Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Behind a white door embellished with flowers, there had once been a neutral three-year-old’s room. It was a place for a budding curiosity to grow, for a fresh creativity to thrive—a place free of direction and undue imposition. However, though the closet door and its flower designs stayed the same through the months that passed by, the room beyond it, slowly but surely, was transformed into a literal zoo.

More than two years had passed since the child therein was named “Boo,” and the only vestiges left of her original room were the bed, the easel, and the tea party table. All else had been replaced with an invariably animal theme. Particularly that of big cats.

There were plushies of lions, tigers, leopards, cheetahs. The blankets on her bed were safari themed. Standing in neat, modest rows on her bookshelf, books about animals with shiny new covers still waited to be smudged by inquisitive fingers. Fingers that, as evidenced by the room’s easel, were still too busy drawing giant blue beasts with polka-dotted fur, as well as green circles with horns.

The polka-dotted monster currently sat on the end of Boo’s bed. He rested his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, watching the five-year-old artist as she chased a harassed-looking cat around the room.

“I just don’t get it,” said the green circle with horns, who reclined on a pile of animal plushies inside a kids’ circus tent. 

“You just don’t get what?” asked Sulley gruffly.

Truthfully, he hadn’t been paying much attention to his friend. He smiled at Boo as she caught the calico feline. She hoisted it up, its long body dangling from her arms like an accordion. The tag on its collar announced its name, “Kitty.”

Sulley had gotten a chuckle out of that.

It was yet another of her parents’ attempts to reconcile Boo’s fixations with reality. Reality as any adult human knew it. But Sulley didn't feel very threatened by his title being stolen. Boo had taken to referring to the cat as “Fluffy,” much to her parents’ chagrin, he imagined.

Boo marched Fluffy over to him, her cheeks puffed out with the effort, and he ran a gentle finger along its head. Its fur was sleek. Not nearly as fluffy as himself. But Sulley wasn’t exactly a kitty, either, so he wasn’t in the right place to judge.

Mike, meanwhile, continued his rant. Even for the green ball of nerves, he’d been pretty worked up. More than usual, lately. “Humans. In general! First, they get rid of her perfectly good drawings that were hanging on the wall—”

“The drawings of us, you mean?”

Sulley pretended not to think anything of it. In truth, it had put him ill at ease to see the walls of Boo’s room suddenly scrubbed of them. He suspected Mike’s uptick in Mikeliness shared a similar source. The cyclops glared at the cat in Boo’s arms as if it was actually a threat to their world as they knew it.

“—and then they adopt this… thing, and all it does is shed and make a mess! I mean, that stuff is fine when it’s coming from you, Sull.”

Wazowski ducked as a pillow flew overhead, knocking the tent off its imaginary stakes. He glanced at Sulley, who smirked at him as Boo giggled. With an unimpressed frown, Mike stood from the pile of animal plushies and brushed off his knees as if he’d really been roughing it.

“Nice try, pal. But when you work with children all day, you get pretty good at dodging projectiles. Now what was I saying?”

“The usual. Nothing important.”

“Oh, right. It’s like humans want to be miserable.”

Sulley stood from the bed with a sigh, stretching his back. “Don’t even start, Mike.”

“Would it be such a bad thing to bring back scaring? Just for a few of the outliers. The ones who get no traction from jokes. Who’d rather throw me-shaped leather at my face.”

Sulley crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a smirk. “You mean the basketball prodigy?”

“He has a name, Sulley,” said Mike with a glare. “His name is Jake. Rhymes with half-baked. I don’t think he even got that joke. The vocabulary is too advanced. Sure, he’s got plenty of sports trophies, but not a single award for the spelling-bee. But it doesn’t matter that he didn’t get the joke. He hit me with his basketball anyway.”

Sulley chuckled. “That got us plenty of laugh power, didn’t it?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s your point?”

“My point is, my comedic talents are going to waste and ruin. They should put me in with the smart kids. The ones that know the difference between physical comedy and an invite to physical harm. I mean, look at my arm. That’s a bruise. It’s like I work with animals.”

