Chapter Text
Gregory starts feeling a little sick again, as they approach the haunted house, but it's probably just lingering nausea from the tea cups or something. The sign bot considers them for a moment, blinking, and Sun tells Gregory that the last group went in a little too recently so they'll have to wait a bit. When they're let through, Gregory steps in and turns to find Moon beside him. As promised, the clothes have changed - orange has changed to blue, and the sunflowers look a little more like forget-me-nots. The scarf is still red though.
"Hello," Moon says, noticing his gaze. The animatronic makes an aborted gesture, shifting uncomfortably. "...What do you think of our outfit?"
"It suits you," Gregory says, examining it. He thinks the forget-me-nots are glowing slightly. And then he realizes that the stars on his cuffs are glowing too. "How long did this take you guys?"
Moon adjusts the straps on the backpack. "Not long," he says, shrugging. "Sun did most of the work. I picked the colors. Yours was... a group effort."
"Nice," Gregory says, and he means it.
The haunted house isn't anything special; put together by animatronics, just cardboard cutouts and lights and props. There's a fog machine, presumably, but it's hidden well enough that Gregory doesn't spot it during their walk. He recognizes some stuff from the spooky-themed attractions located in the emptier parts of the Pizzaplex, and some of the other stuff seems to be hand-made.
All in all, it's cute. Like a haunted house made for a school fair or something, only without any kids in costumes. All the costume-wearing bots are out and about enjoying themselves, which thankfully means there are no jump scares waiting here.
They walk in silence for awhile, and the silence is almost comfortable. Or it would be, if it didn't encourage Gregory's thoughts to wander. He thought about a lot of things; specifically, about secrets, and the ones he's keeping.
The thing about secrets is that they aren't easy to tell. Ideally, secrets aren't told at all, but they always are, somehow, in little jagged bits until the whole thing comes spilling out at an inconvenient time.
That's why Gregory prefers to keep them under lock and key. It's easier when he doesn't have people that he trusts on hand.
Unfortunately, he trusts the Daycare Attendant. Which means he's ended up showing them more than he meant to. They'd asked about his eyes, and he'd panicked - or rather, he'd avoided the question. They haven't asked since.
If anything, Sun's been overly cheerful as the night has passed. Maybe it's his way of making up for it - or maybe the animatronic is genuinely having fun.
He tries to distract himself by looking around. There's props everywhere, from dark drapes to spiderwebs. There are doors drawn with blood dripping down, and fog swirling on the floor. There's even fake windows, looking out on plastic graveyards and cardboard forests. It's quiet, but Moon doesn't seem to mind.
Gregory wouldn't either, if it didn't give him time to think about all the loose ends caused by his unraveling secrets.
He likes his secrets. Keeping them is what let him get the jump on that stupid bastard. Keeping them is how he made friends with some of the animatronics. Keeping secrets keeps him safe.
But he knows a lot about the animatronics now.
Gregory knows that Roxy is jealous and prideful, but also genuine. He knows that Chica is always hungry, and a little clumsy, but she's kind and incredibly hardworking. He knows that Monty can and will pick a fight, but that the alligator's stern nature allows him to be thoughtful at times. He knows that Sun and Moon are terrified of hurting people, but that they're willing to bend rules to help a friend. Even the STAFF bots, all of them, do their best - even if, in the end, they're often shoved aside in the grand scheme of things.
Secrets are best kept somewhere where they won't be found. But apparently, Gregory's been doing a shit job at keeping his own secrets.
"So, Moon," he says finally. He stops at a fake window, peering through. An illusion of a thousand gravestones on a moonlit hill greets him. "How's the research going?"
The animatronic pauses, head rotating a click. His hat - a constant, even with the now-blue sweater and the overalls with forget-me-nots - jingles softly. "Research?"
"Yeah. The documents and sh- stuff." Gregory turns to meet Moon's eyes. "Sun seemed a bit upset when I asked. Any news?"
"Ask Sun, then," Moon says, shrugging.
