Chapter Text
The date was 1986.
Scott sat hunched over the kitchen table, the dim yellow light of the overhead lamp spilling across the mess of newspapers his wife, Maggie, had hoarded over the past few years. They were stacked in uneven piles, some curling at the edges, the ink smudged from too many nervous fingers thumbing through them late at night. He never liked looking at them. He had told Maggie countless times to throw them out, but she always kept them “for the record,” she said. Tonight, though, Scott forced himself to read. The headlines stared back at him like accusations..
“LOCAL CHILDREN GONE MISSING, POLICE BAFFLED.”
“FAZBEAR FRIGHTS OR FAZBEAR FRIGHTS? PARENTS DEMAND ANSWERS.”
“RUMORS SPREAD: BELOVED MASCOTS COULD BE BEHIND DISAPPEARANCES.”
The words hit him like a hammer. His fingers dug into the paper as his tired eyes traced over the familiar names, names that never should’ve been there in the first place. Their names scrawled out beneath the ink like they were just another line in a tragedy. Scott’s hand trembled as he unfolded the most recent paper Maggie had tucked away. The headline stretched across the top in bold letters that made his stomach twist:
“MISSING CHILDREN CRISIS DEEPENS, ARE THEY CONNECTED?”
Beneath it, the article rattled off names like it was tallying numbers, not lives.
“Andrew Andrews. Fritz Watson. Gabriel Amani-Andrews. Brenda Afton. Suzanne Martinez.”
Scott’s breath caught when his eyes dropped lower, catching the grim addition..
“Authorities are now questioning if the disappearances of Charlie Watson and Cassidy Andrews, who vanished far from the establishment’s reach, may be connected to the same case. Officials decline to comment on rumors of a pattern linking all children to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.”
The paper crumpled slightly under his grip. His two baby boy's names. His family’s heartbreak inked into history for strangers to read over their morning coffee. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying not to gag on the sourness rising in his throat. To the world, they were just children lost in the endless cycle of missing posters and unanswered questions. To him, they were his entire life. Scott’s jaw clenched. He remembered the arguments with Maggie, her begging him to rest, to stop involving himself, to stop chasing things that weren’t his fault.
But what else could he do? And out of all people, who was she to say that to him after the bad habits she had picked up, causing so much stress to their already struggling family! Every rumor in these papers painted a different story. Some said it was a sick man prowling around town. Others swore it was the restaurant itself, the animatronics with their flickering eyes and creaking joints. Still others whispered it was him.
Scott swallowed hard at that one.
“CO OWNER OF FREDDY'S AND SECURITY GUARD SUSPECTED TO KNOW MORE THAN HE ADMITS.”
He shoved that issue away, like it burned his hands. The whispers of his name in the mouths of strangers haunted him almost as much as the thought of his children trapped in some dark space, calling for him, waiting for him, and him not being there.
In the other room, he could hear Maggie moving around, her footsteps slow, tired. He knew she hated that he was in here, reopening wounds she kept trying to stitch shut, despite reopening them whenever she spiraled and had one of her episodes. But he couldn’t stop, not now!
He needed to force himself to look into these, in hope that it would somehow help the nightmare they were all currently in. He leaned closer, scanning the margins of one article where some overzealous reporter had speculated about “missing bodied” and “possession.” Normally, Scott would laugh at something like that. But after everything he’d seen… after everything he’d heard when the place was quiet, when the animatronics turned their heads just a little too far…
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
Scott rubbed his temples, the pages rustling as he muttered under his breath, “Rumors… that’s all it is. Just rumors.”
But as he sat there, drowning in the sea of paper and ink, he realized the rumors weren’t going away. They had teeth. And whether they were lies or not didn’t matter anymore. People believed them. And if he didn’t figure out the truth soon, those rumors might be the only story anyone remembered about these children and his sons.
“Scott…”
Her voice was soft, worn down by sleepless nights. Maggie stood in the doorway, her red hair tied back messily, her sweater hanging loose on her frame. He hadn’t even noticed her there until she stepped closer, green eyes glistening as they fell on the papers.
“You’re doing this again,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Scott tried to steady himself, but his words came out cracked. “They put his name in there, Maggie. Like it’s just another story. Like he’s just—” He broke off, slamming the heel of his palm against the table. “He’s not just another name.”
Maggie flinched, but not from fear. From the way she understood too well. She slid into the chair beside him, resting her hand over his. He felt the bandages against her skin, rough reminders of her own coping.
“I keep them because I can’t forget,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I think if I throw them away, it means I’m letting go of our boys. And I can’t let go, Scott. Not of Charlie. Not of Bart. Not of any of them..”
Her words cracked something inside him. The anger in his chest broke apart, leaving only the hollow ache beneath. His shoulders shook, and before he knew it, his face was pressed into his wife’s shoulder, the sobs tearing out of him despite how hard he tried to bite them back. Maggie clung to him, crying just as hard, the papers forgotten for now.
“They’ll just keep saying things,” Scott choked. “Rumors. Stories. Lies. And I can’t stop them.”
“No,” Maggie whispered, kissing the top of his head as tears slid down her cheeks. “But we still have each other. That’s all we can hold on to now.”
For a long while, they stayed like that, grieving in each other’s arms, the pile of newspapers silent witnesses to their pain. Eventually, when Scott’s sobs had quieted into shallow breaths, Maggie pulled back just enough to brush his face with her hand.
“Come to bed,” she said softly. “Please. Just for tonight.”
Scott hesitated, glancing once more at the sea of headlines and rumors spread across the table. Then, with a heavy sigh, he let Maggie lead him away.