Self-Preservation: Chapters 12-13
Long time, no see. Sorry for the longish hiatus, but I'm back. There should be one more chapter after this (maybe two). Thank you to everyone that participated in the poll and thank you to everyone that's supported this story one way or another.
Off-topic but since this story was written pre-SOTM release, we're going to pretend that the books are 100% canon (just for this story). I have no problem with the new lore (I do, but I'll adapt). I just need several months to come to terms with it.
@gregorysarmy - I hope you're doing well :D!!
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Chapter 12: Hide and Seek
The Mimic spends several moments, clinging to the ceiling like a spider, watching and waiting for Gregory’s guard to drop. For him to finally drift off to sleep, and then, he waits a few minutes more just in case. He wouldn’t put it past his son to orchestrate a plan to pretend to sleep in order to catch him off guard. Only when he hears the soft, consistent, deep breathing that accompanies sleep does Mimic climb down the walls and lower himself to the ground.
His limbs click as they readjust.
The mask he’d been protecting is held tightly in his hand. He steps forward, hovering over Gregory’s bedside. He reaches out with a trembling hand and brushes his bangs back. His son, consciously unaware but subconsciously aware enough to realize it’s his father, leans into his touch.
Inwardly, Mimic beams. Their connection is already mending itself. Soon all of the before will be washed away from Gregory’s memories until only the most important parts remain.
Just like they were washed away the first time.
With the same trembling hands, Mimic gently places the mask on Gregory’s face.
He stands back. Waiting.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa wants so badly to go to the police, but what would she say?
“Yes, hello, the kid I kidnapped a few years back but ultimately decided to adopt was kidnapped by a giant, weirdly sentient robot. Don’t worry, though, I only kidnapped that kid because the giant robot told me to.”
She’d spent the rest of her life in the looney bin, and that’s if they don’t laugh her out of the station. Vanessa wouldn’t blame them, though, it does seem unbelievable. She wouldn’t believe her either.
No, she’s on her own.
She allows herself a moment more to cry, but then she gets up, brushes her pants off, and returns to investigating. Her body feels like jelly and her heart beats rapidly against her ribcage, but she refuses to give in. Just this once she wants to be better than her nausea and sweaty palms and racing thoughts. She wants to be there for Gregory. Really, actually be there for him.
She takes a deep breath, then another, and another until the sound of her heartbeat isn’t pounding like a bass drum in her tender ears.
If she can retrace Gregory’s steps, then maybe she can find out what happened. But where could he have gone? There’s no guarantee that he even made it here, and wait-
She tilts her head to the side.
If she were to kidnap a child (again, a voice whispers in the back of her mind), the best place to take them is somewhere no one would think to look. Somewhere abandoned and rarely thought about. Somewhere like the old laundromat.
-x-x-x-
She makes it there in record speeds, and probably (no, definitely) broke several different traffic laws in order to do so. It’s just as dingy and dinky as the locals describe it.
Vanessa shudders, opening the door. It creaks on its hinges. The sound echoing throughout the mostly empty space, and she freezes up in response, terrified that thing might come skittering out of some hidden, unknown corner and do to her what it did to those girls; what it did to several technicians and a construction crew; what it did to Gregory’s parents while the boy watched on.
When nothing does, she relaxes - just a little - and turns her phone flashlight on. She uses it to look behind washing machines and in the bathroom. With one room to go, Vanessa hesitates to open the door to the supply closet. Something about it makes her skin crawl.
She steadies herself with a few deep breaths and throws open the door. It’s dark - somehow darker than the other rooms - and even her phone flashlight is hardly useful. She shines the light on a pull chain in the middle of the room. She doubts it works after all these years (and the electric company has surely turned the power off), but it’s worth a try.
Vanessa creeps over to it, looking over her shoulder when the door slams shut behind her. Her hand reaches upward, about to grab ahold of it.
Crunch!
She freezes.
Is that-
She shines her light on the floor below. On the floor, screen now broken, is a phone. Tiny glass shards litter the dirty ground, and Vanessa can’t stop looking at it. Because she recognizes the phone.
With shaky hands, she bends down and picks it up.
