#tracobuttons

 “Henrik, what is a toy hospital?” Shawn asked the doctor one day during a routine check-up. Henrik looked up from his results with a frown, tilting his head at the toymaker.

“Why do you ask?”

“Jameson mentioned a place to mend toys, and I was curious,” he replied, picking at some loose threads on his shirt. Henrik sat beside him; hands folded in his lap as he smiled.

“Well, a toy hospital is really a place where people can bring their damaged toys to be fixed. It helps to prolong the life of toys for their owners.” He turned back to his results, standing to log them in the computer.

“You can go now; the check-up is finished.”

“Henrik, can you help me set up a toy hospital?” The following day, Shawn ventured into Henrik’s clinic to ask his help. The doctor looked up from his work, brow raised.

“Why do you want me to help you? Couldn’t Jameson help?”

“You are a doctor.” Shawn’s response was matter of fact, and so genuine that Henrik couldn’t say no. He sighed, and with a smile, set aside his work.

“I can spare some time today to set one up with you. Would one of the spare rooms work?” Shawn’s beam in response was far too bright for the time of day. Henrik laughed at the enthusiastic nod that Shawn gave him, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching for his lab coat. 

“Go choose a room, and I will come and join you when I have a break,” he stated, smiling as Shawn all but bounced out of the clinic.

After lunch, as Shawn was sweeping the floor of the spare room a few doors down from Henrik’s clinic, the good doctor stepped into the room with some cardboard boxes and folding screens.

“A toy hospital requires a surgery, no?” he asked in response to Shawn’s confused look. The toymaker smiled, putting the broom down.

“Of course, but where are you going to…?” his question trailed off as Henrik moved to a corner by the window and set up the folding screens to divide the room. Beside the screens and beneath the window he placed the boxes, setting surgical papers on top of them.

“A surgery and recovery room,” he explained as he straightened up, smoothing down his doctor’s coat and looking at the toymaker. Shawn’s eyes were soft and happy, grateful that Henrik was so on board with this seemingly nonsense idea that Jameson had put into his head.

“All we need now are some patients and a reception desk,” Henrik stated, smiling at Shawn as he left the room. The toymaker looked around at the empty room, then over at the ward and surgery. Walking over, he looked at the small table behind the folding screens, lined with the tools he used to make toys, realising he’d never actually offered to fix toys before. It was all new to him, much like this world he and Jameson now lived in.

Shawn looked out the window, seeing his best friend running around with Robbie the zombie, a smile on his face as he blew bubbles for the undead man to pop. Life is so different now, Jameson, he thought, turning back to the tools on the table as he lost himself in memory.

---

Shawn had been sitting in the breakroom of the studio, thinking about the crazed nature of his boss and the strange, smiling faces he’d had to paint onto eighty-seven dolls that morning. He was exhausted and his hands were stained with black paint, but still he had to make more toys after this break.

As he thought about heading back to his small office behind the toy shop, the world around him seemed to dim, walls splotching with black ink. Shawn blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering if maybe the fumes from the paint had finally gotten to him, when suddenly his world went black.

When the lights returned, he found himself in a sort of tunnel, with a light at the end. Walking down it cautiously, Shawn stepped into a bright room. Where was he? He suddenly became aware of voices around him, and when his eyes adjusted to the light, he realised he wasn’t in a room, but out in a park. People were surrounding him, poking at his clothes and staring curiously.

“Step back, everybody!” A loud voice called from behind the crowd, who parted to allow a man in a red hoodie and blue mask to walk up to Shawn.

“What’s your name, friend?” he asked, and Shawn tilted his head at the Irish lilt in his voice. Clearing his throat, Shawn opened his mouth.

“Shawn. Shawn Flynn.” The masked man smiled, patting him on the back with unnatural strength.

“Nice to meet you, Shawn. My name’s Jackie. I think I know someone you may know.

---

The toy hospital had been running for a week now, with Shawn mostly repairing toys that the egos brought in for “surgery”. He happily stitched back eyes, sewed closed a tear, and replaced arms. Schneep had been very helpful in sticking plasters on the toys after Shawn had finished with them, and that made everyone happy.

Once Jackie started bringing over toys from the neighbourhood children, the other egos began to take part in the “recovery” process. Marvin would cast a little spell on Shawn’s thread or on the stuffing on the toy, making it almost indestructible so that the toy could be played with again and again, revelling in the stories Jackie would tell him of the children’s reactions to the repaired toys.

“And here we have Bobby Bobcat. He was brought in by Clara with a terrible injury: his ear had been chewed off by the family dog, and his eye was falling out! Gross stuff! But now, he’s in recovery with a new ear. Shawn even managed to fix his eye and he’s in a stable condition. Clara, it won’t be long before Bobby is back with you!” Chase turned off his recording, tapping on his phone to send the video to Clara’s parents. He glanced up at Shawn, elbow-deep in stuffing as he repaired a large stuffed giraffe plush toy.

“The kids love getting little videos about their toys,” he explained, grinning as Shawn smiled and rolled his eyes. Both men turned as the door opened. Jackie came in with a new toy, something black and ratty, with a white bowtie.

Shawn stopped what he was doing, straightening up with a light in his eyes.

“Is that a Bendy doll?” he asked, barely keeping the excitement out of his voice. Jackie placed the doll on the table near the giraffe, and Shawn immediately began to look it over, noting it was one of the dolls Joey had rejected from commercial sale due to the crooked smile on its face.

“It is! I made these all the time back in the day! Look, this is the one Joey rejected; I drew it with a crooked smile and he told me to incinerate it because it was wrong. I kept it and sent it overseas to be sold here,” Shawn said excitedly, looking across the room at JJ, who was sitting at a table writing a letter, a small penguin doll in front of him.

“Jameson, look! It’s an original Bendy doll!”

---

The toy hospital was a fantastic way for the egos to connect with the neighbourhood, eventually moving onward to the city, where children would send in their toys with a small note describing the problem as well as a small tip for Shawn’s tip jar.

Shawn loved repairing the toys, humming an off-key tune as he sewed or stuffed, and just walking around with a brighter smile than he’d had since he ended up in the present day. Even seeing Jameson again hadn’t made him this happy.

Jameson smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Shawn work on the tiny embroidery of a toy’s jacket by the lamplight on his table. The toymaker was focused on his work, sewing with expert precision as he hummed to himself softly.

Jameson knocked gently on the doorframe, walking inside to sit beside Shawn.

You seem to be enjoying yourself, he signed, and Shawn nodded his head with a smile.

“I haven’t had this much fun in years, Jameson. It is so nice to be able to work on toys again,” he replied, eyes shining with more than lamplight reflection. Jameson returned the smile, reaching forward to put a hand on Shawn’s shoulder.

It took me some time to rediscover my purpose here, but it is amazing to feel that way again. I am happy for you, Shawn.