"I saw your blueprints. It's in the records. You share memory drives - and Sun seems determined to have fun tonight, so I didn't want to bother him. I was having fun, too..." Gregory taps the flashlight hooked to his belt, pressing his lips together. "Sorry, let me try again. Is everything okay? I'm worried."
Moon hums, a faint mechanical whir sounding from his exoskeleton. "Why? It's fine. Weren't we going to talk about this tomorrow?"
"That was the plan," Gregory agrees. "But... is nothing wrong, then?"
Moon shrugs again.
Not lying. Not saying 'no,' either.
Gregory has his own secrets. But the Daycare Attendant has already guessed at it, a little, pointing out his failures - and he thinks that he wants them to trust him enough to admit when they need help, too. He can guess all he likes, but if there's an actual issue - he wants to know.
Trust is a two-way street. Dad always told him that, back when they were struggling with the past together. Back when...
Gregory sighs. "Is Sun paying attention?"
He doesn't have to meet Moon's gaze this time. He can feel the Look that the Naptime Attendant is giving him. "Now he is," Moon says drily.
"I have something to tell you." The words stick in his throat. He closes his eyes and smiles, lips curving without any warmth. It makes him feel better anyway. "Sun asked me about, he asked - my eyes. About the purple."
"...Yes." There's concern in Moon's voice. "We were simply curious."
Gregory nods. "Did you want to know, too?"
Moon hesitates. "We would like to know, if you're comfortable with telling us. But we would never force -"
"It's ghosts."
A moment of silence. The air tastes cold; the fog seems to creep along the walls, as if agitated. But really, Gregory is probably the only one who's agitated.
He shouldn't be. The Daycare Attendant already knows that ghosts are real. He's not crazy.
"What?"
Gregory can feel his head ache. Just like the saying: speak of the devil, and so he shall appear. Except instead of the devil - because that bastard is in hell, now - it's just the voices in his head.
He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Moon doesn't flinch, but the animatronic goes unnaturally still.
Gregory's willing to bet that if he had a mirror right now, he'd see a pair of eyes that haunt his nightmares, staring back at him. It's sickening to think about. He'd thought he'd had better control than this.
"Some of them left," he says, keeping his voice even. As though the words coming out of his mouth make any sort of sense. "They got the... They got what they wanted. But some are still in my... they're still..."
He feels them take control of his voice, the rasp of multiples speaking at once. "We're still here," they nearly snarl.
The sudden shift is severely unwelcome. It feels like pain blooms through his head, except instead of making things fuzzy, it feels like everything is suddenly sharper. In focus. Gregory wonders who's talking right now, but it doesn't really matter. "We have to make sure it's all gone, we have to get rid of everything he touched," they say, voices low and bitter. "He's not gone completely. She only left because all she wanted was him, because she wants him to suffer - but he left things behind and we can't just -"
"Gregory?"
Ah. They'd gone on a bit of a tangent, there. Gregory coughs lightly, shoving the ghosts away. They've said their piece. "Sorry," he mutters, moving away from the fake window. He turns and starts walking ahead, eager to progress through the haunted house.
He can hear Moon behind him, the soft jingle of bells indicating that the animatronic is following. Gregory sighs.
He hates telling secrets. He's so bad at it. They never come out cleanly, always tangled in other secrets until he finds out he's said more than he'd meant to. It's annoying - and it scares him.
"They're loud, sometimes," Gregory says.
His voice is sharp, and he takes a moment to pull it back. But he needs to finish the explanation. He needs to make sure the secret is told neatly - in its entirety. "That's when my eyes turn purple. It's... it's sort of like the virus. Sometimes I can't hear myself when they're too loud. So."
"Do you need help?"
Gregory startles at that, almost tripping over his own feet. The cane comes down with a thud as he catches himself.
"No, no I'm fine," Gregory says quickly, avoiding Moon's gaze. Bitterness and exhaustion swell in him, but he swallows it down. "It's not that bad, I was just... You were curious. So I told you."
Trust. It's stupid, isn't it? Baring his heart like this is the most foolish thing to do. He'll regret this later - he's already regretting it now.
A silicone hand pats his shoulder. Gregory's vision blurs, and he has to force himself not to flinch.
It's just Moon.
