Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Solar pulled the shirt off quickly, folding it both out of ingrained habit and a nervous tic. He needed to hide it. The gentle white and sky blue fabric, thick and soft against his rough hands, almost calmed his raw nerves. A single star looked up at him, the words “Superstar Daycare” in a pleasant font, holding more meaning than anyone could ever know. A sense of belonging beckoned him from deep within those letters, like a foreign god’s call or a distant light shining upon his dark world. He couldn’t help how he smiled down at the shirt, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

The surreal feeling was rendered irrelevant when he heard the door slam open behind him. His back went ramrod straight, the shirt clutched in a sudden death grip in his hands.

Bells jingled like a death knell, felted feet making not a sound upon the tile. “A closet this time, virus?” a low, demeaning voice chuckled with dark, gravelly venom. Solar ticked his fans down a setting to stop them from whirring loudly in his growing panic. He reset his voicebox softly. “My, my, we really like hiding, don’t we?” 

Dull, blue fingers rested upon his shoulder, and claws extended to drum slowly against the metal. Solar’s servos audibly clicked as he tensed. His hands were shaking. He locked the joints to force the pitiful jingling to stop. He could only stare down at the stretched fabric of his shirt with shaking pupils, unable to look anywhere else.

“What do we have here?” Moon drawled mockingly, his hand sliding up to brush against the bottom of Solar’s faceplate. Solar’s ventilations hitched, his fans ticking up a notch without his consent, and it took every ounce of willpower in him to not lift his head and flinch away. Claws scraped across the silicone faintly. Then, slowly, oh so slowly, Moon reached past with his other hand, grasping the shirt. His hand came around Solar’s, a cloud white and blue thumb rubbing along Solar’s black and red one, then brushing against pastel blue fabric. Solar felt a cold, metal chest come flush against his back. The hand on his faceplate tightened, and Solar had to turn off his voicebox to prevent himself from gasping in pain as claws sunk into the silicone, forcing his head back until it thunked lightly against the side of Moon’s. He pulled his rays in, away from Moon's face, on instinct, desperately wishing not to escalate the situation. He could see Moon’s faceplate lean into view out of the corner of his eye. “And when did I say you could have possessions, byproduct…?” His voice was silky smooth despite its gravelly quality, a low whisper of danger to it that made Solar’s casing crawl. The claws bit in deeper, and Solar squeezed his eyes briefly shut as claws clicked against deeper metal. The shirt was pulled on, and Solar barely remembered to unlock his hands to allow Moon to yank it from his grasps. “Answer me.”

“Y-you didn’t,” Solar stammered, forcing his voicebox back online and speaking with as much steady control as he could muster and as softly as he could. Still, his voice shook. Red optics bore into his own as Moon pulled Solar’s head back and forced it towards him. He felt like he was inches away from toppling over backwards.

“Were you trying to hide it from me?” he asked, his voice a little too bright and his grin a little too sharp.

Solar reset his voicebox with a soft click, forcing his body to stop fucking shaking. “I-I-I was trying t-to put it away. I-It’s a–” He cut himself off, tensing. A gift? He couldn’t say that. Moon would ask who. He couldn’t tell him.

Moon’s faceplate ticked a few notches to the right, then back to the left, the bell on his nightcap ringing quietly with the jerky motions. “A what?” he asked with a singsong drawl. A cackle rose from his voicebox, high and insane. Solar’s rays retracted further. His faceplate was abruptly released, and he found himself falling to the ground as Moon yanked away from him, then held the shirt out with a grin, letting it unfold and hang for Solar to see. “Cute shirt,” he said mockingly, red optics eyeing down at its design. His claws sank into the fabric slightly. “Too bad no one owns it.” 

Solar gritted his teeth, watching mutely as Moon ripped his claws down through the fabric. White and blue shreds fell to the ground as Moon opened his hands, grinning once more. “Oops.” Then, with a maniacal cackle, he turned and left the room. Briefly, his silhouette paused in the doorway. Red optics bore into Solar’s once more. “Next time, it won’t just be the shirt.” With a smile, he walked away.

Solar stared at the doorway, listening to the departing jingle of little bells. A hiss of steam slowly escaped through his vents, a shaking beginning to take hold in his frame as he eased the tight lock he’d kept over his joints. Numb optics slowly dragged over to the scraps on the floor. He leaned forward, hands bracing against the floor, then, finding his legs unsteady, crawled towards it on his hands and knees. He scooped up a piece in his hand, looking at the “Su - D” that used to start words. He should have expected this. He huffed softly under his breath, a painful mirth welling in his chest as he let the fabric drop back to the pile. He should have known. Him, of all people, getting to keep something? Ha! The fabric slipped from his hand. His gaze followed it.

A trembling hand slowly lifted to his faceplate, and he winced. Four holes were dug into the bottom of the red crescent of his face. His gaze refocused on the fabric. He should clean up the mess before Moon came back and questioned why the hell he was still sitting on the damn floor. The trembling increased. Solar’s eyes narrowed, a quiet curse uttered under his breath as he cycled cool air through his systems methodically while slowly beginning to gather fabric into his arms. 

