Cares of Communion (Bendy and the Ink Machine)

6- Savior

Author's Notes: The artwork for this chapter is by Startistdoodles on Tumblr.

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"But the Lord was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison." – Genesis 39:21

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Why was it so easy to suddenly find herself walking alongside this old man?

It must have been her wandering spirit, one soul joined by another akin in restless ways within trapping barriers. It was more of a pace, however, than a walk; a dragged look to the drawings upon these aged walls. And certainly they were drawn- not printed posters like those of other halls. And as she saw his pale fingers graze against the papers, tips oh so gently pulled across each and every one that fell beside his risen palm, Francine noticed there was something more...specific than that, even, in how to describe what she saw. The way they were sketched, the way they were signed...

"This is kids' art," she realized under her breath.

Joey paused in place, middle and ring finger caught underneath a flap of one of these makeshift pieces of wallpaper. His shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh.

"That's right," he answered quietly. A second- and then...

His light touch turned into a grip, a slight crease where his thumb pressed across this Bendy's cheek, before tugging this particular piece from its reserved spot. A stare fell upon it as he took the drawing, holding it up between himself and the girl ahead.

"I never threw away a piece of art if I could help it," Joey admitted in a voice dipped in reminiscence, "Not a single thing anyone gifted to me."

It was such a slow movement- almost like a misty ghost drifting along with a night's breeze- but soon Mr. Drew was by Francine's side, shoulders brushing each other as he offered the childish drawing for her to behold as well. It was hesitantly accepted, unsure if the passage of time since it's making would mean a careless touch could tear it apart.

But no, just as it had for the cartoonist, it remained intact for her unskilled hands. This one was...painted. In the candles' dim glow all around, she could see past the shadow her head and shoulders casted upon the paper to observe its personal details; fingerprints undoubtedly were what framed this vaguely familiar face- some smudged purposefully as a decorative border, some surely the inevitable and accidental trailings of a youngster's messy hands as they picked up their creation with haphazard pride.

A hushed laugh from behind her shoulder, not one of joy but of the longing of what he could see in his mind but no longer have in front of him again.

"Christopher," he mused with dismay, tapping against the large signature sloppily but lovingly scrawled in the corner, "I remember him...A good boy...So proud that he asked his parents to take him all the way to my very own studio, just so I could see this too."

The pie-eyed toon innocently stared back at its inventor until Joey took it back out of Francine's grasp and replaced the sheet back among the many, many others.

Now, Francine was still very delicate herself- as much as the faded soul next to her was. They both were rediscovering vulnerability side by side- both allowing memories of not what Mr. Drew had taken away but of what made them who they were before all this. There was a lot of overlap in such a concept, so it was...bittersweet. Extremely so.

That was the word that described Joey best, though, especially now that he knew who she was before.

The young college student's eyes towed from picture to picture, like a string pulled them all along together and she was trying to find where it led.