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God dammit, where WAS she?
Those were the words running through his mind like a mantra as Jack’s sneakers pounded on the carpeted flooring of the diner. It was so goddamn late, Dee could be anywhere– Jack just prayed that she didn’t leave the building. His breathing was heavy, and he dreaded the fact that his underutilized limbs likely wouldn’t carry him for as long as he needed them to.
He felt dizzy. So, so very dizzy. Every sharp turn sent his mind whirling and twisting into another train of increasingly dark thoughts, aware that catastrophe could be moments away. But, by god, was he determined.
He ran past a row of tables, still cluttered from the party that went on only an hour ago, and pushed himself up onto the empty dining room stage. It was three or four feet tall, so he had to awkwardly maneuver himself up and tumble forwards to get on top of it. By the time he dusted himself off, Jack felt his lungs burning from overuse.
Pushing forward, the man jogged toward the back of the stage, lifting up the velvety back curtain with ease before slipping inside the employee-only zone. His frantic footsteps started to echo more and more as he traveled from the cluttered, fabric-floored dining room into the wooden planks and storage cabinets that resided in the back of Fredbear's.
Once more stopping to catch his breath, Jack decides to survey his surroundings.
It was your average off-limits area of an establishment, incredibly sparse in the decoration front, though efficient. A few flimsy chairs there, a first-aid kit there– a cleaning cart near the bathroom, a box of discarded, out-of-season decorations in the corner, though nothing seemed big enough for a five year old girl–
–a six year old girl to hide in. She's six, now.
Jack continued to look around, desperate for a lead.
The brick patterned walls were painted tan, a bumpy, popcorn-textured look to them. They were rough, akin to sandpaper if you brushed your hand against them. During work, Jack often traversed these very employee-only hallways to take smoke breaks and…. potentially rid himself of his night guard duties. He would usually shamble drowsily out of the security office, tracing his hand against the wall as he made his way through the back exit, already fumbling with a cigarette in hand.
There was no time for a smoke break, though. Especially not now.
Brushing off his rather distracting train of thought, Jack continued onward. Scanning the hallway, he made a split second decision to swerve to the left, into the bathroom to further his search.
He violently slammed open the employee restroom door, the violent miasma of mildew and mold overtaking his senses. Jack slid over and quickly bent down to look underneath the sink. Alas, no dice.
The panic-stricken adrenaline hadn’t worn down, yet, but his legs definitely had. They felt unnecessarily itchy, the type of itch that thrives underneath your skin, unable to ever scratch it away. His lungs felt heavy and tight, each breath sending a sharp pain through his chest and spreading through his torso.
As he stood back up, Jack accidentally glanced upward at himself in the mirror.
He felt his heart drop at the sight of himself, hazel irises wide and pupils small with fear. He saw tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over in that very moment. He looked exhausted, visible bags smeared underneath his lids that faded from a deep purple to a tawny, freckled beige.
Get a hold on yourself.
Jack's fingers tightened around the sink ledge as he tore his gaze away from himself, a sharp exhale forced from his mouth. He was just stepping away from the sink, making his way back out into the hallway, when–
Muffled screaming, angry and desperate.
The noise sent a new wave of adrenaline down his spine and directly into his lungs, losing all self-preservation instincts as he sped down the hallway, every step echoing loudly through the room. He followed the noise as best he could, made easier with the now-audible banging and yelling. A deep voice called out something Jack didn't quite catch.
Flying past the kitchen, storage, and security offices, the frantic noises became louder and louder. Shuffling, the occasional intelligible shouting from a young girl, and what sounded like metal clanking against metal.
The door at the end of the hallway was the workshop door, made obvious by the small, rectangular plaque hanging next to the entrance reading “TRUSTED PERSONNEL ONLY,” with a silver-plated wrench decal hanging underneath. Jack sprinted to the hall's end, elbowing open the door with little to no care for property damage, hitting the inside room with a resounding thwack as it ricocheted off of the wall.
“Jack!” A shaky, high-pitched voice called out, immediately making the man's eyes dart to the direction of the noise.
Back pressed against the wall, Dee was looking at her brother with wide, tear-filled eyes, her orangey-brown curls frizzy and falling over her face in a disheveled fashion. She picked at her scarf anxiously, digging her nails into the fabric as she continued to lock eyes with her sibling.
