Author's Notes: The art for this chapter is by Moonshadow0 on Tumblr.
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"For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay." – Habakkuk 2:3
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They continued on even after their flight was done, Joey humming along with the rusted but still oh so charming phonograph in the backdrop. Francine and he swayed slowly, hand in hand, as proof that maybe darkness can still contain some light- that a world devoid of God's good graces could still find something worthwhile, worth trusting, and...
As Francine's eyes gaped at the walls around them, the creator's soft singing in her ear as she looked over his shoulder, she realized that there was something still worth...loving, too. It was both perplexing and so full of hope to see Joey like this; the drawings around them he still looked fondly upon- even remembered the names of the children who drew them for him; the way he let a small smile arch up his face; the way his hands held hers as he convinced her she could dance.
It was...remarkable how someone in such misery could reconcile it to find things to make his forced living worthwhile. And if she was a part of it, well...she was just that more proud to give that to him.
After all, his care was quickly something she had grown fond and familiar with, as well. Even in the distress of their first meeting, it could be spotted then he had nothing but-
...Hm.
An interesting thought came to her mind as the young woman thought back to that moment.
"Joey?"
Yet another hum but of a different sort sounded close by- an indication of acknowledgement as eyes glinting with honey-toned candlelight crossed over to his peripheral to look at Francine.
His smile did not waver, but his eyes did grow more slit with ponderance as a silence clung in the air, the only noise that of their steps occasionally shuffling over paper as an orchestral piece began to scratch against the needle more and more with each passing second.
"...How did you know to call me 'Frankie'?"
Half-lidded eyes opened up wide alongside the raise of his brow. As they took one step together to the left, she could hear a soft huff- a chuckle as his eyes rolled down and up in thought. "Now that sounds like a question with a deeper meaning than I can guess," he drawled with a low voice yet light humor.
And this felt like the time he should have asked her to elaborate, but as the top-hatted man let the topic go right there, Francine reluctantly found it her duty to put it back on its feet.
"That's..." Her words were weighed with something- undeniably the tint of things she dearly missed returning to haunt her. "...What my family called me back home," the young woman finished quietly, gaze dropping to their shoes in bittersweet reminiscence.
"...Oh."
The ginger man of magic found the woman besides him sighing as something not so long ago was starting to become all the more distant the more she realized this was not a brief stay but one for the long term; her residency in the studio would bar her from the comforts of home, and to be called her own name was both a gift that she was still herself and not like those of the ink and a reminder that nothing would ever be the same.
Joey hated the quiet of sadness. He'd had enough of it on his own. To see it infect the girl that had come so far to simply find some sort of peace...-
"I always call people by their preferred name, darling," the dandy lost to time filled the silence, "Simply the way to be I've always strived for."
At first, another exhale from her weary lips at his consoling, and Joey saw her eyelids lower and her head tilt down until it was rested against his shoulder. And like the father he was, one hand moved from the grip of dancing to a tender hold at her back. No, he couldn't give her life back, but he was discovering moment after moment that he could make the eternity here something like a bit more like it.
And as he relished in this one kindness in his world of inflictions open those who deserved none, Francine found herself furrowing her brow.
"Joey?" she asked again, almost like a child to the omniscient parent.
"Yes, my dear?"
"I...don't remember telling you that."
Her eyes flickered as well as they could from this vulnerable position to try to spot his. For a split second, their gazes did meet, but then his eyelids fluttered about as soon as they did.
"Oh, yes, of course you did! Right when we first met, my dear girl!" He patted her back, the laugh in his chest felt even as he pulled back to hold her by the shoulders, giving her a skewed grin between the red sideburns at his jaw. And then, the underneath of his eyes pinched as his head titled in a quirky sort of questioning expression. "Don't you remember?" was his soft request for her to reevaluate.
And as the cream-suited figure pulled back, a Bendy pin on his lapel smiling up at her too, Francine let her pupils roll up in their sockets as a lip pursed till she could find some answers.
