neglecting to counter the statement. 

The depictions on the theater walls were old, but the statue in Kids' Cove was new. Moon had noticed it when he saw the atrium the previous night— he just hadn't thought much of it. 

He should have. 

"Why are you so freaked out?"

"I'm not," Moon answers immediately. 

"I can tell you are."

Gah. The boy was getting frustratingly good at reading him.

Moon sighs. "I don't know. It upsets me that I didn't know about this."

"Why?"

"I don't know that, either. We shouldn't expect to know everything about the company— a lot goes on that we aren't aware of. It's just… when it comes to animatronics ready for assembly…" 

"You should get to know about it?" 

Moon nods. "All this guy needs is an endo for the parts to go on and a processing unit, and he'd be a functional animatronic like the rest of us. He could just appear in the Pizzaplex, like a new hire, and we would never know he existed until he came by the daycare or I met him on patrol." 

"I get it. It would feel like… they didn't think it was important to tell you."

"Exactly."

The boy nods in understanding, his gaze settling on the new casing yet again. "Well, I mean, it's not like there's anyone around to put him together, so we don't really have to worry about it. Right?"

"Yes, you're right. It's just... disturbing. Knowing he's been down here. I wish I knew what their reason for getting these parts had been."

It was hard not to worry— not to feel threatened. Other animatronics had been added and removed from the roster over the years, and they'd always received the memo on the changes. Because, at its core, they were coworkers to each other. It was important for them to know what other animatronics were in service in the place they inhabited. And which ones were no longer in service. 

Gregory offers another consoling nod of acknowledgement, awkwardly toeing at the floor with one shoe— clearly at a loss for words. 

The child didn’t, and would never, have the answers Moon was searching for, and it was putting a lot on him to fixate on these concerns neither of them had control over. 

Quickly, he shakes his head, and the thought along with it. He needed to be the adult that he was and keep their focus on track.

“Nevermind. Let’s keep looking. We need to get two repairs done tonight.”

“Yeah,” Gregory agrees, looking up to him expectantly. 

Moon picks up the box and places it back where it’d been on the shelf, then takes down the one next to it. Once he sets it down and they get a glimpse inside, they both start to get an idea of the scope of their endeavor.

It was more Foxy parts— these for different parts of the animatronic model than the ones in the first box. It took multiple storage containers to fit all the parts for a single animatronic.

“Are you gonna be able to carry three boxes at once?” Gregory asks suddenly.

"I could. But it would limit my mobility. And if I had to drop them to react to something, it might damage them."

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go look for something to carry them with, since I can’t do anything else,” Gregory mutters, turning on his heel. 

Moon quickly snaps his head around to stare in the boy’s direction.

“Be careful,” he says firmly, stopping the boy in his tracks. Gregory glances back.

“You said there was nothing to worry about,” he responds snidely, then, before Moon can formulate a response, he continues. “Don’t worry, I will.”

He flashes a short smile, then he’s out of sight.

Moon’s gaze remains trained on the doorway for several long moments before he finally returns to searching. They’d just walked through the hallway; he knew it was safe. The boy could get back to him if he needed to. It was fine. He didn’t need to freak out.

Focus. 

He works his way past the red casing, eventually coming up on gray, and finally, green. Bingo.

Head, torso, arms… 

Legs, tail…

He starts stacking up the boxes neatly, keeping track of the parts he already had, and ensuring he found the ones that were still missing. 

Monty’s model had a few extra parts that the other glamrocks didn’t— mainly to support the unique extensions of his body, like his tail. Once Moon found them, he had a complete, unassembled version of Monty, sans the endoskeleton. It took four boxes to fit all of the parts. 

He was just starting to worry about Gregory when the boy showed up at the door. He was wheeling a dolly behind him and holding the flashlight under his left arm, evidence that he'd been successful in his search.

“Perfect,” Moon says praisingly, crossing the room to help him out.

"You know, there's a lot of endoskeletons in the hallways out there," Gregory announces, shifting his hold on the flashlight once Moon frees up his other hand. "Why are they just standing around?"

“I have no idea,” Moon answers honestly, setting the dolly upright and beginning to load the boxes onto it. “But I assume the employees put them there, for whatever reason.”

"But that's weird. You hear how weird that sounds, right?"

“I do.”

Gregory huffs in reply, clearly not consoled.

Moon sets the last box on the stack, then looks at it in consideration.

“Hey, tell you what. Let’s take these back to that empty room closer to Parts and Service. Then we’ll come back for the parts Sun and I need.”

Gregory appears to think about it.

“You mean we get to get out of these tunnels for a bit?”

“That’s the idea.”

The boy nods enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”

Moon chuckles quietly, then takes the dolly’s handle and starts to wheel it out of the room, with Gregory at his side.

The walk back to B2-MAIN-COR-N2 didn’t seem as long as the walk to the warehouse. It was mostly spent in comfortable silence, both parties taking some time to relax, because Moon had to admit even he was a bit anxious. (Mainly worrying about Gregory’s level of exhaustion, granted, but it wasn’t helped by the unfamiliar setting.)

After unloading the boxes from the dolly, they mutually hesitate, steel themselves, and then finally begin the walk back to the warehouse. 

“Still doing okay?” Moon asks to check up with Gregory before they get much farther down the utility tunnel. 

The boy nods curtly. “Yeah, but every time you ask I get more tired,” he responds sarcastically.

An amused hum buzzes out of Moon’s vocalizer. “So it’s working.”

“In your dreams.”

“In your dreams,” Moon shoots back. “It’s my master plan.”

“Trust me, you don’t want me passing out before we get back to Parts and Service. It wasn’t fun last time.”

“I know, I’m just checking.”

“I know,” Gregory responds, the tiniest smile gracing his face as he observes the tunnel’s floor.

Soon, they reach the warehouse tunnels, and Moon leads the way as they return to the storage room. All of the endos are in the same place as before, including the one standing in the corner of the storage room.

If they’d found Monty’s parts in here, there was a chance their own model’s backup parts would be here too. But if not, there was a section of the warehouse they hadn't explored yet.

He picks up from where he’d left off, and Gregory watches for about a minute before sitting down to wait.

“Just tell me when you find it,” he mutters, resting his chin on his knees.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Moon warns. “I’ll just have to wake you up again in a few minutes.”

Gregory nods, yawning, but doesn’t let his eyes slip closed as he turns his gaze towards the endo.

Moon finishes looking through the first shelf, and moves on to the other adjacent wall. He’s trying to get through the contents quickly, only glancing into each box long enough to see whether or not they contain the parts he's looking for.

He’s not even sure what half the contents are; it’s no longer animatronic parts. 

Nothing on that side. He moves over to the wall Gregory is leaning against.

Glancing down at Gregory, he sees the boy has already given in, his eyelids loosely closed and cheek squished against the arm he's resting it on.

It pains him, but..

“Hey,” the Naptime Attendant says softly, kneeling down and very lightly running a hand over the boy's hair until he stirs. “Do we need to go back?”

Bleary eyes meet his own, and the boy shakes his head. “M-mnh, m’good.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“M’awake..” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Are we almost done?”

“I was just about to check this side,” Moon answers, tilting his head up briefly to gesture to the rack behind the boy.

“I’ll stand up,” Gregory says finally, getting to his feet while Moon lends him a hand. The heavy sigh the boy breathes tells Moon he wasn’t thrilled about having to do so. 

He was so stubborn. By this point, Moon wasn’t even certain Gregory could stand for much longer, but he kept insisting he could. 

“If we’re staying down here, you need to stay awake.” 

“I know, I know,” Gregory responds, shaking his head again and rubbing at his face. “Hey, what happens if the parts aren’t in here?”

“There’s another room down the hall. We’ll go there next. And we're heading back to Parts and Service after, whether we find the parts or not. I can't stand seeing you go much longer without rest."

“Oh. Sorry.”

Moon just shakes his head, starting to root through the shelves. 

He senses Gregory shift his weight a few times behind him as he takes down the boxes from the top row, checks inside, and puts them back in place before moving to the next row.

Nothing on the second, third, or bottom row. Finally, he turns back to the boy, who looks half-asleep, even though he's upright and standing.

That's it— he can't take it anymore. 

According to his internal clock (which he now knew was accurate), it was 3:14am. He'd been tolerating the boy's nocturnal cycle up until now, but at this point, the time of day combined with his visible exhaustion was too much. He had to act.

"Alright— come here." Still next to the shelf, he pointedly sits down and leans against it, patting the floor beside him.

Gregory's expression contorts into a fog of confusion. "W-what?" 

"20 minutes. You need it. Unless you want me to carry you back to Parts and Service."

He only needed enough rest to give him an energy boost— so he could last through the rest of their expedition.

Understanding seeps into the boy's gaze, and with a lethargic nod, he walks forward and takes a seat beside Moon.

Moon wraps an arm around the boy's back and gently pulls him closer, and Gregory leans into him as he searches for a comfortable position before settling. The way his body instantly relaxes once he's comfortable communicates just how exhausted he'd really been. 

Moon rests the bottom edge of his faceplate on the boy's head, feeling some of his internal tension fade. The instant satisfaction and relief comes from a part of him he doesn't control. The part of him that's hard-wired to follow his Naptime protocols. It had been a good while since he'd been able to feel this content.

He was doing something right, for once.

Much calmer, he maintains his protective embrace as the boy drifts off, listening to his breathing slow as he starts to count down the minutes.