As Jack walked closer to get a better look at her, his attention was instead turned to the sound of heavy, metal-coated footsteps colliding with the tiled floor.
The fredbear animatronic stood tall, towering and imposing with its eyes staring directly at him. His mouth was positioned open slightly, revealing telltale pink flesh stretched into a frustrated grimace, teeth gnarly and sharp. In his grasp was a bone saw, serrated, sharp and already dotted in reddish-brown.
If it was rust, blood, or oil? Jack couldn't tell.
Each clank from the approaching suit-wearer made Dee flinch, sparkling eyes still fixated desperately on Jack.
Then, the bear stopped, eye-to-eye with the young man standing in the doorway.
Pushing upwards against the suit head, the diner's owner carefully brought it up, over, and off of himself, before pulling it down to hold it tightly in the crook of his non saw-wielding arm. White pupils bore into Jack's gaze, stark and distinctly inhuman looking.
“I'm sorry, Kennedy. I wasn't aware that you wished to start your shift early, today.” Henry spoke slowly, cloying tone almost completely covering the calloused way he ended his sentence. The pink-skinned man smiled sweetly, though his eyes betrayed his persona, shrunken pupils unmoving from Jack's irate gaze.
“What is she doing here?” Jack demanded sharply, gesturing towards Dee.
Henry paused, breathing deeply, before hopping right back into that saccharine facade.
“Ah, the girl. Yes– she was lost, you see? I was only trying to lead her back to her parents.”
Dee jolted up from her position on the floor, attempting to flee the scene. This caused Henry to step in front of her, holding out his arm slightly to prevent her from running out of the exit.
“Come on, now. Let's get you to the police station–” Henry sat the suit head down on the table next to him, wrenches and hammers cluttered around the surface. He then went to grasp Dee's hand roughly, tugging her towards him.
Jack sharply slapped the mechanical glove away from Dee's palm, stepping forward in between Henry and his sister.
“Ah, excuse me, what?” Henry questioned as soon as he was struck, a flash of anger briefly displayed on his face.
“That's my sister, you magenta fuck.”
Jack grumbled angrily, gently taking Dee's hand in his own.
Henry's expression faltered for a moment, eyes widening as he grappled for something to say.
“Ah, I suppose I didn't recognize her. I apologize for any…. inconveniences.” Henry spoke, eyes narrowing. “You have such a lovely sister. A real…feisty girl.”
Jack glanced back at Dee, who held her scarf up over her face for comfort. She seemed itching to leave, gently pulling her brother's arm toward the exit with large, worried eyes.
“...Thanks.” Jack grumbled, untrusting of the man, though grateful to have his sister back.
Jack audibly registered a crash from behind him, a creak, then a light thunk following the loud noise. The man instinctively ushered his sister closer to his side, before turning his head to survey the source of the noise. The door he had used to get into the workshop was off the hinges, being supported by a pair of plum-colored, scale-littered arms. Jack immediately recognized the man as his coworker, the secondary diner owner, William.
“Henry, did'ja need any help, uh– snuffin’ out that kid? I– I heard ya callin’ for me, a bit ago–” The strangely-hued man asked hesitantly, setting the now unhinged door onto the floor beside him. "I mean, I'm still not sure 'bout it, but—" William's words died in his throat as he only just now noticed the shorter security guard in the room, flinching as he realized his mistake.
“...Excuse me?” Jack asked tensely, tightening his hands into fists that left crescent marks in his palm. His gaze could burn a hole through the purple mechanic, eyes wide and pupils small.
Dee took the opportunity to tug on Jack's sleeve, grabbing his attention.
“He tried to hurt me! The pink one!” Dee shouted, emphasizing her accusation by pointing frantically at Jack's boss.
This caused Henry to falter once more, tensing up as he mentally scoured for the right words. His expression had regressed from a facsimile of a warm smile to a stone-cold glare in what must have been less than a millisecond.
