Chapter Text
Henry Emily had never imagined he’d take care of a teenage boy.
Even when his wife was pregnant, Henry had firmly believed that their first child would be a girl. His wife had laughed at his assertions, saying that they couldn’t paint the baby’s room a bright shade of pink before even knowing for sure what gender they would be.
Henry reluctantly allowed his wife to paint the baby bedroom blue, and they agreed that Charlie would be their name if they were a boy. Charlotte would be the name of the girl.
Henry, of course, firmly believed they would be receiving a girl, and started telling everyone how excited he was for “Charlotte.”
One such person was his good friend and coworker, William Afton. William was never really good with kids, but he did have his own baby, Michael.
“Good luck,” Henry had told William jokingly at the bar one day. “I hear boys are menaces.”
William downed a shot. “And who told you that ridiculous rumor?”
“Your mother.”
The two men laughed heartily at that, and William gave Henry a smile. “Well, I’ve heard that girls are much worse in their teenage years.”
Henry raised his eyebrows. “And who told you that?”
“My mother in-law.”
Henry chuckled. “Well, I guess you’ll be able to point and laugh at me when Michael is past his rotten stage and Charlotte is creating a ruckus about boyfriend drama.”
“If only they could stay little angels forever,” William mused.
“Yeah, well, they have to grow up eventually,” Henry said. “Everyone does.”
William didn’t say anything to that, just staring thoughtfully off to the distance. Whenever William got that look on his face, it usually meant he was going to say something incredibly stupid and incredibly genius.
But Henry was too tired for genius at the moment.
“Besides,” Henry said, nudging his friend’s shoulder, “I’ve heard Michael hasn’t been acting very angelic lately. Your wife says it’s a miracle that either of you get a good night’s sleep.”
William groaned, massaging his eyes wearily. “He certainly has a pair of lungs on him, and, I kid you not, he can’t bloody stop puking. I’m half tempted to hand him off to you right now.”
Henry was Michael’s godfather, just as William would soon be Charlotte’s godfather.
He grimaced sympathetically. “He must know what a rotten man his father is,” Henry said jokingly, raising his shot glass toward William. “Shame I know you won’t be dying on me any time soon.”
William grinned. “For your sake, I hope your future daughter doesn’t realize how terrible her father is until she’s much older.”
“I’ll drink to that, my friend.”
They clinked their glasses together and downed another shot.
Sure enough, their baby came into the world as a small little girl, both the wife and daughter perfectly healthy. Henry practically cried with relief when he heard the news. It almost felt like a sign. A sign that Henry’s small family would grow up happy and healthy, together.
The first time he held his baby girl in his arms felt like he was carrying the world in the shape of a fragile bundle of life.
Unfortunately for Henry, Charlotte also came with her own set of lungs, and William and Henry agreed that she and Michael were perfect for each other.
“They can regal their children with tales of causing their parents to lose sleep together,” Henry moaned.
“I fear the lungs their children will have packed into them,” William said darkly. “Probably enough to break glass.”
Of course, both adults knew that it wasn’t very likely that Charlotte (or Charlie, as Henry had begun calling her) and Michael would form a romantic relationship together, even if they would be seeing a lot of each other in the future.
Life continued on. Henry and William began working together on creating animatronics for a local pizza shop, and Henry made sure that he was present enough in his daughter’s life to watch her grow.
Unfortunately, William seemed to be much more of a workaholic, and Henry would catch him and his wife giving each other nasty glares. At this point, William already had two children, Michael and Elizabeth, and William said he had a feeling a third was on the way.
“You should spend more time with your family,” Henry told William one day. “You can’t buy those sorts of moments.”
William had sighed and nodded, saying that he would lessen his work-load for the sake of his young ones. Henry had nodded approvingly.
Tragedy first struck in Henry’s life when both his and William’s wives had gone out on a girls night together. Henry and William had been babysitting the kids together, making sure that Michael and Charlie included Elizabeth in their playtime. Michael was reluctant to let a “baby” play with them, even though Elizabeth was four at the time and Michael only six. William’s newest child, Evan, was already soundly asleep.