Gregory's rest is deep, peaceful, and goes undisturbed for the entire twenty minutes, until Moon's internal clock finally hits 3:35am, and he gently shakes the boy's shoulder.

"That's twenty, time to get up."

The boy grimaces, gradually stirring until his eyes fully open, and he rubs at them groggily.

"Feel any better?"

Gregory nods. "Yeah, a little bit."

Moon hums with satisfaction, then ruffles the boy's hair briefly, standing up and offering a hand to Gregory to help him up.

Once he's on his feet, the boy looks around the room, reorienting himself. "So, you didn't find them?"

Moon shakes his head. "Not in here. We can check the other room, if you're up for it."

"I'm up for it," Gregory confirms, starting to look more lively. "Let's go."

Fueled by new reassurance, Moon turns towards the empty dolly and takes hold of its handle again, then looks back at Gregory. "It's not far. I'll lead."

The boy nods briefly, then waits until Moon begins to leave the room before he follows— hanging back so he can finally step around the dolly and fall in beside Moon.

After they cross through the doorway, Moon makes a left, beginning down the hall they'd come from, and continues straight.

He stops at the end of the hall, and before Gregory can question, reaches a hand behind himself, turning a palm up to the boy expectantly.

“Still have that card?”

There’s a brief pause, and he feels the item set in his hand. He adjusts his hold on it, and presses it to a reader beside the indent in the wall, and the blockade between them and the hallway beyond slowly lifts from the bottom.

“What— that was a door??”

“I know, very sneaky,” Moon agrees, handing the card back to Gregory. Then he steps through.

His gaze tilts upward as he steps into the new hall, drawn to a peculiar purple glow, and sees that it comes from a tiny constellation of decorative stars hanging from the ceiling.

"Woah… pretty," the boy breathes at his side. 

He agreed— but something about it made his non-existent skin crawl. It wasn't the stars themselves, but moreso the fact that they were here of all places. Why here? In a storage warehouse? Underneath the atrium?

And why only in this hallway?

His gaze drops from the stars, though, and falls on a small widening of the path a few yards down, where a faint bluish light was flickering. He couldn’t see the source from where he was standing.

Curiosity drags him forward, and Gregory follows as he approaches the small room. 

His attention is on the intensity of the light, laser focused, and as he enters the room, he spots the culprit: a TV screen, displaying static. Then he sees the endo in the corner of his vision, and jumps back with a start. Gregory yelps.

"Don't do that! I'm gonna have a heart attack," the boy whines, while Moon gradually calms, maintaining eye contact with the motionless animatronic. 

It was just standing there, arms raised at its side in a defensive poise. The posture was lifelike; almost menacing. He hadn't been expecting it, that was all. 

"Sorry," he finally mutters, breaking his gaze away. 

"Why are you scared? You're the one who said the endos are harmless."

"They are," Moon responds, shaking himself. "It's just the fact that you're afraid of them, I think. I'm starting to suspect someone put them in the hallways as a prank." 

The boy snickers at that. "So then the prank worked on you?"

Well, he walked right into that one.

"Unfortunately so." Keeping his voice level, he tilts his head at Gregory, until his faceplate is upside down. "But it's been working on you the whole time, so you're the real loser." 

Gregory gasps, his expression painted with offense. "Has not."  

"Has too."

"You got scared of that one, not me. I got scared of you!" The boy defends. 

"This is true," Moon admits, attempting to remain casual and aloof, though he could see that this would be a losing battle. "Okay, it scared me."

Gregory blinks. "And you just admit that? What have you done with the real Moon?" 

"Hush, you," he chastises, stepping towards Gregory until the boy ducks away with a giggle. Then he turns, glancing at the TV one more time before continuing down the hallway.

Gregory catches up. "You're not usually so jumpy. Seriously… is everything okay?"

Moon turns his head to look at Gregory for just a moment. The genuine concern in the boy's eyes instantly makes him look away.

"It's nothing for you to worry about."

"So there is something." 

A twinge of discomfort mingles with the annoyance as Moon sighs dismissively. "You are persistent."

The boy smirks in satisfaction, crossing his arms. "Damn right I am."

"Language," Moon says almost instantly, a sternness hardening his voice, and Gregory looks startled.

"I thought you were cool with swearing." 

"I let it slide the first time because you were under stress. Don't let it become a habit."

The boy groans dramatically. "Lame."  

"Swearing is lame."

"You're lame." 

"So be it."

Gregory scoffs in disbelief, and Moon can actually see the moment he abandons the argument— deciding not to waste further energy on it.

An ironclad comeback to insults from children: just agree with them. It always tripped them up, and Gregory was no different.

Moon revels in the amusement for a few moments, and when Gregory continues to brood, he rests a reassuring hand on the boy's back.

At the touch, Gregory frowns deeper, his brow creasing for a moment before relaxing again. His expression changes in a way that suggests he's fixating on a new thought.

"Why won't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Moon pauses. Then, hesitantly, he withdraws his hand.

"Because children shouldn't be expected to carry the burdens of adults."

"But what if it's dangerous for me not to know?"

The question makes Moon feel both sympathy, discomfort, and a touch of fear. He wasn't fond of that idea. 

"I won't let it come to that."

He sure hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"How?"

"If there ever comes a time where withholding something from you would put you in danger, of course I'd tell you. Otherwise, you don't need to concern yourself with it. Okay?"

The boy harrumphs at that, crossing his arms yet again and glaring at the floor. “Just doesn’t seem… fair. I don’t like secrets.”

He understood that. It didn't mean he was going to change his mind, though. “It’s just the way it has to be.”

Gregory scoffs. “Why do you care so much about the rules? Are you like my dad or something?”

The question was clearly sarcastic— hyperbolic, even— but for some reason it makes his mind go blank with incomprehension. 

Him? A dad? Nobody said anything about that. Was he acting like a dad? Did Gregory not like it? Was he fixating on this too much?

After his mini-panic, (which lasted roughly 2.19 seconds), he forces himself to answer.

“No— of course not.” That was the right answer. "I care because I have to. I'm programmed this way."

The boy turns a scrutinizing glare on him that he doesn't enjoy in the slightest.

“How much is programming, though?”

...Where were these questions coming from?

“All of it. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Like… that room up ahead?”

Gregory points. Moon looks up.

There was an open doorway a few paces from them. They’d arrived at the room he was tracking on his internal map.

“Yes. That’s a better subject of interest.”

Seemingly also relieved to escape the conversation, Gregory skips ahead and looks through the doorway. 

Moon catches the surprised face Gregory makes just before the boy looks back at him.

“There’s one of those security desks in the middle of the room! Maybe there’s another badge I could grab.”

Then he strides forward into the room and disappears, and Moon is left wondering if he heard the boy's words correctly. He soon catches up and reaches the doorway.

In the middle of the…?

….

When he gets a good look inside, he freezes.

He can only stare, confusion and surprise overriding all previous thoughts. He’s gripped by an overwhelming sense of wrongness.

There’s something not right about this room.

The walls and floors—every inch—were covered with rainbow padding. Comfort and familiarity mingles with fear and repulsion. And what’s worse: along the walls, several endos were hanging from cables, stasis-like, each facing the center of the room.

He didn't like this. This felt like some kind of sick trap.

It hits him like a wall: an onslaught of panic that has him taking a step back and refusing to cross through the doorway.

He stands back, hugging his arms, while Gregory approaches the security desk and grabs the badge.

“Got it!” The boy announces cheerfully, turning back to Moon. “Do you think the parts we need are in here?”

Moon shakes his head. "No. We should move on."

"...Are you sure? This place kind of looks like it was made for you."

"It wasn't. I've never been here in my entire lifespan."

Gregory looks him up and down. Moon squirms.

“You sound… really nervous.” He wished Gregory would stop reading him like that. “Is something wrong?”

Moon casts another wary glance around the room, his gaze snapping from endo to endo uneasily before landing on Gregory again.

"I don't know. But I'd be more comfortable if we left."

"What if the parts are in here and we miss them?"

"We'll figure something else out." He was desperate at this point.

“Okay— okay,” Gregory’s voice is agreeing, submissive, and Moon relaxes slightly as the boy returns to his side.

Leaving. They were leaving.

They didn't have to be in here any longer. They could go back to Parts and Service, Gregory could rest, and they could devise a new plan from there.

Yes— that was a much better idea.

Still frozen, he feels some of the tension melt once Gregory is beside him and the boy's hand locks with his own. His fingers curl in, lightly, until they brush against the dorsal side of Gregory's hand. A gentle warmth overwhelms him and soothes his nerves.

They turn back to the hallway, but before they can take two steps, a steely, echoey growl resonates through the chamber behind them, causing them both to freeze, and they hear several soft thuds— heavy weights landing on padded ground.

Tense once more, the pair whirls around to stare into the shadowy room. Gregory's hold tightens briefly. 

The endos were on the ground—all of them—several pairs of glowing orbs trained directly where Moon and Gregory stood.

They back up a few steps, and Moon feels the boy's hand disconnect from his.

"You said they—" 

"I know what I said," Moon snaps back.

"What do we do?" 

"Leave." 

It was the only viable option.

They waste no time in turning swiftly towards the hall, Moon ushering Gregory ahead of himself as he keeps his eyes on the new threat. He notes that they’re completely motionless, despite having moved, before he turns back to face the hall.