After a few minutes, he rose, standing until he was certain he felt steady enough to walk. He crept to the doorway, optics flitting up and down the hallway before he slowly stepped out. He made his way towards the trashcans next to the Superstar Arcade. Then, he hesitated. His gaze fell, and he looked at the pile he carried. Confliction rooted him to the spot for a painfully long moment, insidious voices whispering in his mind that Moon could come walking back the hallway any moment. With a final quick glance, he ducked into an old, dusty side-room, dumped the fabric into a locker no one ever used, then stepped out, brushing his hands over the trash can, optics darting side to side. He let out a shuddering ex-vent as he found himself still conspicuously alone. Slowly, he began walking back up the hallway, towards the entrance to the Daycare. He… needed to make sure the footage didn’t show him keeping the scraps. Moon would kill him.

Chapter Text

~ Pre-Nexus Moon, first encounter since the "incident" ~

Solar walked down the center lane of the Daycare, tiredly rubbing the joint in his neck as he approached the security desk with his friend behind it.

“Hey, Solar,” Moon called absently, attention trained on whatever he was working on.

“Hey,” Solar grunted in return, hiding the exhaustion in his voice behind his usual low rasp. “What’re you working on?” He began to walk around the desk, keeping his eyes down so as not to snoop.

“Eh, nothing much, just some stupid pro–…gr– holy shit, what happened to your face?”

Solar inadvertently tensed upon Moon’s sudden exclamation, optics training on the netting past the desk. Silently pulling in cool air through his vents, Solar turned with an awkward smile, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, funny story…” he said with what he hoped was a convincing, sheepish laugh. “Was working on those… those carts in front of the Daycare, in my dimension,” he began, thinking fast. “And I was testing one of them, and it blew some screws when I started the engine.”

Moon’s brow furrowed with incredulity, and he blinked a couple times. “Those things turn on?”

“Well, uh– yeah–?” Solar said with a frown. Did they not, here?

Moon shook his head hard, nightcap flapping and bell ringing. “Sorry, beside the point– Jesus Christ, man, how’d’ja manage that?” Concerned white and black optics were focused on the damage.

Solar let out a long “uuh” before giving an unconvincing shrug, inwardly cursing his poor story. His hands clenched as Moon rose from his chair, and he locked his expression as the lunar animatronic leaned closer, inspecting the four holes.

“I swear,” Moon muttered under his breath, “you are both the best and worst mechanic I have ever met in my entire life…”

Solar reset his voicebox, then unlocked his expression to try at a feeble smile. “… Hey, a… uh, a first time for everything, huh…?” He trailed off with an awkward chuckle.

Moon’s eyes lifted to meet Solar’s gaze, and Solar quickly looked away. He heard the other sigh, practically feeling the eyeroll directed towards him. “Come on, let’s go get your faceplate fixed up, idiot…” A blue and silver hand came around Solar’s wrist, and it took all of Solar’s willpower not to lock himself to his spot. Instead, he let Moon lead him out of the Daycare, trying to convince himself the whole way there that Moon hadn’t seen right through his lie.

~ Earth, first encounter since the "incident" ~

“Oh, you’re not wearing your shirt,” Earth commented softly, the surprise in her always gentle voice almost hiding the distinct disappointment Solar knew was there.

Solar tensed, locking his rays to prevent them from giving away his reaction. “Ah… Must’ve forgotten it,” he chuckled, smiling at her apologetically. “Sorry.”

Earth was immediately waving a hand at him, shaking her head. “No, it’s quite alright! You don’t even have to wear it. It’s yours, you can do what you want with it.” Always, that smile remained. Solar didn’t believe it for a second, but he didn’t pry for her true feelings.

“I like wearing it,” he promised. “Really, Earth, I do. I guess I just forgot to put it on today or something.” He let his gaze avert, rubbing the back of his faceplate with another quiet chuckle. He prayed she wouldn’t catch on to his little lie. She couldn’t know that her wonderful, heartfelt gift had been torn to shreds without a second thought or a batted eye.

Earth’s smile changed, somehow, a… brighter note coming to it. Her eyes sparkled. “You really like it? Promise?”

He smiled back at her. “Promise.”

~ Solar, a week after the "incident" ~

Solar sat in a dimly lit party room, only a single, dinky, star-themed lamp he’d pulled out of storage to light the space. He sat on the floor; he’d chosen an inconspicuous party room that hadn’t been used in a few months and, consequently, lacked any furniture to its name. The carpet beneath him was ratty at best, and the walls looked monotonously lacking of any particular pattern or quality.

Over his knee were the scraps of the shirt Moon had shredded a week prior. Half of them were on the floor beside him. He was hunched over, a corner pulled more over his lap as he slowly threaded a needle between two pieces. All he could hear was the faint hum of the plex’s air conditioning. The silence was oppressive. His audials were strained for even the faintest hint of that quiet jingle that would warn him of Moon’s approach.

It was two in the morning. After spending hours at the desk, he’d snuck off with the alibi of needing to make some repairs– Moon had hardly believed him, moments away from digging claws into his feeble neck before seeming to find an unusual moment of calm and shoving him into a wall instead, leaving and stating that he didn’t give two shits where Solar was –then went to retrieve the scraps, some thread, and a needle and slipped into the party room without so much as a sound.

