Chapter Text
Slowly, sluggishly, a few of Sun’s systems power on one by one. Just enough for him to be awake and aware. The first thing he learns is that he is no longer connected to any Fazco network. And while that is concerning, what is more concerning is that he doesn’t seem to be in control of his body. At any other time that would have been utterly terrifying, but right now, with all of his processors filled with glitter glue, all he can manage is dim awareness.
He’s charging. Good. He always feels a bit sleepy on low power, so hopefully that will help with… whatever this is.
“...ems like it’s working.” Ah, his audio processors are back online. He’s greeted by the familiar hum of electronics and an equally familiar voice that he… can’t quite place. If only he could think, he could place the voice, he’s sure of it. If only his optics would finally come online, then he might finally have a chance at understanding just what is happening. As is, he is left behind. Not in on the secret. Unfair unfair unfair-
“Run diagnostics report.” That voice again. It cuts through his spiraling thoughts straight to his core code, and automatically he responds.
‘Core systems functional. Optics offline. Movement offline. Voice modulator offline. Damage to battery likely.’
Hm, now there’s a problem. How was whoever-this-is supposed to hear his report if his voice box is broken? He’s… about as worse for wear as he was worried. This isn’t good.
“Oh good! You heard me, I was worried for a second.” The voice sounds far more optimistic than Sun feels, and he barely has the mind to wonder how they heard him. “Doesn’t seem like your motherboard was damaged, thankfully. Don’t know how I would’ve fixed that…”
Yes, well, small victories and all. In whatever this state is, Sun is unable to even guess at whatever had caused this much damage. He’s never felt anything like this before, and he doesn’t like it.
“Ok Sunshine,” the nickname is comforting, a balm for his confused and worrying state. He is in good hands, even if he can’t remember who’s hands he’s in. “I’m gonna fix you up, good as new promise, but your battery is kinda holding on by a thread- it’s not holding a charge at all.”
Well, that’s not good at all. He hadn’t realized it was quite that bad.
“So, I have to power you off now.” Oh no no no, Sun doesn’t want that, “Just until I can get a working battery for you, ok? I bet you’ll feel a lot better after that.”
He is dimly aware that he cannot stop this, helpless as he is. He doesn’t want to be powered down, wants to figure out what is happening to him. He doesn’t like feeling so powerless. Doesn’t like it at all.
“Sleep tight Sunny.” And just like that, everything fades to black.
With a sigh, you turn from your monitor to the seven foot tall animatronic currently lying damaged and dormant on your living room floor. You don’t think you’d ever fully get used to how the fire had warped their plastic face, but knowing the damage was mostly external did help. It had been a random choice booting up Sun instead of Moon, and for the sake of being thorough you should probably make sure he boots up alright too. But that can come later. You have a brand new battery sitting on your counter that needs installing before the old one truly bites the dust and causes more damage. You had a lot of work ahead of you if you were going to get your boys up and running again, but damn did it ever feel good finally making solid progress.
It had taken a long time to get even this bare bones boot up to work- Fazco had put a LOT of effort into keeping people like you out of these systems. Fortunately, you’re far too stubborn to let something like a shitty company's security protocol stop you from fixing your friends. Friends who had better not tease you for being too stubborn for your own good when this is all over.
It had been hell trying to get their OS to register your non-company computer- to get any sort of proof that this was fixable. But you’d done it. You’d poured hours into learning coding, spent countless nights jailbreaking their OS enough to get it to cooperate. But you’d finally gotten your proof.
The systems booted, they turned on.
You force yourself not to think about what ifs. You’ve gotten quite good at that since the fire.
“Ok. Battery time.” you sigh, unplugging the various wires used to facilitate the quick diagnostics check up. You get some sitcom playing on your laptop for background noise, gather your shiny new toolbox and battery, and settle in on the floor in front of your new roommate for open heart surgery.
The next time Sun wakes up, it is with such a startling clarity that it is only by virtue of being unable to move that he does not jolt upright. Unable to move, unable to see, and all too aware of the horrible heat that left him in this condition.
The lack of visual input is disorientating, leaving him trapped in internal processes that scream alerts for damaged parts. His internal clock tells him silently that several months have passed since he was last fully online, days since his last fugue state, but that. That can’t be right, can it? Just before he can spiral, sweet sweet outside stimulus pulls him from his head.
“Sunny? Can you hear me?”
Like a beacon in the dark, he focuses in on that voice. ‘Starlight?’ he thinks but cannot say.
“It’s me Sunshine, I’m here.” You do not pause long enough to allow any further spiraling, “I’ve got you plugged into my computer so I can read what you’re trying to say. It's, uh, it’s all a bit haphazard, but it works.” Sun is a bit baffled by that, both the idea of his words appearing as text on a screen and that you managed this at all. But he can’t focus on that for long, not when there are much more pressing issues at hand.
‘Starlight the daycare isn’t safe! Not after the fire!’ He will not allow you to hurt yourself on his behalf. However long you’d spent in ashes and burnt plastic to replace his battery was long enough!
“We’re not in the plex, actually.” What. “We’re in my apartment. I’ll give you a proper tour when you’re all better.”
‘...’
Sun cannot bring himself to ask why. Why bother when the damage is so severe, when he knows you have no idea what you’re doing, when he is, frankly, replaceable. So, instead, he asks a different question.
‘What about Moon?’
The long sigh you give is enough to make Sun start to worry about the glaring absence in his mind. “I think it’s a problem with your eyes not working? His systems even booting up at all seems tied to light levels for some stupid reason, and without your eyes working it just… refuses to turn on.”
There is too much to focus on. Too many things. Sun is overwhelmed with the need to move.
“Actually, you wouldn’t happen to have any insight into that, would you?” You ask, unaware of Sun’s plight, “It would be a big help.”
‘Sorry friend, we know how to live in this body, not how to fix it.’ Sun can’t help but feel bashful at the admission. He’d always assumed he knew his body well, understood the quirks of his own programming, but this… this was beyond him. Why should a machine know how to fix itself?
“No worries. I don’t think the damage is that bad, so I’m going to try and fix your eyes next to see if I’m right.” Sun focuses in on your voice to distract himself. You sound so certain, so confident, so sturdy. It’s grounding. A reminder that he is in good hands, hands that care about him. Hands he trusts more than any others who attempted maintenance on him before.
A new alert flares to life- danger, risk of overheating. Ah. It shouldn’t be a surprise his cooling system isn’t working. From the disgruntled sound you make, it seems like you somehow see the alert as well.
“Ah damn,” you mutter, and Sun is really starting to wish he could see you. “Sun your-”
‘I know,’ he cuts you off through the screen, ‘it’s ok starlight. It’s probably best to power us down for now.’
“Probably…” Sun is… still not quite over how strange it is speaking to you in this way, if he’s honest. “I’d better start fixing you faster, I’m really starting to miss you two.” The admission is soft in a way he hasn’t heard from you before. It makes him want to wrap you up in his arms, keep you close and safe and tell you happy stories until that pretty smile is back on your face.
But he cannot do any of those things right now, so he settles for saying ‘we miss you too,’ and promises to himself to do all that and more just as soon as he is able.
“You’re sure you’re ok with me turning you off?” Oh Starlight, always so sweet, so worried about them. Silly Starlight.
‘Yes. It’s for the best.’ Sun says, and then quickly adds, ‘we trust you.’
“Ok. I’ll start looking into your cooling system next,” you assure. “Goodnight Sunshine.”
‘Goodnight Starlight.’