Still, despite the sibling drama, things were going peacefully, and soon, William and Henry parted ways, all of their children exhausted.
As Henry tucked Charlie in, Charlie looked at him with her big, brown eyes and clutched tightly onto the sheets.
“Is Mommy going to tuck me in tonight?” Charlie whispered.
Henry pressed a kiss on Charlie’s forehead. “Mommy’s not home at the moment.”
Charlie looked horrified at this announcement. “Will she come back?”
“Of course, she will.”
“Can I see her?”
Henry smiled, tucking the sheets more firmly around Charlie. “How about this? When Mommy comes home, she can sneak into your room and give you a kiss. Does that sound good to you?”
Charlie grinned and nodded. “Okay, but she has to wake me up.”
“You might not remember, even if you do wake up,” Henry warned.
“That’s okay!” Charlie declared. “Even if I don’t remember, at least I knew I was loved, when I was awake.”
It was strange to hear something so philosophical come out of Charlie’s mouth, but she always had been a deeper thinker than most children her age.
“How very mature of you,” Henry said. “Good night.”
Henry stood up, but Charlotte reached her hands out. “No, one last hug!”
Henry chuckled, sitting back down to hug his daughter. “Okay, but only one more. Daddy has to do things.”
“No,” Charlie moaned dramatically. “Stay.”
“I’m sorry, but I have things to do. You have to go to sleep now, alright.”
Charlie huffed. “Fine.”
“Good girl. I love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
Henry stood up, gave Charlie one last kiss on the forehead, and walked out of the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him.
An hour later, Henry received a call.
There had been a car accident. Both William and Henry’s wives had died on impact.
“Daddy?” Charlie had asked the next morning. “Where’s Mommy?”
Henry had burst into tears.
The ordeal had been deeply traumatic for all parties involved, but life continued on. Henry had a daughter to take care of. He couldn’t afford to let himself be swamped by grief.
But life had other plans for both Henry and his daughter.
On Charlotte’s seventh birthday, Charlotte had insisted they celebrate at Fredbear’s diner. Henry had no objections to that, and he had invited William and his children to come along.
Unfortunately, William said that they were busy on that date, and he was very sorry they could not attend.
This wasn’t the first time that William had acted distant toward Henry. As a matter of fact, ever since their wives died, William had been spending less and less time with Henry outside of business matters.
It was strange, but, then again, grief did strange things to a man.
Charlie was bummed that Michael wasn’t going to be able to attend her birthday party, but Henry promised her that most of her school friends were coming, which caused her to brighten right back up.
“It’s going to be the best day ever!” Charlie had cheered.
Henry gave her a bright smile. “It sure is.”
It was raining on the evening of Charlie’s birthday party. Maybe Henry should have taken that as a sign that things would go horribly wrong.
He hadn’t meant to take her eyes off of Charlotte. He had needed to go to the bathroom, so he told Charlotte he would be right back.
When he returned, Charlotte wasn’t anywhere in sight. After searching the entire restaurant, panic growing more and more in Henry’s chest, one of the workers finally found her in a back alleyway.
Dead.
After that, life began to float by for Henry Emily. His wife was dead; his daughter was dead. There wasn’t much left to live for.
He knew that William could sympathize with his plight. After all, his own daughter had died on the opening of Circus Baby’s Pizza World. Evan had reported it in hysterics, sobbing his eyes out about how the Circus Baby animatronic had brutally killed Elizabeth.
But, at that point, William and Henry were already fairly distant with each other. William was more absorbed in his work than ever, and Henry was trying to grapple with the loss of his entire family.
Things finally came to a head in 1983.
It was Evan’s birthday, and Henry’s peaceful day had been interrupted by a call from none other than Fredbear’s Diner itself.
“Hello?” Henry said tiredly upon picking up the phone. “What’s going on?”
From the other side of the line, Henry could hear the distant sound of screams and sirens. Instantly, he straightened.
