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riahlynn101 · 3 months ago

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Mimic Wednesdays #8: "Son; Brother; Uncle”

Welcome, everyone, to round two of Mimic Wednesdays. I want to upload a story related in some way to the AnotherDavid Theory every Wednesday until SOTM releases. (Which amounts to approximately 14 stories, counting this one).

Also, shoutout to ETP! I was so worried that Gregory wouldn’t come back.

Hope you all enjoy <33

And as always, thank you to @gregorysarmy for providing the world with the AnotherDavid theory!!

(Story 1 of 14)

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” David carries Gregory - nearly a year old now - on his hip. The baby is pretty much an exact copy of David as a child. In a way, it kind of amazes Edwin. Outside of a slight size difference (something, in David’s case, that his genes can’t take credit for. However, in Gregory’s case…) and a lack of freckles on his grandson, the resemblance is uncanny.

Edwin disregards that thought, opening his arms. “Yes, David,” he says, exasperated in a way that he hasn’t been since his son moved out. “I think I can handle my grandson for a few days.”

David looks uncertain, clinging to the baby. The baby, however, is more than ready. Gregory leans in, extending his arms out. It’s the exact kind of thing that David would have done as a toddler, and the thought of that makes Edwin crack a smile.

He takes his grandson into his arms, lightly bouncing the baby. “Don’t feel bad. He probably just-” Edwin stops himself, watching as his grandson continues to hold his arms out. He follows the baby’s gaze all the way to-

Ten feet away, behind a baby gate (that it can most certainly climb over) Mimic chatters angrily. David almost looks sad, staring at his best friend (when he first arrived, he tried to free Mimic, but Edwin wasn't having it.)

There is a flight to catch, and even though Fiona hasn’t been here to scold him in years, Edwin very much remembers what it takes to be a good husband.

Still, he feels somewhat bad keeping them apart.

Gregory becomes more insistent, practically climbing his chest and peering over his shoulders to get a better view of Mimic. Little, chubby baby hands grasp at the air, trying to get closer.

Oh.

Oh, no.

With his free hand, he pinches the bridge of his nose. His son laughs. Whether at history repeating itself or Edwin’s continued suffering, he isn’t sure. Not that it matters, because either way he’s babysitting Gregory.

“We’ll be fine.” And they would be, eventually. Sure, Edwin could feel the start of a three day headache coming on, but that’s to be expected. He kind of misses having to crack open a bottle of expired Ibuprofen to get through the day. “Now, go on. Your flight won’t wait forever.”

David passes him a bag. “Here’s his things…uh…his blanky is folded on top.” He taps his chin, thinking. “There are a few outfits in there, some baby food. We recently started him on milk. He likes to drink that before bed, naptime, and when he wakes up.” David’s wife, a woman (whom Edwin really needs to learn the name of, but the thought of asking now feels rude) with sandy brown hair and big eyes, lightly pushes her husband aside to press kisses to Gregory’s forehead and cheeks. The baby giggles, dropping his arms to give his mom his full attention.

Gregory smiles at his mom, leaning forward, right into her touch. “I love you. Be good for your grandpa.” Pressing one last kiss to his forehead, she turns to David. “We need to go. The plane is leaving in less than an hour.”

David nods, understanding. He starts to leave, stopping short. “I almost forgot, his stuffed rabbit’s in the bottom of the bag. He refuses to go to bed without it.”

Memories of his own son struggling to sleep without his stuffed tiger come flooding back. Edwin smiles, struggling to maintain his hold on Gregory who has gone back to reaching out for Mimic. “Got it.”

David stands there for a moment, not moving. His eyes move between Edwin and his son, considering. He recognizes that look instantly. It's the same look he had when David started school, and they had to part for the first time in his son’s life.

But David isn’t him. He’s better. He has a support system, and Edwin refuses to allow his son to squander it. “Chin up,” he says. “Gregory’s in good hands.”

“Right, right. Sorry, I’m just….”

“Worried?”