Sulley rolled his eyes at this—Mike had been complaining all day about a crescent-shaped bruise that looked more like the result of him bumping into a doorknob this morning. Boo, however, stopped in her tracks and peered at Mike’s arm with concern. Then, with a few anxious hops, she ran to her lion-themed backpack that rested against her bed frame, the one she took to preschool.

Dropping on her knees, she unzipped the smallest pocket at the front of the backpack, which evidently served as a first aid kit. She took out a bandaid, examining its kitten-themed pattern with the same grave demeanor of a surgeon examining a scalpel. Then she popped back onto her feet and ran to her uncle, who watched with a small, perplexed smile. Boo stared at the bandaid with intense concentration, her tiny hands fumbling with tearing off the paper.

“This will make it better,” she whispered. Not in a manner like she was trying to reassure him. Rather, it seemed like a learned recitation. A prayer to the bandaid fairy to increase its effectiveness. Then she smoothed it onto his arm.

The bandaid was crooked, far too skinny and small to cover the area of bruising. But Mike felt 100% better all of a sudden, and Sulley was relieved with the knowledge that his whining was finally done with. At least when it came to the bruise.

“Thanks, Boo,” said Mike, and she caught him off guard once again. Extending her arms, she dared fate by falling into a precarious 45-degree hug—she would have fallen flat on her face had her uncle not been there to catch her. Mike hardly got the chance to hug her back when the cat brushed by with its tail in the air, seeming to goad her into chasing it.

While Boo ran about, giggling and laughing, Mike watched her with a soft expression that slowly dipped into melancholy. Sulley’s smile faded, too, as he saw the gears turning in his best friend’s head.

Mike stood there, looking at Boo, tapping his index claws with uncertainty. Sulley already knew what he was going to say.

“Mike, we can’t—”

“We should bring back Boo’s door. Reinstate it with the company.”

“We’ve talked about this. It’s never gonna happen.”

Mike took no time at all to slip back into his melodramatics. “Why not?” he demanded. “It’s been a whole two years since the incident! Without a single repeat.” He started pacing back and forth. “What would be the matter with petitioning a dead door to be… what’s the word? Undead-ed.”

“You mean like a zombie door?”

Mike slowly spun on one heel to face him. “A zombie door? Come on, Sull. You’re the CEO of a major corporation. You should know a thing or two about marketing. No. I mean like a… this-door-should-have-never-been-deaded-in-the-first-place, the-kid-is-not-a-threat-to-us-and-deserves-to-be-respected-like-any-other-kid-on-our-floor kind of door. Got a ring to it, don’t you think?”

“What I think is that it’s time to tell Boo here goodnight. We only got half an hour before the janitors start their rounds.”

“Great! That means we still got half an hour to hang up her newest drawings. I mean, look at this one!”

He held up the latest drawing of himself, captioned “Mike Wasosky.” Slowly but surely, Boo was closing in on the correct spelling of his name.

As Mike studied it, his eye began to mist.

“It’s a masterpiece. It deserves to be framed. Not done away with like contraband!” He started to put it down, then held it back up. He stared at it for a few more moments. “You know what?” He decided. “This one’s coming home with me.”

Mike shouted with objection when Sulley took it from his hands, his other arm cradling Boo.

“No, it’s not,” said Sulley. He carefully placed it back on its easel, then looked back at Mike with a sorrowful, yet firm expression. “You remember the rules.”

Mike crossed his arms. “Right. Your self-made visitation rules.” He listed them off his fingers. “Rule number one, no visiting Boo unless there’s no one around to find the pieced-together door that should technically be woodchips. Rule number two! No taking memorabilia, lest someone finds it and figures out what we’ve been up to. And, rule number three, the last and definitely least of them all, no making any alterations to her room.”

“Why is that your least favorite rule?”

“Because look around, Sulley. Her parents are trying to erase us! To convince her we don’t exist.”