“Now, Willy. Look what you've done.” Henry spoke, condescending and peeved. “Now, we'll have even more bodies to deal with. How utterly disappointing.” Henry sighed, eyes narrowing as he set his gaze on Jack. It sent an ice-cold shiver down his spine, though it was quickly replaced with a burning rage at the magenta figure. “William, take the girl. You can handle taking on a mere child, can you not?” The bear-suited man requested, turning back over to the table and firmly grasping the rusted saw from before.
“Y-yeah, ‘course.” William shakily nodded, visibly taking a moment to inhale deeply before flipping out a pocket knife.
Jack's heart was racing, mouth dry as he held Dee closer to him, grasping her hand and analyzing his surroundings for something– anything he could use to fight back with.
Just as Henry reeled his arm back, ready to slash at Jack, the man threw his fist out directly at his boss' chest, barely missing and making impact with his upper arm, instead. It hurt, Jack knew it would. He was punching a metal animatronic, he really had no idea what he was doing. As he was internally cursing himself for such an idiotic maneuver and preparing to have to use himself as a human meat shield for his sister's sake, he heard a click.
Henry groaned, stepping backwards, holding his left arm tightly with his free hand. He looked downward at the damage done, met with the sight of a steady trickle of blood seeping out from the cracks in the suit. Each click was followed by another, a chain reaction that caused the suit arm to clasp downward from Henry's upper arm to the tips of his fingers.
“--Goddamnit.” Henry cursed, wincing and swapping the saw to his uninjured arm.
Jack had no idea what he had done, but he could assume it was some sort of malfunction. The suit seemed to tighten around Henry's arm, slowly clicking further and further down to his hand.
The malfunctioning caused William to push past Jack and Dee, roughly shoving them to the side to check on his business partner. With concerned eyes, he inspected Henry's arm, exposing his back to Jack and Dee without a second thought.This caused Henry to grumble angrily, pushing William away with his forearm.
“What are you doing? I told you to get the child! You're useless, William!” He snapped, practically snarling.
Jack pounced on the chance to find a way out of this situation, now that his captors were distracted. He leaned over to check a shelf to the left of him, aimlessly looking around for something, anything he could use. His eye caught something reflective, and he immediately wrapped his hand around it.
A wrench. Not exactly... ideal.
Jack, however, didn't have time for “ideal.”
“Dee,” Jack turned to the girl, whispering in a low, yet firm tone. “Get under a desk, now.”
Letting go of his sister with a wrench in hand, Jack ran up and roughly slammed the tool against the back of William's neck. It was definitely the easiest target to aim for, considering its uncanny length. The scaled enigma of a man yelped in pain, clasping his thin, spindly fingers around the afflicted area on his neck. Turning his now-livid gaze to his pursuer, William smoothly and swiftly slashed his pocket knife upwards unto Jack's chest, ripping both the security guard's shirt and a pained noise from his vocal cords.
“You've got balls, nightguard.” William spat, eyes narrowing. His eyes had a faint, deeply uncanny glow to them– similar to Henry's, but unique in their own, gut-churning way. Less like ice, and more like a sharp blade.
Jack decided that maybe he should be focusing less on his soon-to-be murderer's eyes, and more on trying not to bleed out on the floor and leave his sister's last moments to be of crimson-soaked tiles and hopelessness. Holding his chest with his wrench-free hand, Jack cringed at the way blood ran down the light-blue fabric of his shirt. He took a shaky breath, doing his best to ignore the sharp, cutting pain in his upper torso. Gritting his teeth, Jack managed to thrust the wrench directly into William's eye, pushing it as deep as he possibly could and twisting it slowly, aiming to do the most damage he could possibly do to the aubergine man.
“Jesus, fuckin’–!” William hissed, grabbing hold of the wrench still grasped in Jack's hand and shoving it out of his eye. It was hard to tell the damage he'd done with the black scalera and all, even moreso when William reached a hand up to cup his eye.
Hiding underneath the workbench, Dee could do nothing but stare up at the bloodshed unfolding in front of her, eyes locked onto Jack's frame.
While his opponent was busy trying to regain his footing, Jack struck him once more across the face. An angry, indigo-blue mark immediately made itself present at the impact, causing William to topple backwards against a wall in brief delirium. Jack smirked at the sight, a wide, gap-toothed grin fueled by adrenaline and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could get both him and Dee out of this alive. As the security guard moved to (hopefully) knock out William, he felt a sudden, jagged edge cut through the skin of his back and down his upper arm. The pain was angrier than the shallow slice across his chest, as if the pain had teeth and wanted to eat him alive.