They didn’t seem to be giving chase. If they kept moving they’d be fine.

No sooner than he’s turned around, however, does he hear heavy footsteps, thundering behind him for a matter of seconds before he looks back.

They were still. But they were closer.

So whenever he’s looking at them…

It's then that he clocks the reality of the situation. They were moving. Not when he was looking, but they were moving. They were defying his entire understanding of how animatronics worked— and he was an animatronic. It was nightmarish.

Fear twisting inside, he backs up towards Gregory, refusing to take his eyes off of the endos.

That is, until he hears a frightened yelp from behind, and automatically turns to locate the boy.

Gregory is stopped, a single endoskeleton blocking the path ahead of him, its arms outstretched and eyes blazing.

As soon as he's diverted his attention, he hears the footsteps pick up again, and snaps his gaze back to the group of endos.

Now frantic, he backs up quickly to reach Gregory’s side.

He steals a quick glance at the endo blocking the boy’s path, thinking on his feet.

“Go around it,” he directs, once again eyeing the endos spilling out of the padded room— ensuring they stayed still.

At his words, he can sense the boy pause, then cautiously shuffle around the hulking animatronic until he’s clear of it.

“Keep going,” Moon urges, not breaking his staring contest with the pack as he continues inching backward, preparing to sidle around the lone endo himself. He hears Gregory take off, then waits a few more moments.

As he's starting to turn, he feels strong arms clamp down on his own.

It happens in a matter of seconds.

He takes off when Moon tells him to, but he soon realizes that Moon isn’t following.

When he skids to a halt, whirling around to stare down into the tunnel, panic seizes him.

Because the endos are grabbing Moon. They're reaching for him with knobby metal fingers and burning red eyes, and he sees Moon try to pull away from them, clawing at the air as if reaching for a hold— to no avail. They're pulling him, dragging him back.

As Gregory calls out—he thinks he hears himself call Moon's name—the endos pull the animatronic into a position where he can’t fight anymore, and the Naptime Attendant goes dead still.

Images are flashing through his head. Too fast to focus on, too numerous to count. Freeze frames entering and leaving his vision. He sees terror in them. He feels pain in them. 

He sees himself in them. 

He hears echoes of anguished cries and a distorted giggle. 

There's faces he recognizes, but not in a place he's ever seen them. There's glints of gunmetal frames, there's colorful walls cast in darkness. 

There's crimson on the padded floor. 

His hands, covered in red. Someone else's hands, caressing his own. 

A hall of hating eyes, glowing red with agony.

An image forces its way to the front. He doesn't want to see it, but he can't look away. 

A limp body. Stained clothes. 

He knows her. He knows her name. He knows her parents' names.

Beneath her lifeless form spills a pool of fresh blood.

It stops at his feet.

"Moon!" 

The voice cuts through the ringing distortion, desperate and worried.

There's a tug on his arm. He feels himself take a step forward, then another.

He can barely feel himself walking; everything is numb, including his mind. He doesn't know where he's going, or who's with him.

He follows in a haze, trying feebly to get a grip on his senses and his thoughts. It's all a blur.

It's a fog, and it's too loud. Ripples of faded voices trickle through, indecipherable from what's real and not.

Gradually, the trickles become waterfalls, screams piercing through the veil.

It deafens him, all too much at once, until the visuals come crashing back.

No. NO.

Panic sets in, and he searches frantically for an escape.

When his vision clears just enough for him to see an opening, he makes a run for it.

He runs until he breaks free of the tunnels, then collapses.

Gregory stops in his tracks when Moon pulls his arm free and breaks into a sprint. He's stunned, just staring after the animatronic as he slowly disappears from sight.

He hadn't said anything the whole way, and now he was running? Seriously, what was going on?

Trying to comprehend what had just happened, he follows after Moon, uneasiness twisting in his gut.

Everything is spinning. He's reeling, his entire frame is trembling.

Go away. Go AWAY.

He tries to curl himself up tighter, to block it out.

I wouldn't. I would never. It's not real... it's not real.

He tries to will it away, but it still won't leave. It's all he can see, like a filter distorting reality, overlaying what is actually in front of him. Even as he covers his face and should only see blackness, all he sees is red.

There's a hissing, a static.

Go away, why won't it go away? Stop, stop, STOP.

Distant ringing is barely noticed before it melts away, swiftly consumed again by the overwhelming panic. He can't hear, can't see, can't feel his surroundings. He's stuck— stuck with it pounding into his head and driving him mad.

He doesn't realize the hissing static is coming from himself—some twisted mimicry of hyperventilation—until a pressure around his middle has him coming down from it. 

Slowly, the vision fades away, the sound from his voice box quiets, and he calms, feeling his senses return to him. Still shaken, he takes in the barren, concrete room surrounding him, then shifts enough to feel resistance, and when he looks down he realizes Gregory is hugging him.

He stares without comprehension for several moments.

He's far from calm. The distress still has its hold on him, even though he's no longer blatantly panicking. The panic is lying just below the surface, under a paper-thin sheet of ice.

He feels marred. Damaged, violated. He feels wrong. And though seeing Gregory should have made him feel relief, what he feels is fear. His first thought, horrifying, is: Get as far away from me as you possibly can.

But he doesn't say this.

What he does say, after too long of a silence, is "...no."

At the utterance, the boy looks up, once again meeting his gaze with a concerned look.

"What happened?" The wetness of tears rims his eyes. "Y-you weren't talking... I was calling your name, but you were just... frozen. What happened?"

"I..."

Moony, what's wrong? What did you see? Are you alright? 

The concern from his counterpart in tandem with the worried eyes of the boy beside him are overwhelming.

Two people demanding to know what was wrong, what happened, how he felt, when he's not even sure how he feels. Other than bad. Horrible. Scared.

His counterpart is more than aware of his distress; he knows he's bleeding it off because he can't control it. He doesn't want to be pried into, he doesn't want to be so close. The concern only grows, and the distress only festers.

He can't take it.

Shaking his head, clawing at his face, he curls forward, prompting the boy to let go of his damaged casing. 

Their body shifts and changes. They switch places.

He's safe in the headspace again.

"Sun? What's wrong with Moon?"

The voice is muffled, less sharp than when his sensors had been his. It was quieter, and that's how he wanted it.

He feels Sun hesitate.

"I don't know, Gregory. He's upset." 

"And you... don't know why?"

This time, Sun shakes his head, causing their shared vision to away— though Moon is hardly watching. 

He feels his brother's attention split in two directions; one focused inward, on him, the other on his physical surroundings, and Gregory. Taking in the moment and gradually adjusting to being in control again.

For several moments, Sun tries to pry complaisance out of Moon, and Moon resists against it, refusing to budge. He doesn't know why, but the thought of Sun seeing what he'd seen— it terrifies him. There was no way it wouldn't hurt Sun like it'd hurt him. Scare Sun like it'd scared him. 

He curls up, turns himself to stone. Sun gives a few more futile attempts before letting it go, getting to his feet as Gregory begins explaining how they'd found and moved Monty's replacement parts.

"Yes, yes, I was there for that, I just don't know what happened..." 

"... Did he block you out again?"

"No— no, it was more like something... pulled him forward. Pushed me back, so I couldn't see. I could still feel him, and hear you."

"It must've been really bad."

It had been.

"He seemed really freaked out."

The visual recurs—his hands, her—and he runs from it, first trying to block it out, then distracting himself with a different thought. A different visual; a different time. A different place.

Gregory eventually shows Sun to the stack of boxes he and Moon had brought back from the warehouse, and his counterpart has a small deliberation with the boy before finally hoisting the entire stack in his arms.

As the pair is walking to Parts and Service, Sun sends Moon a prompt that adds yet another layer to his fear.

We will be talking later.

Chapter Text

Even he can tell that something happened.

Before going into the warehouse, the pair had seemed very close. And not just in the physical sense, in how they were standing side by side. He could sense a form of reliance between them, based on how they listened to each other and fell back on each other's judgment during uncertainty. There was clearly more to it than Monty understood. 

But now, he knew something was wrong, something fresh.

Something dissonant lingered in the air, something that he could tell had followed them back from the warehouse.

His first impulse would have been to just confront them about it. They had to know what had happened, if it had happened to them. 

But that's where he hesitated. Because he didn't know enough about either of the individuals or their relationship, asking an invasive question might piss them off and make them less willing to help him. 

He had to keep in mind that these two were offering to repair him, for no reason other than their own compassion. He was the one in their debt. 

So, for now, he'd keep his mouth shut.

There was nothing more unsettling than an adult clearly being shaken by something, but refusing to say what it was.

While Sun starts talking to Monty in the cylinder, Gregory takes a seat on the far side of the room, eyeing the animatronics warily.

He knew the 'I don't know's and the 'let's move on's were just to keep him from worrying, but it was too late for that. He was worried anyway.

He was supposed to be resting right now, but he suddenly wasn’t tired. Except he was– so, so tired. The twisting anxiety in his gut rendered him unable to let his guard down to even look away— let alone rest.

It was so weird seeing Sun effortlessly ignore the events that had just transpired, like they didn't need to be addressed. Like it wasn't a big deal— like there wasn't an enormous elephant in the room.

He listens to the two animatronics go back and forth, Sun’s voice monotonous and flat, Monty's slightly muted due to being in the cylinder, and even with the limited time Gregory had spent with Sun, he knew that wasn't his usual tone. It didn't suit him.

