𝓞𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓪 𝓓𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓻 (Freedom AU Book 9) [FNAF/UT]

✦Chapter Nine✦

  As he passed through the foyer, the Marionette's steps came to a pause. He cast a glance out the window by the front door, where the curtain had been drawn back. It seemed to be a very overcast start to the afternoon. Thankfully, however, it wasn't raining. Nobody enjoys being rained on. Puppet brought his attention away from the window, and continued with what he was doing in the first place. Getting Ballora's sweater from the hook.

Meanwhile, just in the living room, Ballora was sitting on the length of the couch—her still-broken-leg propped up by a pillow. She had a book in hand, a simple yet sweet romance novel that had been sitting unread on a shelf for some time now. In her bout of boredom, she'd already read through the first several chapters that very morning while Puppet continued to ensure she was resting her leg, and her back.

"I've got your sweater." Looking up from her book, Ballora blinked. Seeing Puppet stood next to her holding said sweater, she then glanced to a nearby wall clock. "One thirty already?" She asked, rhetorically. Marking her place in her book, Ballora set it aside and took the sweater from her husband's hand. After putting it on, she made a reach for her crutches that had been set aside in arms' reach. Puppet watched as his wife slowly stood up with the help of her crutches, his arms already partly outstretched to help if she faltered. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, 'Mare." Ballora said, a light-hearted exasperation in her tone. "I can get myself to the door just fine." She reminded him, beginning to make her way towards the foyer. Puppet shook his head a little, following her. "I know you can." He'd spoken too soon. He suddenly heard a hiss of pain come from Ballora, as she seemed to seize up a bit. "Bal'?"

"My back...!" She said, frozen where she stood thanks to the shooting pain in her back—a result of the car that'd hit her. Being gentle, Puppet helped her back to the couch to sit for a moment. Ballora took in a deep breath once she was seated, the pain slowly beginning to subside again. "Did you take your pain meds?" Puppet asked her, sitting on the coffee table so as to remain eye-level. "Y-Yeah... I did, not long ago."

"Do you need an ice pack?" Ballora gave a small shake of her head 'no'. "Give me a minute... then we can go." She told him. "Alright... but if you rather sit with an ice pack for a few minutes, I could always call your physiotherapist and say we'll be a little bit late." Ballora smirked. "It's fine... I'm feeling better now. Let's just go." Puppet sighed a little, though helped her get up again. "If you say so."

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"Hey, Julie?" Sophie called, having followed after her co-worker to the break room. The brunette glanced over to her. "Yeah?" Sophie continued. "You don't happen to know anything about Richard's plans two weekends ago, do you?" Julie blinked. "Uh, no?" She answered, confusion clear in her voice. "Why?" Sophie gave a shrug, answering with, "Just curious is all."

"Okay..." Julie continued with getting her lunchbox from her bag, just as Sophie asked another question. "Am I the only one who noticed Rich's got a new car?" A shrug from Julie. "I could care less what Richard drives, Soph'." She told, pulling out a saran wrapped sandwich. "True, I guess." Before taking a bite of her sandwich, Julie asked, "Why are you asking me this stuff?"

"Hm? Oh, no reason." Sophie replied, straightening her posture a little. "Enjoy your sandwich." With that, she left a confused Julie on her own to eat her lunch in peace.

Heading down a small hallway, Sophie made her way down to her boss' office—looking for Richard. She paused before coming up to the door, hearing two voices from inside. The door was left open a crack, as though whoever had last entered didn't close it properly. Listening in, Sophie heard the voices of both Dale and Richard. The conversation sounded very much like it could potentially become heated. Leaning against the wall beside the door, Sophie remained quiet and listened in—or rather, 'waited her turn to talk with Dale'. (If anyone asked her).

"You're joking."

"Yeah, heh... I wish I was."

"And right after I'd told you to leave her alone for now, too?"

"How was I supposed to know she was in the city that day?!"

"And why exactly were you hitting pedestrians?!"

"C'mon, dad! Not like it was on purpose!"

A loud, exasperated sigh was then heard. Sophie's green eyes were wide in surprise. Seems as though her questions were about to be answered here and now. They continued speaking.

"Look, this isn't the conversation to have here—even though I wish you'd told me this two weeks ago. When it happened."

"Well, I'm sorry if the moron hitting me at the intersection right after I bumped her blocked the memory out."

"Again, we'll talk about this later. About this, and your promotion once Grant's done training you—because you're on shaky grounds here."

There was a beat of silence, as Sophie stood by and fiddled with her leather bracelet. Did his other car get totaled in a different hit? That would explain why he was suddenly driving a new vehicle—if he didn't want to bother taking it to get repaired. Why bother when your dad can afford getting you a new one anyways.

And a promotion? What promotion was he talking about? Maybe Richard's comment about taking her job wasn't just a joke... She hoped it wasn't, otherwise this wouldn't be good. Being broken out of her thoughts, Sophie looked up and saw Richard suddenly standing in front of her. He was giving her a suspicious look. "Hey, how long've you been standing out here?"

"Oh, not long at all... Why?" Sophie answered, keeping herself calm. Richard gave no reply, and simply huffed before being on his way. With a small sigh, Sophie checked her phone for the time. Her break would be over in half an hour, best have lunch before getting back to it. Pocketing her phone, Sophie returned back down the hall to the break room.

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After having made sure Ballora was sitting comfortably on the couch again, Puppet replaced her sweater on the hook by the door, just next to his own coat. They'd made it back home just before a light rain had started, which was almost perfect timing. Puppet was interrupted from his thoughts before they could wander too far, when he heard a quiet sob from Ballora.

Walking into the living room, Puppet saw how his wife had her head in her hands. She was no longer suppressing the tears she'd been holding back the whole ride back from her therapy appointment. With a sympathetic look, he went over and knelt next to her. "Hey," Puppet gently took hold of one of her hands, wiping her palm dry with a tissue. Ballora continued to cry. "I-It can't be... t-true."

"Bal', I'm so sorry." Puppet told her, reaching to put a hand on her shoulder. "I-It f-feels so... so cruel," She began, trying her best to relay her feelings to her husband—who was quietly listening. "Some i-idiot hits me w-without any r-remorse... a-and now..." She trailed off, not even wanting to repeat those words. The words her physical therapist had told her at her appointment. Ballora then looked to her husband. "I-I can w-walk... b-but I can't... dance a-anymore..."

"You're right," Puppet agreed, rubbing slow circles between her shoulders. "It does seem cruel." He moved to sit next to her uninjured leg, pulling his wife in for a hug without hurting her. "Ballet's been m-my passion... since I c-can remember..." She said quietly. "... to have it t-taken from me... i-it..." Her words were interrupted by another sob. Puppet simply sat and held his wife, trying to give her some kind of comfort.

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A.N. As you can see, the title is now beginning to make sense... 'Til next Saturday-