“We don’t exist.”

Mike pinched his fingers to his face. “You should play for the Red Shocks, you know that? Cause you’re great at missing the ball. They took away all of her drawings of us. They turn her room into a ZOO to try and shift her focus away from us. Now, they bring home that thing and give it your name. Next thing you know, they’ll take away her art supplies. The next thing you know, they’ll move her into a separate room altogether! Maybe they’ll even move houses! Neighborhoods! States!”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Sulley, but even if his voice had sounded confident—it hadn’t—the way he hugged Boo said enough about his true feelings. Mike placed his hands akimbo and gave him a look.

“If you had ever picked up a book in college, you would know that a common human parental response to a child’s abnormal behavior is changing environments. This could mean changing rooms, or schools, or—”

“Boo does not have abnormal behavior!” objected Sulley.

Mike looked unimpressed. “Really?”

Sulley carefully deposited the girl on her bed, throwing Mike a sharp look over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“We only see her ten minutes a weeknight. For all we know, ‘monsters’ and ‘Kitty’ and ‘Mike Wazowksi’ are all she ever talks about! I mean, her parents are obviously very concerned.”

“The parents can mind their own business,” grumbled Sulley, who stared at a portrait of a lion on Boo’s wall. It was designed to look like a children’s drawing, but Sulley saw through it right away. The lines were too smooth, the shapes colored in too neatly. Boo’s art, on the other hand, burst with life and personality. It should’ve been her art on her wall.

As Sulley frowned at the perfect ovals and triangles, Mike gaped at him from across the room.

“The parents?” he repeated incredulously. “The parents can mind their own business? Are you hearing yourself right now? Are you shedding in your ears again? Are your ears clogged with fur?”

“Drop it, Mike.”

“No!”

“Why?”

“Cause the way things are headed, we might not have much longer with Boo. And, I don’t know. It would be nice not to have to sneak in here like criminals. We’re criminals, Sulley. Cause we want to spend time with our kid! And we only get ten minutes with her before we’re forced to flee from the janitors. The only thing that should be fleeing from those guys is a promotion. Did you hear that Needleman got his head stuck in a water jug on a dare with Smitty and Chalooby? Those are the guys that are threatening our livelihoods!”

“Look, I know it’s not ideal,” said Sulley, turning fully to face his friend. “But nothing will happen as long as we’re careful and stick to the rules. Besides, ten minutes is plenty of time to catch up.”

“I knew you’d say that. So I’ve crunched the numbers, and I get more time with Jake every week than with Boo. And if just the mere thought of that doesn’t drive me up the wall, then your insistence that everything is fine… when we’re surrounded by evidence to the contrary—”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” snapped Sulley, finally. “Should we have a chat with her parents? Let them know that everything is fine with their daughter, that monsters are real and ‘Kitty’ is real and ‘Mike Wazowksi’ is real? Or should we petition to have her door undead-ed, revealing to the whole company, to the media, to the CDA, that we’ve been hiding it here this whole time? Is that what you want? Do you see that bringing us anything good?”

“Well,” said Mike, his pupil dropping to look at the floor. “When you put it that way—”

“I’m not putting it any way, Mike. It’s the truth. Plain and simple. Now let’s quit arguing and say goodbye to Boo before—hey. Where’d she go?”

The two monsters glanced around the room, which was suddenly marked by the conspicuous absence of Boo.

“She was just on the bed, wasn’t she?”

“She’s not there anymore.”

“Well I can see that, Sull! Are you sure she didn't—wait.” Mike’s swiftly rising voice suddenly shushed into a whisper. “Oh no.”

Sulley lumbered to his side, his eyes wide with fright. “What? What is it?”

Mike, who now faced Boo’s closet, raised a single clawed finger to the door. “We always close that thing, right?”

The door was cracked open, enough to let in a sliver of light from the simulation room. The monsters slowly met eyes.

“Rule number four,” said Sulley.

