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Foxy's Turn

Two Nights Ago...

“So, run this Thanksgiving thing by us,” Bonnie said, absentmindedly tapping the tabletop with one finger. “We don't get it.”

“What's to get? It's awesome.” Mike grinned from his seated position on the other side of the table. “I mean, you don't get to have a huge meal with your extended family every day, but Thanksgiving – that's the exception. Plus, my family already lives pretty far away, so I don't get to see them too much as it is. Holidays like this are a rare treat for me.”

“But why be it called Thanksgivin'?” Foxy asked, confused.

“Well, the whole point of the holiday is to give thanks for what you're grateful for. Family, friends, your life, your job - that kind of stuff,” Mike replied, counting the list on his fingers. “Lord knows I'm thankful for those.”

Especially the third one, Mike thought privately. “Anyway, I'm sure you guys already know this but the pizzeria's gonna be closed until Monday, so you'll be alone together for the holiday weekend. I don't want you guys panicking just because I didn't show up for a few days,” Mike playfully teased his friends.

“It's like that every year,” Chica nodded.

“Yep. So don't go thinking we're about to fall to pieces just 'cause you couldn't show up for a few days,” Bonnie deadpanned, no doubt in response to the guard's teasing. “You ain't all that.”

Mike just chuckled along with the others. He had no doubt they'd be just fine.

------------

Now...

At the stroke of midnight, the animatronics all slowly rattled to life as they had countless nights before, working the kinks out of their metallic joints before hopping off the stage to perform their duties. At least, most of them did – there was one among them who remained in his usual hideaway.

Even if Foxy had the confidence to step out of Pirate's Cove and mingle with the others, he wouldn't have taken the opportunity just yet; he was lost deep in serious thought, and much preferred being alone for it. Besides, his problem was one he couldn't afford to cut corners on.

For the umpteenth time, Foxy reminded himself that he'd been self-isolated in Pirate's Cove for almost thirty years now, and that for better or worse he was lonely. Certainly Mike's regular visits were an answered prayer, but there was a part of him, somewhere deep in his mind, or processor, or whatever that didn't just want to be limited like that. He wanted friends, plural, not just one friend. And Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica were all just on the other side of that curtain...

But then, did they even want him out there? For thirty years they'd just left him in his cove to gather dust, only ever popping in briefly to make sure he was still around. How would they react if he tried to come out and hang with them now? They'd never had a problem with Foxy during his prior visits, but then again Mike had always been around too, and Foxy suspected that they'd only been playing nice for the human's benefit.

Come to think of it, Mike had always been the one to invite him to come out of his cove and play. The only exception that Foxy could recall was the night Mike had come out of his booth, when Bonnie had stopped by in his place... and even then it wasn't so much of a “hey, wanna hang out?” as it was a “hey, Mike's out here now, just so you know.”

Once again, Foxy flashed back to the words Mike had told him only a few nights ago.

I want you out there, even if they don't. Instead of hiding in here you should be out there with them. Give them a reason to like you, and if they still don't then keep trying until they do. I know it's scary, but you'll be a million times more happy with friends then you could ever be alone.

At the time, Foxy had been stunned by Mike's passion, amazed that someone could care about an old, forgotten pirate like himself so much. Then again, Mike was never the kind to forget about his friends. People like him were a rare breed, Foxy believed.

So Foxy took Mike's words into consideration, and he'd been ruminating upon them ever since.

...And he was still no where near making a decision.

“Aw, blast it, Mike,” Foxy whined softly. “Why'd ye hafta abandon ship now? I need ya, bucko.”

What would Mike have said, if Foxy could speak to him now? It didn't matter, Foxy realized with a sigh. Mike wasn't around, Foxy couldn't speak to him, and it was pointless to sit and bat around possibilities all night. Of course, the fox didn't exactly have anything else to do.

“Oy, Mike. Care ta throw yer cap'n a rope?” Foxy asked out loud to the dark void around him, voice tinged with desperate despair. “Me crew be a tiny thing, jus' ye n' me. There be three new mateys waitin' in th' port, but I don'- I don' know what ta do. Do I drop anchor n' talk ta 'em? Or should I keep sailin'?