After a few minutes, something finally starts happening. Monty’s voice suddenly grows more anxious, and Sun’s voice adopts that anxiety, clearly trying to console the glamrock about something.

He doesn't know what it is, until Sun moves to the control panel, and the overhead intercoms suddenly crackle, a feedback screech blaring for just a moment before the deep voice of the computer assistant rings out.

Initiating disassembly protocol.

As Gregory watches, the robotic arms inside the cylinder begin to move, and quickly start removing Monty's casing.

Quickly, Gregory jumps to his feet and runs over, alarmed. 

"What are you doing?!"

He watches a robotic arm descend to press a button on Monty’s chest, which promptly causes the glamrock to deactivate.

“Are you killing him??”

“No, no,” Sun responds, not taking his eyes off of the panel. His voice is still flat, and Gregory can’t stand it. “We need to disassemble what’s left of him first. So we can put his functional parts on the new endo.”

“Oh.” Gregory was surprised Monty had agreed to that. He must have really trusted Sun.

The two watch in silence as the cylinder’s repair mechanism does its work, fluidly removing small components from the animatronic’s husk and setting them in small trays. Eventually the arms return to their previous inert state, and Sun moves to another part of the room.

Gregory remains standing by the cylinder, while Sun slides open a sideways shutter door, revealing a row of endos in cages. They look deactivated— but so had the ones in the warehouse.

Then begins the first problem.

Unexpectedly, the Daycare Attendant goes stark still, staring at one of the endos for several moments. Then on some invisible cue, he turns around, looking down at the floor and shaking his head. His hands eventually go up to clutch his faceplate.

“Gregory–! It’s— we can’t do it, I don’t know what— it’s just leaking out of him, it hurts!”

“What— What do you mean?” Gregory asks back, bewildered.

“Can’t... look at them,” Sun answers, his voice strangled and choked. 

By this point, Gregory has crossed the room to Sun. “But you’re the one that knows how to do the thing! Don’t you think this is going to be a problem?”

“No— won’t be, I can– I can guide you.”

“Without looking?”

“Y-yes,” Sun responds, straightening and shaking his head once more. His voice becomes a bit more clear. “I can do it. I’m– I’m okay now.”

Gregory frowns, but chooses not to argue. “Well— I can’t move one of these things on my own. How do you even open the cage?”

“It’s a simple latch. You just twist it and pull.”

With a deeper frown, Gregory steps up to the cage and tries the latch. Once he’s conquered the latch and managed to pull the door open, there’s a soft hiss as the endo is lowered the last few inches to the ground. He steps back to eye it.

“You have to help me move this.”

“I’ll try,” Sun replies, sounding small.

Gregory waits while Sun takes up position beside him, and together, they start to move the endo towards the cylinder. He’s surprised when he realizes that the endo is essentially “walking” along with them, as if its frame was designed to make it easy to move in this way.

Sun is completely silent and also completely avoiding looking at the endo at all, so Gregory too says nothing.

Once they reach the cylinder, they have to swap out Monty’s old endo to put the complete one in its place on the chair. It takes less than a minute, and really, Sun did all the work, even without looking.

They exit the cylinder, and Sun takes the stack of boxes in hand, circling the cylinder to feed the parts into a chute Gregory didn’t even know was there. The machine registers the parts, they return to the front of the cylinder where Sun starts the procedure, and Gregory realizes the rest of the process would be automated. Now it was just a waiting game.

Now was an opportunity to talk.

After watching the process silently for a minute or two, and debating on what to say, he finally builds up the confidence to start with a direct accusation.

“I know you’re keeping something from me.”

Sun is silent instead of replying, and Gregory slowly feels his blood boil.

“Would you please just say something?!”

“You think I don’t want to?! I would love to tell you what happened but I don’t know. It’s Moon. He’s not talking to me.”

“At all?” 

“At all. I know it had to be something terrible, but he’s keeping it from me.”

“How? Don’t you guys share a brain? Can’t you just force it out of him?”

“Not if he knows I’m trying. And he just heard you say that.”

Gregory exhales forcefully. “How am I supposed to feel safe around you guys?”

In response, Sun lifts his hands to hug his arms tightly.

When it’s clear that Sun isn’t going to engage in the conversation any further, Gregory storms off to the edge of the room.

“Try and get some rest,” Sun calls to him, voice quiet and broken, and with a huff Gregory complies.

He sits down and leans back against the wall, staring at the floor angrily.

He doesn’t manage to get any sleep, but he does manage to slow his racing heart and control his breathing enough to let his mind slip into a haze, continuing to stare at the floor until the cylinder’s intercom announces that the procedure had finished. With a huff, he stands up again, slowly walking back over to Sun.

Once at the animatronic's side, he looks into the cylinder.

Inside is a fully assembled Montgomery Gator. It looks brand new. It’s scary.

“Is the processing thingy in there?” Gregory asks, and Sun nods.

So he was fully fully assembled. The real Monty was already in there. All they needed was to boot him up.

It was a little bit daunting. He still wasn’t sure he was entirely ready for it. Especially when he was already weary from general exhaustion and his inner doubts. Nevertheless, he preferred to focus on the matter at hand.

“Do we turn him on now?”

With another nod, the Daycare Attendant hits a final button on the console, and a single arm extends from the mechanism to press the same button on Monty’s chest, then closes the hatch and retreats to its stationary position.

There isn’t a visible reaction at first; Monty’s eyes are concealed by a new pair of sunglasses, and the rest of his face is almost as inexpressive as Sun’s. The machine had left him in an upright sitting position due to his tail; it prevented him from being able to lay back in the chair once attached.

After several moments of Sun and Gregory watching in apprehension, there’s a whir, and Monty’s head snaps up, scanning the room before his gaze drops down to his lap. He examines his hands, turning them over to see every angle, then looks past them at his feet.

When Monty finally looks in their direction, Sun straightens. “Welcome back, Montgomery. How are you feeling?”

“Right as rain,” the gator responds roughly, standing up from his seat to test out his newly repaired body. “Feels just like new.”

“All your systems working properly?”

“Yeah. Time’s off though. How much time’d I miss?”

“It’s 5:13am,” Sun informs him, and Monty nods in acknowledgement. Sun looks slightly towards Gregory. “Unfortunately.”

It takes Gregory a second to catch what Sun meant. It seemed their efforts to fix his backwards sleep schedule had failed– this time. 

He felt almost a little bad that he was tired now, rather than, say, five, six, or seven hours ago. He was starting to want a normal sleep schedule, just because it’d make his guardians’ lives easier.

“So.. am I gettin’ outta here?” Montgomery asks from the cylinder, making Sun jump almost imperceptibly (though Gregory still catches it).

“Right, right, of course,” Sun murmurs, turning back to the control panel for a moment, and soon the door to the cylinder slides open.

Monty steps out, a fully assembled animatronic, far shinier than either Sun or Gregory. And far less damaged than either of them. 

Apparently having the same observation, Sun’s arms lift to cross over each other, partially concealing his damaged casing. Gregory observes the action silently, but something about it seemed so utterly human that he couldn't help getting stuck on it. It was almost.. ashamed? Self-conscious? 

“So, it’s yer turn next, right?” The Glamrock asks Sun, and the Daycare Attendant hesitates. Gregory cringes.

“Ah, well, about that…”

“We didn’t get the parts,” Gregory fills in.

“What happened?” Monty’s voice sharpens, almost frighteningly.

“We got attacked,” Gregory explains when Sun takes too long to respond. “The endos grabbed Moon while we were in the tunnels, and then we got out of there as fast as we could.”

Gregory was better suited to explain this anyway— he'd actually been there, and Sun didn't have the full story from Moon, apparently.

“Just them endos?”

“There’s a lot of them," Gregory stresses.

The animatronic huffs, crossing his arms. He appears to think for several moments.

“Let me go in there and get em.”

“What!?” Sun pipes up, alarmed. 

“They in the warehouse, ain’t they?”

“Well– we think so, but–”

“I ain’t afraid of them endos. Plus, I owe you one. If you try an' stop me, I will knock you over.”

As Monty steps closer to Sun, the Daycare Attendant quickly puts both hands up, stepping back timidly.

“A-alright— if you really want to go in there, I guess I can’t stop you.”

At the Daycare Attendant’s words, the Glamrock nods with a muttered “thank you,” before strolling right past them, leaving the pair to stare after him in shock.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Gregory mumbles. Sun nods quietly in agreement.

Pssh. What do they know?

The animatronic scoffs to himself, keeping his snout downturned as he heads a way through the tunnels.

They could warn him if they wanted, but he was Monty. Nothing was stronger than him. Not the Daycare Attendant, not the other glamrocks, not an endo– heck, not even an army of endos. He’d even fight DJ Music Man if given the chance. Or a good reason. And now he was at his strongest; repaired and raring to go.

He’d pay back his debt so it wouldn't hang over him like a looming rainstorm. He’d prove himself. He could be trusted– he could be relied on. He could be useful.

He allows spite and defiance fuel his motions, as they often do. Nothing in this warehouse would keep him from his goal. Not even rogue endos.

He wouldn’t let nerves or doubt get to him.

Though, he couldn’t help venturing a thought. 

What was he even doing? 

Not literally– how did he end up in a scenario like this? And why was he going along with it? He didn’t just buckle under, that wasn’t him. He wasn't anyone's servant.