His hands were nearly too large to handle the needle, but he steadily sewed the shirt back together nonetheless. The damage was obvious, despite his delicate touch. He’d been wracking his processors for a convincing story to explain it away for hours, now. Though… He supposed the true story wasn’t all that surprising, was it? His eyes narrowed as he tied off the thread, then reached to begin attaching another piece. No, it wasn’t surprising at all.

A ping rang through his head, and a red low-battery warning blinked in the top right corner of his vision. He was at ten percent. Solar groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt the subtle slowing of some of his processes as his systems reacted to the low battery. He hated the feeling. He dismissed the warning. He… He could charge once he went to work on the computers in the Daycare. It was easy to plug in behind the desk with a simple extension cord. It should get his charge high enough to handle another day of work in the Daycare.

~ Earth, first meeting since fixing the shirt ~

“Your shirt…!” Earth gasped softly. Solar cringed at the shocked quality to her wide eyes, and the worried furrow that came to her brow as a gentle, infinitely caring gaze was lifted to him. “What happened, Solar?”

He hated lying, he oh so hated lying to her… His voicebox reset, and he drummed his fingers against the back of his hand. “Got, uh… Got caught in some machinery. Put it back together the best I could,” he said, and he found that he could hardly mutter the excuse as his optics turned away almost against his will, shame welling up in his chest. It… was mostly true… If one counted his dimension’s Moon as the machinery.

He heard a soft gasp from in front of him. “Oh, Solar…!” He saw from the top of his averted vision her foot stepping forward. “Dear, you could’ve… You could’ve just asked for another…!”

Solar kept his eyes solidly downturned. Ask for another? Heh… Why, when he’d been the reason it got destroyed? One didn’t just ask for another gift. His hands tightened around each other, blunt fingertips rubbing against chipped paint and scraped metal. She’d gotten this shirt custom made for him, for whatever reason. It was special. His eyes flitted to the shirt, following the lines of stitch-work he had done for three long nights.

Earth seemed to take his silence as permission to continue. “Solar… Why didn’t you tell me?” Despite the gentle quality of her voice, the question made his servos lock up for a long moment.

“It was fine,” he responded tightly. “It just needed some… some sewing back together.”

Earth was right in front of him, now. He refused to lift his gaze to meet hers. Two brown hands came into his view, palms up and hands offered out to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, instincts urged him to take a step back. Tension built up in his leg as he resisted that urge.

“Solar… Can you look at me?”

Solar’s eyes narrowed. Air cycled quietly in through his vents. The shirt– a ratty piece of junk at this point, he’d ruined the damn thing –shifted against his casing with the intake. His rays slid in and out slightly. Then, he forced his faceplate to tilt up, his neck joint clicking audibly with the tension in it. Cerulean eyes gazed upon him, a gentleness to Earth’s expression that took Solar aback.

“May I get you a new shirt, Solar?” she asked softly.

Solar frowned slightly. She… actually wanted to? Of course she does, idiot, it’s probably embarrassing for her to see this scrapheap on you, he internally chastised himself. She was just too kind to admit it. “Earth, you really don’t have to,” Solar insisted.

“I want to,” Earth replied with a smile that Solar really was beginning to feel like he shouldn’t be on the receiving end of. Her hands remained extended towards him, as though forgotten there in their welcoming gesture. “You deserve better than this.”

Solar’s brow furrowed, and he scanned her expression. She actually believed that. A deep part of him squeezed in painful longing for her sweet, sweet naivety. If only she knew… His gaze slid slightly to the side, the eye contact too much to bear. A hand subconsciously came to rub at his arm, brushing against the sleeve, a hand-done seamline making itself known against the open joints of his fingers. “Earth, really, it’s fine. I don’t mind it.”

There was a long beat of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Earth’s head tilt. He couldn’t see her expression. He tried hard not to. “… Are you sure?” she asked softly.

“It’s fine.”

The silence stretched longer, too long, and Solar forced down the discomfort welling up in his chest. With another silent intake of cool air, he returned his gaze to her, wearing a tired smile. Worried eyes met his, confliction dancing in Earth’s expression. After a moment, she returned the smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her hands fell away from him, clasping in front of her.

“Alright.”

Chapter Text

Eclipse sat in the small, undecorated room. The space was furnished only with a short, yellow and green table, four orange children’s chairs, and six blue shelves along the walls. It was a sensory room of sorts, a quiet space for kids to draw in if the Daycare became too overwhelming. According to the roster, a human attendant was supposed to be here. Fazbear hadn't used the room in years. He used it almost every night.

His eyes were downturned. The room was quiet, the harsh ceiling lights turned off and a lamp on the table giving off a warm glow. It was calm, like his own personal pocket closed off from the rest of the world. The only sound was the soft hum of his fans and the air conditioning of the building. His bells jingled softly as his hand worked at the casing of his arm, a screwdriver held in red and black fingers. The sound was brassier than Moon’s deathly cold ring, the bells of lesser quality. Still, he preferred it.