“Yeah, this is the first time we’re leaving him.” David strokes the back of his son’s head. “I know you’ve been through this before, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

Edwin grabs David’s hand, holding it. “I won’t let anything happen to my grandson.”

David stares at him in the same starry-eyed way he used to. Like Edwin is all-powerful and all-knowing, like only he can slay the monsters that lurk in the dark or underneath the bed.

“We’ll be fine, but if you really want to stay…”

David coughs, shaking his head. “No, we already spent the money, and I want to go. It just feels weird being away from Gregory for longer than an hour.”

“I know the feeling.”

His son looks at him, worry finally showing on his face. “If you can call me once a day. Just to update us on how Gregory’s doing.”

“Of course I can, though I’m sure the baby will be just fine.” Over his shoulder he eyes Mimic who has started holding its arms out for Gregory too. “I love you, son.” David leans down to hug him.

Gregory turns back to try and hug his dad, giggling all the while.

“Love you too, dad.” He kisses the baby’s head. “And I love you, my little mischief maker.”

What does that mean?

He looks at David who shoots him a downright-evil smile. “Goodluck!” He shouts, following after his wife.

Edwin shuts the door. Whatever his son meant by that couldn’t be any worse than David at four and five. His son had been smart and curious, which didn’t make for the safest combination at times.

“I’m sorry,” he addresses Mimic. “You can see David when he gets back.”

But Mimic has stopped its angry chattering, focusing on the squirming baby in his arms. Gregory coos, pointing a pudgy finger at the giant robot. “Mimi!”

Edwin is taken back. He didn’t know that his grandson had already said his first word. Which feels like something his son should have mentioned beforehand.

“Mimi!” Gregory calls again, more insistent.

Mimic reaches a clawed hand out. “Gregory,” it calls in response, using a voice that is neither Edwin’s or David’s. He tries to recall who it came from, but he can’t. “Baby! Gregory! Give me the baby!” It demands.

“No,” Edwin reprimands. “Is that how you ask?” Truth be told, he really doesn’t want to hand his grandson over. While Mimic has proven to be trustworthy with David and under supervision, he’s no stranger to robots acting up. All it takes is one accident.

“Please, may I hold the baby?” It asks, and Edwin is nothing if not a man of his word. He lowers the baby gate, and hands Gregory over.

The baby snuggles close to Mimic, tiny arms trying to wrap all the way around its neck (a futile endeavor, but that doesn’t stop Gregory from trying), meanwhile, the robot’s long arms seem to almost engulf the baby’s body.

Edwin worries that it might suffocate his grandson, but before he can move, the hug is over.

It holds Gregory on its side, supporting him with its arm. “Baby,” Mimic says, something like fondness in its voice.

“Baby,” Edwin repeats. “Very fragile. Be very, very gentle.”

“Okay!” Mimic says, turning away. It carries the baby further into the factory, humming something under its breath. Edwin thinks about following it, but decides to return to work.

His grandson likely needs to burn out all his energy before naptime anyway.

-x-x-x-

“Mimi!” Gregory calls out, clapping his hands.

Mimic isn’t sure what to make of his brother’s son. The tiny human looks so much like David. All big brown eyes and smiles and giggles and reaching hands and warm hugs. Like sunshine personified.

Gregory is his brother’s son, so he supposes that makes him his uncle.

He kind of likes that, being an uncle. It feels like the natural progression of things.

First, he was a brother (and he still is, though David doesn’t come around as much). Now, he’s an uncle.

He covers his eyes with his hands. Through the cracks in between his fingers, he sees the baby staring up at him with wonder. “Peek-a-boo!” He shouts, causing Gregory to break into giggles yet again.

He scoops the baby up, unable to bear the cuteness. Carefully, gently (just as he’d been advised to), Mimic nuzzles the baby, chattering happily.

“Mimi! Luh!”

His smile grows - if that’s even possible - and he feels complete. Like the missing piece between being a brother and son was waiting for his nephew to be born.