He almost stops in his tracks, barraged with confusion so overpowering and yet so brief that he’s left disoriented. Was that… uncertainty? It felt so alien to him. He shudders in an attempt to shake it off.

There wasn’t time for this. 

With a growl and a headshake, he pushes forward once more, ignoring his thoughts and his surroundings. No distractions. He’d just follow his schematics, question nothing, and then leave this place in the dust.

Several minutes of angry marching later, and Monty finds himself facing the first room in the labyrinth. 

It… looked like it’d been rooted through already. And there weren’t any angry endoskeletons about; so this couldn’t have been where they got attacked. Unless the endos had moved…

But that was impossible to tell, so assumptions wouldn’t benefit him. However, he felt strongly that there hadn’t been a struggle here. They must have searched this room already– maybe it was where they’d found his parts. And he wasn’t looking for parts for himself.

He was curious too. He wanted to see these hostile animatronics for himself. And maaaybe wanted a bit of a fight. He got so few opportunities to wreck things.

Perhaps against his better judgment, he moves on without searching the room. If he didn’t find what he was looking for in a different part of the warehouse, he’d come back here.

He follows the trail of inactive endoskeletons. Several were standing along a corridor he’d passed through, and while backtracking, he finds a doorway he hadn’t noticed. Or– hadn’t thought much of. 

This path certainly looked sketchier. Cautiously, he steps through the doorway and starts down the new hall.

This would’ve been a bad place to get jumped. It’s narrower, and the endos line the path both ahead of and behind him. He can see several spots that would be easy to block off in order to corner an unsuspecting victim. Not that he would know.

If they’d gotten attacked here, it was amazing that they’d escaped.

Though, truthfully, he feels a bit let down by what he’s seeing so far. He’d fully expected to be opposed on his venture at least once. He didn’t even believe the runt’s words so much anymore; none of these endos had done so much as flinch. But why would they lie about it? Why make up something like that?

If they’d lied about the endos, he hadn’t the slightest idea why.

But if they were telling the truth, why weren’t the endos, well— alive?

It was almost more unnerving that they weren’t moving.

Eventually, he comes up on the second room that’d been visible on his schematics. 

Oh yeah. This was definitely where he was meant to be. It looked just like the daycare attendant– colorful and padded, cheerful… like an asylum for clowns.

If storage was anywhere in this room, it was past those large play structure pieces leaning against the wall on the far side of the room. And also past the… five six seven… ten endoskeletons. 

The… endoskeletons that were now watching him.

His gaze shifts from face to face, taking in their emotionless features. He didn't interpret aggression from their stances, and their faces told him literally nothing. They weren’t making any moves, which gave him no incentive to go on the defensive.

“I’m not here for a fight,” he declares, sweeping his gaze across the crowd again, addressing all of them with the statement. “Just here for parts.”

He doesn’t even know if they understand him. But nevertheless, he gives them time to process his words, waiting several seconds longer before crossing the room. One of them steps out of his way as he gets near.

He’s now more unnerved than he’d like to admit, and has decided to avoid eye contact to avoid conflict. Stoically, he approaches the far wall and is excited to find a storage shelf behind the play structure parts— just like he'd guessed.

He doesn’t bother with removing the boxes from the middle row, instead pulling them just close enough to cleanly slice the tops open with his claws. Which means he gets through the middle row first and quickest, and has to begin struggling with the top row when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

He’s intensely aware of the several animatronics with unknown motivations that he has his back turned to, which results in him rushing his search. He didn’t like being exposed.

To his relief, finally one of the boxes he uncovers reveals something promising. The color was… off, but the shape was identical. 

This was chest casing… but what else did they need? Shoot. He wasn’t sure.

In a hurry, he shuffles the parts around to see what else is in the box, then searches through the next. If he didn’t know what parts he needed, he’d just take more than he needed.

After moving things around, extensively searching, and fumbling a few times, he’s packed everything that looks useful into just two boxes. He experimentally lifts them together, finding the best position to hold them securely, and turns back to the center of the room.

Around the stack in his arms, he sees that the entire pack of endos has bunched up to form a loose semicircle in front of him, their stares unblinking and intimidat— unnerving. Unnerving.

“... What?” He finally growls. “What d’y’all want? Get outta my way.”

He glares, but it’s not so much his concealed expression that prompts them to move, but more so the fact that he finally barges right through the group of endos, shouldering his way through roughly until they start parting for him.

“Thanks.” He spits, then heads for the entrance.

They let him go without a fight, and he’s left disgruntled and mildly confused by the encounter as he makes his way back to Parts and Services.

The twenty minutes following Monty leaving the Parts and Service room had been… awkward.

It mainly consisted of Gregory pacing the room, pausing only occasionally to wonder why Sun wasn't doing the same.

Virtually no conversation was happening. Gregory wasn't interested in talking about anything that didn't relate to whatever the hell had gone down in the tunnels, and Sun wasn't interested in talking about what Gregory wanted to talk about, so there was no reciprocation on either front. 

Sun seemed very interested in asking Gregory how he was doing— if he was tired, hungry, thirsty, and Gregory gave short answers but nothing more. Yes, he was tired. Yes he was hungry. Yes, he just wanted to get out of Parts and Service, although that question wasn't asked.

It startles both of them when the doors to the place fling open, and Monty steps through the threshold hauling a stack of large boxes in his arms. 

Finally, something else to focus on.

“You found the parts?” Sun asks instantly. His voice is surprised— and Gregory is inwardly sharing that surprise.

“You bet I did.” The animatronic sets down his haul, straightening to rest his hands on his hips proudly.

“How?” Sun follows up, and Monty seems to look the other animatronic up and down shortly.

“Pardon?”

“How did you.. get them?” Sun clarifies, sounding baffled.

“I just walked in.”

“But what about the endos?” This time Gregory jumps in.

“What about em?”

Gregory swallows at Monty’s annoyed tone. “They didn’t attack you?”

The gator shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Were they even… moving?”

“Yeah, some of ‘em moved,” Monty responds with a nonchalant shrug.

Gregory takes a few seconds to process. Sun has fallen completely silent, apparently willing to let Gregory lead— which again felt weird.

“Sorry–” Gregory says finally, “I’m just confused. We had so much trouble in there. You went to that weird daycare place right?”

Monty merely nods.

“They attacked Moon there. And we don’t really know how they did it. According to Moon, they don't have brains.”

“I dunno what to tell ya, kid,” Monty responds with another head shake. “They were lookin’ at me, but they didn’ try an' stop me.”

Gregory blinks several times. “So– wait. Woah. You’re saying they knew you were there, but they didn’t attack you.”

“I feel like.. I’m missin’ something,” the glamrock says slowly, looking between Gregory and Sun.

Gregory looks at Sun, still naively expecting the animatronic to have something reassuring or informative to say, and is disappointed yet again when Sun looks back quietly with a small head shake.

He sighs. "Us too."

“Hollup." Monty says suddenly, sounding alarmed. "Y’all didn’t think I was gonna get torn apart in there, did you?”

“No–” Sun and Gregory say in unison, then glance at each other, before Gregory steps back. He was tired of trying to sound like he knew anything.

“Er, of course we knew you could handle yourself…” Sun begins carefully, wringing his hands, “but we didn’t know what the endos would do. Nevertheless… we’re glad you’re alright.”

Gregory nods in agreement, and Monty seems to deflate after some hesitation. 

“Well, I hope these are what yer lookin’ for,” he says, changing the topic as he lifts a foot to scoot the stack of boxes across the floor to Sun, who steps up to inspect them.

“Right, let’s see.”

As Sun kneels down to look inside, Gregory, curious as well, comes up beside him.

“Okay, this is good. This will replace the chest casing, and we also need a replacement for our cable latch."

After rummaging through the first box for a few moments longer, Sun eventually shakes his head, picking up the box to uncover the one beneath it, and setting it to the side.

When he opens the flap on the second box, the animatronic makes an unholy shriek as he falls backward, rapidly scooting away from the box, and Gregory doesn’t even care what startled him, he just starts howling with laughter, also collapsing.

“Was there a snake in there??” He asks between wheezes, as Monty steps forward to glance into the box curiously.

The glamrock’s thoughtful hum has Gregory recovering from his laughter before Sun can recover from his fear. Gregory looks inside next.

“Oh. That’s fucked up.”

“What? What is?” Monty sounds genuinely lost.

Inside the box is the grinning faceplate of the Daycare Attendant. Or– another faceplate. Sun still had his.

“That. That is really fu– …messed up,” Gregory answers, pointing to the offending faceplate for Monty's information, then looking back at Sun. “Sun, you okay?”

The Daycare Attendant is still on the floor, one hand over his chest, staring up at the ceiling with the same grin as the inanimate object in the box. His rays are all retracted, barely even visible.

As they watch, slowly the animatronic sits up with a dignified "I'm fine."

Gregory can’t help a snicker as Sun glances into the box again, makes a strangled noise, and pushes the faceplate up against the inner side of the container to see the rest of the contents.

“Well, how would you feel if it was your head inside that box?” The animatronic snaps defensively at another giggle from Gregory, and Gregory stops.

"Sorry. Bad. I'd feel bad."

"Good. And watch your language," Sun adds, drawing a groan from Gregory.

There it was.

"Fine."