His red wrist ribbon, the fabric ratty and smudged with old oil, was resting on his leg, removed from the arm he was opening. One last screw came out, rolling gently on the floor as he set it next to the others. The screwdriver was discarded beside the handful, and he pulled his casing off gingerly. It always felt odd, that rush of chill air against his inner mechanisms whenever he removed casing. It wasn’t as unbearable in his arms as it was in his chest cavity or the back of his head.

Slowly, he rested the plate to balance atop the opposite knee, eyes never leaving his arm. He reached in with two fingers, tucking them under the remaining casing until he felt velvety fabric. He pinched, watching as a smooth red ribbon, surface harboring a lovely fabric shine, was pulled, long and clean, out of where he kept it tucked in his arm. Two golden bells rang, their sound bright and gentle, like the voices of little angels. Eclipse delicately lifted the fabric, his gaze trailing along it.

He could almost hear Sun’s voice, a gentle jingle akin to the bells he used to wear. A faint echo danced in the back of his mind, so very close and yet too distant to hear. He rubbed his thumb across the smooth ribbon, air slowly pulling in through his vents. His eyelids drooped, his optics dimming until he could hardly see their shine against the lovely red fabric. He cradled the ribbon to his chest, moving the discarded plate to the floor and pulling his knees up further. His back slid down against the wall, metal hump causing him to thump back slightly, his rays straining slightly as his faceplate came at the old wall with a slight angle, scraping quietly as he slid down.

The room was dim, the shadows not closing in but merely embracing the gentle silence. He heard no distant bells or shouting voices. No screens glared. No kids screamed or yanked or hit. No code urged him to tear his claws that he no longer had through something, anything, even his own casing if he had to – 

No… No, in here, it was just him and Sun. He cupped the ribbon in his hands. Him, Sun, and a thousand little memories, lost to time but never, never lost to him. He closed his eyes, squeezing the ribbon back to his chest and listening to those memories of simpler times, times when he’d only had to worry about how they would share the body that day or if he would need to take over a few Daycare duties so Sun could rest. Times when Moon had been better, less cold, less calculating, less cruel . Times when they’d almost been something akin to a family.

Just as they had always been meant to be.

Chapter Text

Shit.

That’s how his day started. An abrupt online-ing of his systems, followed by a spike of panic as he realized he’d fallen asleep behind the security desk in the Daycare. Then, he spotted Moon further in the Daycare, red optics piercing through the darkness, falling down from the balcony. Balls clattered, plastic and noisy, invisible in the early-morning shadows of the closed Daycare. Bells. God , the bells. He heard them ring, shrill and clear. Red optics came back into view, and Eclipse knew he was screwed.

“Byproduct,” came the sharp voice. The dark tone was enough to bring on a subconscious impulse within Eclipse to extend his claws. This body didn’t have claws. Hell, it had nothing defensible about it. He was nothing but a sardine can with legs.

Eclipse rose from his chair, rays creaking as he forced them to straighten. He put on a calm, neutral expression, optics following Moon’s approaching form. Metal glinted in the dark, reflecting the bright Sunnydrops screen behind him. Despite the gentle yellow and blue glow, Moon’s presence was still imposing. Eclipse stood straight, turning to face Moon as the lunar animatronic came behind the desk. He tensed, his expression straining slightly as Moon came in front of him, hand immediately grabbing tightly at his neck. His faceplate was forced close to Moon’s.

“ What are you doing?” Moon demanded. Red optics flitted to the side, noting the dark screen of the computer he’d been at. Then, a dangerous look was levelled upon Eclipse, Moon’s eyes narrowing. “Nothing?”

Eclipse wracked his mind for a plausible excuse. Something told him nothing would get him out of this, though.

Moon seemed to take his silence as agreement. His claws tightened around Eclipse’s neck, and he felt the metal creak painfully. Moon’s head clicked to the side, nightcap jingling. “When did I say you could rest ?”

“I can’t get anything done if my battery is dead,” Eclipse pointed out, his voice hushed but steady. It did not match the buzz of panic he felt in his chest.

Moon raised a brow, optics boring into Eclipse’s. “Do you think I care about your feeble little battery ?”

No. “How am I supposed to work if I’m nonfunctional?” He was screwed, not spineless. Might as well put up a plausible argument if he was going to get his casing shredded anyways.

Moon snorted, grinning. Eclipse hated that grin with a burning passion. A quiet, insidious voice in the back of his mind suggested he rip it off Moon’s face. He shot it down immediately, the thought almost making him laugh. “It would do us both a favor, virus .”

Us both? Hilarious. The claws in his neck seemed like a silent reminder, now. Eclipse observed Moon with narrowed eyes, weighing self-preservation against his growing desire to stand up for himself for once in his sorry life. Self-preservation won. Damn. Eclipse’s gaze averted slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Moon’s low chuckle sent a metaphorical shiver down Eclipse’s spine. “It won’t, hm?” Claws tightened threateningly, dangerously. “Yeah, I think you’re right…”

Eclipse’s world turned sideways as he was thrown back against the desk, the back of his faceplate hitting hard enough to make his vision flicker and his audio feeds briefly devolve into static. Red arms shot out, catching him as he fell to the ground. Moon advanced, claws glinting in the electronic light. Eclipse scrambled back slightly, panic shooting through his core despite his previous knowledge that this would happen. 

