Forever To Be Free. (Finale of That Time in 1987)

The Plan

Chica's POV

When Chica woke up, there was a dull throbbing in her legs and arms. She opened her eyes, letting great amounts of light in through her irises. Chica grunted through the pain and closed her eyes again, tears gently tracing her temples. 

"Chica . . ." a frail male voice whispered. She knew it was Fred. "Are you alright?"

Her mind could only focus on the pain in her arms and legs. Her throat felt raw, as though she had been screaming for a long time. Her words came out drawn and hoarse. "I . . . my . . . limbs . . . are trash."

"Okay, I believe that's a good thing," Fred remarked. "They aren't broken, and I know that."

Chica squinted against the light and could see the silhouette of Fred's head and beard. "My limbs . . . are . . ."

"Trash," she and Fred said in unison. Chica adjusted to the light before she was finally able to open her eyes. She couldn't remember a thing. 

Maybe Fred knew. "What . . . what happened to make my limbs . . . feel like crap?"

"You were sliding down a falling building as you searched for Jonathan--"

A sudden rage filled her up like a flash flood. "Jonathan! Where is he? I need to find him so I can kill him and then I . . . he'll be dead by the time I'm done with him--"

"Shhh, girl," Fred hushed. Chica's wild eyes began to settle. Fred's large hands spread across Chica's cheeks, and looked into her eyes. "Jonathan is being dealt with by Freddy, Bonnie, and Foxy. You don't need to worry, okay? He will be dead when they're done, alright?"

Chica took a deep breath, flushing all her rage out in one exhale. "Alright, I'm calm. What do we do until then?"

"You know your friend Ben?" Fred asked suddenly.

Chica tilted her head. Ben . . . Ben . . . who was Ben? Ben . . . balloons . . .

Ben.

"Ben, yes," Chica said with sudden remembrance. "I know him. He was being tortured by Jonathan, I believe."

"Yes, he was being tortured by Jonathan, but since we can't do much to help the others, we need to plan on how we can save him."

"But we don't know where he is," Chica recounted.

"Or do we?" Fred stared deeper into her eyes.

Chica tilted her head. 

"Chica, you can have visions, right?" 

She nodded. "Yeah, but they happen randomly.

"Stand," Fred ordered.

Chica quietly stood up, her legs shaking with pain. She looked down and found them completely bruised and battered, a few cuts littering the surface. Her arms didn't look any better.

"Good," said Fred. "Now, relax. Try and let in a vision, and try and make it about Ben. Find him, figure out where he is, and tell me."

"How am I supposed to relax?" Chica said shakily. "The city around me is falling apart because of some crazed purple lunatic. And I'm supposed to relax--?"

"Shhh . . ." Fred pacified. "Just focus on what you need to do. Focus on Ben. Focus on where he is."

Chica soothed her muscles and tried to keep silent. Her mind felt like a fog, twirling and writhing in her mind. She swatted at every thick tendril, desperately trying to get it to fade. Instead, it still spread, and it grew. Chica began to feel mentally exhausted, and stopped trying to clear the fog.