“There’s been an… accident,” William’s voice said on the line
Henry was already on his feet, searching for his car keys. “What sort of accident?”
“I can’t explain everything now.” William’s voice was strangely stoic. “I’m going to the hospital. I need you to take Michael home.”
“Hospital? William, did something happen to—”
Henry was cut off by the sound of beeping. William had hung up on him.
Henry swore on the top of his lungs. “Where are my keys, where are my keys?”
Henry finally found his keys on the coffee table, hidden between a book and two empty coffee mugs. Henry snatched them up and ran to his car, almost speeding to Fredbear’s Diner.
By the time he arrived, the parking lot was already mostly empty, and Henry ran into the diner, bracing himself.
Blood was everywhere.
Well, maybe not everywhere. There was certainly a good amount of it on the floor, and a terrifying amount on Fredbear. Abandoned birthday party decorations seemed to mock the tragedy that had clearly taken place, and with a wave of nausea, Henry was reminded of his own daughter’s death.
But now wasn’t the time for that. He had to find Michael.
It actually wasn’t hard to find the young teenager. He was curled up in the corner of the bathroom. His blood-stained hands were holding tightly onto his hair, and Henry could see tears pouring down Michael’s cheeks.
“Oh my god, Michael?” Henry asked, rushing to the boy. He was bigger than Henry remembered him, but still horrifyingly young. Henry scanned Michael for any injuries, but he couldn’t see anything. “What happened?”
Michael flinched away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Henry had no idea what Michael was sorry for, but he knew he needed to calm the poor boy down.
“It’s okay, Michael,” Henry said gently, trying his best to keep the waver out of his own voice. “I’m here to take you home.”
Michael’s eyes were blown wide, and he was still pressing his body back into the corner of the bathroom like his life depended on it.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t mean it; I swear.”
Suddenly, Henry felt very out of his depth. It was clear Michael was having an anxiety attack of some kind, and Henry had no idea what he was supposed to do about it.
“Michael, take deep breaths,” he tried. “You’re safe now.”
For a moment, Henry wondered if Michael could even understand him, but then he took a shuddering inhale, sounding like he was drowning in air.
“There you go,” Henry said, trying to sound encouraging. “And out.”
Henry and Michael probably went through breathing exercises for thirty minutes, until, eventually, some more light entered Michael’s eyes, and recognition crossed over his face.
“Mr. Emily?” he whispered, looking like he was about to throw up. Now that Henry was no longer preoccupied with helping the panicking child, the blood that was all over Michael’s body was becoming increasingly concerning. “What are you doing here?”
“Your father wanted me to pick you up and take you home,” Henry said. “I think he’s at the hospital.”
A strange expression came across Michael’s face, and suddenly Michael was leaping to his feet, sprinting to a bathroom stall. The sound of retching came moments later.
“Are you alright?” Henry asked.
As soon as he said it, Henry felt like an idiot. Of course, Michael wasn’t alright. He had clearly witnessed his brother getting brutally injured.
“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered again.
“It’s alright, Michael,” Henry said, still not at all sure what Michael was apologizing for. “Are you going to throw up again?”
Hesitation. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll wait here for a bit and see if anymore comes out, okay?”
Henry didn’t get a response, but soon, he heard more retching, although it was beginning to sound like dry heaving.
As soon as Michael stepped out of the stall, Henry tried to give him a smile, although he was feeling pretty ill himself, at this point.
“Good job,” he said. “Go clean yourself up, and I’ll bring a bag in a car in case there’s anything left.”
Michael nodded, still looking pale and clammy. He dispensed a mountain of soap onto his hands and began to scrub them with fervor, only pausing to wipe his mouth. As soon as all of the soap was gone, and, at least in Henry’s eyes, all of the blood was gone as well, Michael began to heap more soap into his hands, scrubbing more.
This time, Henry saw that Michael’s hands were beginning to turn red from over scrubbing.
“You got it all off,” Henry said. “You can stop now.”
