Daddy's a Serial Killer

Chapter 42 - Another Ending

It was a shock to see Helen. Toby didn't really know what happened to him and the Puppeteer. All he knew was that Ben found their location, and then Laughing Jack was gone for the day. Toby had gone to the living room to walk upstairs but had paused when he saw him. Helen. Half of his head was coated in blood. Ben climbed into the T.V. as Eyeless Jack deposited the man onto the couch.

"Be quiet. He fell asleep in the car. And he has a concussion, so he needs it," Eyeless Jack said.

Toby glanced between them. "What happened?" He asked.

"Laughing Jack wanted to bring him back since Sans was worried about him. And he decided the best way to do that would be to, you know, knock him out."

Toby winced. A tick ran through him as he looked down at Helen. So many emotions washed through him at the sight of Helen laying there. They never did end things off well, per se. And now he was here. Toby didn't know how he felt about that. Mostly relieved, since this meant that Helen was going to get some actual help. But also terrible, because Helen likely wasn't here out of his own will. And he was injured. With a concussion. A practical death threat to any practicing CreepyPasta. Something that required care and attention to heal up.

"Why would Jack do that? It wasn't Helen's fault... fault."

Ben stuck his head out of the T.V. briefly. Mainly to give Toby a long, hard look. "Really? Think long about the person we're talking about."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

Someone not known for kindness towards people. It was a miracle everyone that who already lived there was treated with generosity. Helen was just associated with the Puppeteer. In Laughing Jack's eyes, that was enough.

"He's alright, other... otherwise?" Toby asked.

"No." Eyeless Jack was curt as he tugged out a roll of bandages. "He has a nasty concussion. Going to be recovering for about a month, my guess." His fingers, carefully, parted aside some hair to look at the injury. "Maybe more. Or less. It really depends."

Toby frowned at that statement. He felt... something, certainly. Guilt? A bit of that. He should've been upfront with Helen the moment he and Clockwork had distanced themselves from him. Wasn't his fault, he had some pretty obsessive company. Company that chased them out with threats and attacks that made them not inclined to stay nearby. And while it wasn't their fault, he had long since acknowledged that he had lost his only love when they decided to keep their mouths shut.

Toby moved to sit down, offering help to Eyeless Jack wherever he needed it. Guilt was the right word. It was a word he didn't like because he always had felt guilt in his life. As if he were to blame for the shitty circumstances that brought him to that world. Not his fault, Toby was mature enough to challenge that guilt. Not his fault his Dad was an ass, or that car crashes happened, or that he was vulnerable and took an offer when he really shouldn't have. But guilt was a pest in his life, one that clung and clung until his heart ached and sleep became a thing of the past. It didn't help that now - only now, after everything, that Toby was finally taking charge. It was refreshing, in a sense. No boss, no name to trap him, just Toby. To do whatever the hell he wanted. But that didn't erase his past, or his relationships, so he couldn't run around like a headless chicken.

Toby couldn't describe the exact feeling that washed over him every time he looked at Helen. A mixture of guilt and sadness, sure, but also... relief. That he was finally getting help. Not happy he got injured for it to happen, but Helen did need to take a break from the Puppeteer. As much as those two cared about one another, they were enablers. Puppeteer let Helen bask in his pitiful sadness and Helen let the Puppeteer lose his sense of composer and what little integrity serial killers had left. Toby didn't love Helen, not like his newly discovered emotions towards Sans or his deep personal love for Clockwork, but he cared. Helen was his friend. That was that.