Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She does not plan to lie to him when she pulls out the photo.

Well, she doesn’t necessarily plan to give him the exact truth, either. Skirting around the whole truth and its nasty details had become as unconscious an action to her as breathing. She treads carefully. She has to. The stakes are too high for her to get sloppy at this point, now that she’s this close.

But she finds herself staring at this boy - no longer a boy but a man now, it’s been so long and he doesn’t remember William or her and the complete lack of recognition in his eyes is starting to make something in her chest hurt with a sharpness that could be either anger or grief, maybe both - and something about the sight of him now, compared to when she really, truly knew him makes her stumble to a stop. Has her second guessing dropping this specific information in his lap just yet. He needs to understand the danger Afton is, and why she needs to do away with him. Why the animatronics are acting the way they are, and the children residing in them. What power he holds over them. Why it’s not their fault.

She wishes she could say that she lied to him at that moment solely to spare him the heartache of the truth. Learning that your father is an absolute monster who has done what he has done would devastate anyone. Or that she lied because she didn’t want to risk him not believing her and screwing all of this up. It was certainly an out there thing to just tell someone, that they had somehow forgotten the very crucial details like their father’s identity and that he was a serial killer, and adding ghosts on top of all of that.

She doesn’t have time to think about all this. Time is ticking away.

Two choices: Tell him the truth or cut him out of the equation.

She doesn’t know the kind of life he’s led since they last saw each other. Whether he can be trusted with any of this. And with his sister around - and he has a sister now and when did that happen? Your mother had another kid? With who? Not William, surely - letting him in on this could prove pointlessly dangerous, even fatal.

But a part of her, the part that is still firmly stuck in childhood, the part that wants nothing more than to regain even an iota of what she’s lost, is resisting. She may not know this man as he is, but she knew him at a time that felt important. At a time they’d both believed to be at their lowest, and wasn’t that a laugh in hindsight.

Okay, she thought. Let’s get this over with. Rip the band-aid off,

“His name is William Afton,” she begins haltingly.

“He’s…”

He’s your father. He’s done awful, awful things. He’s the reason this is all happening. He’s the reason we can’t find peace. He’s the reason why they can’t find peace. He’s the reason your family fell apart. He’s the reason we all ended up scattered to the winds. He’s the reason your mother is dead. He’s the reason my father is dead. He’s the reason for all of this.

“... my father.”

Alright.

Well.

Seems like we’re picking a third option.

Was this some attempt at mercy, or just a surge of cowardice?

Not like it matters in the end.

He seems to believe her about most of the things she tells him, despite the lunacy of the claims. But it’s this one, this specific claim about her connection to William Afton, where she sees the first hint of doubt in his eyes. In a way it’s almost reassuring.

Maybe the boy she knew isn’t entirely gone.

The moment the cold blade pierce through her skin, an echoing shout of her name rings throughout the room.

He must’ve hit something important, she thinks distantly.

“‘Vanessa’, huh? Hah! Oh, c’mon, you could’ve at least gone with a more creative name!”

If she hadn’t been in excruciating pain - given the knife now shoved between her ribs - she would have reminded him that despite all his apparent smarts and years he’d had to craft a completely brand new persona all he’d managed to come up with was Steve.

But through the agony now clouding her mind, she knows the simplicity of the name is not what he’s referring to. The older she grew, the more she became aware of how much she resembled her mother. And despite the decades it had been since William had probably last seen or even thought about that particular Vanessa, his cackling gives away immediately that he’s clued in to who she is and why she’s here.

She can’t even work up the energy to process the anguish in knowing that all the years she had spent chasing this man down were going to be for nothing. Her vision is clouding and losing focus, her breathing growing labored. Everything sounds muffled.

She catches sight of Mike - or who she assumes is Mike, everything is so confusing now, she can’t even talk - who is rushing up to her. No, she wants to shout in his direction. Focus on him! Make him go away! Make him pay!

But all that comes out is a pained groan as he throws her arm over his shoulder and begins steering her out of the building, the building that seemed to be falling apart around them. What? How was that happening? Where the hell was William?

Her thoughts can’t seem to focus. Nothing is landing in her head. What happened? She… shot him? What did she say? What did he say? The passage of time becomes choppy and confusing. She’s having trouble recalling all that transpired.

The man in the yellow rabbit suit was nowhere to be found.

But a distant part of her mind, as she finds her consciousness waning for good, also finds just enough energy to mourn the fact that the man carrying her out of the building is probably never going to learn the truth now. She didn’t know if William had even gotten the chance to say anything to him, but if he did, it would not have been done kindly. The opportunity to explain everything had burned hot the moment she had recognized him, when it had hit her that not everyone that had been left behind had perished as a consequence of William’s cruelty. That maybe she wasn’t alone in this anymore.

But that hope had fizzled up when the mention of Afton’s name rang no bells for him. Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Don’t you recognize me, Michael? She’d held back in blurting out, when she had shown him that photo. We were friends.

Her head lolls in his direction once they emerge into the cool night air outside. His blurred profile greets her and she tries in a last ditch effort to choke out something. Anything.

I know you don’t remember me, she imagines herself saying. But this wasn’t just for me. It was for all of the children he killed, it was for my family, and your family. Please remember me. We were friends. My dad always liked you. I’m sorry we ran away.

She does not manage to say any of this, though, as darkness claims her for good just as the wailing of ambulance sirens pierce the air.

Chapter Text

Let’s start at the beginning:

She wasn’t at the birthday party when it happened.

She hadn’t been all that close with the youngest Afton, Garrett. Anytime she was over at their house, she’d mostly just hang around Michael.

Mike was annoying in that way that most young teen boys tended to be. Despite this, though, they got along well enough whenever she found herself having to wait out whatever job thing her father was at the Afton’s house for, if for no other reason than they were the only kids around in the same age range. There’d been a very brief point in time where she’d harbored a horrible suspicion that he had a crush on her - not necessarily because of any behavior on his part, but the adults around them would always tease and whisper about them “becoming a thing” in the future. In hindsight, this was probably meant more to tease their parents rather than themselves, but it made both her and Mike clam up every time it happened, both of them staring red-faced and scowling at the wall, facing away from each other.

(It’s one of the very few things of her childhood that she can look back at amused. A much older, much more worn down Mike would one day very awkwardly admit to her that he "doesn’t exactly swing that way, like, your way? Take your pain meds, goodnight.”)

Neither of them had much in the way of other friends, though. She’d told herself at the time that she couldn’t get along with all the other girls was because she was simply far too mature to gossip about boys and shopping, when the reality was that she was simply hard to relate to when all she had to talk about was getting to see “behind the scenes” of how the animatronics worked at the town’s local restaurants. There was a rowdy group Mike would gravitate towards at school all starry-eyed, but were the type of trouble they both knew Clara would never let into her house, and as much as Mike had been becoming something of a growing nuisance in the eyes of many of the adults in his family, he had been smart enough to avoid his mother’s ire when he could. And while they tried to avoid falling into something resembling anything like a real friendship on account of having not much of a choice to be in each others company and trying to avoid giving their families any more canon fodder for insinuations of “future romance,” when it was just the two of them, they found themselves begrudgingly getting along. He’d grumble about having to spend time with a girl, she’d grumble about having to spend time with a boy, and then they’d take turns playing the shitty version of the pac-man game on the Atari.

The growing tension in the Afton household was something she was not entirely unaware of, but had never found herself all that worried about it. It’s not like it was any of her business. So, what, Mike kept scaring his brother sometimes? She didn’t have siblings, but antagonizing each other was something she was fairly certain they did. Though it was always a difficult thing to watch the kid get teary-eyed whenever it happened. She would dig her elbow into Mike’s ribs anytime she thought he was being exceptionally dickish, he would huff, and then they’d get back to whatever it was they’d been doing before. So, what, Mike’s dad seemed kinda standoffish and stayed in the basement a lot? The guy was busy! She certainly knew her own father got busy with their work. Engineering, or whatever exactly it was that went into making the animatronics, not an easy job, no sir.

For a while this was just how things went. Nothing too exciting. While she would always be willing to listen to Dad talk about work and how they did what they did, she never got to look too closely due to all the wires and circuitry and springlocks being “too finicky,” which always had her walking off in a pout. All in all, things were fine, almost boring.

And then, well.

And then.

It was late enough that she’s in bed when it happened. She didn’t get the story until the next morning, from her mother. Her father had yet to return.

“One of your Dad and Will’s animatronics… malfunctioned,” Her mom says slowly, cautiously. As if she’s carefully choosing her words.

“Garrett’s in the hospital. They don’t know what’s gonna happen, but. It might not end well. The diner’s gonna be closed for a bit. I’m just warning you in case the worst happens, alright? His family is gonna need all the support they can. If we see them anytime soon, don’t bombard them with questions, okay?”

She’d been old enough to know that she probably wouldn’t have been given this type of talk if the adults weren’t almost completely certain that someone was gonna die. But she could feel the curiosity growing almost right away. Malfunctioned? What do you mean? How did Mike’s brother get hurt? How was it bad enough that you all think he’s gonna die? How?

But for all she thought herself as an adult as much as any other 13 year old girl thinks of themselves as an adult, the inherent discomfort of being confronted with the possibility of death head on and being unable to look away paralyzed her tongue in her mouth.

The sound of the front door opening momentarily cut through the tension, but the look on her father’s face did nothing to soothe anxieties.

Her mother stiffened beside her.