Turning around, Jack found himself face to face with a sharp-toothed, pink-faced smile.
“Don't get cocky, Kennedy.”
Before he even had time to react, Jack was violently tugged forward and slammed against a table, serrated saw blade pressed against his neck. His head was spinning, from both the fear and the sudden movement.
“I'm sure I can find a way to incorporate you into my next project, I'd hate to separate such a… lovely sibling bond.” Henry jeered, pressing the blade ever-so-slightly deeper into the pasty skin over Jack's jugular. Henry seemed to be treating Jack's imminent doom like some sort of game, studying his reactions and prolonging his death for what looked to be enjoyment.
“You're sick, you know that?” Jack hissed, wincing as blood started to bead up around the blade stuck in his neck. “You're a monster.” He gripped the wrench still tightly contained in his grasp tighter, searching for a miracle. At this point, his words sounded more like sobs than they did insults.
So, Henry responded, eyes bearing into Jack's soul.
“I'm so much more than you'll ever be.”
It made Jack sick to his stomach. He knew he was dying here, there was no way out. He was going to die as he lived, a failure of a brother. God, if only he had just watched her, just stayed by her, protected her–
“Get the hell away from my brother, you pinkish-purple dumb-dumb!”
Out of nowhere, a high-pitched, though absolutely livid voice piped up, words frantic with fear.
“Dee, get the fuck away, just– run!” Jack pleaded, attempting to elbow his way out of Henry's grasp with a reinvigorated sense of panic for his sister. What was she thinking?
Henry frowned and rolled his eyes at the child's voice, completely ignoring her. “William, lock both the front and back doors, I don't want the girl getting out.” He requested cooly, shooting a demanding glance at the aubergine character leaning against the wall, still rubbing his injured face. The previously addressed man nodded, groaning softly as he made his way to the room's exit, made easier with the fact that the workshop door was torn off and thrown aside into the hallway.
Henry turned his attention back to Jack, locking eyes with him. The security guard couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut, wishing to be anywhere but here.
“Any last words, Kenne–”
Henry was cut off with the sound of splashing, followed by the pitter-patter of liquid falling to the floor in drops.
“....God fucking damnit.”
Jack opened his eyes to see his captor frozen solid, suit dripping with some sort of transparent liquid. The same familiar clicks from earlier could be heard, though this time, it was a much louder cacophony of ticks, clacks, and snaps, synchronized as if it was some sort of graphic, mechanical symphony. Henry immediately released Jack from his grasp, falling backwards onto the floor as viscous blood flowed through the cracks in the Fredbear suit. The magenta of his face was quickly turning to a pale periwinkle, eyes wide with confusion and pain. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a pained, whispery gasp was able to exit his throat.
The culprit of the grotesque display stood behind the now dying man, holding an empty jug of vinegar.
With her pink dress scratched up and peppered with dirt, Dee sat the jug down with a blank expression, eyebrows raised and eyes unmoving. She was staring right through her victim, as if she wasn't really all there, watching him die like that. Dee blinked once, gaze switching to her brother, and tears immediately started to flood her vision. Hiccuping softly, the girl frantically ran up to Jack and practically dive-bombed into his chest.
“Fuck, kid– you…. you really saved us, huh?” Jack laughed, relief filling his chest as he happily picked his sister up into his arms, likely smearing blood all over her already ratty clothes.
Dee didn't even respond, soft sobs bubbling out of her throat and into Jack's shirt.
The violent stench of vinegar and blood melded together to create a vile, tangy malodor reminiscent of bile that seemed to reach into the back of Jack's throat. The wounds on his back and chest still stung, burning as Dee pressed herself close to him. Despite the overwhelming discomfort, Jack had the strong urge to close his eyes and fall asleep, just for a little bit.
Jack was taken out of his thoughts as the sound of footsteps became ever more audible.
The hair on his neck stood up as he held Dee closer to his chest, her sobbing quieting down into hiccups and sniffles as she turned her head to look up at him with wide, confused eyes.