“Moon, wait–”

Moon’s head tilted to the side, a sharp smile adorning his faceplate. Then, with a cackle, he lunged forward. Eclipse lifted his arms to shield his head. Bells rang, brassy against shrill.

Well, shit .

Eclipse limped through empty halls, making his way down to Parts and Services. A trail of oil was left behind him, leading all the way back to the Daycare. He would have to clean that later, unless he could force a STAFF bot to do it. Those bots had never particularly liked Daycare Attendant models. All the more problems for him, he supposed…

His arm hung limply, metal casing shredded and sharp. His pants were torn, something he would have to patch up later, and his ankle was at an odd angle, tingling pain running up his leg with every step. A scratch ran up the bottom of his faceplate, silicone hanging in clumps. His frilled collar was nowhere to be seen, and his chest was scraped and dented, a few holes torn through the flimsy casing where Moon’s claws had landed.

Moon had had a field day. His eyes narrowed as another shot of pain ran through his leg and arm. Damnit, he needed to fix this in the next hour, then hurry back to the Daycare to prepare for opening. His day had just gotten exponentially busier. This is what he got for passing out behind the security desk. He silently cursed his battery and its poor efficiency. Even now, he only sat at forty percent after a night of charging. He knew that percentage wouldn’t drop much throughout the day, though, as long as he was conscious of his actions. He could plug in tonight while he was working on Sun’s code.

Eclipse’s gaze shot up as he heard the distant thump of metal feet. Further ahead, down the hallway, he had nowhere to hide– His eyes narrowed as he scanned for a closet to duck into until the animatronic passed. Soft humming reached his audials, a feminine voice, high and jovial. Eclipse’s grip around his shredded arm tightened, metal biting against his palm.

Purple eyes landed upon him, and Eclipse grimaced as he heard a surprised gasp. Chica stood at the end of the hallway, white and green hands lifted to her beak and eyes wide. He did not want to deal with this right now…

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

Eclipse watched with narrowed eyes, rays retracting slightly, as the chicken animatronic ran up to him. Hands shot forward, then hesitated, hovering in front of her as though she hadn’t the slightest clue what to do. Eclipse watched her sharply.

“I’m fine ,” Eclipse replied warily.

Chica tilted her head. Her “feathers” shook with the motion, waving back and forth a few times with a mechanical creak. Worried optics continued to look him over. “You don’t look fine,” she pointed out helpfully, putting hands on her hips to eye him. “Who are you, anyways?”

Well, that explained her lack of hostility. “Eclipse.”

Her head cocked the other way. “Oh, you’re one of those Daycare Attendants!” She presented a hand out. “I’m Chica!” She hesitated, eyes turning to his hands, one limp and the other occupied with holding his arm. She retracted her hand. “You should go down to Parts and Services.”

What do you think I was doing? “I was heading that way,” Eclipse agreed gruffly, gaze turning over her shoulder. He really, really didn’t have time for this.

“I can help!” she chirped lightly.

Eclipse turned a narrowed look to her. “I can get there just fine on my own.”

Chica hesitated, beak clicking as she looked him over. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” he asked sharply.

“Nope!” She shook her head, smiling brightly as though the tense note of his voice was lost upon her. She tapped the bottom of her beak, glancing away thoughtfully. “I mean, I was going to the kitchen, but that can wait, I guess…” Eclipse blinked, some incredulity rising in his processors. That feeling only increased when she reached out, patting his good shoulder and chirping, “Come on! Parts and Services, let’s go!”

Silently, he began walking again. Chica followed closely.

“You’re leg’s pretty messed up.”

“I’m aware.”

“What happened?”

Eclipse’s eyes narrowed.

Chica frowned slightly at his silence. “O…kay, don’t share.” Quickly, she was smiling again. “Do you like pizza?”

He shot her a glance, frowning. “… Pizza.”

She nodded enthusiastically, fists pumping in the air slightly. “Yeah, pizza!”

Eclipse eyed her. “I… don’t eat.”

Chica cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”

He blinked incredulously. “Why not?” he echoed. “Because I don’t have a mouth? Or a stomach?”

“Looks like you have a mouth, to me.”

“That is a sheet of plastic. It doesn’t open .”

“Well that’s boring,” Chica muttered, slumping slightly, her optics drooping. Her arms hung down as they walked, swinging lazily.

“Yeah, well, tell that to whoever designed us.” Having a normal conversation felt strange. It had been a while since he’d had one of those.

It didn’t take long to reach Parts and Services. Eclipse was rather used to going down there in a subpar state. He wasn’t used to someone walking with him, occasionally making comments about food or turning to fuss at him about how he shouldn’t do this or that when he was injured. They stopped at the entryway to Parts and Services.

“Well, I’ll leave ya here,” Chica said, giving him a cheerful thumbs up. “Good luck with that, uh, arm and whatnot!” Her smile strained slightly as she gestured vaguely towards him, gaze flitting over him before returning to his face.

Eclipse eyed her. “Mhm.”