“Henry?”

He shook his head.

“He’s gone, Van.”

She wasn’t at the birthday party. She did not see what had happened, did not see Garrett’s head being cracked open like a walnut, didn’t see the blood, didn’t see the look on Mike’s face once he’d registered what had just happened before him, because of him, still held aloft in his hands, didn’t hear the screams.

She was spared the horror of witnessing that little boy's death.

She would not be as lucky in the future.

Chapter Text

She wasn’t made to go to the actual funeral, but she did find herself at the Afton household not long after it.

The home feels frozen in place. No one had the courage to make much noise or move too quickly in a way that would disturb the illusion of peace that had fallen over the place. She had found herself tucked into the corner of the couch in the living room, staring at the muted television while her parents were having a hushed conversation in the kitchen with Mrs. Afton. She tried her best to not give off the impression that she was eavesdropping, as given the situation that seemed an incredibly rude thing to do, but curiosity was getting the best of her and she found herself straining to pick up pieces of conversation each time someone’s voice rose above a whisper.

“... no…”

“... in the basement?....”

“He hasn’t….”

“Not talking?

“....accident…..”

“William is just….. Mike didn’t….”

Only catching snippets, none of it told her much of anything. But the mention of both Mr. Afton and Mike caught her attention. Mostly because they had been the only ones who were absent. When they’d arrived, she had scanned the room to see for Mike but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was his Dad. Given everything that was going on, she supposed it was understandable that they might not be up for guests. But still the curiosity nagged at her.

She rose from the couch gently and, after a quick glance to the kitchen door to confirm none of the adults were paying any attention to her, she crept down the hall out of the living room in the direction of Mike’s room.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to go and disturb the peace by not just waiting this out until her parents told her it was time to go home and to let the Afton’s grieve with no unwanted interruptions. Unfortunately at 13 years old she’d thought of herself as many things, and a coward had never been one of them. But that brand of bravery she’d believed she had stored away inside of her had typically been mostly applied to things like doing a backflip of the play equipment at the park, or prank calling Fredbear’s Diner with Mike to see how long they could fool their Dad’s before they realized it was them - the record was a whole three minutes - it had never applied to this kind of real life heartbreak and discomfort.

Regardless, she’d made her choice then. Her fate was now sealed.

(Mike’s eyes, older, tired, are focused on her, eyebrows now raised.

“I know you’re telling the story about our awful lives and all the tragedy and what not but ease up on the dramatics a touch, would ya?”

It does one no good to laugh with a stab wound, and even less good to try to reach over and smack at someone - again, with a stab wound.

HIs voice is so subdued nowadays but at least he seems present right now. Alert.

Which was definitely not the case when– )

The walk down the hallway had felt much longer than usual, like it had stretched out in length since the last time she was there. A sense of unease built up in her stomach with each step. She hadn’t known how to go about this sort of thing, talking to someone after a family member died. Especially not when it was in such an awful manner. But it wouldn’t hurt to simply say Hi, would it? If he told her to fuck off and leave him alone than that would be that and she would shuffle back to the couch and pretend nothing had happened.

Halfway there, she momentarily slowed down to look at the door to Garrett’s room. She considered poking her head in for a moment, to see if anything about the room had changed since she last saw it, but the thought made a surge of discomfort pool in her stomach, and she kept going. She had a feeling in her gut that she was going to have trouble sleeping that night regardless, and that she didn’t need to add more to her spinning thoughts by looking at the room of a dead little boy.

Moments later, she found herself in front of Mike’s door and inhaled, gathering her courage. She didn’t knock, knowing that with how quiet the house was it would surely alert everyone. She simply gripped the door knob and eased the door open as quietly as she was capable.

The room was dark, but the sunlight coming through the windows gave her a clear enough view.

The sight that greeted her sent a bolt of anxiety through her stomach and up her spine.

Michael was laying on his side, on his bed, wrapped up in his blankets and facing the door. His fists were clenched in the sheets and his knuckles were bright white with how tightly he was gripping. His eyes were wide open.

Oh, fuck, was her first thought.

She’d nearly backpedaled out of the doorway right then, an apology already on her tongue when she noticed that Mike hadn’t so much as twitched at the sudden intrusion. His eyes weren’t even really focused on her. He didn’t seem to register her standing there. It was more like he was staring through her.

Oh, fuck, was her second thought.

“Mike?” She tried tentatively, her voice so quiet even she could barely hear it.

He didn’t react.

She swallowed thickly and, in a last ditch attempt at gathering up any courage she had left, she took a step into the room and closed the door behind her.

“Mike,” She tried again, more audibly now.

She caught the sight of his eyes twitching slightly, a clenching of his jaw. She wrapped her arms across her chest and clenched at her forearms, bracing herself for whatever was about to happen. No turning back, I guess.

“Michael.”

He blinked once, hard. Slowly, his eyes drifted over to her.

“Ch’rlie?”

His voice croaked out of him, sounding painfully dry. Like he’d gone and swallowed a handful of sand. Now that she was closer she could pick out more details of how he looked. His eyes were red-rimmed and his lips were chapped and cracked. His hair stuck up all over and looked like it badly needed a wash.

He looked… bad.

“Yeah,” She tried to keep her voice even but not come across like she was pitying him. “Yeah, it’s me.”

She gently sat on the very edge of his bed, far enough away so she was not intruding in his personal space.

“Well,” she tried to sound lighthearted. “You’ve looked better.”

He blinked.

No retort. Not even an angry one. She hated to admit it, but at first she’d been relieved he hadn’t immediately burst into tears. As the minutes wore on, though, she would have taken any reaction beyond the horrible blankness she was being presented with. To say the rest of their “conversation” was stilted would be an understatement. She’d mostly just talked absentmindedly about what he’d missed in school, pointless drama and what not, in an attempt to maybe get his mind off things. He mostly blinked at each topic she brought up like he was only registering a third of anything she said. He did not interject to anything she said, not even to tell her to leave him alone and let him rot in his bed in peace. He just stared.

Feeling like she had accompanied nothing but making them both feel incredibly awkward, she started to make her way back to his door with a quiet apology for disturbing him, when his voice finally piped up, abruptly.

“Charlie…”

She looked back at him over her shoulder.

“Yeah..?”

He had propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes trained on his wall rather than on her.

The expression that had crossed over his face did not bode well. It wasn’t what she would call grief, exactly. Or not entirely. He seemed devastated, almost angry. He looked guilty. Like he was waiting for some type of punishment to be doled out to him, and he didn’t understand why it hadn’t happened yet. Like he was waiting for the guillotine to drop.

“I didn’t…”

He tightened his fist in his sheets once, twice, and clenched his eyes shut tightly.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” His voice was growing shaky.

The anxiety was now back in her stomach, like bubbling tar.

“Mike?”

He slumped back down on his bed.

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…. I didn’t mean…”

She got no more out of him. His eyes had gone back to that earlier blankness.

She quickly scurried out of the room and back to the living room.

She didn’t see William that evening.

After her encounter with Mike, she was too spooked to even think of trying to seek anyone else out. It’s not like she would even know how to comfort a grieving adult. She decided to simply lay on the couch and just rest until her parents were ready to go.

She’d laid on the further end of the couch this time, however, with her head now closer to the kitchen. Not on purpose. She wasn’t even trying to listen in this time, but they must have assumed she was asleep with how quiet she’d gotten and were no longer focusing as hard on whispering.

“He just… locks himself down in the basement now. All day, practically all night too.”

Mrs. Afton’s voice sounded so hollow.

“Maybe I could try and talk to him?” Dad.

“I don’t know. He seems… I don’t know. Off. I don’t even know if I could call it upset. He just seems robotic. I know people grieve in different ways but…”

“But?” Mom.

“I’m worried… I think… he’s more angry that the Diner’s closed than he is about Garrett. I think he’s… angry at Mike. It- it was an accident, but… I don’t think he’s angry at Mike because of… what he did.”

I didn’t mean to.

“I think he’s just angry because he has to scrap Fredbear, the- the animatronic suit thing, y’know?”

She didn’t hear much conversation after that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

In her mind, she vowed in that moment that from that moment forward she was going to keep her nose out of things she didn’t understand. That this was all simply way out of her realm of knowledge and that she was simply going to mind her own business, no matter what.

(Mike simply gave her a flat look.

She grinned thinly. Or maybe it was a grimace.

What a joke, huh?)

Chapter Text

The months that followed had almost given the illusion of some kind of normality.

She went to school. She came home. She did her homework. She kept to herself.

Eventually, the year came to an end.

Christmas of ‘83 was a painfully quiet affair. In years past, on top of celebrating at their own house, they'd just as often pop in at the Afton’s household. That idea wasn’t even mentioned in passing that year. She certainly hadn’t attempted to bring it up. The discomfort from her last conversation with Mike hadn’t abated in the slightest since she’d last seen him. An awful knot of curiosity kept itself tied in her stomach and had her staring at her ceiling late into the night. She had felt fairly adamant in the moment she’d declared to herself that she was not going to go prying into a grieving family’s business just to satiate her own nosiness.

But Mike’s words still itched at her.

I didn’t mean to.

That, along with the snippets of conversation she’d heard from the adults not long after, had certainly sent her mind into a whirl of terrible conclusions.

Garrett was dead. And Mike apparently had reason to be upset about that extended beyond just grief.

What the hell did he do?

Did she even want to know?

Her mind kept going in circles arguing with itself. This was going nowhere.