He sticks his tongue out at the back of Sun’s head, but relents, crossing his arms and sitting back with a slouch.

“Yes,” Sun says finally, renewing the attention of both Gregory and Monty. “This is the other part we need."

After taking the piece out of the box so the other two can see, Sun stills, seeming to stare blankly off into space for a few seconds, then shakes himself out of it.

"Alright, let's feed these parts into the machine. Gregory, you'll be able to start the procedure? It'll be like the upgrades you did for Freddy, but you'll have to select our model, and also choose 'repair'." 

Gregory tries to visualize the selection menu, eventually nodding uncertainly. "I… think so? There's a lot of options…"

"I'll just show you exactly what buttons to press, so we don't have any problems. There's a part where you have to select what parts need replacing."

Silently, Gregory is relieved. 

When the gangly animatronic finally gets to his feet, so does Gregory, and the party of three move to the front of the cylinder. Sun goes around to the other side, depositing the replacement parts into the chute, then returns.

It's then that Monty hesitates. 

"What'd'you want me to do?"

"Oh, uh. Hmm…" the daycare attendant pauses as well, putting a finger to his chin.

"How about.. keep an eye on the exits! Those elevator entrances over there—" he points, "and the main doors— just in case. If anyone comes in, just do whatever you can to keep Gregory safe. Okay?"

Taking in the instructions, Monty nods slowly, then gives a sharper nod at the 'okay'. "Right— right. You got it."

Sun nods back, his gaze having finally reached Monty by that point, and then guides Gregory to the control panel. 

"Okay, so you're gonna hit this one first, and that'll take you to this selection menu…"

As the two keep talking, Monty zones out, merely watching them gesture and emote at each other as they work through the motions.

Even with that face— the babysitter and the little runt really had an understanding of some sort. It was fascinating.

And he kind of felt like a third wheel.

A clap of the daycare attendant's hands and the overhead speakers rumbling to life with directions breaks him out of his thoughts. 

"Great! So you'll just do that again once I'm in the cylinder!"

"Okay, I've got it," Gregory chirps, looking up at the animatronic's face. "How do I cancel it?"

Sun gestures to a button on the corner of the screen, and when the boy presses it, the intercom blares again with a question— one that's almost insultingly sarcastic.

Are you sure?

Monty actually looks up at the speakers, stunned.

"Hit yes." The daycare attendant's voice is annoyed. 

"Never knew they made the hand unit so condescendin'," Monty blurts, then remembers he already felt awkward enough without starting pointless small talk.

To his surprise, Sun is shockingly receptive, instantly turning back to Monty with a scandalized, "I know, right?"

As he's fumbling for something to say back, Sun turns to Gregory again. "I can't believe they made it question my authority. I mean— the mechanics' authority. Because they'd be the ones normally running the procedures. Yes."

Monty huffs, crossing his arms again and glancing off to the side as Gregory hits the confirmation button.

Procedure cancelled.

"Okay! Now I just get inside and you do the exact same sequence we just did— minus the cancelling part. Are you sure you remember it?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Gregory confirms with a nod, which Sun returns, before turning to Monty again.

"Alright, see you two on the other side."

Monty and Gregory nod in unison, and the sun animatronic backs up into the cylinder and sits down in the chair.

"Whenever you're ready," Sun announces once settled.

Gregory immediately gets to work starting the procedure again, and Monty stares at Sun just sitting there, fascinated.

This was the first time he'd ever been able to witness a repair himself. 

When the intercom confirms the directions and the procedure begins, Gregory trails over to Monty's side, his eyes on the cylinder.

It's silent for a bit.

After a few more moments of silence, Monty thinks up a conversation topic.

"Y'know they used to restrain us when they did repairs like this?"

Gregory turns wide eyes to Monty. "What? Really?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Safety. Sometimes the wires they gotta mess with— they can make us malfunction. Least that's what they say."

"You've never seen it happen though, right?" The boy's concerned gaze travels to Sun again.

"Oh, nah. I actually haven't seen any repairs. It's usually only one of us down 'ere." 

"Well that's comforting," Gregory responds dryly.

Monty barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you've got nothin' to worry about. I was just rilin' you up."

The boy just hums with worry, and Monty's conversational focus shifts.

"So, you really care about this guy, huh? Or guys, I guess I should say."

"W-what?" Gregory's voice is almost a squeak as he looks at Monty again, his eyes huge— like the question had caught him off guard.

"You know—" Monty tries to further explain, "I can't see a little tot going to this much trouble to help out a robot he barely knows, is all."

"I did more for you," the boy shoots back, cleverly evading the topic.

"I'm just sayin—"

"Five feet," Gregory snaps, sidling away from Monty with a glare. 

Monty steps back as well, raising his hands. "Alright— hint taken," he responds passively.

Inside the cylinder, the machine has already removed Sun's damaged chest casing and moved him to an upright position. As they watch, a smaller mechanical arm drops down from the fixture above Sun, focusing over his exposed endoskeleton from behind.

A small, rapidly spinning blade slices off the remaining stubs of the damaged ring, while two other arms take the discarded metal parts and deposit them in receptacles on either side of the cylinder's interior.

Then, a new arm retrieves the replacement piece, holding it in place while a second arm comes in beside it. 

Then, there's a loud sound—but not as loud as the spinning wheel had been—and the windows of the cylinder darken to almost full black. 

Alarmed, the boy presses himself up to the glass, trying to see inside.

"What's happening?!" 

Before any of them can do anything further, the glass is transparent again, and Gregory cautiously steps back, looking confused.

They can see Sun again, and the new latch that's now attached to his endo.

"What was that?" The boy demands, turning to Monty.

"I don't reckon I know," Monty responds, thoroughly baffled.

Gregory frowns, and for the rest of the procedure he keeps his eyes glued to the cylinder.

After the new latch had been secured to the Daycare Attendant's endo, it was only a matter of applying the new casing and bringing Sun back online—all of which was fully automated—and just like that, Sun looked good as new. Except for the one tear in his pant leg. 

As the animatronic sits up, Gregory zips over to the control panel to end the procedure and open the door, and Sun steps out of the cylinder.

"All fixed?" The boy asks Sun immediately upon returning to his side.

"Hmm, I can't tell." The animatronic turns around, showing his back to Gregory. "Is the latch there?"

Gregory nods. "Yep."

"Then we're fixed! Should be able to use the wire just fine now."

Sun then turns to Monty. 

"Thanks to you, of course. We wouldn't have been able to do it without your help." 

Monty lifts a hand to put behind his neck in a mock gesture of embarrassment. "Aw, it was nothin'." 

Sun hums soft amusement, then looks down at Gregory.

"Well, we should get a move on. Gregory needs some food and rest— so we'll head to the atrium first. After that, we're going back to the daycare. Are you coming with us?" Sun poses the question to Monty, facing him again.

Monty thinks about it for a bit. "Actually, if y'all don't mind, I'll just meet you back at the daycare later. An hour, maybe?"

"Oh." Sun pauses. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be alright. I just wanna see the place." 

"As long as you're sure. Remember— they're not the way you remember them."

Monty nods dismissively, looking away. "I know. I just have to see it for myself."

Sun gives a slow nod, before looking down at Gregory once more. "Let's get going then."

As the pair starts to move towards the elevators, Monty trails behind, lost in thought.

"Sun?"

Sun looks down at Gregory, distracted from taking in the sights of the atrium, and tilts his head with a quiet click.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering, what was that thing that happened when you were in the cylinder?"

“You mean other than the repair? I was powered down through the whole thing, so I’m not sure I can fill you in on something I wasn't there for. Can you describe it?”

“It was when the thingy was putting the new latch on. The windows went black for a few seconds.”

"Oh. Ohh, that! You must be talking about the optical protection protocol!"

"Huh?"

"The machine had to weld the new piece to my endo so it would stay on. The light from the blowtorch is way too intense to be looked at with the naked eye, so the glass automatically darkens whenever the torch is on."

“Ohh.” Gregory takes that in, a frown creasing his face. "What's welding?"

"Basically the process of using extreme heat to melt pieces of metal together. Why? You interested in it?"

The boy shrugs. "I don't know, it seems kind of cool." 

"It certainly is. You can't have animatronics without welding." 

Sun receives a half-hearted nod at that, as Gregory lets out a breath and hugs his arms.

“Has Moon talked to you yet?”

There it was.

“No,” Sun responds, his voice dragging solemnly. “I’m starting to get worried. More than usual, that is.”

“What are you gonna do about this? What if the lights go out again?”

“I know– I know. He can’t be MIA while you’re depending on us. I think I’m going to try to talk to him while you’re asleep. Maybe he’ll be more open with me when it’s just us.”

Gregory casts a glance up at Sun, doubt in his expression. “I hope so.”

Sun forces a sigh. “We can do a more thorough search for options later, but for now, is El Chips fine?”

It had been so long since the last time he’d eaten that the repetition didn’t even bother him. “Yeah.”

His footsteps echo on the tile. Loud and clunky and hollow and distant. 

He can hear the soft hum of the halogen signs adorning the various restaurants in the atrium.

Aside from that, he hears nothing else. 

He's drawn to his own attraction. He couldn't help it. It was the most familiar place in the Pizzaplex. More familiar than his green room, or his place in the band. 

He needed to see how it was doing.

The elevator comes to a rumbling halt, opening its doors to reveal an empty golf course, and welcoming in the overhead music— the perpetual theme of Gator Golf.