“I love you too, Gregory,” he murmurs, cooing when his nephew tries to hug him again.

-x-x-x-

Naptime is quite the event.

“No, Mimic, you can’t sleep in the same bed as the baby.”

Sometimes Edwin forgets he didn’t build Mimic with lips, especially at times like now when the robot starts “pouting.” It sulks, the baby still nestled in its arms.

“Mimic,” he chides.

The robot couldn’t look more guilty if it tried.

“Don’t do it,” Edwin warns, already sensing an oncoming headache (he’d have to pop open that bottle of painkillers sooner than he originally thought). One that probably won’t go away until David comes back. “....Mimic.”

As if provoked into action by the use of its name, Mimic turns tail and runs from the room (baby still in arm).

Edwin sighs, loudly, wondering what he did to deserve this. Of course, it might be easier to point out what he didn’t do.

Joints creaking, he chases after Mimic.

-x-x-x-

There are so many places to hide in the factory. In vents, behind machines, inside machines, inside costumes, and his favorite, inside the massive wardrobe in a side room. Once, decades ago now, Mimic remembers playing in here with David. They used to try on costumes all the time, one right after the other.

Gregory makes a noise in his sleep.

“Shhh…” Mimic soothes, rocking him side to side. The baby relaxes in his hold. He smiles, something like warmth in his chest. It’s been a long, long time since he’s felt this way. “There. Safe and sound.”

He doesn’t understand why his creator has to be like that. Did he think that Mimic would crush the baby? He wouldn’t. Had his creator forgotten all of Mimic’s capabilities? Because it sure seems like it.

Maybe it’s for the best. This is a much better place to sleep - in his (very right, very correct) opinion - than the bedroom.

From his place crouched against the far back wall of the large wardrobe, Mimic can hear his creator shouting for him to come out. He gives it an hour before his creator gives up and goes back to work.

One would think to look in all the places David liked to play in, but his creator has always been a little slow on the uptake.

One might also worry a little more about their grandson’s safety (and no, yelling doesn’t count, nor does quickly peeking in rooms).

But he knows it’s because Edwin, whether he realizes it or not, trusts him. He trusted him with David, and he trusts him with Gregory now. And despite his robotic nature, Mimic understands how fragile that trust can be, which is why he’ll spend the rest of naptime (however long that might be) here, holding his sleeping nephew.

“Sweet dreams, little one,” Mimic murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

-x-x-x-

Gregory wakes a few hours later. Tiny hands reach up, stretching. His button nose wrinkles as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes.

Mimic stares at the baby, transfixed by the little twitches of Gregory’s face and the noises he makes. It’s endearing in all the best ways. His little nephew smiles, reaching a hand up to pat Mimic’s face.

“Mimi,” Gregory says, still half-asleep.

Before he can answer, the doors to the wardrobe are yanked open. “Hah!” His creator shouts, startling the baby. “Found you!”

Gregory’s eyes widen, frightened by the sudden loud noise. He sniffles. Mimic rocks him, doing his best to calm the baby.

Edwin must realize his mistake, because he shushes the baby. As if that’s going to calm anyone down. Mimic knows it’s not his place to judge his creator, but, boy, sometimes is it hard. Impossible even.

Still, fair is fair, and he lost. So, Mimic hands the baby over. Edwin mutters a thank you under his breath, bouncing the baby in an effort to calm Gregory down.

Mimic watches him leave, wishing he didn’t have to play fair.

#cross posted on ao3 #the mimic and gregory #mimic wednesday #fnaf gregory #fnaf au #fnaf the mimic #david and gregory

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riahlynn101 · 3 months ago

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Mimic Wednesdays #10: "Persuasive Love."

Trigger warnings: grief, implied child neglect/abandonment, kind of infidelity (in Edwin's head), and canonical character death (NOT DAVID!!!)