“Please, Mike,” Foxy begged, no longer even caring if no one heard or cared. “I'm at th' end o' me rope. Say somethin'! Say anythin'!”

For the love of- Foxy, I thought I already went through this with you.

Foxy yelped and sprung to his feet, looking about in an almost comical fashion. “M-Mike?! Mike, where be ye? How be ye doin' that? S-Show yerself!”

Foxy.

“This be witchcraft! Explain yerself! Yer cap'n demands it!”

Foxy!

“Unless...” Foxy trailed off, jaw dropping in horror. “Ye went ta... Davy Jones' locker!” Foxy fell to his knees and started making noises that were probably his version of sobbing. “Oh, Mike! Ye were a fine first mate, n' a finer friend! And ye were so young! I'm sorry! I failed ye as a cap-”

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BE QUIET!

Foxy immediately fell silent and shrunk back like a whipped child, still whimpering softly.

*sighs* Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I just needed to get your attention and, well, you tend to get riled up quickly. I couldn't think of any other way to get through to you, so... sorry.

Foxy fell silent and remained that way for a couple of minutes, but apparently the disembodied voice had finished speaking. “Mike, that is ye, aye?”

Eh, not quite. I'm really more of a figment of your imagination. See, you need to talk to Mike but he's not around, so what's happening here is that you're imagining his voice talking to you, saying what you think he'd say to you in this situation – and that's me.

Now normally this would qualify as some sort of mental illness and I'd recommend that you seek help, but there aren't really any specialists for robots like you. Plus, I can tell you really need someone to speak to, so I suppose we can let it slide this once.

“...Uh, what?”

*groan* Look, just talk to me like you would talk to Mike. I'll be his stand-in.

“Aye, aye, Mike,” Foxy nodded, still somewhat confused.

Alright, so what's on your mind?

“I be... askew,” Foxy began slowly. “See, I been thinkin' 'bout what ye said ta me, savvy? Gettin' out o' me cove n', uh, minglin'.”

So what's the problem?

“...I be scared,” Foxy admitted reluctantly. “I ain't stepped foot out o' me cove in o'er a Silver Jubilee until ye came ashore. I don' know if th' lubbers will welcome me wit' open arms or cutlasses in hand. I know it be yellow-bellied, but it be safe in here, n' I... I don' know what ta do.

“Please help me, Schmidt,” Foxy begged. “Yer th' only man who can put yer cap'n at ease.”

...Okay, I guess I can understand all of that. It's a big change, you're scared, it makes sense.

Foxy listened intently, uncertain of where the voice that claimed to be Mike was going.

But – and if you don't mind me asking – do you not remember Mike's advice? You know, what he told you about how you'd be happier with them?

“O' course I remember,” Foxy sighed, waving his hook dismissively. “That be all I think about these past nights.”

It doesn't seem like you remember it. Otherwise you'd have acted on it by now.

Foxy opened his mouth to shoot back at the voice, but anything he might have been thinking of saying never left his voice box. As much as the captain hated to admit, the voice was right. There wasn't any big, all-explaining excuse for why Foxy had yet to step out on his own and brave the storm. He was scared, and nothing more.

With the revelation came an accompanying sense of pure revulsion, one that Foxy could feel coat his entire endoskeleton. He wasn't supposed to be scared. He was a pirate! A captain! Captains were supposed to be fearless leaders willing to take on any adventure, danger be damned! They weren't supposed to be confused and indecisive, they were supposed to have the answers.

So why? Why did Foxy feel like a frightened little child? All he wanted was to curl up into a ball and cry until everything bad went away. For the first time in his memory Foxy was grateful that Mike wasn't around – he'd never forgive himself if Mike saw him the way he was now.

...Foxy? What's wrong?

“...I-I'm scared.”

And then the pirate captain broke out into even greater sobbing than before, bringing him to his knees as his entire body shook furiously. It was humiliating, Foxy thought, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

He had failed. Mike had been counting on him to make the right choice, and he'd too paralyzed by fear to do anything so he just hadn't made the choice at all. That thought tore at Foxy now; he'd shamed himself, made the most cowardly decision possible when Mike had put solid faith in him. How would he be able to face him when he returned from his vacation? It was bad enough that Foxy couldn't show himself around the other robots, and now he had to do the same with the one person who accepted him, and so wholly!