It wasn’t until her own birthday was starting to creep up in February - her 14th birthday - that things truly began to kick into gear. It all began with a simple inquiry. She hadn’t even been thinking of the Afton family when the question slipped out of her mouth.

“I’m guessing we’re not spending my birthday at the Diner this year, huh?”

Her dad, who’d been staring at himself in the bathroom mirror while trying to trim his beard to look something less “mountain man like” as her mother jokingly described it as, froze. His lips thinned. He glanced from the mirror in her direction, and then momentarily back to the mirror, drumming his fingers on the ridge of the sink.

She felt a spasm of anxiety in her gut. Had she overstepped? Her dad had been at Garrett’s birthday party. He probably didn’t need the reminder. Stupid!

But after a few seconds of Henry’s seemingly spooked back and forth with the mirror, he sighed. Placing the scissors he’d been touching up his facial hair with down on the sink’s counter, he started to talk, haltingly.

“The Diner… is probably not opening back up. Not for a while, at least. I’ve only been back a couple times, mostly to put stuff in storage. The uh –”

He paused and glanced back at her face to gauge her reaction. She tried to stay as stone faced as possible. She had sworn to herself to mind her own business, but now that someone was giving her just an inch of information about something, anything, she didn’t want him to stop. She gave him a nod to indicate that he should continue.

Henry’s brow furrowed. He breathed in, slowly.

And –

“The Fredbear costume,” he continued in a quieter tone, “is probably going to be scrapped. Will’s pretty… upset about that. It’s all he can talk about, whenever I can actually get him to pick up the phone. We did some… maintenance on it, before… you know. He’d been having some problems with his jaw. It was just kind’ve hanging loose and flapping about. We reinforced it. Tightened it up. Made it… stronger.”

She nodded again, ignoring the tightening feeling low in her stomach. She didn’t know where this was going. She shouldn’t know.

She should’ve ended the conversation there.

“And?” She whispered.

Henry had slowly made his way towards her during his talking. He was hovering near her shoulder now, looking off into the corner of the room. His face had taken on a much blanker look.

He clenched his eyes tight for a moment before leaning down and gripping her shoulders in her hands, now looking her straight in the eyes.

“Charlie, I need to make something clear here. Everything that happened that night was accidental. A horrible, horrible accident but an accident, nonetheless. I don’t want to make anyone a villain in your eyes. It’s the last thing Will’s family needs right now.”

She swallowed. He was afraid she was going to start throwing around blame. Her mind drifted back to Mike. Oh, this couldn’t be good. She should’ve ended the conversion there. Ignorance is bliss. But curiosity is an endless hunger.

“Did…”

She kept her voice so quiet she was surprised her dad could even hear her.

“Did Mike…”

Henry’s grip on her shoulders tightened. His gaze drifted slightly over her shoulder before clenching shut.

“Mike isn’t as curious as you are about how the animatronics and costumes work. He didn’t ask questions about how they function. He… he knew about the springlocks, but not necessarily what could set them off. He didn’t know, Charlie.”

I didn’t mean to.

He doesn’t say much after that. He didn’t need to. She knew Garrett died of some type of head injury. She knew Mike had a knack for scaring the boy. She knew Garrett was terrified of the animatronics.

It seemed, at the time, like that had to be the tip of the iceberg of knowing things she shouldn’t. That she had ripped open Pandora’s Box and now the consequences were to be dealt with in due time. But she hadn’t so much as ripped open the box, so much as she’d merely cracked it open merely a hair.

Mike had indirectly caused his brother’s death.

Surely things couldn’t get any worse than that, right? How could that possibly be topped in all its awfulness?

Surely, he was the one who needed to have an eye kept on him, right? If not for what he did, then how he was coping now. How he had turned inward and was refusing to come out.

She hadn’t even thought to question her father about William.

1984 was remarkably uneventful. Her birthday passed quietly. The closest she got to having any sort of update on the Afton’s was a small gift her father passed her labeled with their name. She unwrapped it and –

It was Garrett’s old Fredbear doll.

Dad’s face spasmed at the sight of it.

She heard a muffled, tense conversation between her father and someone he was on the phone with that night. Apparently, William had deigned to pick up that night. She didn’t ask.

More months passed. Middle School came to an end, and she started High School that September. Mike still hadn’t returned to school. She heard whispers that he was being homeschooled. She didn’t ask.

Uneventful. Uneventful. Uneventful.

The quietness of the year would have her almost letting her guard down. She had mistaken the nothingness for little more than that. She had watched the New Year’s ball drop with the glowing 1985 flashing across the TV screen feeling little.

She’d had no idea what was to follow. How much she’d be begging for the boredom that had set in back.

1984 seemingly passed and ended with a whimper.

She hadn’t heard the ticking.

She hadn’t known there was a bomb waiting around the corner.

Chapter Text

(She could see a quiet impatience growing in Mike’s expression. It makes her smile. It makes her think of Before.

He gave a tired sigh and leaned forward on his elbows.

“I don’t think it’d be very charitable of me to ask how close we are too inevitable ‘shit going down’ in this story of yours –”

“It’s not a story, it’s –”

Mike held his hands up in peace.

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Not about this, at least. There’s still a lot of shit I’ll need to fill you in on about what happened after you were. erm… out for the count at the restaurant. But I’m pretty sure visiting hours are almost up, so…”

“Ah…”

She swallowed. She didn’t need to lay this whole thing out on the table in just one day. But there was paranoia still bubbling in her stomach. That if she doesn’t tell him everything right away he’d disappear again. That William would somehow come back. He’s made an annoying habit of doing so. Was death supposed to stop someone that stupidly resilient? Ugh. Maybe she needed to ask the doctors to lower her dosage of pain medication.

Where was she? Oh, right –)

The beginning of the end starts on the day when her father drives past their house after picking her up from school.

She looked in his direction, waiting for an explanation but he remained silent. His gaze was locked straight ahead at the road in front of him. He looked troubled, brow furrowed and jaw tight.

She recognized the route they were taking only as they were pulling up to the Afton household.

What on earth?

She braced herself for an explanation, but her dad only gave her a tight wait here before stepping out of his truck and shuffling quickly into the familiar house.

Great. Just tossing more proverbial gas into the hellish curiosity bin that was her brain. Thanks, dad.

She released a frustrated breath and found herself with little else to do but stare at the front door and wait.

And wait. And wait and wait and wait.

Dad was a talker. Him deciding to have a “quick chat” with someone only for it to turn into an hour long discussion wasn’t uncommon, but considering everything that had happened with the Afton’s in the last year, most of which her dad hadn’t let her be privy to up until recently - what little that was - she doubted he was here for something as simple as catching up with his old friend slash business partner.

She tried to run through everything she understood about the current state of things in her head to pass the time: William had all but secluded himself in his home and basement ever since the Diner closed. Michael had accidentally gotten his brother killed and had all but vanished from public life, no longer going to school and was presumably being home-schooled. Clara… she wasn’t sure what the hell Mrs. Afton was up to. Home-schooling Michael? From the whispers she’d heard, William clearly wasn’t all that interested in spending time with his remaining son. Either out of misplaced grief or… misplaced frustration.

Seemed more upset about Fredbear being scrapped than about…

She shuddered and looked at the wristwatch her dad kept loosely hanging from the adjustable mirror in the truck. Shit, he was really taking a while.

She looked around at the area again and tried to give it a more thorough once over. It was then she noticed the first thing that was off.

The driveway.

Clara’s car was gone.

This wasn’t some screaming red flag. But it still caught her attention. It was a noticeable absence. Was she at the store? They needed to eat, obviously. William surely wasn’t doing the shopping. His old Hatchback was still in place where it always was. It was a bit of an eyesore. William had somehow managed to find one with this strange purple paint job.

She popped the door open. Dad was taking too long. Her limbs were growing stiff.

She initially started towards the door, but found her attention drawn back to the car. It didn’t look different than how it’d looked in the past. But she found herself unable to look away from it. She found herself just staring at it. It was such a… noticeable looking car, wasn’t it? Who buys a purple car?

She creeped up to it, feeling oddly cautious. Was William all that attached to his car? A lot of adults were. Not that he was around to see her poking her nose around it.

The closer she got, the more it became clearer what must have grabbed her attention. The purple coating on the car looked… retouched. Shinier. Like it had just been recently repainted. She frowned. Did William finally come out of his hiding hole just to give his car a new coat of paint?

She bent down to get a closer look. He must’ve done it recently because it looked fresh. Almost like it was still…

Without thinking, she raised a hand to the car’s door and brushed her fingers across the now very obviously still wet paint.

Not only had William apparently given his car a new coat of paint - but he’d also done it recently. Today, probably.

She looked at the area where she’d smeared the paint and saw –

The sight of the dried brown-redness on the door made her thoughts grind to a halt before a slight ringing started to sound in her ears and her lungs tightened in her chest. Her vision went fuzzy as she tried to breath in slowly and carefully against the pressure in her ribs. His… his car was old. Rust? Was his car rusting? Rust! Had to be. Maybe he had more vanity towards it than she’d realized. Rust. That’s what it was. Why would it be anything else?

The sound of the front door whining as it opened sent her heart jackhammering into her throat. She shoved her paint-wet hand into her coat pocket and stood bolt upright.

Thankfully (why was she thankful? What would have happened if it’d been a certain someone else?) The only person there was her father. He frowned at her.

“Charlie, I told you to sit tight.”