The ghosts in his head howl with laughter at that. Because it's just Moon, is it? Just like before. Just like Fred... Just like Circus Baby and Chica and all the others.
Gregory meets Moon's eyes. The animatronic's faceplate doesn't emote well enough for him to tell what he's thinking right now, but if he had to guess - probably confused. Curious. Maybe even worried. Moon's still in the same costume, all soft outlines and loose fabric. He almost doesn't look like a Freddy Fazbear animatronic, this way.
Gregory forces himself to relax. He takes another deep breath, wrestling his emotions back into something neat and tidy. Or, if not tidy, then at least manageable.
A near-breakdown in a haunted house. How embarrassing.
"Thank you," Moon says.
Gregory pauses. The words were delivered in a steady, measured tone. He meets Moon's gaze.
Moon's smile seems to soften. "Sun says thank you, too. For trusting us."
Right. That's that, then.
Gregory turns away. It feels awkward to talk about the research, now, but - that was the whole point. Trust is give-and-take, and he's given more than his fair share. "So there's nothing to worry about with the documents?" he asks. It's abrupt and sudden, an obvious change in topics. He'll stop asking after this. He just wants to know.
Moon's voice box releases a staticky sigh. "Nothing much, there's just more than we expected."
"Oh?"
Moon hesitates, and Gregory notices a dim light in the distance. It's the exit; he stops, not wanting to interrupt Moon.
"The company has been stockpiling experimental endoskeletons for nearly fifteen years now, without actually using any of them," Moon says, finally. "They're called New Generation Type endoskeletons, or NGT endoskeletons for short. There are several version types, all primed to perform different tasks. It's... excessive."
It's way more than excessive. "They spent a shit-ton of money and have let it rot ever since," Gregory summarizes.
He can hear a smirk in Moon's voice. "Exactly."
Endoskeletons... That sounds familiar, for some reason. Gregory tries to remember, as he stares at the exit sitting just out of reach.
And then, of course, he doesn't have to try for very long. The ghosts are all to eager to remind him of those days when he almost died. All too eager to find the memories that are better labeled 'nightmares' and bring them back to the surface of his mind.
"The utility tunnels," he says.
And then he's moving.
He doesn't want Moon to ask, or for Sun to think about what he's just said. "Lets say good-bye to Chica," Gregory says instead, pushing his way past the exit door.
He turns, watching Moon pause just before the light. "Come on," Gregory urges him. "I wanna say good-bye to her before we go."
"Go where?"
"The night is almost over. I gotta go home and sleep." A lie, of course - he does need sleep, but he doubts he'll get much of it. And it's the best way to get the Naptime Attendant to agree. To make this conversation end, at least for tonight.
Moon's eyes curve slightly - probably in amusement. He's an animatronic, after all, and the Daycare Attendant deals with kids all the time. A bluff like this must be easy to see through. But Moon just nods and steps out, warm colors and sun rays spinning into place until Sun is standing there, smiling.
"Shall we go?" Sun says cheerfully, no hint of the serious conversation that just occurred present in his demeanor. Gregory finds himself grateful for that.
He nods and heads for the stage. He'll probably have to finish the conversation later, tie up loose ends - there never seems to be an end in sight when it comes to feelings... surely he'll reach it eventually - but for now, he simply shoves those thoughts away and looks for Chica. She's bright yellow tonight, and he spots a flash of yellow on the stage.
There she is - is what he thinks for a moment. But then he realizes that the shape is all wrong. Tall, but thick around the chest. And the hat -
A small purple hat on a yellow bear.
Abruptly, Gregory is certain that there is a purple bow tie on that bear's chest. He doesn't know why - or he does, but he refuses to believe it. Because it's not... This isn't the diner. This isn't the place of his nightmares, the place where he died.
He grits his teeth. Gregory isn't the dead one, they are. He has to remind himself of that, everything around him going quiet, but then the bear turns and he spots it - the purple bow tie.
He forgets himself for a second. He doesn't know who's speaking when his mouth opens, almost choking on the fear that follows. Because this isn't real.
This can't be real.
"Fredbear?"