We already did Gregory is David's son, so let's try Gregory is David's (half) brother. I hope you all enjoy <33

@gregorysarmy

“I don’t want him.” The words are said so nonchalantly that Edwin almost thinks he’s dreaming, because certainly she - a woman he hooked up with once - isn’t actually saying that.

Truth be told he didn’t want the baby either. Money’s tight and he has David to worry about, not to mention that this child isn’t part Fiona. Not that it makes the baby any less deserving of love, but he can’t be the one to give him a home.

“I can’t-”

She cuts him off, “I. Don’t. Want. Him.” She stares him down, one foot in the door. The small bundle wriggles in her arms, whining. The woman grimaces. “Take him,” she urges, pushing the bundle into Edwin’s arms. “Take him to a fire station for all I care, but I can’t do it.”

Before he can say another word, the woman is gone, running off into the night. A small bag is left where she was standing.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, grabbing the bag off the porch. The baby in his arms whimpers, staring up at Edwin with frightened eyes.

“Daddy?”

Edwin straightens, closing the door with his foot. The baby in his arms continues to whine. This isn’t good. He thought he might have a few hours to figure out how to break the news to David, or take the baby to the fire station before he realizes there’s a new person here. But he’s never been that lucky.

Behind David, with two recently crafted legs and a voice box, Mimic stumbles in. It’s still getting used to movement and more often than not, falls. Especially when David stops suddenly, which happens even more than Mimic falling.

“Daddy?” David asks again, tugging on his shirt. “What’s that? Why’s it making noise?” His son’s big brown eyes light up. “It sounds like a baby?” He looks at Mimic and cradles his arms. “A baby is like a tiny human,” he explains - always so bright for his age.

Edwin blanches. This is all happening too fast, but there’s no use hiding the baby from David. Even if- when (not if, when, he reminds himself) he takes the baby to the fire station, he’s sure his son will understand.

Besides, he already has Mimic to keep him company. Babies are loud and take loads of attention. His son will be glad to be rid of the baby.

“Yes,” he says with a lump in his throat. He doesn’t know why he wants to cry. Maybe it’s the big brown eyes that stare up at him in two directions. He ignores the ones peering up from a swaddle to address his son. Carefully, so as not to jostle the baby, he bends down to David’s height. “Come say, ‘hi.’”

David looks at the baby with a million stars in his eyes. He holds his hands together. “Daddy!” He shouts, startling the baby. His son frowns. “Oh. Sorry, baby.”

Edwin chuckles, ruffling his son’s hair.

“What’s his name?” David asks, reaching out to poke one of the baby’s pudgy cheeks. One side of the baby’s lips curl upwards, encouraging his son to try it again.

“Um…” Edwin trails off, digging with one arm in the bag the baby’s mother left. Assuming the baby was born in a hospital there should be a birth certificate, and, eventually, he finds one.

Unfortunately, it’s blank in the one spot he needs filled out. Her name, his name, date of birth, time of birth, and even the baby’s birth weight and height are on it, but where the baby’s name should go is blank.

He curses inwardly.

If David isn’t so insistent about his questions being answered, he might try to distract him with something else. But his son is his son in more ways than one, and no amount of distraction will ever make him forget.

“Gregory,” he says, thinking of the first name that comes to his head. His wife’s father had been named Gregory. He was a kind man that treated Edwin like family up until his death.

“Gregory,” both his son and Mimic repeat. David in awe and Mimic in Edwin’s voice. He cringes a little, still unused to his creation’s full abilities.

David giggles. “He’s small.”

“Most babies are.”

“Was I?”

“No.” And that has always been true of his son, which is something his genes cannot take credit for. “But you were smaller than you are now.”

David smiles. “Really?”

“Really. Now, go play for a little while. Daddy has to take care of the baby.”

David hums, rocking back on his heels. “But daddy,” he whines, “I want to play with Gregory.”

It shouldn’t shock Edwin that his son has taken to the baby, but allowing David to play with him could further complicate things. Not to mention how fragile babies are, and well, Mimic and his son aren’t the most gentle beings. One is a seven foot robot with the grace of a newborn gazelle, and the other is a hyperactive four-almost-five-year-old. Even with all the best intentions in the world, Edwin knows he can’t leave Gregory alone with them.