She gave a stiff nod. Her attempt at a smile probably looked brittle.

“Sorry, I – “ Her words came out as a stangled cough. Just the paint fumes.

“Was just stretching my legs! You were gone for a while, hah…”

Henry’s frown only hardened at her before he gave a jerk of his head to indicate that she get back in the truck. She scurried over.

The ride back home was dead quiet. She kept her hand clenched tight in her pocket.

When they reached the house, Henry kept the keys in the ignition. Then he turned to her. Her heart leapt again.

He began in almost a whisper.

“I just wanted to go see what the hell William was thinking sending that toy to you on your birthday. Didn’t really… get much out of him other than it was of ‘no use’ to him anymore. Still doesn’t answer why he gave it to you but…”

He let out a long, troubled sigh.

“Clara and Mike… Clara took Mike to some hospital out of state a few weeks ago.”

It was the first thing to break through the ringing still echoing in her ears.

“What?” She croaked, voice still raw from her coughing fit. “Why?”

The tired expression that was beginning to make itself a permanent fixture on Henry’s face appeared.

“Apparently he’s been having these real bad, constant nightmares. Like full on screaming awake ones. Acting forgetful about stuff he shouldn’t. Just blanking on whole events. Whole… people.”

“Is…” She began haltingly. “Are they coming back?”

His gaze drifted to their house's front door opening as her mother had noticed their presence.

“I don’t know, Charlie.”

In the midst of everything the Diner had opened back up - but only once.

The night before she and Henry had stopped by the Afton household, there had been a gathering for a local school club that had been allowed to have a small party to celebrate some arbitrary accomplishment Charlie never cared to learn the details of. The animatronic suits had been locked up in the back. Because of this no one sensed any danger. The kids in the club were mostly left to their own devices. It wasn't some loud, out-of-control birthday party. No rowdy kids around shoving crying kids into water delicate machinery.

Why would anyone be paying attention to the young boy who had stepped out the back door for just a minute, just looking for a garbage can to throw his drink away in, only to get locked out? No one heard him smacking his palms on the door trying to grab someone’s attention to let him back in.

No one noticed the hatchback pull up.

The Diner was never going to open back up after that night. The news that greeted them on the news and the morning papers in the following days cemented that for good.

MISSING: Cassidy █████

AGE: 10

SEX: Male

APPEARANCE: Blond Hair / Brown Eyes / Striped Red & Blue Long-Sleeved Shirt / Blue Jeans / Red Sneakers

Witnesses claim the boy vanished while attending a small gathering at the local Fredbear’s Family Diner on the night of ▊/ ▊ / 1985. If anyone has seen him or has any information, please contact the authorities or call this number:

█ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █

Suspected Break-In and Robbery at Fredbear’s Diner?

(...) Authorities are unsure whether or not this has any connection to the recent disappearance of a local boy - it’s possible the break-in could’ve happened in the year timeframe the Diner was originally closed due to an incident with the titular character animatronic Fredbear that resulted in a young child’s death back in the Fall of ‘83. It appears someone might’ve been looking to rob the location of these since defunct Springlock Walking Animatronics - slash - suits. A cursory look of the storage rooms revealed that they are unaccounted for and evidently now missing themselves. The only one reported to possibly still be in place is what locals have dubbed the ‘security puppet’ animatronic - a marionette puppet that is located in a locked-in-place wind-up box in the corner of the Diner’s main room. It’s believed that the thief simply did not have the tools to take it as well, but this is mere speculation. It is important to note however that no one has been able to come across the lock to open the box the bot is located in, so the puppet’s location is not quite as determined as of yet (...)

Chapter Text

(“Well,” Mike leaned back in the rickety plastic hospital chair, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Spoke too soon, I guess.”

Her smile was nothing more than a grimace.

“Just warning ya – it gets way worse.”

Mike’s expression flattened out as he let his head thump in the wall behind him.

“‘Course it does.”)

Her mother looked pale.

It was the first sight that greeted her that morning, after she’d crawled out of bed feeling no more well rested than when she’d laid down.

She froze in place.

“What’s wrong?”

Her mother jolted at her voice, grappling with the mug of coffee in her hand to avoid splashing the scalding liquid all over the place.

“Charlie,” Mom sounded a bit winded. “You - did you sleep well?”

Absolutely not. “Uh. Yeah, sure did. Is everything… good?”

Mom’s fingers rubbed restlessly at the coffee mug still clutched tight in her hands. But before her mother could reply to her inquiry, she noticed the angle of the sunlight spilling into the kitchen from the window. Namely, that it didn’t look how it should for presumably 6 in the morning.

Charlie frowned. Her eyes caught sight of the clock hanging in the kitchen next to the fridge, and felt a surge of alarm. It was 10 P.M. And it wasn’t summertime or the weekend.

“Crap!” She sputtered. “Did I sleep in?! Did school get canceled? What –”

“Charlie,” Mom spoke over her, her voice now regaining its usual strength. “School wasn’t canceled. We let you sleep in. It’s – some things have happened, hon’. You might not be able to continue going to the school in town.”

Charlie just stared at her mother. Confusion and anxiety roared in her stomach. Everything about her mother’s words were vague enough to not be able to reach any conclusions but that did not put her at ease in the slightest.

“Mom,” She spoke each word with a trembling caution. “What happened?”

Her mother inhaled, setting the coffee mug down on the table with a clink, and with an exhale gestured to the seat across from her indicating that she should sit down. From the expression on her face, it’s clear that the momentary resurgence of her mother’s composure is trembling.

She sits down and braces for the inevitable. She didn’t even know what that even was at the time, but every single inch of her was screaming at her to run away, don’t let this truth settle over you, don’t let this wave wash over you, don’t touch it, don’t smell it, don’t listen, don’t listen, don’t listen.

But it was far too late to start listening to that voice in her head. Fate was, at that point, now locked in place. Learning whatever this was was not going to be the most devastating blow – in hindsight, at least. It was just the beginning. She listened.

The regret would still be there, regardless. But she listened.

“A boy went missing at the Diner the other night.”

She frowned at this, the confusion enough to overpower the shock at her words. “Isn’t the Diner still closed?”

Mom let out a sardonic chuckle.

“Oh, it was supposed to be. Your dad certainly wanted it to stay closed for as long as possible. God knows none of us can stand to be there anymore given everything. But it seems like the higher ups in the company that owns the brand –” Mom gave the word her usual eye-roll, albeit more shakily than usual, “– decided enough time had passed since Garrett’s party and didn’t like that they were losing money waiting on their engineers to fix the animatronics. ‘Just put ‘em in the back and lock ‘em away if you’re so worried, Emily!’ Is what they told your dad a few months ago when he raised concerns when they were discussing opening the place back up. Wouldn’t even let him try and see what went wrong and repair them just - locked them up. Bunch of idiots.”

Her mother’s on-edge rambling commentary did not bode well. She was a remarkably straight to the point type of person. Whatever this was…

“So did… something happen with the bots last night? You said someone went missing - but was someone hurt, or…?”

Mom blinked a few times at the question, before giving herself a slight shake as if to clear her head.

“Sorry, getting off track. There were no animatronic incidents, so to speak. A school club was allowed to have some sort of party there - test the waters in getting the place back open, I guess. One of the boys there just… disappeared. That’s all anyone knows right now. And if that wasn’t enough, it seems like the place was robbed.”

Charlie blinked. “Robbed?”

Mom’s responding grin held no warmth.

“Your dad and Will’s bread-and-butter have apparently absconded into the night. Ol’ Fredbear and Bonnie are missing, as well! What timing, hm?”

Charlie couldn’t recall any other time in her life where she’d felt almost disturbed to be in her mother’s presence, but the longer the conversation went on, the more unnerved she felt. Her mother’s tone and phrasing had her on edge. Like the woman was about to burst at the seams. The news of the missing animatronics is… certainly news, to say the least. But she isn’t sure where she’s going with this. Like there’s an obvious connection here that is going over Charlie’s head.

“And…?” She prompted, warily.

“And,” Vanessa Emily breathed out, slowly. Almost as if all the tension was releasing out of her body. “They’ve pulled William and your dad in for questioning.”

There it was.

William had been a recluse ever since the death of his son and had focused on little else but his work - whatever the hell that even was now - ever since. The idea of the man maybe doing something stupid, something reckless, was entirely within the realm of plausibility to her. The freshly painted car flashed through her mind. The “rust” on the door. Entirely possible, there he is officer, case closed! But dad? Why on earth had they pulled him in? Because of his past connection with Mr. Afton? Calling them partners nowadays given how little they’d seen each other in the last two years was almost humorous. Surely this was just a precaution, right? Just getting his side of the story, right? Surely they didn’t suspect him of anything, right?

The expression on mom’s face dashed those hopes before she’d even spoken them aloud.

“Apparently,” Her voice was a barely discernible whisper. “Bonnie is still missing. But they found Fredbear in our garage this morning.”

(Mike’s face flashes momentarily with surprise, shocked, before falling quickly back into something resembling exhaustion. Almost annoyance.

“Oh, let me guess. A certain someone else put that fucking thing there?”

She just gives him a look that screams ‘What the hell do you think?’)

NEW DEVELOPMENTS IN LOCAL MISSING BOY’S CASE & FREDBEAR DINER ROBBERY?