“Gregory,” she mumbles out. Her fingers lightly trace the screen, being mindful not to touch the broken parts. She tries desperately to turn it back on, even slapping the damned thing against her palm, causing it to get cut up by the jagged edges of the screen.
Her efforts are rewarded with a brief flash of colors and then the phone goes completely dark.
Vanessa places her uninjured hand on her mouth, muffling her screams of anguish.
-x-x-x-
Gregory struggles under the weight of his other self, flailing his limbs in an effort to knock the mask off. He spits curse after curse and threat after threat, but Mimic pays no mind. For soon, none of it will matter. He’ll have his son back - fully back - and no one and nothing can ever take him away.
“I hate you!” Gregory screams, voice hoarse from the ten thousand other threats he’s spewed since the mask was placed. The sounds of electricity fill the air and Mimic can’t help but feel a little bad for his son. He can’t imagine how much it must hurt.
But it’s necessary. All of this is temporary.
“Shh…stop fighting.” He knows Gregory will continue fighting until the very end, but he hopes his words soothe his son just the tiniest bit. It’s not much in the way of comfort but interfering now could jeopardize the process.
Two hours have passed before his son finally goes limp. One of his arms dangles over the edge of the bed, while the rest of his body is curled into the fetal position. His breathing changes from shallow and fast to deep, slow, and even.
He pulls the covers over Gregory, tucking him in. He leaves the mask on. There’s no need to rush things. Rushing always causes problems, and he doesn’t need anymore problems.
Mimic leaves. There’s still much that needs to be done, and, more importantly, there’s someone that needs to be found.
-x-x-x-
The cracks in the ceiling remind Gregory of stars. The little bit of light that peeks through peeling paint and damaged drywall encourages him to stumble along. He doesn’t dare look back. Both out of a fear for what he might see and a longing, deep down, to remain here.
The elevator is within reach, which is a relief to his aching legs. That thing hadn’t wanted him to leave; had just about broken his legs to keep him here.
Gregory keeps his head on a swivel, constantly looking right then left, then right again. He knows better than anyone how fast that thing can be. How it can sneak up on someone without them noticing.
He practically lunges into the elevator. It creaks under his weight - a not great sign, especially given he’s fifty-something pounds soaking wet. But it doesn’t stop him from jamming his finger onto the “close doors” button.
He’s breathing heavily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
Further down the winding hallways, something’s skittering along. It stops, pausing, before letting out a sound that could only be described as animalistic. The skittering resumes, this time heading towards the elevator.
Gregory keeps jamming the button, muttering under his breath. “Please, please, please….”
The elevator jolts to life at the same time the creature enters the room. They make eye contact, though Gregory tries his best not to.
When he first woke up here, head full of fuzzy, hazy, thoughts, Gregory instantly knew he needed to run away. And that was before he saw his captor.
The creature, for all intents and purposes, was kind to him. At least in comparison to what it could have been like, though it didn’t escape his notice how it seemed almost unwilling to let Gregory out of its sight. Like it was afraid he might disappear if it so much as turned his head.
He gasps, leaning against the furthest wall of the elevator. The ride is jerky, making him feel the tiniest bit sick.
The ride is thankfully short, the elevator coming to a sudden stop. He manages to remain standing, though he stumbles forward a few steps.
The metal doors open. He blinks against the sunlight streaming in through glassless windows and missing bricks in the walls. Gregory steps off the elevator, using his hand as a visor.
He hisses in pain, small glass shards cutting his bare feet up. But the thought of that thing being right behind him, keeps Gregory moving forward. All he needs to do is get out of here and find someone with a phone.
His feet sting with every step forward, bloody footprints stamping the floor. He just needs to-
A blonde woman appears before him. She greets him warmly, “Gregory!” She wraps him in a warm hug, holding him close.
Gregory looks at her, confused. “Who are you?”
“Wh- what?” The woman sounds alarmed, like he ought to know who she is. But the more Gregory tries to rack his brain, the more it starts to hurt.
He shakes his head. “I…I don’t know who you are.” Seeing her defeated expression and watery eyes, he quickly adds, “sorry.”