There's no one here. 

But that was to be expected at this hour. It was still before opening. Still, there's something haunting about it. 

He wanders the course for a while, but the loneliness of it is what eventually gets him to leave. It wasn't his place if there wasn't anyone else to share it with.

When he steps out into the atrium for the second time, it's not his own footsteps he hears, but another's. Like his own, but on tile— not on carpet like he currently was. 

It was also very far away. The dead silence of the Atrium allowed him to pick it up, and pinpoint its source: Rockstar Row. The far side of it.

He steps out of his sub lobby and onto the tile, then makes a right turn, following the already cleared path to Rockstar Row.

Gentle, distorted jazz music overlays the echoes of his steps as he starts through the Row, passing first Chica's empty room, then his own, and finally coming to a halt in front of Roxy's, his gaze fixed across the tile, to the other side of the expensive hallway.

Just the guy he wanted to see. Well, not really.

He stood a fair distance away, just to the side of the statue made in his likeness. His gaze was locked directly on Monty. 

Monty says nothing, and neither does Freddy.

Several moments pass. No one moves. The remaining hope in Monty dies. 

Freddy turns to leave, and Monty watches him go.

He didn't need to say hello or make a teasing quip to know the real Freddy was gone. The real Freddy would have been the first to speak, offering up an enthusiastic greeting. And if Monty hadn't responded to it, Freddy would have gotten awkward and asked if he’d done something wrong. He wouldn't have just stood there, vacantly.

As the animatronic bear disappears past a set of doors leading to the utility tunnels, Monty leaves the same way he came.

It doesn't get much better from there.

He seeks out Roxy. She'd be in the salon, staring at herself in a mirror, if Monty knew her at all.

But, surprisingly, she's not there.

Even though claw marks marred the tables and vanities and chairs, there was no sight of the wolf. 

After looking the entire place over, he tries the raceway.

No activity on the track, no movement around the various construction barriers and inactive machines. The place was a wreck— no wonder she didn't want to be here.

He has no idea where else she might be. The raceway was the second most likely place, and her green room was the third most likely. But he'd already been to her green room, and she wasn't there.

When he returns to the atrium, he has thirty minutes left to kill before he has to meet the other two in the daycare.

If Chica was anywhere, she'd be where the pizza was.

He searches the food court kitchens first, then leaves through a side door to one of the restaurants, locating and entering the elevator to the basement level. It takes him down and opens to a dingy hallway.

Everything so far had been discouraging, and the sight of the littered basement floor wasn't a good sign. But still— maybe, just maybe, if he could find Chica…

He hears her, almost immediately. And something else that doesn't sound like her. 

Following the sound, he turns a corner and pushes through a set of doors. He doesn't see anything at first. Then, just as he's about to move on, she stumbles into a hall in front of him. 

He takes in the sight way too quickly, instantly wanting to rewind time and forget what he's just seen as a sickening sensation— one he's never felt before—digs its claws in.

She turns to look at him as he takes an uncertain step back. Cocking her head, she advances towards him a few steps, her movements broken and jittery. 

Her beak is gone, she's holding her arms wrong, she's limping, it's awful. 

It's wrong. It's not Chica.

He backs up more hastily, and when it doesn't deter her from chasing, he flees to the elevator, desperate to escape the claustrophobic tunnels and his friend's terrifying form.

He does not feel relieved once he's safe. 

Everything that Sun and Gregory had told him was right. The place was empty and his friends were not who they used to be. 

There was no one else he could go to for support— for comfort. He had no choice but to return to the only allies he had: a kid he'd never met, and the daycare attendant, whom he barely knew. To say he didn't feel like he belonged was a gross understatement.

He couldn't forget the state the Plex was in, or his friends, for that matter, but he could take his mind off it by focusing on getting to the daycare. If he just threw himself into helping them with whatever they needed, sticking by them and never letting his thoughts stray, maybe he could manage it all. 

He returns to the daycare early, and when he finds that Gregory and Sun are not there yet, he resorts to leaning on one of the rails and staring at nothing as he waits for them to arrive.

Gregory wasn't keeping track of time as they were in the kitchen, exchanging idle chatter, because he didn't have to. He knew Sun would let him know when it was time to head back to the daycare. So he focused on the repeat—but still delicious—tortilla chips and meat he'd been working on, pausing occasionally to sip from a water bottle they'd found. 

Sun had been quick to suggest he drink something, and Gregory had been quick to suggest that drinking something and then immediately going to bed wasn't a good idea.

So they'd settled on killing some time afterwards by looking through the prize counter— with the goal of finding a backpack that Gregory could use to carry his flashlight and other supplies in.

They didn't have enough time to search before they'd heard Roxy somewhere in the back, and had to quietly back out. 

"Stupid Roxy," Gregory mutters under his breath once they're a floor below her. "She's always getting in the way."

"You know this isn't how she'd normally be," Sun sympathizes. "Whatever is affecting her is making her act wrong. She doesn't have control over it." 

"How do you know that?"

"I just feel like if she had control over it, she wouldn't be doing it. It's manipulating her programming to control her."

"Well, she's still dangerous. Whether she's doing it on purpose or not."

"That is true," Sun concedes glumly. His tone gives Gregory pause.

Gregory can't feel bad for a version of Roxy he's never met, but he can feel bad for Sun, who probably knew that version, before all this bad stuff happened.

With that sudden perspective, he feels guilty rather than satisfied at "winning" the argument. 

With nothing else to do to kill time, they head back to the daycare.

They find Monty, surprisingly, in the daycare waiting for them. Somehow, Sun hadn't expected that they would be the ones late to the meeting. 

He greets them almost immediately, raising his arms and opening his mouth in a gesture of greeting.

"Hey!! Y'all are back! Was wonderin' when you'd show up." 

"Hi, Monty," Sun returns the greeting, giving a small wave. "How long have you been waiting for us?"

"Oh, twenty minutes or so." 

"Wow. Very punctual," Sun comments, impressed. 

"I know. Anyway, what are we doin' next?"

"Gregory needs to rest, and we need to charge. So we're going to the charging chamber in our room." 

"Sounds boring."

"Well, it is. You're welcome to keep exploring if you want."

"No—" Monty says quickly, then drops his hands after realizing he'd raised them. "Nah, I'll just come with you." 

"Okay, well, we're running by the bathroom first. If you don't want to wait around, I can go ahead and show you where the entrance to our room is."

"Sounds good to me. Where's it at?"

Sun moves closer to the railing, then points to the other side of the curved walkway, where the theater is. "You'll go in from that entrance, walk straight to the opposite wall, and peel back the poster. The door should open for you."

Monty nods to confirm that he understood. "Copy that."

As the gator marches off in the direction that Sun instructed, Sun leads Gregory down to the bottom floor, and waits outside the bathroom for him.

After he comes out again, they finally return to Sun and Moon's room. 

Sun can feel tension from Moon as they get closer to their destination— and closer to what Moon knew would be a confrontation. It only gets worse once they get into the room, and Moon realizes he's going to be the one active in the darker chamber.

They find Monty sitting neatly in the center of all the chaos, in a small patch of clean floor, looking at them expectantly as they enter. 

"Y'all live like this?"

Sun wished he could scowl. "I do. I have been." 

"Even I couldn't trash my room this good."

"Be quiet," Sun snaps. Beside him, Gregory yawns.

"Okay, it's time for you to get to bed," Sun says softly, ruffling the boy's hair with a gentle hand.

The boy gives a sleepy nod, dropping down to crawl through the entrance to the charging chamber and quickly getting settled in the pile of blankets. Sun looks at Monty, who tilts his head. 

"Guess I just wait here, eh?"

"Pretty much. If you want to get up for anything, just try and do it quietly."

Monty shakes his head. "Don't think I'll be going anywhere; there's nothing to see out there."

"Alright," Sun responds with a shrug, then crawls into the chamber himself, careful not to disturb Gregory. 

Once he's sitting and plugged in, it only takes a matter of seconds for their programming to override Moon's resistance, and halfway through, his lunar counterpart gives up with a sigh of resignation and speeds up the switch.

He instantly feels exposed and vulnerable. Being active was so much worse than being in standby. He can feel things with his own sensors again.

And Sun is there, hovering over him expectantly, waiting for him to open up. 

And Gregory is there, sleeping soundly and oh-so peacefully, looking calm and still and Moon backs himself up against the wall, putting as much space between him and Gregory as possible.

He looks like her. He starts to panic.

It's flashing back. He can't stop it. For a while, he'd managed to lull himself into a state of seeing almost nothing, and just like that it's back again. In the forefront of his memory. 

Sun wants to know what he's hiding. He's doing such a good job of keeping it behind a wall, protecting Sun, bearing the burden alone, but Sun wants him to show it. What he'd seen. 

He doesn't know that Moon is doing this for him.

Sun gives a hesitant prod.

Moony, whatever it is that's gotten you so upset, you need to tell me. We have to do this together. 

He can't form a coherent thought yet. But he resists. 

I promise, you'll feel better after you tell me. We can work through it, no matter what it is. 

Moon doubted that. The idea of talking about it was more terrifying than the visual alone. Showing it to Sun, what he'd seen— what if his worst nightmare came true? What if he had to face the reality that that was him, and that was her, and it was real, and she was really gone?

And Sun didn't know? 