(...) While local authorities claim it is too soon to publicly name any possible suspects to the press, it seems suspicion has befallen a pair of local men. Namely, a pair of engineering/robotics whizzes who have had a hand in most - if not all - of the local animatronics that are housed in Hurricane’s Fazbear Entertainment owned restaurants. Notoriously, one of these animatronics was the very same one that malfunctioned and killed a young child back in ‘83. One of the engineers has claimed in the past that these bots had since been shelved and were no longer going to be publicly used. Though there are reports that said engineer was found to have stored one of these apparent ‘dangerous’ animatronics away in his own home, though as of now this is unconfirmed. (...)

- POLICE DEPARTMENT OF HURRICANE -

[ATTACHED PHOTO PROVIDED BELOW]

MISSING: Gabriel █████

AGE: 11

SEX: Male

DOB: Feb. 9th, 1974

APPEARANCE: Black Hair / Brown Eyes / Green Hoodie / Blue Jeans / White Velcro Sneakers / Noticeable Gap Between Front Teeth

Last seen at the local, newly established Freddy’s Fazbear’s Pizzeria on the day of ▊/▊/1985. If you have seen this missing child or have any information regarding his disappearance, please contact the number below:

█ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █

Chapter Text

She knew for a fact that her father did not bring that thing to their home.

Her own biased opinions on the man’s good nature aside, she knew deep, deep down in her gut that there was no way in fucking hell that he had brought that thing home.

The familiar sight of Garrett’s old Fredbear doll staring at her cements this to her more than anything else.

It’s a dream. She knew it was a dream. She’d had it before. Night after night she’d find herself in this all-encompassing void, sitting across from the worn, plush toy stuck in some never-ending staring contest. No words were ever spoken.

Until –

What did he do this time?

He locked you in your room again.

Don’t be scared. I am here with you.

She tried to respond, to question the voice. But no sound comes out. All she could do was listen.

You know he is hiding again.

He won’t stop until you find him.

Over there!

Tomorrow is another day…

It’s nonsensical. Her head was beginning to hurt. She could not look away from the bear.

He left without you.

He knows that you hate it here.

He?

He hates you.

Who’s “he”?

You have to get up.

No! Don’t you remember what you saw? The exit is the other way! Hurry and leave.

What did I see? Who are you?

Daddy says to be careful with the ‘bots, or else you might pinch your fingers.

Was that… her? It sounded like her. It sounded like me. You?

You’d better watch out! I hear they come to life at night. And if you die, they hide your body and never tell anyone.

No one else is scared! Why are you? Stop being such a baby!

Scared? She wasn’t scared. You’re not scared, are you?

Are you going to the party? Everyone is going to the party.

Oh wait – you have to go! It’s your birthday!

Was it your birthday? Who cares?

Please let me out. PLEASE!

Please let me out…

How?

Why don’t we help him get a closer look? He’ll love it!

No…

Let’s give the little man a lift. He wants to get up close and personal!

No!

I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!

On THREE!

Don’t…

One…

Two…

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to –

Can you hear me?

…What?

I don’t know if you can hear me.

Mike? Michael?

… I’m sorry.

You’re broken.
We are still your friends.
Do you still believe that?
I’m still here.
I will put you back together.

She awoke sweating and trembling. She was not able to shake the feeling in her gut that she had seen something she wasn’t meant to. This feeling was now becoming something of a familiar trend.

The animatronic in their garage had been confiscated by the police. Her dad had yet to return home.

William, on the other hand, had been let go.

Because unlike with her father, the police had not found anything suspicious in the man’s house.

She swallowed harshly. She thought back to the wet paint on his car. The “rust”. Should she bring it up? No one would believe her, surely. She had an obvious bias in not wanting her father to be under suspicion for anything. And the paint was probably long since dry.

But her father hadn’t done anything. He had a good reputation in town. That wasn’t just going to be forgotten because of… whatever the hell this was, right?

Right?

SUSPECT NAMED IN FREDBEAR DINER ROBBERY

(...) Local engineer Henry Emily has been named by the HPD as a prime suspect in the recent robbery that took place at the closed down Fredbear’s Family Diner that took place sometime in the last few weeks. When questioned if it was believed if he had any hand in the disappearance of local boy Cassidy █████, Police Chief ██████████ only commented: “It is too soon to come to any conclusions on that matter - but I will say he is being looked at as a person of interest.” Former business and work partner, William Afton, declined to comment. (...)

NEWLY OPENED ‘FREDDY FAZBEAR’S PIZZERIA’ OFF TO ROCKY START

(...) The restaurant opening on the hills of the closure of its sister restaurants closure - Fredbear’s Family Diner - along with the recent tragedies that occurred at said location, has certainly casted a dark shadow over the newly established location. The CEO of Fazbear Entertainment ██████████ is apparently not deterred by this, saying: “We’ve been deciding on where the company should go from here. Starting so soon after recent events will have challenges but will ultimately - in our eyes - be best for the company. We are rebranding from the ground up and are going to be sticking to a core cast of four animatronics for the new location. No more springlock suits. Safer technology all around! They will not be wearable in any capacity. That’s being scrapped for good. This being said, the outline of the restaurant will also have been altered, so no children can get into any close range with the animatronics this time around.” When questioned on what would become of the original animatronic characters - Spring Bonnie and Fredbear - and if they would be reused in any capacity in the future, as some are curious if they have any plans in potentially continuing the local cartoon series centered around the characters, he declined to comment. However, he did have this to say about the new cast of ‘bots taking center stage from now on: “Safety is our top priority from now on. And I believe we have it locked down this time going forward. Our new lead engineer, Dave Miller, knows his stuff and I believe wholeheartedly that we are in good hands from now on.” (...)

- POLICE DEPARTMENT OF HURRICANE -

[ATTACHED PHOTO PROVIDED BELOW]

MISSING: Suzy █████

AGE: 8

SEX: Female

DOB: Mar. 19th, 1977

APPEARANCE: Blonde Curly Hair / Blue Eyes / Pink Dress / White Frilly Socks / Large Pink Bow in Hair / Black Strap Sandals / Freckles

Last seen at the local, newly established Freddy’s Fazbear’s Pizzeria on the day of ▊/▊/1985. If you have seen this missing child or have any information regarding her disappearance, please contact the number below:

█ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █

From that point forward, the Fredbear doll in her dreams was very talkative.

Fredbear does not exist.

Spring Bonnie does not exist.

Nothing happened to anyone.

He does not exist.
He does not exist.
He does not exist.

Chapter Text

She didn’t go to public school anymore.

That was a given, considering the whispers going around the town. Even going to the grocery store was a gamble. People didn’t say anything to them but they sure as hell stared. They sure as hell whispered and pointed and sneered.

Officially, her father had not been charged with anything.

But the idea had been put forth. And people were desperate for something to talk about in a seemingly uneventful town like theirs. People were desperate for something to blame for disrupting the illusion of peace they’d all been living under.

Her mother was not letting the stress show. She was a picture of stone in the public eye. But at home the facade cracked. She could hear her cry at night.

She hadn’t said if, or when, Dad was going to return home.

The Afton household, the one time they drove by it, looked vacant. She considered for a moment asking her mother about this, but one look at the wild-eyed, almost furious look she sees her mom shooting the house as they creep by it, it was very clear that this was not the time for questions in regards to anything involving William Afton.

Her nightmares continued to persist:

Climb inside the torso

Fuck off!

and accept your death.

This is starting to feel very one-sided. Can I talk? Please? Instead of just thinking very loudly?

Do you like the music?

Music? Is there music?

(There is what sounds like a very worn, shaky piano clanging in the background of this never-ending void she is trapped in. It sounds like someone is singing but she can’t make out the words. Is it in another language? She wasn’t sure. She just knows it puts her on edge.)

Music makes me feel better.

It makes me think about birds. I like birds! They’re so pretty.

I guess…

One time, I saw a bird sleeping in the snow.

That’s what bad dreams are about.

Like this? Like this? This voice sounds different. Younger. Shriller?

I feel like I’m sleeping in snow. I can’t get up. It’s too cold.

The longer she stares into the abyss - the more shapes she can make out. She was starting to think she and the Fredbear doll were not the only ones in here. She could make out another shape.

Things don’t breathe when they sleep in snow.

Chica? Why are you here? Why is your jaw hanging like that?

I can’t breathe.

Why are you here?

I can’t breathe.

Her nightmares continued to persist:

GO!

GO!

GO!

Go where? There’s nowhere to go.

GO!

GO!

GO!

You’re never going to be helpful, are you?

GO!

GO!

GO!

Alright. I’ll just let you tire yourself out, I guess.

The Pirate Cove show is about to begin!

Foxy? Are you here, too? Mike wasn’t as interested in the animatronics’ as I was, but you were always his favorite.

GO!

GO!

GO!

One by one

GO!

GO!

GO!

They cease to be

What’s the matter, Foxy?

… Mr. Afton?

I thought you wanted an audience!

(She woke with the screams and smashing piano keys still ringing in her ears.)

She turned 15.

There is no party.

Her mother tried – fuck, did she try. But even she could tell the woman’s nerves were shot all to hell. She made her a very small cake. It even had a candle. She hugged her tight, so tight. She kept brushing her hair with her fingers as if trying to calm them both. She whispered the words to Happy Birthday against her temple.

There is still no mention of her father. At that point, Charlie was afraid of the answer even if she could’ve worked up the courage to ask.