"...Ah," she murmured something. And then her face lit up. "Ah, ah yeah-! Yeah. You're right." She could feel her face grow red, embarrassed. "Sorry."
An amused but benevolent chuckle made Joey smile even more as he reached to pat her now flushed cheek. "Nothing to worry about!" This voice about him- the confidence, the joy, the compassion...it was so, very different from when Francine and he first came face to face at his ocean of ink. Even in her own aches of remembering the people who used to call her "Frankie," she couldn't help but wonder if the man that repeated it to her now was also somehow...by her own hand...
....Maybe was becoming the person who he used to be, too.
And as his hand pulled back and the shadow over his eyes from the brim of his hat made his irises glitter like gold, she could only surmise that returning old feelings was something good for him to have.
"I know that danger can...skew your perception, to say the least," he added, grin stretched wider just a split second in an emphasis of sympathy, accompanied with a slight bounce of the head not too far from that of a gentleman tipping his hat.
She returned that flicker of a smile, eyes softening and a hushed breath leaving her nose. A lot...did happen. As her eyes left him as his hold readjusted to begin their mindless waltz once again, she stared at the dust motes she could barely see in this stream of yellowish light over the scrawled drawings of the character Joey once loved the most. It was the same light and the same face, in a way, that looked down upon her at her most vulnerable. From when the creature saved her life, gave her the phone, and stood behind her as she dared to find her way without Sammy. Same grin, same ink, same light. Amazing how it could be so comforting yet so terrifying every step of the way.
And then...she began to think. Maybe their swaying was simply the perfect way to get her mind to drift where it hadn't before, but yet again, something didn't sit right. She stared down at Joey's shoes- so shiny and polished somehow despite the dust of immortality- and she frowned again. Character... Undeniably, the ink demon was somehow forged in the image of the little, witless star of the old cartoons scattered like ripped film across the studio. Their lord was one mystery in himself, but...
Yes, she saw Alice too. Even in the interruption of sculpting her face, the woman that taught Francine to sing resembled the pie-eyed toon she saw here and there; she was a broken toy come to life, one to match all the dolls that'd never see the arms of children.
The...butcher gang, even- Francine recalled their title from the poster or two she spotted amid Heavenly Toys. Even as they resembled voodoo dolls more than the drawings- that much was clear with only the brief glances she had of their intended form- the studio's mortal wanderer was only stopped by the aghast of horrific images of human eyes and extra mouths on beings that shouldn't exist to believe that they were real at all.
But there was one she couldn't make out, no matter how hard she tried, and without second thought, she assumed the man that knew so much could answer what Sammy did not when she asked him some time before.
"Would you know about Boris?"
Something- something immediately changed. She could feel it.
"...Excuse me, my dear?" the voice at her side returned in a slight, high pitch.
"Boris the wolf." Opportunistically, the flow of the dance led her and he to step back from one another and have their arms meet over the gap, giving her the chance to show Joey her furrowed brow and curious eyes. Her own voice was smooth, slowed with wonder and unsure thoughts. "He's on all the posters. But...I haven't seen him yet. I've seen every other cartoon but him."
The last statement came out soft with a look that darted over his rosy face just a little- maybe at the first mention of the life he had before his creations became something so much more and worse than he had imagined. Something did change over him as he met her eyes- a blink indicating he was searching for something to say.
"Well I suppose we could find you a reel of his segment 'Sheep Songs' if you're really so eager to see more of him-"
"No-" she interrupted, voice slightly sharp with concern but soon subdued as she saw his own eyes glinting and brow curl with worry. "Like...I mean...- him. Real. Everything else in...some way became real!" Instead of them joining back together in their swaying, souls old and new remained separated as something dawned over them both. "But I haven't seen Boris yet." Joey felt her hand's grip grow firm as her voice grew more hushed, yet again witnessing her beseech him for answers. "Do you...have any idea about that?"
His sigh was audible, stance ceasing to be ready to hop back into the call of the music floating in the backdrop as he chose to merely hold her hand, taking one step closer and lifting it up near his chest. Fingers from both of his hands wrapped around hers, mouth stretched back in a helpless sort of care.
