BatIM AU: Henry's Path (OLD - rewrite in progress/consideration)

Act 1, Scene 2: Reunited

Sammy Lawrence

Sammy set Henry down on an old hammock. Henry moaned softly, then fell back into unconsciousness. Sammy turned around to see Wally Franks at the back of the room shaking his head. The poor sap had been turned into a Boris clone just a couple months ago. Wally moved next to Sammy to observe Henry.

"Who is it this time?" Wally asked with a hint of remorse in his voice.

"Henry Stein," Sammy whispered. He watched the rise and fall of Henry's slow, relaxed breathing.

Wally gasped. "No!" He took a step back. "The Henry Stein? As in, like, the creator of Bendy? My best friend?"

"Would I lie about a thing like that?" Sammy retorted. He slid his mask up a little to show Wally that he was glaring.

"Of course not! It's just, well, does he know? About what happened? Somethin' like this can really mess a person up, you know?" Wally moaned and ran his hand across his snout. He squinted his eyes and moaned again, making Henry shift.

"Quiet down, will you?" Sammy hissed. "He still needs his rest. 'Something like this' can drain half the life out of people. Of course, these rituals do take your soul." He walked over to a desk and sat down. He pulled out a piece of paper and an ink jar and started writing a list. "But when he does wake up, I need you to explain everything to him. Without freaking him out."

Wally nodded, then narrowed his eyes. "Won't you be here?"

"I need to get back so Joey doesn't think that I took Henry away. He'd kill me, or at least do something close to that."

"I guess. But what if he screams and wakes up, you know, it? She's not exactly the nicest morning person."

"Edgar's not going to do something to him or anybody. If anything, she'll feel sympathy for Henry and calm him down."

"Right." Wally frowned still and kept shooting glances at Edgar's room. "See you later then?"

"Maybe, if Joey doesn't find out. In the meantime, there's plenty of soup in the storage."

Wally cringed. "Well, at least it's somethin'."

Sammy left, and a wave of the ink's rancid smell returned as he entered the hallway. He still made his way to Joey's lair, brainstorming a good story to cover up for Henry. Maybe, just maybe, Joey would never find out, but it was still a fat if. Nothing could get past that monstrosity.

Henry Stein

Henry felt absolutely terrible. He had a splitting headache, not to mention the possible broken ribs from his fall. He groaned and opened his eyes to a dim light and cheerful whistling. Henry sat up and rubbed his head, but felt a curve in the center. Henry froze. Lowering his hand, he saw large gloved hands instead of his normal ones. He refrained from screaming the best he could but let out a small whimper.

"You're dreaming, Henry. You're just having a bad dream. Your head's messed up from the fall," he mumbled to himself. He went to stand and immediately realized he was unusually short. He wobbled a little, then leaned back against the hammock. "You're dreaming," he kept repeating.

The whistling stopped and turned into a gasp. Henry looked in the direction where the sound came from and whimpered again. Standing before him was Boris. The Boris. He was leaning over a steaming pot on a stove holding his right hand.