There’d been a hollowness making its way home inside of her. She didn’t know when it had first appeared. But it was certainly present then. Everything was just falling apart so abruptly. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. She wanted her father back, her friend back, her mother happy. Why was everything slipping away so fast? Why couldn’t she keep up? Could she even entertain the idea of fixing this? She didn’t even know where to start! She was just a kid - and yet it seemed all the adults around her were spiraling just as much as she felt she was.

Her mother had always been such a pillar of strength. Surely she would prevail through this - whatever this was - right? As of that moment, unless her father miraculously walked through the door, they were all the other had left. They would make it through this. They would. No matter how bad things got, as long as they stuck together, they would get through it. They had to. They had to. They had to.

She’d gone to bed that night repeating this mantra to herself.

The muffled voices of her mother talking loudly to someone - on the phone? - only slightly penetrated her sleep that night. Dreams would keep her locked in sleep. She did not wake to hear the nature of the call.

That security marionette puppet had joined the fray in her nightmares. She couldn’t see it. But she knew it was there. Behind her. Right on her neck.

Fredbear’s eyes bore into hers – as if seeing every thought in her head. As if they were stripping her down to her core components.

I don’t exist?
You said you were sorry
And that you loved me
But I know you’re lying
I don’t love you either
And I’ll take you with me
So you’ll know how it feels
To stop existing

It’s the only words in her dream that night. But they felt heavy. They felt like a warning. If not towards her, towards someone very near.

Her waking to find her mother missing all but confirmed this.

WIFE OF SUSPECTED CRIMINAL MISSING

(...) A call from the couple’s daughter came in to report the woman missing yesterday morning. The HPD is being very tight-lipped about anything regarding Henry Emily’s family, presumably to protect their privacy, but this recent news has many either worried or wary. When asked if they believed she knew of her husband's alleged crimes, Police Chief ██████████ only commented: “There is no evidence to suggest she had any involvement. What we do know is that she is considered at risk and we would urge the public to keep an eye out for her.” Their teenage daughter, Charlie Emily, has been reportedly sent to live with distant relatives in the meantime. (...)

LOCAL MAN, FORMER FAZBEAR ENGINEER, MISSING

(...) According to local reports from the HPD, it was discovered that William Afton, who was previously questioned about the Fredbear Diner Robbery and a missing child case from the same location, has all but vanished after police arrived for a scheduled check-in to partake in another search of the man’s residence upon learning he may have more knowledge of these previously mentioned events than he originally let on. His home is all but vacant, stripped of most of the man’s possessions. However, the rooms of his children have reportedly been left intact for unknown reasons. One of Afton’s children is deceased, whilst the other is currently living with his mother out-of-state for mental health treatment. His ex-wife, having changed both her and her son’s surnames to her maiden name for the sake of privacy, states she has no knowledge of her ex-husbands whereabouts and has not spoken to him since the divorce prior to her and her son moving. (...)

- POLICE DEPARTMENT OF HURRICANE -

[ATTACHED PHOTO PROVIDED BELOW]

MISSING: Fritz █████

AGE: 12

SEX: Male

DOB: June. 15th, 1973

APPEARANCE: Red Hair / Brown Eyes / Blue Sweatshirt / Scar on Left Cheek / Green Shorts / Red Flip Flops / Carrying Red Backpack

Last seen at the local, newly established Freddy’s Fazbear’s Pizzeria on the day of ▊/▊/1985. If you have seen this missing child or have any information regarding his disappearance, please contact the number below:

█ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █

- POLICE DEPARTMENT OF HURRICANE -

[ATTACHED PHOTO PROVIDED BELOW]

MISSING: Jeremiah “Jeremy” █████

AGE: 11

SEX: Male

DOB: Dec. 13th, 1974

APPEARANCE: Long Brown Hair / Brown Eyes / Green Tank Top / Chipped Front Tooth / Baggy Blue Jeans / Blue Sneakers / Carrying Skateboard

Last seen at the local, newly established Freddy’s Fazbear’s Pizzeria on the day of ▊/▊/1985. If you have seen this missing child or have any information regarding his disappearance, please contact the number below:

█ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █ - █

CONCERNS OVER STENCH AT NEWLY ESTABLISHED PIZZERIA

(...) Patrons have reported a foul odor emanating from somewhere in the apparent bright-and-shiny Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Management is considering contacting an exterminator to check the vents to see if a dead animal has gotten itself stuck somewhere in the restaurant. (...)

(“Did he have anything to do with it?”

‘It’?

“Your mom…” Mike shifted, awkwardly. “Did… MY dad… y’know.”

She inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled.

“Still impatient as ever, aren’t ya?”

Her teasing comment did little to elevate the mood. They both knew the answer.)

Chapter Text

POSSIBLE STRING OF MISSING CHILDREN GOING LARGELY UNREPORTED?

(...) Some locals have suspected it has something to do with the opening of the new Fazbear’s Pizzeria, but the HPD has largely dismissed this as paranoia due to its association with the now defunct Diner. Any updates in regard to the case of Cassidy █████ have ground largely to a halt. The current state of the only known suspects - Henry Emily and William Afton - are also being met with mere “no comment” responses from any member of the HPD. Henry Emily has still not officially been charged with any crime, and the location of Afton is still unknown. (...)

She spends the remainder of her 15th year and all of her 16th with the grandparents on her mother’s side.

She didn’t know them very well. Her mother and them hadn’t gotten on well. Hadn’t approved of her marrying her father.

She supposed the situation that landed her in their care did little to improve that opinion.

They make her go back to school. It’s not the school she left behind, thankfully, but she still feels like she was being stared at regardless. She could not relax. Every moment of every day she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin at the slightest provocation.

Her grandparents weren’t comically harsh or devoid of love. But they weren’t warm. And they hadn’t been asked to be saddled with a teenager unexpectedly after their own daughter had - seemingly - ran off into the night. Everything about them was distant. Arm's-length. There was a somewhat unspoken rule of “keep out of trouble and keep to yourself and we can all get along while you’re stuck here.”

She knew she would not stay here long past her 18th birthday - if even that long.

The second she could manage she knew exactly where she was heading: Hurricane.

This time she finds herself face-to-face with the Marionette:

Garrett? Are you here? Is this even you?

Garrett. I wasn’t there. I don’t know how to help. Is this about Mike? I don’t know where he is, either.

It’s not about him.

No? Then who –

Him. Him. Him.

Who?

Daddy. I’ve been stuck here. I’ve seen everything.

What have you seen?

Everything.

…Why are you telling me this? Why not Mike?

He’s too far away. He can’t hear. Not correctly. It’s nothing but screams. And blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

Are you… angry with him?

I was.

You’re not anymore?

I don’t know. I just know there is someone worse worse worse.

Your… dad?

Freddy ripped apart with a smile

Huh?

Bonnie dancing in the dark

Chica and her wonderful song

Foxy met the happy man

You are gifted

You are gifted

Garrett, I don’t understand.

You don’t have to. There’s no one else who can listen.

…Okay.

Listen. Listen. Listen:

When the time comes

And you’ll know when it is

Daddy will be there

He will look different

But you’ll know it’s him

There will be a canister of gasoline in the building

When all this comes together

You’ll be able to end this

For good

I’ll try, Garrett.

… Garrett?

…

Do you know where my mom is? My dad?

…

Garrett. Please.

…

…

…

It’s a lot of responsibility.

But when it’s done, we’ll all be free.

…

…

…

Ok, Garrett.

You’ll be free too.

… Ok, Garrett.

She couldn’t remain idle.

She didn’t have all the information, but she had enough.

Her dad was innocent. Her mom did not leave on a whim. William was up to some abhorrent shit. That was all she needed to know.

She worked herself to the bone to make sure she could realistically return to Hurricane as soon as possible. She worked hard at school. She took her driving test a week after turning 16. She took part time jobs throughout the remainder of high school. She needed to make herself independent as soon as possible.

She found a cheap truck for sale. It was a piece of shit, but it’d do. It’s an hour drive back home. It would do. She turned 17.

She graduated. Within a month, her bags were packed. The goodbye with her grandparents was unceremonious. They didn’t seem happy to see her leave. They didn’t seem heartbroken either.

She had all her garbage thrown in the back of the truck. In the two years she’d essentially been crashing here lying in wait she became certain of two things:

1) There was some awful, awful shit waiting for her back home. This was not going to be an overnight venture - this could take years.

2) William Afton was behind all of this. She didn’t have the details. She didn’t have proof. But come hell or highwater, she was going to get it. She was going to turn this entire thing on its head. She would find William Afton. And she would make him pay. Even if it was the last thing she ever did.

And with how things had played out thus far - it very well could be.

Chapter Text

FAZBEAR’S PIZZA TO TEMPORARILY CLOSE - GO THROUGH REHAUL

(...) A spokesperson for Fazbear Entertainment has made the statement: “Every problem the new location faces is fixable. There is nothing to worry about. Your children are perfectly safe in our establishments. We are focused on nothing but safety!” (...)

She found the job listing so quickly it was almost comical.

HELP WANTED!

Grand Re-Opening ! ! !

Vintage pizzeria given new life! Come be a part of the new face of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza!

$100.50 a week!
To apply call:
1-555-FAZ-FAZBEAR

In her momentary amusement, she’d almost overlooked something important.

RE - opening.

She had been gradually tearing through every piece of information she could get her hands on. She knew, not long before she’d left to live with her grandparents, that a new location had opened in town. It had, apparently, closed for a time.

She could see the pages of missing people's papers flash through her mind when she closed her eyes.