“Oh, yeah,” said Mike quietly. “Forgot about that one.”

A heavy moment passed. Then the two of them spasmed to life simultaneously, scrabbling for the door and shoving through it at once, so that they collapsed into the Monster World in a heap of limbs and fur. Mike, who had somehow wound up on Sulley’s shoulders, straightened up at the sight of Boo.

“There, by the doors! She’s got the cat with her—” Mike yelped when Sulley stood up, rolling him effortlessly off his shoulders. Closing the closet door behind him, he approached Boo cautiously, his posture stooped and his eyes full of tender concern.

“Boo?” he asked. “You okay, honey? What are you doing out here?”

The child in question huddled by the exit doors, hugging the cat to her chest. The creature’s head swerved all around, its pupils blown wide and its tail flicking wildly as it took in the factory room. It would seem that even animals understood, to a certain extent, that massive corporations didn't belong in children’s closets.

Boo, on the other hand, kept her sideways eyes locked on Mike and Sulley. They were red and sore-looking and her pale face was blotchy. Both monsters’ hearts dropped when they realized she had been crying. How hadn’t they noticed before?

“Am I in trouble?” she sniffled.

Her uncles exchanged a worried glance, then approached her with faces filled with concern. Sulley, as was custom, took helm of the ship of emotions. Mike lingered behind, only ready to pitch in as needed.

“Of course you’re not in trouble! Your uncles were just… being silly, is all. It had nothing to do with you.”

Usually “silly” served as a good enough explanation whenever Sulley and Mike got in a heated exchange in front of Boo, which happened… more than either of them would have liked, nowadays. This time, however, Sulley could sense that the word did not appease her. Her dark eyes sharpened with suspicion, her little nose wrinkling with anger.

“You yell about me,” she stated. “You’re mad at me.”

“No, we’re not mad, we’re just… it’s all just boring grown up stuff. I’d tell you about it, but it’d make you fall asleep.” He leaned his head on the back of his pressed-together hands and pretended to snore obnoxiously.

Usually this would have earned at least a giggle. But Boo didn’t even smile. She merely watched him, looking unimpressed. At this point, Mike tapped in. He could sense that the ship was running aground.

“Look, kid,” he said pragmatically. Unlike Sulley, he knew the kid deserved the dignity of reason. “There’s stuff going on that you wouldn’t understand until you're older, but I can assure you that none of it is your fault. Me and Sull are just worried about you. We’re your uncles, it’s what we do.”

Boo sniffled hard. She used the cat like a tissue paper, wiping her tears and boogers away. She’d gotten the same use out of Sulley’s arms on numerous occasions. It would turn out, being fur-less and less huggable had its benefits. Unlike Sulley, Mike wasn’t a creature designed for comfort—neither in body nor temperament. But he decided to try his best for her sake.

“Worried why?” asked Boo, and her voice, though dry and cracked, was no longer quite so scaly. Mike determined it safe to make another maneuver.

“Well, it’s just… you’re going through a lot of change at this stage in your life. And when things start to change with someone, the people close to them start to think… y’know, but what if it’s too much change.”

“Mike,” Sulley hissed, but he didn’t seem to hear him.

“Not that change is bad! That’s not what I mean to imply. It just… isn’t always… that good. And what if children really are like weeds—which isn’t something I’ve ever said personally!—but what if they grow way too fast? What if we don’t get to see them grow at all? What if… what if your parents take you somewhere we won’t be able to follow…”

“They’re taking me away?” she cried, her stoic face crumpling like paper.

Mike seemed to snap back to consciousness. He showed his palms, looking thoroughly horrified. “No no no, that’s not what I said, I just meant that—NO!”

Boo shoved through the exit doors with the cat, and the ship was officially wrecked. And on fire. And about to explode into bits that not even Mike could piece back together. Said monster sprinted for the door as it began to swing shut, reaching it at just the right moment for it to slam into his face. He ricocheted backward, bowling right into Sulley, his limbs sprawled out in defeat.