“Have a Faz-erific day!” she chirped, turning and walking back up the hallway. She waved at him as she departed.

“Uh-huh…” Eclipse slowly waved back, frowning slightly as his optics followed her until she turned a corner and went out of sight. His hand returned to his arm. What a strange morning... He turned back to the doors of Parts and Services, glancing at his internal clock. He still had fifty or so minutes to fix himself before he needed to be back down in the Daycare. With a long, tired sigh, he pushed his way into the room, steeling himself against the pain he knew he was about to have to endure.

Chapter Text

Eclipse smiled pleasantly, waving off the last kid of the day with a cheerful farewell. He stood, back stiff in his outwardly friendly posture, until the doors to the Daycare closed and until he saw the family walk up the stairs and out of sight. Only then did his smile fall, his expression flattening as his hand slowly fell and his posture hunched. He turned a tired look to the desk, walking behind it as he mentally checked his battery. It was at half.

Closing didn't take long. There hadn't been many kids today. There never were, anymore. No matter how hard he tried, he could never hope to compare to Sun. He was in the other's shadow, like an inkblot in an otherwise well-written novel. The kids didn't like him nearly as much as they did Sun. He just wasn't bright enough. Pretending to have energy and joy that he didn’t was tediously difficult.

Keyboard keys clicked. The closing list submitted, he stood and walked through the Daycare, eyes scanning for anything left to clean. He'd been cleaning as the day went on. It was easy to do that when the Daycare was so sparsely populated. Stooping, he lifted a bottle of blue glitter glue off the kiddie tables. Another reach, and he came up with a Sunnydrop candy. He rolled the edges of the wrapper in his fingers as he returned to the desk, gaze briefly downturned before he lifted his eyes back up. He opened a cabinet, reaching and sliding the glitter glue away, then turned and put the Sunnydrop in a desk drawer. He paused, his gaze flitting across the Daycare once more. That should be it for today's tasks. Sun would have obsessively cleaned the barrels. Eclipse didn't see daily cleaning as necessary, at least not anymore. The barrels were rarely even touched anymore. Oh, how Sun would have cried if he knew…

With a glance at his internal clock, he sighed and sat behind the desk. He'd screw over Fazbear any day, but he knew he risked getting decommissioned if he left the Daycare before eight, the time when it technically closed. He was walking a thin line already, with how the Daycare had been falling off as of late. He couldn't afford giving any more reason for his decommissionment.

So, there he sat, numbly glancing over some miscellaneous social media site as he waited for half an hour to pass. At some point, he blinked and found that it was a few minutes past eight. He scanned the Daycare another time, then, seeing no motion within, pushed away from the desk with a long sigh, turning a tired gaze over his shoulder to the Daycare doors. It was only eight o'five. He should probably check the side rooms of the Daycare to ensure everything was in working order. He sincerely doubted much of it was, but what was new? Pushing the doors open with a grunt, he walked out into the outer areas of the Daycare, optics drooping with unenthused exhaustion as he got to work.

The hallways were quiet after hours. He found it calming. He could hear every little creak of the building and the shushing hum of the air conditioning. He could even hear the electric buzz of the lights. His bells’ soft jingling was all that truly broke the mechanical silence.

That, and the distant sound of footsteps. Eclipse's eyes narrowed, and he lowered his head slightly to appear inconspicuous as he continued on his way to Parts and Services. He just needed to get down there, and then he could be free from the world for a bit, appearing busy. He merely hoped he wouldn't end up actually needing to use Parts and Services on the off chance that someone decided today was the day he needed to be roughed up a bit. His brow furrowed exasperatedly, tiredly, as he weighed the likelihood of that happening. It was discouragingly high.

So, it was to his surprise when he heard a bright gasp, a familiar voice, followed by rushed footsteps towards him. His gaze snapped up, and he found himself face to face with Glamrock Chica.

“Heeey, you're that Daycare Attendant guy! Erm… uh, E…” She trailed off, then, uncertainly, “Ecliiiipse…?”

Eclipse eyed her, taken off guard by her off-putting cheer. Slowly, he nodded. “Chica,” he returned, gesturing towards her and tilting his head slightly, observing her expression and body language.

The chicken animatronic beamed, nodding vigorously. “Yep!” She looked him up and down, grinning. “Not trashed this time?”

Eclipse shrugged, gaze turning off to the side slightly. “Mmnot this time,” he drawled quietly, casually.

Chica’s beak clicked slightly, and he saw her eyes narrow suspiciously from the corner of his vision. “I get the feeling that was more than a one-time thing.”

Eclipse looked back at her, eyeing her with a tired expression. He shrugged again. Chica's eyes narrowed further, before she shrugged as well, her bright expression returning.

“Well, whatever!” Beaming at him, she clapped her hands together, leaning towards him. His eyes narrowed slightly as she came closer, rays twitching. “Whatcha doin’?”

Eclipse leaned back slightly, watching her with narrowed eyes for a moment before looking off to the side. “Going down to Parts and Services.”

“Huh? But I thought you said you weren’t trashed,” Chica sputtered, tilting her head dramatically and beginning to look him over, hands on her hips and body bent forward at the waist, bringing her far too deep into his personal space.