Gee. Wonder why?

Evidently that had not been enough to KEEP it closed, however.

She returned to the cheap apartment she’d landed in when she got back into town and dialed up the number.

It was time to do some more digging.

Day Shift Security Guard.

She stared down at the job title on the application propped on her knees as she sat in the bed of her truck, head rested against the back window. Simple enough. She could work with this. She just needed a way in, and here it was.

But what made her pause momentarily was the simple NAME HERE line.

The numerous newspapers she’d found naming her father as a suspect in the string of disappearances back in ‘85 had made her cautious in throwing her own name carelessly. She had no idea how they’d react to seeing her name on this application. Maybe they wouldn’t notice or even care. But they could. And she couldn’t risk that.

After a moment of consideration she wrote out:

ELIZABETH

She floundered for a minute trying to think up a surname. She, cautiously, wrote out a familiar one.

SHELBY

Her mother’s maiden name. Also a risky choice, but not near as risky as ‘Emily’. It would work. She got to filling out the rest.

NAME: ELIZABETH SHELBY

AGE: 17

DOB: █ / █ /1970

PHONE #: ███████

Her dreams that night are… different.

There’s no talking.

She found herself… inside something. A head? She’s looking through the eyes of it. She can’t move her body. The room is dark. And she can see…

The animatronics. Well, at least that seems to be staying consistent.

She’s on a… stage? It’s somewhat hard to make out the details. She can only move her head left to right. Left to right.

Not much beyond that happens in the dream, but she finds herself unnerved regardless. This bizarre ambience that rang and reverberated throughout it got under her skin. Like distant echoes of laughter and shrieks of metal. And the mechanic whirring of her turning her head. Left to right. Left to right. Left to right.

At least she’d gotten used to the cryptic warnings of her other nightmares.

It certainly was… different.

Despite how willingly she’d been prepared to walk into this potential nightmare, she found herself being filled with the all too familiar pangs of dread.

Her waking the next morning to a call asking her to come in for an interview does little to soothe this feeling. This was the goal, of course. She needed to focus on that. You’re looking for William Afton. He’s the reason your family and so many others are missing or just… gone. Focus on that. Focus. Focus.

(When Garrett had told her by the end of this, she’d be free too, it wasn’t until much, much later that it would even occur to her that she was just as trapped as them.)

It would’ve been very generous to call what she walked into an actual “interview”.

It was more of a “Are you free? Do you need quick, easy money no matter how little? Welcome aboard!” meeting than anything. No proof of qualification required. They, evidently, just needed someone to watch the restaurant in the security room while they attempted to put the place back together during the day to make sure no one tried to make away with any quote-unquote valuables, and the same for during the night - when it was much more vulnerable towards such a threat.

She could only imagine why they’d be so concerned about robberies. It was a real mystery, wasn’t it? She was sure that had no connection to a certain man. Not at all.

It would have been much more convenient for her to have nabbed the Night Shift job, but the only one still available had been Day Shift, unfortunately. She’d have to deal with the risk of others being in the building while she got to work. Great.

Beyond all of that, she very quickly got a look at how much had changed from the Fredbear Diner days. The animatronics, for one.

They were not the same animatronics.

She was greeted with these very slick, very new sets of beasts. They resembled the old ones, but they were…

The words of the interviewer came back to her.

“They're the new faces of the place! They, uh. Have some features put into place to avoid any future incidents, so to speak. They’re far safer.”

“Safer?” She’d asked.

“Well,” The unassuming man continued a bit warily. “The old location had some… bumps, I supposed. Nothing like how the papers made it sound, mind you. Don’t worry about all that.”

“Right. I wasn’t.”

“Good! Good. Well, the animatronics from that one have been put away for now, and we’ve put in place these new ones, uh. They have some features, like I said. Scanners. Security things… safety, like I said. The guy who put ‘em together, he was a real whiz with this kinda stuff. But once it got time to put in the police scanner, he dipped. Not sure why, ha ha.”

“Police scanner?”

“They have this… and this is just a precaution, keep in mind. They have this scanner that’s connected to a criminal database. If some ruffian tries to enter the place, the police will be notified immediately. Hah, no. No low-lifes are getting in here once the place opens back up!”

“Hm. Do you know when that might be?”

“They’re hoping to open back up on the 13th. Start off the new place with a birthday party. It should, uh. Be a blast. Anyway, for now they just want you to, uh. Watch the place in the security room. Make sure no one makes off with anything in the meantime.”

“Sounds doable.”

“Right! Uh, anyway. Welcome to the family.”

Welcome to the family. If only he’d known.

She took her place in the seat in front of the monitors.

Here we go.

Chapter Text

The plan was, on paper, simple.

She would spend enough time in the security room and play at her job - keep watch on the cameras, make sure no one was keeping shit for themselves - and when no one was watching she would go snooping.

She wasn’t here out of some hidden desire to be an actual security guard.

She was here because she knew that he had been here.

There were scatterings of mentions of a man named “Dave Miller” in the newspapers as the new Robotics Whiz for Fazbear Entertainment. This on its own would mean nothing, it made complete sense that they’d need to hire on new work given that their most reliable men for the job had all but vanished.

It would mean nothing - if ol’ Dave himself hadn’t up and vanished as well.

She was no detective. Any info she had on her would be viewed as nothing but conjecture. But the years of dreams that had hung over her like a constant, overbearing shadow, filled with warnings and pleas of help had her unable to look away. Maybe she was wrong. But the mere idea that she wasn't kept her at it. If her parents were still around, maybe that would deter her from this wild goose chase. But they weren’t.

And unless they popped up out of the shadows from where’d they’d vanished, she was going to believe with everything she had that Dave Miller was indeed William Afton.

And if he was Dave, then he was here.

Which begged the question: Why?

She grimaced at the thought, a past nightmare flashing through her mind:

S

She found herself back in the old Diner. She was standing in the middle of the dining area. She was stuck facing the back door. She could not move.

A

There was a boy there. He was young. Blonde hair. Standing there in what looked like a downpour, feebly smacking his palms on the door.

V

His face, though. He didn’t look frightened. He looked…

E

Furious. And he was staring directly at her. ‘What?’ She wanted to ask. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

T

She then noticed a car pulling up behind him.

H

She tried to say something. Anything. But nothing came out.

E

‘Look out!’ She wanted to scream. ‘He’s right behind you!’

M

And for a moment, the boy’s expression faltered. He cupped his hands on the glass of the door and breathed out onto it. He wrote something out on the fogged-up glass before fading away. For the first time in the dream, she regained movement and stalked forward quickly.

The words on the glass merely said: you can’t

She shook herself, shivering the memory and its emotions off. The dreams, unlike the more direct conversations she’d had with Garrett, were rarely clear. She found herself having to guess at their meanings half the time. She’d be a psychiatrist's field day, she garnered.

But there was always one consistent theme in them, regardless if the man himself actually appeared in them: William.

For a moment, she entertained the thought that it was entirely possible that William only barely remembered her. What threat could some little girl pose? Especially one who had, in a matter of a couple years, lost her entire family under very confusing circumstances. No one would be up to this after something so abrupt and tragic. And there was no way she would even be able to guess what he’d been up to - he had packed his shit and ran the second anyone suspected he might know anything regarding anything that had happened in ’85.

In any other circumstances, that would probably be the case.

But these… spirits, she’d found herself calling them, had decided someone needed to do something. And that task had been, for better or worse, been left to her.

She would prove herself to be a loose end that William should have never overlooked.

When no one was paying attention, she would go looking.

She knew those old animatronics were being kept somewhere here.

They probably weren’t that well-hidden. There was a locked-up storage room. She’d bet anything they were in there.

She would go looking on a day she knew no one would be paying attention: November 13th, 1987. The day of the re-opening. There was going to be a birthday party to celebrate the occasion.

No one would be paying attention. It would be a piece of cake.

YET ANOTHER TRAGEDY BEFALLS FAZBEAR’S!

(...) Witnesses claim that during the grand re-opening, during a child’s birthday party to start the whole thing off, one of the animatronics, specifically the new and “improved” Foxy - nicknamed ‘Mangle’ by the partygoers based on its rather slapdash appearance and as a poor joke inspired by what occurred this Saturday - evidently malfunctioned and clamped down it’s metallic teeth into the skull of one of the employee’s, namely one Jeremy Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald had originally been a Night Shift guard at the facility and had only been switched over to Day Shift the day of, as an apparent “reward” of some kind for completing his first week and to have a chance to see the place on such an important day. Fitzgerald is still in critical condition, though the medical staff claim he may have a chance of pulling through, though what state he will be in mentally after suffering such a massive head injury is of this moment unknown. Fazbear Entertainment has yet to comment. (...)

Chapter Text

She’d gotten a call that morning - the 13th - telling her that she did not need to come in.

“We’re, uh, giving you a break after your first full week! The night guard is gonna take over for you, today.”

That certainly… was nice of them.

She thanked them and after setting the phone back on the receiver spent at least ten minutes convincing herself not to put her foot through the wall. The apartment was cheap - it would not take a hard kick to damage the wall.

Fine. Fine. She would work around this.

If the Night Guy was working today, then they probably weren’t working tonight. The place might be empty. She would just wait it out. She could still work with this.

Her plan…

What exactly was her plan? She was going to find the animatronics she knew William had worked on. Something in her gut was telling her that she needed to find them. It would reveal… something to her. And after? Well - that depended on what she found with the ‘bots.