“There's… the other one. The purple one.” Jack commented tersely, stiffening. He hadn't realized it until now, but he completely ditched the wrench in the midst of Henry's timely demise. He needed to find something to defend himself with, quick.
Jack let go of Dee and sat her down for now, walking behind her and kneeling down at the pale, pinkish body marinating in vinegar. He roughly tugged the saw still stuck in its grasp, figuring it would work well enough.The weight of the makeshift weapon gave a smidgen more confidence to the man, though he had to ignore the spots of blood that were surely his own dotted around the blade's edge. He turned around to face the doorway just as the footsteps grew to a halt, the purple perpetrator just a few meters away.
“Henry, did'ja get them? It's pretty quiet, so I jus’ assumed–” William stopped, dead in his tracks, as his eyes landed on the Fredbear suit crumpled to the floor, man inside. His mouth was frozen open, as if he was trying to say something, but just couldn't choke the words out. Breath hitching, the aubergine man's gaze trailed from the bloody mess of metal and flesh on the floor to the saw-wielding security guard carefully protecting sister with a firey look in his eyes.
“Don't move, you purple fuck.” Jack spat, cautiously moving closer. He held his stolen weapon up to William as a threat, expression cold and angry.
“You– you fuckin’ KILLED ‘im!” William yelled, arms raised with a scowl. “You'll– you'll fuckin’ pay for this, you–” He grumbled, gritting his razor-sharp teeth and flicking his knife out once more, metal glinting in the dim light.
“Shut– just shut up! I'm done. I'm done with this!” Jack hissed, face contorting angrily into a grimace. He slashed forward with the saw, catching William off guard and causing a trail of indigo-blue blood to erupt from the now-present gash on his chest.
“Oh, boo-fuckin'-hoo, my god-damned child-murdering buddy got a taste of his own medicine! Oh, boy, however will I find a purpose, now?” Jack mocked, sarcastic tone meshing into one of aggression as grabbed the plum-colored man by his collar, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall.
“Especially when I can't go just fuckin– murdering toddlers,– or some shit without him. Woe is me, woe is me and my god-damned furry restaurant.” Jack chided him, eyes narrowing in absolute hatred at the man he had in his grasp. William dropped his knife as he was held up, completely frozen, just waiting for the moment he would be forced to embrace death once more. However, that moment never came. Instead, he was roughly dropped onto the floor, a dull pain crashing through his tired limbs as he was quickly met with the cold, hard ground.
“Shit–” William cursed, holding the bleeding gash on his chest, looking up at the livid man who, despite everything, granted him mercy.
“If I ever see you again, I'll tie your intestines into god damned balloon animals.” Jack grumbled, before turning his attention to his sister.
Dee grasped her brother's hand as it was offered, and the two silently walked out from the room, leaving the slaughtered devil and his purple lackey to sit in heavy silence.
The Kennedy household was quiet.
Save for the gentle rustling of bandages and the occasional hiss of pain as antiseptic was applied to open wounds, it was quiet.
Jack sat in silence, focused eyes and deft hands cleaning up the scratches that littered Dee's arms. She didn't meet his gaze, orange fringe hanging loosely over her face in a way that hid her expression. He pressed a warm, damp rag on her left arm, soaking up the blood. He then gently slathered an antibacterial ointment over the wounds, Dee to flinching at the uncomfortable sensation.
“Ack– Sorry, Deedee.” Jack murmured, heart aching at the way his sister reeled her arm back for a second, shaken up.
“T's okay.” Dee mumbled, playing with the hem of her pink, frilly nightgown. The clothes she was wearing beforehand were immediately thrown in the garbage upon arriving back home, save for the scarf which she insisted she just had to keep.
Jack had on just a simple black tank and sweatpants, bandages visibly wrapped around his chest and gauze around his arm.
“I'm glad he didn't hurt you too badly.” Jack commented thoughtfully, voice warm as he applied dinosaur patterned band-aids to her arm. They were the only types she'd ever wear, really.
“Mhm.” Dee agreed softly, looking up at Jack through her messy, orange bangs.
“You were really tough back there. Real strong.” He continued, motioning for her to lift up her other arm. “You really saved my ass back there, y'know?” Jack gave a hesitant, gap-toothed smile to his sister, gently moving to clean up the wounds on her right arm.