“No, no, no,” the woman says, voice shaking. She runs her hands down his face, as if trying to invoke some kind of memory - a reaction - out of him. “No, Gregory. Please,” she begs. “Please, you’ve gotta remember.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, unsure of how to make her feel better. His voice is slightly monotone, though that’s just because he’s trying to detach himself from feeling what the woman is feeling. He doesn’t want to feel the same level of anguish she’s feeling right now. It doesn't seem the least bit pleasant.
The woman’s eyes stare into his own. They’re a nice shade of green, like two emeralds. He frowns, wishing he could give her what she wants - to be remembered - because that’s what she’s begging him for. To be remembered.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. He wishes he didn’t sound so uninterested, so detached.
The woman pulls away, and Gregory instantly misses her warmth. For a moment, even while confused, he had felt safe.
“I see,” she says, trying to sound as detached as Gregory. But the few tears that slip down her cheeks, gives her away. Even still, he’s in no position to judge anyone, and his feet and legs are killing him, so he takes the woman’s hand.
“Can we go now?”
She takes in his cut up feet and the bruises on his pale legs. She scoops him up, disregarding whether he knows her or not.
“Let’s go home,” she says, ignoring Gregory’s bewildered stare.
Home?
Who is this lady?
He rests his head on her shoulder, eyes falling closed.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa scrambles to her feet. Her eyes are barely open and the gluey feel of sleep still clings to her lashes. The room is somehow darker now, though that might be her own fear coloring things.
The room feels smaller now, more crowded than it did a few minutes…hours(?) ago. A chill runs down her spine. She needs to leave, now!
Vanessa quickly gathers up Gregory’s phone, stashing it in her backpocket. Her own phone is clutched tightly in her hand, digging into the cuts left there by the small sharp edges of the broken phone. Her flashlight remains on, shining on the ceiling. It gives her a small circle of light.
She takes a step in the direction of the door when a familiar voice laughs. The same voice she hears in her nightmares. The same voice that tormented her day in and day out for close to a decade.
Vanessa tenses. She’s never been one to fight. She can, but when situations like this arise all she can do is stand still and hope and pray things turn out okay. It’s not that she likes being useless, freezing on the spot like a child who still hasn’t learned that just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you.
It speaks again, closer than before. “Vanessa,” it drawls, rusty joints creaking with every little movement.
She’s always freezed up, but this thing, this creature, has her kid. And standing still means letting it get away with killing her (at best) and reactivating Vanny (at worse). And both options mean letting Gregory down.
She thinks of him right then. How happy he’d been eating ice cream that wasn’t from the Pizzaplex for the first time in five years. How brave and how kind he’d been, taking Vanessa’s hand in his own, telling her everything was going to be just fine now. That the worst of their problems were behind them.
(If only they knew).
Vanessa is a lot of things, but she would let Hell freeze over before she let this thing stop her from protecting the one person in her life that’s ever given a damn about her.
Without warning, she lurches forward. She stumbles but manages to catch herself before she falls. The creature wastes no time in catching up to her. She can hear it scrambling, knocking bottles off shelves, as it gains on her.
Vanessa throws the door open, ducking down in anticipation of the creature reaching out. Her fast planning is rewarded when a claw-like hand grasps air instead of her head. She races for the door, even sliding over a washing machine in her haste.
She can’t hear the creature following after her, but that doesn’t stop her from running until she’s in the middle of the street. She stares at the laundromat in disbelief.
At least she knows for sure she’s not crazy.
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Chapter 13: Spider's Web
At first, there was pain. The kind of pain that makes you want to hurt yourself to feel anything else. Blinding and burning and stinging in all the wrong ways. Gregory might have chipped a tooth with how hard he gritted his teeth, but he can’t tell. His hands reach for the mask, fingernails digging into the sides and underneath.
It doesn’t budge, though, and no amount of tugging makes it come loose.
He struggles, eyes casting upward as his body gives up on him. He sucks in a breath. Tears fall from his eyes like waterfalls.
It hurts.
He can hardly feel anything at all. Just the mask on his face and the pain in his temple.
It hurts.
He thinks of Vanessa and Freddy, and how much he’s going to miss them.
It hurts.
He thinks of short lived freedom and getting to attend school without any strings attached.
It hurts.
And he thinks of people he’s gotten hurt and of people he’s hurt himself, controlled by the very being that keeps him captive now. He’s had a lot of time to think, and the more he thinks, the more he remembers.