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

David sucks in his bottom lip, thinking. “Okay, daddy,” he says. “But can we play later?”

By then, Edwin thinks to himself, the baby will be gone.

“Sure,” he says, ruffling his son’s hair once more, sending him off to play.

-x-x-x-

Gregory, as opposed to David, seems to be remarkably quiet. Outside of some whimpers and whines, he stays silent as Edwin checks him over, making sure he’s clean and taken care of. There’s no telling what that woman did or didn’t do.

His s- Gregory is already a week old, and she didn’t exactly seem eager that he exists. Which begs the question, why did she wait so long? It’s not like he’s hard to find.

He makes a makeshift crib in the center of his bed. It’s not like the baby can roll off anyway, and Edwin needs his hands to change and clean the baby. (He still keeps a hand on Gregory’s chest whenever he has to look away.)

Gregory is not dressed for the weather, wrapped in a threadbare blanket with a diaper and a onesie one size too big. It can’t possibly be keeping the baby warm enough, and sure enough when he gives a gentle squeeze to Gregory’s foot, it’s cold as ice.

“Brrr,” he jokes, rubbing his hands together. “Your mommy must have gotten the weather report for Florida.”

The baby’s mouth did something funny then. The corners raise as if turning into a smile, but it stops short of an actual one.

“What?” Edwin asks, mock offended, hand on his hip. “Not up to your standards?”

The baby gives another almost-smile again. His big brown eyes, which look so much like David’s (and by proxy, Fiona’s) stare up at him with so much misplaced love and innocence and radiance. The lump in his throat is suddenly there again, and the moment is over.

He uses some of David’s old baby clothes to dress Gregory. They should be warmer than the ones his mother provided.

Edwin goes to pick the baby up, but he finds that in all the hustle and bustle of his own whirling thoughts and maneuvering the baby around to get the clothes on, Gregory has fallen asleep. His breathing is even and he looks peaceful.

“Damn,” Edwin swears.

“Daddy!”

He jumps. How does his son do that? But if he’s here than that means….

Not a second later, there’s a clatter as Mimic knocks into a side table. Edwin can feel a headache coming on. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

He shushes his son. “You have to be quiet, the baby’s asleep.”

David frowns. “But I wanted to play with him.”

“Maybe later.”

“But you said that earlier.”

Edwin grinds his teeth. Sometimes he thinks he wasn’t meant to be a father. The impatience that comes with an intelligent four-year-old makes him feel a bit crazy.

“He’s napping,” he explains, hoping his son might understand.

And he does - kind of. “Can I nap with him?” David’s eyes light up like they do whenever he gets an idea. “Or he can nap with me.” He tugs on one of Edwin’s hands. “Daddy, Gregory can sleep in my bed. I’ll even let him hold tiger if he wants.”

Moving Gregory probably isn’t the smartest move, but he really needs to get back to work and his son’s cot is a better option. It’s smaller, not that high off the ground, and if his son is serious about taking a nap, Edwin won’t have to worry about checking in on the baby so often.

“Are you sure?” He asks, knowing how fast a child’s mind changes. “Your nap isn’t for another hour.”

“Mhm,” David says, nodding. “I’ll watch my brother.”

The blood in Edwin’s veins turns to ice. Cold, cold ice.

“Uh…Gregory’s not your brother.” He isn’t, because that would make him Edwin’s son. And that means he betrayed Fiona, and more than that it means he can’t give the baby up without thinking about the ‘what-ifs.’

What if he raised Gregory?

What if Gregory’s adopted by an abusive or neglectful family?

What if he’s adopted by a good family, and he grows up never knowing his real father and brother?

For some inexplicable reason it’s the latter of the three that raises his blood pressure. Not that he ever wants his so- Gregory (not his son. Not his son. Not his son) to be put in a situation that would cause him harm, but something about being forgotten hurts. To be a ghost of a memory in Gregory’s head - if that.