“I guess…” She shrugged her shoulders, averting her eyes from her brother's gaze. “I dunno.”
“Aw, c'mon. What do you mean, ‘I don't know?” Jack gently chided, wiping down Dee's other arm of any sort of blood or dirt. “You coming in and drenching that pink asshole, like some sort of– uh, weird… discolored pickle…. was super awesome."
That got a snort out of the girl, causing her to lift up her free hand and cover her mouth as she tried not to giggle at the comment. “I– snrk.. I didn't even know it would, like, go all clampy and hug ‘im to death! I just thought it would distract him, I guess.” She tapped her pointer finger against the side of her chin, head tilted to the side.
“Hug him to death, hm? That's a…. colorful way of putting it. I guess it isn't too far off, thinking about it.” Jack commented, applying the antibacterial ointment onto her scrapes once more. Dee didn't seem to notice this time, too occupied with giggling incessantly.
“Jeez, Dee, don't go giggling about hugging-related deaths, or I'll have to go and give you one!” Jack warned, putting on a false, angry parent type of facade and poking her nose playfully. This got Dee to go still for a moment, processing her next move, which allowed Jack to quickly finish up patching each one of her scratches with a dinosaur band-aid.
“Hey, wait– you can't hug me to death!” Dee accused him, fighting through the continuous urge to start laughing again. “It'd be against the law! That's– uhm, murder of the– uhh…. one of the dee-grees!”
“It's murder of the second degree, yes. Good job, Deedee.” Jack lightly patted her on the head, getting her to beam brightly at him, showing off her newly missing canine. She apparently lost that tooth during school earlier today, because of “personal business” she had with some “Charlotte” kid. Jack was going to ask her about it, but he figures now just isn't the time. Currently, it's hug-attack-o-clock.
“I'm still going to hug you to death, regardless of legal repercussions.” Jack stated, deadpan, giving Dee a second to process before wrapping his arms around her suddenly, giggles erupting from the small girl.
“Hey! I- hehe, I'll call the cops!” Dee shouted, flailing weakly as Jack lifted her up off the ground and into his arms, carrying her against his chest.
“Nuh-uh, no you don't.” Jack retorted playfully, walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway with her in his arms. “Law enforcement has yet to take me into custody, dearest sister, and I intend to keep it that way.” He emphasized by gently bopping Dee on the nose, snickering.
“Wh--what do those words even mean?” Dee questioned, crossing her arms. “I bet you're just making some of those up!” She scoffed, staring her beloved brother down with a playfully angry expression.
“Well, to put it short, It basically means; them cops can BLOW IT OUT THEIR ASS!” Jack pumped one of his fists in the air as he yelled, mistakenly punching the unfortunately low ceiling in the process. Jack to reeled his arm back, quietly cursing as he shook his hand, attempting to wave off the pain. Dee, however, found the situation simply wonderful, usual giggles becoming uproarious cackles of delight, instead.
“.....Did I, uh, dent the ceiling?” Jack murmured sheepishly, looking above himself to find that the ceiling was, in fact, dented. “....Ah, fuck.”
“Pfft, what happened to ‘them cops can blow it out their ass?” Dee quipped, snickering as Jack's eyes went wide, pausing for a moment as he looked down at the little girl in his arms.
“Jesus, you're ruthless, shortstack.” Jack rolled his eyes, chuckling lightly. “Also, don't ever repeat the things I say in public, in case you were planning on it. I just realized how impressionable kids can be.” Jack suggested, walking further down the hallway and opening the door to Dee's room.
Out of ideas on what to say next, Dee just stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at her brother, generally aiming to annoy him.
“How rude. I can't believe you, Deena.” Jack playfully scolded her, scoffing at her heinous crimes. “You're sentenced to one-THOUSAND years of bedtime for your actions.” He stated, walking into his sister's room and marching dramatically over to her bed.
“Hey, wait, I thought you were against the law! Why are you suddenly sentencing me?” Dee questioned, squeaking as she was dropped (rather roughly, that was Jack's mistake..) into her bed, complete with little pink polka-dotted sheets.
“I'm a complicated man, okay?” He held up his palms in front of himself defensively, grinning when that got yet another chuckle out of the girl.