Hey, calm down! Foxy! Don't cry!

“But I... I'm a coward!” Foxy whined. “I couldn't... I couldn't even do what Mike asked! I'm no captain! I'm barely... barely even a swabbie!”

With that final declaration of self-loathing, Foxy dissolved back into wordless weeping for some time. The voice was silent, and Foxy could only imagine that it had tired of him and left without so much as a farewell. Of course, that just made it hurt even more.

Finally, when Foxy could feel that he'd cried as much as he was able to, the voice cut back into his mind.

Feeling better?

Foxy yelped softly. “You're still - still here?” He cursed himself internally for the involuntary hiccup, but apparently the voice paid it no mind.

Of course I'm still here. I'm doing what Mike would do, and he sure as Hell wouldn't just leave you like this. Now then, I'd like to start with some advice of my own, okay? At Foxy's nod, the voice continued. Don't ever talk about yourself that way again. Don't say it to yourself, or to anyone else. Don't even think it, because it's not true.

You think it's bad to be scared? Foxy, everybody's scared. Hell, Mike was scared back before he met you guys for real. There's nothing weak or shameful about being afraid, it just means you realize that you're not perfect. What's shameful is when you give in to your fear and don't even try.

“But... but I didn't try,” Foxy protested, but he knew immediately that it was a weak argument.

You still have the opportunity, though. That's all you need. As long as the opportunity is open to you, you can honestly say that it's not too late to overcome your fear.

Look, I know that as a disembodied voice within your head, I don't have any real control over what you say or do, but I wanna support you the same way Mike's been supporting you. You deserve to be happy, Foxy.

“I... deserve it?” Foxy whispered.

That thought... had never crossed his mind. Not even once in the twenty-seven years he'd spent holed up in Pirate's Cove. He remembered back when his cove had been closed down, how Freddy and the others had burst in and shaken him down for hours, yelling at him for the “Bite of '87,” or so they called it. Foxy didn't have any concrete memories of something like that, but after spending so long alone he'd stopped caring about such details – they all thought he was guilty, and eventually he came to believe it.

Maybe that was why he refused to take such a chance after so many years; criminals were locked up, after all. This was... just his sentence.

But Mike... Mike didn't think like that. He didn't see someone who deserved to be locked up for some long-past crime, but a lonely soul who needed someone to stay with him. Foxy could remember how they had first met – the captain had slipped into the guard room while Mike had drifted off to sleep, and when the human awoke Foxy had been right there to greet him with a cheerful 'ahoy!'

Mike was a very loud screamer, Foxy then discovered.

But before too long Foxy had convinced Mike that he'd meant no harm, and while Mike continued working the two got to talking. The guard had been reserved – understandable, given his and Foxy's prior relationship – but even such a withheld conversation as that was like an angel's song to Foxy. He was grateful, grateful beyond measure, that he'd managed to meet Mike Schmidt.

So when Mike decided to come out of his room and interact with the others, Foxy had been ecstatic and unafraid to show it. Mike still spent a lot of time outside of Foxy's cove, but he always made sure to stop by at least once a night, and the pirate was glad to receive such attention.

Mike had even said Foxy was his favorite! Even the past times he'd spent with Mike hadn't held a candle to that moment!

So when Mike had told Foxy to leave Pirate's Cove and be happy, Foxy had believed for the first time in many years that he really could be happy if he wanted to. The thought was so very exhilarating, and yet so terrifying as well. Foxy wanted to be able to leave his cove with no regrets, he needed it. But what if he failed? What if the others rejected him? He wouldn't be able to take it, he was sure. It was safe in the cove, he knew that... but was safety really what he wanted anymore?

“...What if they don't want me around?” Foxy whispered into the blackness around him.

They might not. But you can't control that. Just give them a reason to like you, and if they still don't then keep trying until they do.*chuckles* That's what Mike said, correct?

Foxy nodded. “Yeah. But I'm still scared.”