Moon, listen to me. There is nothing you can show me or tell me that will change how I feel about you. You're my brother. I love you.

It hurts. It hurts so bad knowing the pain he's going to inflict on Sun. But he can't bear hiding it anymore— he needs support. He needs someone to tell him everything will be okay. He needs someone else to see it— so he's not the only one plagued by it.

Slowly, he steadies himself enough to let the visual slip through. 

Sun recoils in shock and horror and repulsion. It was a reaction befitting of a daycare attendant, seeing a little one so mortally wounded. It was their worst nightmare. 

Loudest of all the emotions coming from Sun was grief.

Under any circumstance, the visual would have been enough to sicken them. 

But Sun was reacting to it in a way that scared Moon to his very core. 

It was like he'd finally found the missing piece of the world's most horrifying puzzle. It was like something was clicking.

He was reacting to it like it was real, not just a false memory that Moon could deny. He was reacting to it like it made sense.

Sun— please tell me you don't think it's real. We don't know that it's real. It can't be real, Sun. It can't.

It's… her.

No, it can't be. This can't be real. 

But he can feel that Sun believes what he's seeing. And he's terrified of what Sun might say next. 

The visual of him standing over her body, with blood on his hands, and Sun believes it.

I wouldn't do this. 

Moon. 

Moon wants to flee. He wants to run and never look back.

Some time after you disappeared—

No. NO.

–I was watching Audrey in the daycare while we waited for her parents to arrive. 

Stop. Stop. Please.

We were playing hide and seek. I was counting to ten while she hid.

Stop, please!

I must've blacked out, because when I started looking for her, I couldn't find her. Then Vanessa came to the daycare and said I'd malfunctioned, and she'd taken Audrey and called the authorities while I was down.

And so she did! And Audrey is fine.

Moon, I never saw her leave the daycare.

Moon shakes his head, a bubbly hiss spilling from his voice box as he claws at his face. Fear and pain and anger and hurt swirl inside of him, and Sun is useless to soothe it. It hurts, it hurts it hurts.  

She never came back. 

The hissing becomes something breathy and erratic, something uncontrollable and involuntary. Sobbing. He's crying, and he doesn't know how to cry. And it's impossible for him to cry.

It's grief.

Someone he couldn't save, who's gone now because of him.

Moon, it wasn't your fault. You never would have hurt a child.

Why aren't you mad at me? It was ME!

No, it wasn't you.

How do you know that?

I just do. I know you. You may not believe it yet, but I know you didn't do this.

He pushes Sun away with prickling rage. He was responsible for something that hurt both of them, and his brother didn't even have the decency to resent him for it. To blame the easiest thing to blame. Himself.

Stop it, Moon. Stop it.

Sun pries frantically at him, trying to maintain their link— trying to still be heard. Moon curls up further, hissing, covering his face and tucking it between his knees.

He stops listening to Sun, only able to hear his own sobbing. He expects to feel moisture on his hands, but they remain perfectly dry, and the sensation makes him numb— like nothing was real.

The agony, the pain, the self-hatred doesn't dissipate, but it's joined by surprise and shock when he hears his name called. Not in his head, which was too loud, but outside— in the chamber with him.

"Moon, are you okay?" He feels a hand try and shake him out of his curled position, gentle but firm. 

Gregory. He'd woken Gregory up. 

Gregory couldn't be this close to him.

He snaps his head up, expecting his vision to be blurry, but he sees Gregory perfectly clear. The boy's eyes are wide and uncertain.

"Why are you crying?"

He speaks without Sun's authorization— reacting the only way he could in the state he was in. 

"Leave."

No! No no no!

Gregory backs up, taking his hands off Moon. "W-what?"

"Go. It's not safe." 

"B-but—"

"I said go. Get away from me."  

This time, tears spill. The boy stumbles back, disbelief on his face, before it shifts into a look of betrayal, and finally settles on an angry, hurt glare. "I knew it," he mewls on a sob, before turning and scrambling out of the tunnel.

Something like relief settles in Moon, but it's quickly stabbed through by panic and anger and urgency.

No no no NO NO! DON'T LET HIM GO OFF ON HIS OWN!

Moon doesn't react.

Several moments after the boy leaves with a failed slam of the door, the sound of metallic footsteps picks up outside the chamber, and slowly fades away.

Get UP!

Moon doesn't move, apathy beginning to mingle with his other emotions and shut them down. 

Moon, I swear to all that is holy if you do not stand up RIGHT NOW I will force shut you down and take over myself!

The threat doesn't scare Moon— he knew Sun was incapable of following through on it.

GET. UP! HE'S GOING TO GET HURT!

That does scare Moon a little. Somewhere deep down.

He didn't want Gregory to get hurt.

That's right, you don't! So go get up and find him!

Frantically, Moon leaves the tunnel.

Chapter Text

He was leaving this time. He didn’t need anyone. 

He didn't need animatronics that pretended to be his friend only to turn on him. He didn't need empty promises. Nothing good ever lasted, and he was better off on his own.

He wouldn’t have to go far to get out. Just through the theater, down the curved walkway surrounding the play area, through the hallway leading to the daycare, and into the lobby. Then he’d just squeeze through the doors like he had when he made the mistake of coming back. Out into the open, out into the..

..cold.

He was cold. And numb.

He slows to a stop, thinking deeply about his options. 

Leaving meant no shelter, no support, no safety. It meant fending for himself again. What was he doing?

No, no. He needed to go with his gut feeling. He was committed to his decision. He forces himself to recall past betrayals– to reinforce that commitment.

He'd trusted Freddy. Freddy had been the first person he'd trusted in a long time. That trust had lasted even after he left, knowing that he'd have a safe place to fall back to as long as Freddy was still there.

It had been world shattering when he'd come back looking for Freddy, only to immediately be chased by him.

And then, while he was still shaken and vulnerable, Moon had swooped in, seeming safe and strong and protective and trustworthy. Even against his better judgment, Gregory couldn't help slowly lowering his defensive walls. He could be weak around Moon and he wouldn't be judged for it.

He slowly found himself putting more and more trust in Moon and then— he was left to fend for himself in the middle of the Atrium, with Roxy around. Moon had neglected to warn him about something as crucial as his draining battery power. 

It had been difficult to forgive Moon for that. And when he was finally starting to trust him again, rely on him again, it was back to secrets. And now Moon had actually told him to leave. It didn't get more clear than that.

Moon would never be fully reliable. There was too much going on with him, and Gregory didn't understand it. If he kept putting all of his faith in Moon, he was going to get killed.

But even then, a part of him was still arguing to give Moon the benefit of the doubt. There was something going on with him, and maybe he didn't mean what he said. Maybe there was some reason for the way he was acting.

He scoffs to himself, sniffling. He was looking for any reason to go back. That's how badly he wanted to trust Moon. But he’d finally struck on it. At the very core of his denial was the ugly truth:

He had nobody. And Moon felt like somebody in that void. He desperately needed someone to look after him. 

He’s just been lying to himself. He’d never wanted to stay just to help Freddy. And he didn’t even think there was a way to free the animatronics. He didn’t have faith that they’d ever be able to figure out what was going on. And, in a way, he’d been counting on that. He would never have to face his reality if he had an excuse to stay at the Pizzaplex– an excuse that would never fall through.

But it could never last.

He’d wandered his way out into the hallway as he’d been thinking, and far ahead of him lie the doors that lead out into the lobby. He tries to decide if he really wants to leave.

As he’s standing, frozen with indecision, he hears a sound coming from further down the hallway behind him, still inside the daycare. 

He turns around to search for the source of the noise, and spots Monty heading his way. Monty had followed him.

For a moment, panic flashes through him, then he remembers what timeline he’s in. Monty was safe– he was normal again. 

The gator animatronic is approaching, slowly lumbering in his direction in a very leisurely way– a lot unlike his composure when he’d been hunting Gregory the first night. 

Realizing Monty is about to see him up close, the boy quickly starts trying to wipe the wetness from his face and rub it off on his shorts. He didn’t want another animatronic to see him as a crybaby.

He’s preparing himself to face Monty, awaiting whatever pitying questions the gator would have once they were face to face– but Monty gets closer and closer and still says nothing.

So Gregory speaks first.

“M-Monty! You didn’t have to follow me. I’m… I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not.”

Gregory blinks, then blinks again. The words play over in his head like an echo, and he tries to figure out if he'd misheard it.

"W-whuh?" He manages, finally finding the power to speak, albeit meekly. He realizes he's cowering, and an alarming feeling of déjà vu is sinking in.

"I don't want you to leave," the gator growls, any expression he might have worn effectively concealed by his shades. The tone of his voice makes Gregory's stomach drop.

The way Monty is speaking has a sinister undertone to it—implying that he has no reservations about using force to get Gregory to stay. It was like he was waiting for a reason to attack.

Gregory immediately gives him a reason when he bolts. The gator's footsteps pick up after him, and his mind strips itself of any coherent thought— other than RUN. Fucking RUN.

He doesn’t notice the lights blinking out the further he gets down the hallway, until the deafening clanking behind him suddenly ceases, and he turns around to realize he can’t see a single thing. 

He doesn't care if Monty is no longer chasing. He keeps running.

He doesn’t get very far, tearing through the hall blindly, before he runs into something, and he doesn’t even have time to register what it was before suddenly there’s an arm around his neck and the cold edge of something pressed to his throat.