It hurts so bad.
He wants his mom- Vanessa. He wants Vanessa, and he wants to go home.
The pain is blinding, so he shuts his eyes. Seeing is doing him no good anyway. He just wants this to be over with.
Beside him, against his will, that thing holds his hand like a parent might. It soothes its clawed thumb over the soft skin of the back of his hand. It coos nice words in his ear, and reassures him that the pain won’t last forever, that after this, they can be a family again.
He wishes it would combust or fall apart or be trapped behind layers of concrete forever. Anything to make it go away. He wants to wake up from this nightmare.
“Oh, I know, you want Vanny back.”
Despite the fever warmth that’s taken hold of his body, Gregory feels his blood run cold. He wants Vanessa, sure, but he wouldn’t wish this captivity on anyone. Especially someone that’s already gone through it. Especially someone that spent the entire time fighting it off and being punished for it.
“Nuh…no!” His voice pitches, a new wave of pain rolling over him. “Leav-leave her a-lone.”
The creature has the audacity to laugh at him, at his desperation and fear. It ruffles his hair, upsetting the slowly settling headache. Gregory’s eyes prick with tears once again.
“We’ll be a family again, Gregory,” it promises, “forever.”
Gregory can do nothing but cry for he is only a child, caught in the spider’s web.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa walked the street, searching for any signs of that thing, and more importantly, for any signs of Gregory. She refuses to go home empty-handed. It’s not like she can sleep knowing he’s suffering, waiting for her to come save him.
She can’t leave him, because he wouldn’t leave her behind. He hadn’t left her behind, even when the doors were wide-open and the daylight crept in through the windows.
And she couldn’t leave him anyways, because she loves him too much to walk away. A normal life wouldn’t be the same without his footsteps in the hallway after his bedtime, sneaking into the kitchen for a sweet treat. Or his voice, talking to Freddy in the middle of movie nights, whispering answers to the bear’s very obvious, and slightly annoying, questions.
She comes to a building at the end of the street. It’s larger than the others and looks much older. Vanessa gives it a once over, before going inside. Something tells her this is the place it chose.
Call it intuition or pattern recognition, but whatever it is, she knows this is where her son is.
“I’m coming, Gregory,” she whispers to herself. “Just hold on for a little longer.”
-x-x-x-
Gregory lays limp, face bare. The mask sits on the table a few feet away. Mimic remains standing, hovering over his son’s bedside. His hand smooths his son’s sweaty hair down.
“It’s over now,” he assures the sleeping boy. “You did so well. Welcome home.”
It was a lot easier than he had originally anticipated. He thought his children might’ve prepared a little better. Vanny, for all her faults, seemed the type to protect Gregory at any cost, but apparently he was wrong.
Mimic waits several minutes more. It shouldn’t be long now. Vanny is a simple thing, always following her heart instead of her head. She wouldn’t be able to leave Gregory behind, and that is going to cost her greatly.
He can’t wait to welcome her home as well.
-x-x-x-
Vanessa finds a staircase, one with splintered, precariously aged wood and a broken handrail. She follows it all the way down, only stopping once to retie her shoes.
The door to the basement is shut tight. Rust covers the keyhole, or perhaps at one point, what had been a keyhole Vanessa can’t tell with the dim light of her phone’s flashlight. She turns to go back up the stairs. If she’s lucky she’ll find a key or a crowbar.
Vanessa’s foot hovers above the third step when the door creaks open. The noise echoes in the otherwise empty room. Her hands instantly come up to block her ears.
When the noise subsides, she carefully makes her way back to the door. Maybe it’s not the smartest idea, but she’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She moves slowly, hesitant only because she’s frightened. She remembers the creature; remembers what it took from her and Gregory; remembers that no matter how much she fought, it was still stronger.
Vanessa sneaks her hand inside first, the one holding her phone. She moves her hand, searching left and right before going inside.
She’s barely inside when the door slams shut behind her. She jumps and instantly lurches for the door handle, but it’s stuck - again.
Vanessa swallows heavily.
Behind her, crawling down from the ceiling, Mimic comes to greet her, holding her old, costumed bunny head.