Eclipse leaned back further, the joints in his back squeaking quietly as his weight shifted. “There’s– stuff I can do outside of fixing myself, you know,” he responded, brow furrowing with discomfort and incredulity. Why was she so close ?

Purple eyes snapped to his, her motions freezing as she seemed to consider these words. Her head cocked the other way, plastic feathers rattling. “Like what?”

Eclipse hesitated, nose scrunching as his incredulity only grew. “Repair– other – stuff–?”

“Like what?” She was leaning closer. Eclipse leaned further back, his casing grating against itself silently.

“Like–” The bottom of his faceplate bumped against his chest as he craned further back. “–the cylinder ? Or parts sent down throughout the day??”

Chica leaned closer, her face shadowed over his in this proximity, purple eyes casting a glow across red and black silicone. “You're one of those– mechanic guys?” she said, managing to make the sentence sound extremely awkwardly spoken despite the simplicity of its structure.

Eclipse blinked, rays twitching. “Yes?”

With the abrupt grace of a derailing train, Chica pulled back, feathers clattering and earrings swinging wildly as she brought her hands up in a cheerful shake. Eclipse found his personal space suddenly and unexpectedly restored. “Woah! That’s cool!!”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he corrected his backwards posture, straightening. The joints in his back creaked audibly, and Chica winced, the sparkle in her eyes replaced with a sympathetic cringe.

“Ah… Sorry, didn’t mean to, uh, bend ya like that,” she apologized lightly, cringing at each small noise of his shitty endo.

Eclipse let out a long, tired sigh, waving her off as he glanced off to the side. “Eh, it’s fine…”

“Are you sure?” Aaand she was leaning in again, but this time, she minded how far she leaned, thankfully . “Aren’t you, uh, Daycare Attendants supposed to be, like, freaky flexible?” She leaned to the side, as though looking for the joints that were hidden beneath his casing like she might have the chance to spot them. With a small point of her finger, she said, “Don’t think you’re s’posed to creak like that.”

Eclipse shrugged. “Body’s a hunk of junk, it doesn’t matter,” he dismissed. Eyeing her more curiously, he asked, “What are you doing? I assume you have a gig or some shit, right?”

Chica blinked at his sudden question, then slumped back slightly, head tilting to the side as she shrugged in return, her gaze straying to the right nonchalantly. “ Uuusually , I would , but my evening’s pretty clear today.” Purple eyes slid back to him, a light air about her. “I was going to head out soon, but then I, well, ran into you!” She beamed at him, a cheeky smile adorning her face.

Eclipse rays twitched. Then, he nodded slightly, beginning to step around her. “Well, that’s nice–”

“Wh-What–? You’re leavin’ already?”

Eclipse paused, looking back at her with a confused frown. “… Yeah?”

The chicken animatronic looked at him with wide eyes, as though hurt by the notion, though he found the truth of that laughably hard to believe, especially now that she began raising a hand to her chest dramatically, bottom beak trembling exaggeratedly. “B-but what about li’l ol’ me…?”

Eclipse crossed his arms, turning back towards her. “What do you want?” he asked tiredly.

Chica blinked, her act falling briefly in surprise before she beamed excitedly. “Hang out sesh between new buds?” she asked.

Eclipse’s rays twitched. He blinked slowly. “Hang out sesh?” he echoed even more slowly.

Chica nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! We could, like, watch somethin’ or play games!”

Eclipse tilted his head thoughtfully. Moon would be up in Sun’s room tonight, so he could feasibly stay in the Theater for a bit… Gaze returning to her, he asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Chapter Text

Eclipse glanced up tiredly as the Daycare doors swung open. Unsurprisingly, it was Moon. The irate figure marched in, the usual dark annoyance about him only amplified today. Some dread sank through Eclipse’s frame as red optics quickly locked on him.

“Virus.” Moon stalked up to him, eyes narrowed dangerously. A hand shot out, and Eclipse tensed as his neck was seized. It took all his startled balance not to fall as his head was suddenly yanked forward. Dark optics bore into his own. “What have you been doing?”

Eclipse forced his rays to relax out slightly despite his growing apprehension. “Working,” he supplied in a gruff, practiced voice.

“Working?” Moon asked. “Is that what you call it?”

Another wave of dread washed through Eclipse as he realized Moon must have been referring to something in particular, though he hadn’t the slightest clue what. He was acutely aware of the feeling of sharp claws pressed against the back of his hinge neck. The increasing pressure was a blatant threat. Still, even as he wracked his mind, he couldn’t think of what he had done wrong, so he held his tongue, some faint, fleeting hope remaining that Moon would expand on his point rather than punish him without explanation.

Red eyes narrowed. Moon tutted softly, faceplate tilting slightly– click click click. “I thought you would have known better, Eclipse…”

Orange rays drew in, a cold numbness rising in his chest. His eyes widened slightly, genuine fear beginning to make itself known.

A wicked smile spread across Moon’s face, sharp and venomous. “But I’m nothing if not generous,” he drawled silkily. A single claw tapped against the back of Eclipse’s neck. “I’ll give you a chance to get back on track.” Red eyes narrowed to slits, his white smile thinning. “Or… Well, a little accident could happen…” Leaning, he hissed, “And we could say the chicken flew the coop.”