Michael shook his head. “I can still feel it,” he whispered, scrubbing his hands even more. “I can still—”
Henry turned the sink off for him. “You’re going to make your hands actually bleed if you keep that up,” he said. “The blood is gone.”
Michael was still shaking, staring at his raw and red hands like they were still coated in blood.
Henry bit back a sigh and handed Michael a bunch of paper towels. “Here.”
Michael slowly dried his hands, still looking more distant than he had earlier. Eventually, he threw the paper towels into the trash can, and Henry led him out of the bathroom.
Michael’s eyes instantly landed on the bloodied Fredbear, and Henry hurriedly led him away from the scene before he could work himself into another panic attack.
“Sit in the car,” Henry instructed. “I’ll be right back.”
Michael nodded and started walking to Henry’s car, and Henry re-entered the restaurant, going to one of the employees, who looked almost as sick as Michael.
“What happened here?”
The employee shook themself slightly before replying. “Somehow, a kid ended up in Fredbear’s mouth. He was crying a lot, and Fredbear—” The employee didn’t continue, instead gesturing helplessly to the animatronic.
It didn’t paint a pretty image.
“What did it do to him?” Henry demanded. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“We think it cracked his skull,” the employee said quietly.
Horror and shock ran through Henry’s body, and Henry wasn’t sure which he should deal with first.
“How is that even possible?” he demanded. “Don’t you realize how much force that would require? There’s no way the animatronics have that much power.”
The employee shrugged. “I’m not the engineer, sir.”
The employee might not have been an engineer, but Henry was. That shouldn’t have been possible.
But Michael was waiting for Henry in the car. Henry would interrogate William about the severe design flaw as soon as he got news of Evan’s status.
“Fine,” Henry said. “Could I have a bag and a water bottle?”
The employee didn’t even bother to charge Henry for the water, instead handing it over for free, along with a plastic bag. They wore the expression of one who didn’t care if they got fired, and Henry wouldn’t be surprised if they were planning on resigning.
“Thank you.”
With that, Henry returned to the car. Michael was already sitting in the passenger’s seat, his shoulders shaking as he stared at his lap.
“Sorry for taking so long,” Henry said, getting into the car and shutting the door behind him. “Here.”
Henry handed Michael the plastic bag and the water.
“The water’s for rehydration,” Henry explained. “The bag is for if you need to throw up again.”
Michael nodded quietly.
“Buckle your seatbelt.”
Michael buckled his seatbelt with a solemn click, and Henry buckled his own before starting the car.
The drive was silent, with the exception of the sound of the car, until Michael finally spoke.
“Is he alive?”
Henry turned on his turn signal and stopped at a stoplight. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.
“It’s my fault.”
“I really doubt that.”
The light turned green, and Michael didn’t say anything as Henry made his turn.
They spent the rest of the drive in silence, and Henry drove into William’s familiar driveway with little to no fanfare.
“Are you going to be alright on your own?” Henry asked, concern pulsing through him as Michael got out of the car.
“Yeah,” Michael said quietly.
“You know my number if you need anything, right?”
“Yeah.”
Henry frowned, checking his watch. It was still about four in the afternoon. “If your dad doesn’t call or come back from the hospital by ten, give me a call, and I’ll take you to my house.”
“Sir, that’s not necessary—”
“Of course, it is,” Henry said firmly. “You shouldn’t be sleeping alone in the house, especially after everything that’s happened.”
Michael opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water before shutting it firmly and giving Henry a short nod.
“Great,” Henry sighed. “I’ll try to reach your father when I get home; I’ll call you after.”
Michael nodded again. “Thank you, sir,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Of course.” Henry hesitated. “You should consider taking a shower and putting on fresh clothing.”
Michael nodded.
“And make sure you keep drinking that water. I don’t know if you know how to make a bowl of broth, but that would be a good idea too.”
Michael was glancing at the door now, and Henry knew he had overstayed his welcome.
“That’s it, I guess. I’ll see you later, Michael.”
“You too, sir.”
After Henry made sure Michael was safely in the house, Henry slowly backed out of the driveway and headed back home.
William had a lot of explaining to do.