She would figure it out. She just needed to find them.

Tonight. She would sneak in tonight.

Tomorrow is another day.

She flinched.

Someone used one of the suits…

She tried to even out her breaths. Keep calm. You can still do this.

There was a spare one, in the back. A yellow one. Someone used it.

Now none of them are acting right.

She rested her forehead on her clenched hands. She could handle this. She had to.

There was no one else around besides her who could. They’d all… they were all gone. There was a back room. She just needed to get in. She would figure out the rest, then.

She would do this. She had to. The alternative was… she wasn’t going to entertain it. Either this ended with her fixing this mess or she would die trying. She didn’t want to die. But she couldn’t comfortably live with the knowledge that she hadn’t even tried.

For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to Michael. Where was he? What was he doing? Garrett had said he couldn’t get through to him. That he was too far away. Was he dead? Surely not. She really, really hoped not. Maybe if things were different, he would be along for this awful ride. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be doing this alone.

She felt a tight squeeze of loneliness hit her that she hadn’t felt in a while. Her parents, her friend… where were they? Fuck. Fuck.

Tonight. She was going to the restaurant tonight.

No matter what happened.

The parking lot was abandoned.

Not a car in sight.

Something was wrong. She could feel it all throughout her body that something had happened. She shuddered all over.

No time for this. She got out of her truck and, after a cursory look around the lot, ran towards the building.

She peered through the glass door. The place looked terrible. Like they hadn’t even bothered trying to clean the place after the opening. She is so focused on this that she doesn’t notice another issue.

There is a bolted lock on the front door.

What the fuck, is all her brain spits out. Why the hell is this here?

It almost resembles a bike lock, but much heavier. The kind that would require bolt cutters to cut through if one didn’t have a key. She had neither.

She could feel sweat begin to form on her neck. Her heart rate kicked up. She had a key - the key meant to open this door. But not this lock!

She finds herself rocking from foot to foot, back and forth. What should I do? She thought helplessly.

The back door. Was it bolted shut?

She didn’t even bother to look for onlookers before she found herself jogging to the back. Please, don’t be locked. Please, don’t be locked.

She came face to face with the back door. No bolted lock. She tries the doorknob.

Locked.

She fishes out the front door keys and can think of nothing to do but pray and hope someone hears. Please!

It fits, and she hears a click.

The doorknob turns.

Oh, thank fuck.

She scurries in.

She brought a flashlight. She wasn’t stupid enough to try and turn the lights on when she isn’t supposed to be here.

And. frankly, a part of her does not want to see the place lit up. The overwhelming feeling of wrongness she’d felt when she’d pulled up in the parking lot was not letting up.

The back room. Storage room? She needed to get in there, find whatever the hell she was looking for, and book it.

She trails her hand along the wall and keeps her light along the doors. Storage. Storage.

Storage!

The letters are faded, but they’re there.

She grips the knob - don’t be locked! - and turns.

It opens.

And there they are.

Just… right there.

They look awful. Like they’d been placed there since after this place tried to open the first time and hadn’t been touched since. They looked like they were decaying, bits of their faux fur were coming off in clumps. She could see open parts of their machinery, metal glistening off her flashlight. Bonnie was missing his face. Chica’s jaw was stuck completely pried open. And –

And –

She feels dizzy. The room feels like it's growing smaller with each breath she takes. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. What happened here? Why were they all just tossed back here? She doubts it was merely “safety concerns.” Why does she feel so nauseous? Why – why –

She’s back, kneeling beside William’s car. Her hand is - unlike last time when it was mostly paint and only hints of what she’d convinced herself was rust - covered with blood. She looks up and William is inside the car. He just stares back at her. He raises his hands. They are even bloodier. He’s holding a butcher’s knife. He grins.

‘Don’t look inside!’

She gasps, sharply. She can’t breathe. She doesn’t want to look. She shouldn’t. What the fuck would she do, if she found what she was suspecting was there? No. No, she couldn’t do this. Someone, anyone else. Don’t make me do this.

Garrett? Are you there? Please…

She got no response. There was no one else.

She had to.

Bracing herself, she walked forward, trembling.

She gripped the front of Freddy’s torso and began to pry it open.

She hadn’t really known what she was looking for until that very moment. She’d had a feeling, but she hadn’t known.

She found what she was looking for.

She didn’t remember leaving the place after discovering… them.

She’d just found herself back in her truck, hands wet.

She didn’t call the cops.

What the fuck would she even tell them? I discovered the corpses of these missing children because their ghosts lead me to them? Yeah, that would go well.

She scrubbed her hands until they were raw when she returned to her apartment. She didn’t quit the job - she didn’t have to.

The place was now, once again, shut down.

She found out the following morning what went down on the day of opening.

Perhaps she’d dodged a bullet by not getting the Night Shift gig.

Or a malfunctioning animatronics deadly maw, her exhausted brain piped up.

She didn’t find it very funny.

And now she was stuck again.

Should she go back? Wait for the place to re-open? It wasn’t going to re-open after what happened, right? Could it?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t think. And for once her dreams were mercifully silent.

And they stayed silent.

For the next decade the ghosts were completely silent.

She wondered in the following years if she’d done something wrong. Were they angry? Had she fucked up? Should she have gone back? She tried, once. The place was locked up much more than it had been on her first venture.

She watched the place like a hawk for years, waiting for something. Anything. Waiting for the hint of a whisper, a nudge that she was back on the right track. Something.

Are you even here anymore? She wanted to shout. Were you ever there in the first place?

She didn’t know. And the silence would persist - until a familiar face made its way back into her life.

Chapter Text

In the intervening years she… kept busy.

She hadn’t forgotten Garrett’s words - that she would eventually face William again one day - but the doubt was like a stone in her stomach.

Nothing. Not a word. Not a peep from any of them. Why?

She almost felt… abandoned. Why had she been shut out? What happened?

She kept a constant, vigilant eye on Freddy’s. For years it sat there and collected dust. People seemed wary of the place. Break-ins happened but became rarer and rarer with the passage of time. There was something about the place that kept people away.

She took up odd jobs, never using the same name twice. Once it was Sammy. Then it was Jenny. Joan. Marla. Tracy. Betty.

And eventually, the one that stuck: Vanessa.

Her fruitless search to dig up anything on her parents had yielded no results. She’d dug through lists and lists of obituary pages, and still nothing. She didn’t even have the simple knowledge that they were dead and looking was pointless. There was just this gaping hole. Keeping her mother’s name was the closest she could come to keeping some part of them with her, no matter how risky keeping it around was. A part of her simply didn’t care anymore.

There had been whispers, in the early 90’s, of Freddy’s trying for yet another reopening, a rumor she’d kept her eye on for weeks, but nothing ever came from it. The place remained abandoned. She wasn’t even sure what she was hoping for anymore. If the place did open back up, so what? What the hell did she think she could accomplish? Finding more bodies that she could do nothing with? There were families out there still wondering what on earth happened to their son, their daughter, and she had the answer and could do nothing with it. What was she afraid of, getting the blame? That shouldn't hold her back. She felt like a complete coward.

This trend of spiraling thoughts would continue to plague her. The lack of any direction just made her feel useless. Obviously, she’d failed in whatever venture it was that the spirits had asked her to do. And they were probably going to be stuck there forever.

She would never find William Afton. God knew where the hell he was. For all she knew, he was on the other side of the country - maybe not even still in the country. For all she knew, he was probably dead.

Or - perhaps not.

Perhaps, unbeknownst to her, he was under her nose the whole time. Perhaps the man was hiding in plain sight the whole time. Perhaps this whole thing was about to reach a boiling point.

This would all become strikingly clear to her the day Michael Fucking Afton decided to reappear out of nowhere in her life.

She wasn’t a cop.

Not that he needed to know that. And based on his bedraggled appearance and perpetually exhausted demeanor, he didn’t seem the type to call her on any potential discrepancies on her whole… disguise, so to speak. He didn’t even recognize her. Whether that was due to time apart or the rumors she’d been told by her father that he was having genuine memory problems, she didn’t know. He just seemed eager to get her to leave.

Which - fair. But she had no plans on letting him disappear from her life again. Not when the mere sight of him had brought back almost completely forgotten whispers.

The night after seeing each other again for the first time in, what? 15? 16 years? The dreams…

The dreams came back.

“Charlie…”

Garrett!? Is that you? Where the hell –

“Listen! Not much time… It’s almost… time.”

Time? You mean –

“Mike… he doesn’t remember. But he could… he can… keep him around. Dad… is close. He’s… why we… went quiet.”

What?

“The others… I can’t reach them anymore. Daddy… tricked them. They’ve been listening to him.”

…

“They don’t realize… that he’s the one… who did this to them. They listen to him… do what he wants. I can’t reach them… I can’t reach them…”

Garrett –

“It’s time, Charlie. This… is probably… my fault. I gave them life… I’m the reason they’re stuck… I didn’t mean for it to be… like this.”

Garrett!

HelpThem.

SaveThem.

HelpThem.

SaveThem.

HelpThem.

SaveThem.

HelpThem.

SaveThem.

SaveThem

SaveThem.

When she awoke, the young blonde boy she’d seen years earlier flashed through her mind in a flash, once again, his words the same as always: you can’t.

And after, after, after -

When she saw him again, when she saw him and couldn't even properly say anything before there was a fucking knife between her ribs -

She vaguely recalls that there was a fire, afterwards.

There was definitely fire involved.