– – –

There was a knot in his chest. A powerful, sickening thing. It made his legs feel weak and his hands cold as he walked down the empty halls of the Pizzaplex. He was both numb to and acutely, painfully aware of his surroundings, as if he were floating in some kind of limbo between disassociation and terror. The closer he drew, the more pressure he felt in his chest and the louder his thoughts got.

Before he knew it, and sooner than he could have ever feared, he was there. Rockstar Row. Extravagant statues. A room for each of the glamrocks. He stood by one in particular. A pink door loomed in front of him. His hand hovered, poised to knock, yet unable to move. His eyes were glued to the green star in the center of the door. 

Eclipse cursed softly under his breath, tearing his gaze down. He found his hand shaking. Soon, it was clenched into a fist at his side. Rays steadied, running out along their tracks. His expression hardened, and he clenched his teeth, forcing his fans to run quiet. He had to do this. He had to do this. A trembling hand rose, palm resting against the door. Once the trembling had subsided, he took a breath through his vents, pushing his conscience down and the door open.

Chica jolted slightly from where she sat on her white couch. She seemed to have been redoing the paint on her nails. Her expression brightened when she saw Eclipse. His heart only sunk. “Clipsey!” she exclaimed. “What’s up, bestie?” She was already rising to her feet.

His voicebox felt jammed. He merely stared at her as she approached him, a bounce to her stride and a kindness in her smile. He was about to crush that. He was about to crush everything they had. Everything he had.

… a little accident could happen … and we could say the chicken flew the coop …

Eclipse gritted his teeth slightly. He had to do this. It was for her own good. He wasn’t safe for her. Their friendship was a danger to her. Moon would make sure of that, he knew.

Brows furrowing, he forced a glare upon his only friend. Chica faltered in her step, slowing, then stopping, a concern to her expression, a tender worry that she’d always seemed to have for everyone. A hand reached out to him. “Eclipse–?”

“We are not friends,” he growled, and the words felt like thorns in his voicebox. Trembling fists clenched only tighter at his sides.

Her eyes widened slightly, her hand retracting just a bit. “What are you talking about?”

“We were never friends.” 

“Eclipse, what do you mean? We’ve been friends for ages!” she insisted, still just that faintest, stubborn enthusiasm in her voice.

“We were never friends,” he repeated coldly. “I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I was only using you.” A numbness came over him. “You’ve only ever been a tool to me.”

Wide, hurt eyes stared at him. Her hand was to her chest now, posture turned away from him as if in fear. Still, she just kept trying… “What’s going on? Why are you saying this?”

Eclipse stepped back slightly, his hand finding the door behind him. He could feel something inside of him crumbling as she continued to care. “I don’t need you anymore,” he hissed, though his hostile tone was only a result of his voicebox attempting to seize on itself. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t– Hurt eyes stared at him, and Chica took a step back. He couldn’t–

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice shook.

He couldn’t–

Slam.

The door crashed shut behind him, and he took hurried steps away, quickly choosing an employee-only hallway. The surroundings blurred around him, almost as if he were running, standing still, and spinning all at once. He stumbled around a corner, finding a side room and shutting the door behind him. Darkness. He bumped into a wall. A clattering, loud, too loud– He found himself sitting on the floor, knees hunched up and hugged to his chest. His fans roared in his chassis. Voices crashed in around him, broken pleas, threatening words, hurt shouts, and Eclipse closed his eyes, pressing his head down into his knees.

– – –

There was a buzzing. He could hear that faintly, at least. The distant hum of air conditioning. The slowly rising whine of dinky fans.

The floor was cold beneath him. Something about his chassis felt drafty, almost hollow. He lifted his head slightly, optics clicking and resetting a few times before reluctantly coming online. Ah. Darkness. He’d forgotten that little detail. Slowly, he rose to his feet, hands pressing against the wall behind him as he found himself profoundly unsteady. Feeling along the wall– as well as using it as support –he soon found the light switch. Click. An electric buzz came alongside the blinding flash of light, and Eclipse tensed, squinting. It took his optics a long time to adjust to the now lit room.

A broom closet. Eclipse stared numbly. Cleaning supplies were scattered across the floor, as if thrown there. Slowly, his gaze trailed down to inspect himself. Claw marks marred the fabric of his pants. In his sides were puncture holes. He raised a hand, running his fingers over the ridges, then lifted the appendage. The tips of his fingers were worn through, endo claws visible even in their retracted state. He stared at the damage for a long time. Then, he ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes.

He… needed to fix all this before Moon found him. How long had he been in here? An inward glance said it was the wee hours of the morning. So: a while. His battery levels were a little low for his liking, and goddamnit his fans were annoying–

He forced his hand down from his face, turning and walking slowly out of the room. The light was turned off, the door shut behind him, and he steadily made his way around the maze-like layout of the employee hallways towards Parts & Services. Maybe he could replace his godforsaken fans while he was at it. He looked down at his hand. Not really any point to it, though. Not like it was affecting his functionality. It didn’t really matter.

None of it felt like it mattered anymore, though, did it?