And Mike would never blame you for that. Neither would I. Besides, in case you've forgotten this voice here is coming from your head, so on some level you already know he's right.

Foxy couldn't refute that point, and he knew deep in his heart that there would be no running from this. Even if he decided to stay, he had no doubt that Mike would give him hell about it once he came back. So scared or not, there really was only one choice.

“Alright... I'll give it a shot.”

Great! *claps* I knew you'd come around in the end! Mike's gonna be real happy when he hears this!

“Right, right,” Foxy laughed softly. Picking himself up off the floor, Foxy turned toward the curtain and took a deep “breath.”

He wanted this. No more hiding in his cove until Mike or someone else came around to coax him out. From now on, he'd come and go as he desired. And he'd be a friend to Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica, the same way Mike was a friend to them already. That was what he wanted, more than anything in the world.

Mike could do it, and so could he.

Foxy pulled the curtain open and leaped out in one fluid motion...

…

He struck the floor with a loud 'bang' and rose slowly to his feet. Even with only one uncovered eye, Foxy's gaze easily saw through the darkness, and the pirate fox was more than a little dismayed to find no one in sight. They were always around here – well, maybe not always, but almost always – so where could they be? He was just about to call out for them when the kitchen doors burst open, and who should run out but...

“Was that you, Foxy?” Chica exclaimed, her face caught somewhere between shock and annoyance.

“Yeah, it was – I mean-” Foxy began, then backpedaled and cleared out his throat before resuming. “Aye, it be me, lass. Where be Freddy n' th' rabbit?”

Chica jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen door. “In there. We're all working on a surprise for Mike when he gets back.”

Foxy's eyes lit up. This was perfect!

“Surprise, aye? Would ye mind if Cap'n Foxy came on deck ta lend a hand – hooked or otherwise?” Foxy asked.

Chica cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “You want to help? Any particular reason why?”

Foxy opened his mouth to explain, to tell Chica how Mike had asked him to step out and try to make friends, but caught himself just before anything could leave his mouth. No, he couldn't tell her the truth, not the whole truth anyway. He needed to know that the others would be his friends because they wanted to, not because Mike did. If Foxy told Chica now about what Mike did, then she and the others would only ever entertain him for Mike's sake, the same way they did now. He couldn't, wouldn't have that.

“I've been, ah, thinkin',” Foxy began slowly and carefully. “That I been shanghaied in me cove fer too long now. 'S time Cap'n Foxy let 'imself sail th' seven seas again...” The captain paused deliberately. “And I wouldn' mind... havin' some mateys aboard t' make th' journey less lonely. Tha's... tha's what I want, and tha's why I want t' help ye help me bucko Mike.”

Chica stared at Foxy as the latter fell silent, bearing a look that Foxy couldn't quite read but hoped with all his heart was an approving one. After an agonizingly long wait, the bird finally nodded with a small smile upon her face.

“Alright then. Follow me.” Chica turned and started walking away. It took Foxy a couple of seconds to fully process her words, but when he did it was all he could do to keep from crying out in joy.

“Follow – ye mean ye'll - ye'll-”

“Jeez, calm down, Foxy,” Chica stared, bemused. “Look, for now this is just a temporary thing. We'll have to run it by Freddy, and honestly I think it's up in the air right now.

“Anyway,” she continued, pausing with one hand on the kitchen doors. “We're making Mike a cake to surprise him when he gets back. It's pretty much done, but we still need to frost a message onto the top. You can pick what we write, if you want.” With that, she pushed the doors open and strode back into the kitchen, with Foxy on her tail.

“Hey, whoa, whoa! What's he doing here?!” Bonnie's voice rang out as Foxy stepped through the doors. Foxy quickly spotted the rabbit brandishing a whisk at him, glaring accusingly. It wasn't an overall threatening image, but it still hurt Foxy, even if he didn't show it.

“Put that thing down, Bonnie. Y' look like a fool,” Freddy scolded Bonnie as he came up from behind and swiped the whisk from the rabbit's hand, setting it gently upon the table. “Now then,” the bear continued, turning back toward Foxy with a surprisingly large smile. “Foxy! Ah didn' expect ta see ya out n' about tonight. Everythin' fine and dandy wit' ya?”