David tilts his head to the side. Mimic does the same.

“Yes, he is,” his son says, steadfast. “We have the same eyes. Mommy’s eyes.”

Edwin almost chokes. The air is knocked from his lungs with two words. When he showed David his mother’s picture, he didn’t think it would lead to this.

The memory of Fiona burns at him, reminding him of his own betrayal to her. One that wasn’t worth it in the end. He bites back his anger, heading for the door before he does something he might regret.

He stops in the doorway, “if you want to nap with the baby, you can do it in my bed. Have Mimic help you up. I’ll be working so don’t bother me.”

David nods. “Okay, daddy!”

-x-x-x-

Edwin clears his workbench of all the loose papers and tools, sending them crashing to the ground. Kicking his chair over, he screams and screams, and screams some more.

He bites his arm, leaving behind indents.

“Fuck!” He yells. “Fuck! Fuck!” Tears sting the corners of his eyes. “What do I do!?” Everything around Edwin only serves to piss him off more, reminding him of his past, back when he had it all. Back before Fiona-

He falls on his hands and knees. Warm tears fall on the back of his hands, but he hardly notices.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He doesn’t know who he’s apologizing to - Fiona for what he’s done or Gregory for what he’s about to do - but it doesn’t matter. Not now. Not here in the sanctuary of his workshop.

“I’m…sorry…”

Something hits his head, almost startling him enough to stop crying. He looks up to find a photograph has fallen off his main workstation. The one where he keeps all his most important paperwork and photos of his family.

This particular one was taken several years ago, before David was born. It’s a picture of their first wedding dance. Fiona’s princess-esque wedding gown, puffy sleeves and all, and his tuxedo and bowtie really showcased the type of people they were. Eccentric and uncaring of what people thought.

He sniffles, clutching the photo in his hand. If he knew what would come next, he would have stopped time.

Tears drip on the page. Edwin hurriedly wipes it off, not wanting the paper to warp.

He misses her, everyday, but especially now. He can’t do this again without her. He could barely do it the first time.

“Fiona, please,” he begs, even though it’s futile. Death is final. No returns, take backs, or second chances. But he needs her. “Tell me what to do.”

As if an answer to his prayers, another photo is knocked off the table. He grabs it.

This one is of David and him, about two years ago. They’re smiling, and his son is obviously laughing, looking up at Edwin with bright eyes. The same eyes that Greg-

He frowns. This can’t be a sign, can it?

But that radiance…that love that’s so persuasive.

Edwin breaks down, holding both photos to his chest. He knows what he has to do now.

-x-x-x-

By the time he returns to the bedroom, everyone is asleep. And when Edwin says everyone, he means everyone.

Gregory is in the center of the blankets right where he left him. David’s curled up around the baby, arms wrapped around his brother, and Mimic has taken to curling around both the baby and David, long arms covering the children.

Edwin stands in the doorway for a second, face still wet with tears.

David wakes first. He blinks blearily up at Edwin. “Daddy?” He asks, still groggy with sleep. “Are you okay?”

Edwin walks over to the bed, and soothes his son’s hair back. “Yeah, I’m just fine.” He reaches over to his other son, soothing his hair back too. “Thank you for watching your brother, you’re such a good helper.”

If David wasn’t awake before, he is now. His eyes widen, and before Edwin can think to stop him he shouts, “Yay!”

The baby wakes up, crying.

“Sorry, daddy,” David murmurs, fidgeting with his fingers.

Edwin laughs. He’s no stranger to babies crying. “It’s alright. I think we’re going to be just fine.”

An image of Fiona flashes in his mind's eye, like a beacon.

"Just fine," he repeats, leaning down to kiss David's forehead.

#fnaf fanfic #fnaf au #fnaf gregory #cross posted on ao3 #the mimic and gregory #The mimic and david #david and gregory #david murray #mimic wednesday

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