"...No, Frankie," he answered in almost a whisper, a gaze of pity looking her way. "Not the foggiest idea." And almost as an afterthought- "How strange."
And just as an admittance of ignorance seemed to bring yet another pause to here yearning for truth-
"Henry."
Her sudden, single word made his eyes pop wider than she'd ever seen before.
"...I beg your pardon."
"I saw that name- I saw it written next to 'Boris' in the place I've been staying at." She paused, studying his new expression. "Do you...remember a Henry? Was he a cartoon, too?"
Joey winced.
Indeed, not only did she release his long lost wonderful, delightful personality of a world filled with color, but also the pandora's box of fear from when he first saw said color drain for good.
"No darling," the most haunted, horrified man in the world manage to say with only a slight quake in his voice. The darkness of days once filled with sunshine washed over him, and if not for her squeezing back, his hands might have gone limp to his sides as they held hers. Abruptly, he could no longer match her look with his, and his head twisted down and to the side to stare towards his desk- flowers, candles, and papers abound. His next breath out was like his soul still clawed his nails into the very words he said, both never wanting to let go and lamenting that he could not.
"That was my son."
And all she could say was "Oh." What else could you say to that? To reminding someone you've grown to feel for of the person he fought so hard to keep only for him to fall through his fingers?
And indeed, even if his hold was laxed by the sting of redemption never to be, she found as she nearly slipped her hand away in surprise that Joey would not let her go too. So to that, she could only give the simplest of commiserations.
"I'm...I'm so sorry. I had no idea." And a blush of a guilt of a different kind than before came across her face, her stare, too, shifting away just as his did. Maybe back before the supernatural simply became the natural, Francine would abide by life's lessons of politeness and to put one's grief before her own desires. Maybe she wouldn't have continued to let her mind stray once more, even in or possibly even because of the presence of the man ahead, clearly despondent with loss.
But now she knew his loss, too- that of her own family. And that steered her towards something entirely new.
"Wait." As she spoke again, his thumb rubbed over hers, his consciousness still somewhere far away as she began to mumble something hardly audible. "Why was his name there?"
But then the pain on his expression spread until it became something sharper- a blade of past hurt cutting across his face until he saw there was great reason to be bothered about the present. He gave an "oh" once more and a grimace to match, holding the girl's hand a bit tighter between his, head shaking side to slightly much like a father would.
"Now what did I tell you about worrying?" he reminded her gently, urging her yet again not to look at things she can't understand. This was the most precious wisdom he had- the best he could give to her.
"Joey...I think this is different." And she matched a look of growing perplexity with one of her own, he worried about her and she worried about him. The more and more she thought about it...yes- the more and more she realized.
If this was true, it could be important. To him. And so every word tumbled out of her mouth, she only knowing their truth the second they came forth.
"I read your son's name," she whispered, eyes glinting at his as if it could make him see what she had seen.
Brown eyes grew wide as if he did.
"I saw it...-I saw it written next to Boris-! They-" She saw the writing again in her mind- the tally marks underneath their names. "They were playing a game...!"
And then, finally, her hand pulled out of his, nothing to do but throw her hands to her sides and take in what she had just said. She had uncovered something that wouldn't change her life forever...but rather that of the man that stood ahead.
And he had to know, as much as he found ignorance to be bliss.
"Joey," she could hardly believe herself telling him, "I think Henry and Boris-...I think they were here."
One final, jarring scratch of the record and the music was no more, the record spinning in silence. And Joey still found his arm still reaching out for her just as it had been led to when she slipped away. But eventually, eventually...it curled back to his chest, as if making himself smaller, whites of his eyes shining as they stretched wide underneath the shadow of his studio's gloom.
But yet again, he had learned that the best response to truth being laid down at your feet is not to deny it but to accept it. And so in a voice calm for everyone's sake, he managed to level his gaze in order to hold her hand as she wandered into something beyond her reckoning just to help his old, forsaken soul.