“Alright, maybe not one thousand years, but ten hours will have to do, mkay?” Jack suggested, already grabbing the blanket bunched up at the end of Dee's bed and straightening it out, dragging the cover up and over her legs.
“Okaaaay…..” Dee dejectedly agreed, instinctively reaching out for her Fredbear plush. As she pulled it back towards her, however, a brief, panicked expression flashed upon her face, causing her to drop it at the foot of her bed.
“Ah, uhm….” She mumbled, blinking the fear from her eyes and looking up at her brother for some sort of answer.
“...How about I just take this little guy for now, yeah?” Jack offered, bending down to gently pick up the doll.
“No!” Dee squeaked out, reaching her arms in front of her to try and grab the doll.
“Dee, if he makes you feel unsafe, it's alright to–” Jack attempted to speak, before the very frantic girl cut him off.
“It's not his fault, though! That pink guy– he was controlling Fredbear, right? Fredbear wouldn't ever hurt a kid! I was just– uh, startled, I think…” Dee explained passionately, waving her arms around and grasping at the air to try and silently request for her plush.
Jack was visibly surprised, taking a moment to form his next sentence in his head, first.
“....Yeah, Fredbear wouldn't do that. You're right.” He eventually settled on, giving a warm, close-mouthed smile. It was a tad sad, but it was comforting nonetheless. He gently placed the doll into Dee's eagerly awaiting arms, who immediately welcomed the plush with an eagerness that, if shown to a living, breathing human, would almost certainly result in their respiration being completely cut off.
“Alright, kid, you gotta sleep, now.” Jack stated, and at that, Dee gave a short nod. Pulling the covers up and over her chest, the girl got as comfortable as she possibly could.
Jack smiled fondly, before pulling the chain on Dee's bedside lamp to turn it on. It was pink, (like most of the items in her room, really.) and had little white stars embroidered onto the sides. As it was turned on, stars would shine through the white patches of fabric on the lamp cover and illuminate the shadowed room in a cosmic pattern. Jack remembers having something similar, when he was younger, but it was– like, basketballs instead of stars, or some shit like that. Jack didn't even like basketball.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Jack stared up at the illuminated ceiling, and then down at the green eyes gazing in his general direction.
“Night, Deedee.” Jack said.
“G'night, Jack..” She murmured, face already half-concealed by her blanket.
The man then made his way out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. He let out a long exhale, letting himself lean his back against a wall for support. The hallway was relatively bare, cream colored walls bare save for one or two photographs of the siblings.
They didn't have much, really. Not after Peter moved out. Not after Peter had left them, all for some damned girl. God, did Peter even know what he was doing? Leaving Dee solely in Jack's care? Jack had almost gotten her killed with his incompetence. Don't forget the two fucking jobs he had to work, all in an attempt to give Dee some semblance of a decent childhood.
And you just had to go and fuck that up, huh? You can't afford therapy, you can't fix the mental damage that has been done to you and her tonight.
Jack balled his hands into fists, trying to calm his seething.
Peter just wanted to live with the love of his life, he was trying his best. I mean, he still babysits Dee every so often! In his goddamn two-story house, of course…
He was getting nowhere. Jack knew this.
He decided to suck it up and make a beeline for the red rotary phone they had sitting in the dining room. Even with the resentment he held for his brother, Jack didn't feel right just.. brushing it off and never telling him.
Picking the cool handset up and holding it in his palm, Jack took a deep breath and dialed the familiar string of numbers, the one belonging to yet two more members of the Kennedy family. Not that there were many left alive, really.
The phone rang, and Jack just had to sit there, heart picking up as he waited for the other end to pick up.
“Hello..?” The voice on the other end had, in fact, picked up. “This is Peter.”
“Alright, haha, uh– It's Jack. I have… a lot to talk about. How much time do you have?” Jack attempted to keep his voice steady, foot tapping against the kitchen tile as he audibly took another deep breath.
“Oh, uhh…. I'd say I have till’ eleven? I don't have work tomorrow, so…” Peter responded, and the sound of flipping through paper was heard on Jack's end “Alright, say what you need to say, then.”
“It's… concerning something that happened at Dee's party, earlier today.”