Foxy, a little overwhelmed, turned to Chica for aid, but she just gestured back to Freddy. This was clearly something she wanted Foxy to handle himself. Foxy gulped and hesitantly began to speak. “I, uh... I already tol' th' bird – Chica – 'bout this, but I be... looking fer some new mateys t' adventure with me. So I, uh, I be thinkin' tha' ye might be willin' ta let me be a part o' yer crew. Seems like it be a fun ship t' sail on.”

By this point, Foxy was practically looking straight down at his own feet, too afraid to risk meeting anybody's eyes. But he forced himself to raise his head just a little bit, enough to see Freddy's eyes if he looked upward far enough. “So... okay?”

Freddy remained silent for a while after Foxy's confession, and Foxy couldn't have been more stressed out from it. Why was he taking so long to decide? He couldn't stand it!

Just as Foxy opened his mouth to prompt the bear, Freddy spoke on his own.

“Jus'... one question here, Foxy.”

Foxy nodded uncertainly.

“Why d'ya think y' needed to come here beggin' like that?”

Foxy whipped upward so quickly that his neck groaned in protest, jaw now fully dropped. He was so caught off-guard couldn't even eke out a simple “aye?”

“Ah mean, really,” Freddy continued jovially. “Did ya really think we thought so little o' ya that ya needed to beg like a dog fer us? We been waitin' to see ya come outta that damn cove on yer own fer years now. I have, 't least.”

Foxy could actually feel himself grow faint. Was this... was this really happening?

“I haven't, just for the record,” Bonnie chimed in, before continuing somewhat reluctantly. “But... I guess if you're that lonely, we might as well throw you a bone. Under protest, of course.”

“And I wouldn't have let you in if I wasn't rooting for you,” Chica finished. “So I can deal.”

Foxy's brain had fully locked down. “B-b-but I thought y-y-ye h-hated-”

“We did,” Bonnie replied bluntly. Freddy shot him a harsh look, and the rabbit softened considerably. “But it's... it's been a long time and, well... we've had a while to gain some perspective.”

“The wound is...well, it's still healing,” Chica added softly, reassuringly. “But if you think we hate you that much, then you really do need to leave that cove more often.”

In a strange paradox, Foxy's brain, overwhelmed by all of the information he'd been receiving, actually managed at that point to loop back into the realms of manageability. It was as though all that had been overflowing within his robotic mind had suddenly compartmentalized itself, freeing up untold amounts of new space. With it, Foxy could finally comprehend all that he'd been told.

And with that comprehension came joy. So much joy.

Foxy let a sudden, deafening whoop of happiness and leaped at Freddy, arms outstretched for a hug. Instinctively, Bonnie and Chica surged forward to grab his shoulders and restrain him, but Freddy lightly pushed them both aside, and Foxy was able to wrap his arms around the bear undeterred.

Foxy was laughing, although he himself was only vaguely aware of it; his mind was too much of a giddy fog to realize what he was doing. Freddy didn't mind too much, fortunately. He was happy to see Foxy so joyful after all of these years, he truly was.

Eventually, Foxy released Freddy and took a step back, breathing heavily until he had sufficiently calmed himself. “Freddy, all o' ye – thank ye. I swear on me ship, I'll follow ye fer the rest o' me days!”

Freddy chuckled. “Glad to have y' on board, so t' speak. Now then, back t' that there cake.” The bear turned back to the table, where Foxy noticed for the first time had a cake sitting atop it. It wasn't a fancy cake or anything; two layers, with white frosting and pink trim. But it was pretty, Foxy had to admit. “I reckon it'd be mighty hard t' frost anythin' with a hook fer a hand. Jus' tell us what ya want it t' say. We'll write it.”

“Make it good,” Bonnie added rather eagerly.

Foxy nodded and whispered something into Chica's ear. The chick looked at him with slight confusion, but another nod from Foxy seemed to satisfy her, and she went to work. She squeezed her icing bag, causing a line of pink to ooze from the tip, and gingerly moved it about the cake to spell the three special words that Foxy had chosen:

THANK YOU, MIKE