“Well,” he sighed, “it’s been a good run. When we get banished again, we should go somewhere tropical. Y’know, with a beach. No more of that icy tundra business.”

With one massive palm, Sulley picked Mike up and set him back on his feet. “We’re not getting banished and no one’s finding out! C’mon, she can’t have gone far!”

Sulley burst through the exit doors, swinging his head to the side. There, at the far left end of the hallway, a wide-eyed cat arched its back at him. Sulley willed himself not to make any sudden moves. He raised his hands, doing his best to portray that he wasn’t a threat.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re not gonna hurt cha.”

The cat flicked its tail in response. It wasn’t particularly fond of either monster. It had only known them since yesterday for a total of forty minutes. Though it regarded him suspiciously, its back began to droop, slowly, in a hesitant show of trust.

This was the moment that Mike came reeling into the hallway, skidding into the opposite wall. He gasped when he saw the feline, which arched right back up when he jabbed a finger its way.

“The cat!” he cried. “It’s getting away!” With a sprint and a drive, Mike crashed into the section of floor the cat had been standing a second ago. Groaning, he lifted his face from the floor just in time to see the cat streaking away into the reaches of Monsters, Incorporated.

“Great,” he growled, pushing himself to his feet. “As if things could get worse.”

A little ways behind him, Sulley looked to the right. His shoulders drooped. “Oh, no.”

Mike turned to him. “What now?”

Sulley’s hulking figure blocked the view down the hall. But when he sidestepped out of the way, an elevator faced them at the end of the hall. Its doors were open. Inside, a small girl stood on her tiptoes, craning her arms to reach the interior panel of buttons.

With a shout, Mike took off, yelling, “Don’t you do it, Boo! Don’t you do it!”

But of course, the five-year-old did it, and the doors slid shut as the monsters crowded in front of it.

While Mike jabbed the arrows repeatedly, Sulley gazed at the monitor over the elevator. “She’s going to the basement. That’s where MIFT is.”

Mike swung between Sulley and the elevator, holding his arms out. “And that’s where I’m going. I’ll find Boo. You take care of the cat.”

“But why do I have to—” Sulley’s words were cut short when his friend shouldered into him, shoving him down the hall.

“Call it animal magnetism. Call it whatever you like.” With a final push, Sulley stumbled into the hallway where the cat had disappeared.

He looked at Mike over his shoulder. “I don’t think—”

“Upp!” said Mike. “I did not start a three-tiered skincare routine just to look like I got put through the door shredder. My schmoopsie-poo deserves better than that. So watch out for its claws, and good luck!”

Mike sprinted for the elevator, leaving Sulley in his dust, who frowned after him with an irritated growl. He wanted nothing more than to go after Boo, to bring her back to her room safe and sound. But Mike had a point. Someone had to go after the cat. The news getting out that a human-world animal got loose in the facility would be the worst thing to happen since he became CEO.

The facility would get shut down for days while the CDA investigated. Best case scenario, Monsters, Inc. would be severely behind in meeting energy quotas while slandering journalists plagued them for months. Worst case scenario, the CDA would find Boo’s door, destroying it either before or after him and Mike were fired and banished forever.

Sulley closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and out. “Everything is gonna be fine,” he said. He put on a brave face. Then he lumbered down the hall, turning the corner and catching his foot in a bucket of soapy water.

Shouting and wheeling his arms, Sulley desperately vied for balance while the bucket skidded ahead, two janitors diving out of the way as it trucked for the opposite wall. They gasped and covered their faces, cowering at the mighty crash that shook the whole floor. They peeked through their fingers as wheels from the now-destroyed bucket bounced past them.

“Ahh!” they both yelled. “Mr. Sullivan!”

They rushed to Sulley’s side where he laid upside down against the wall, feet hanging over his head, fur soaking up the soapy water as he dizzily blinked at the two of them.

“Mom?” he said. “Dad?”

“No, Mr. Sullivan! It’s us! Smitty and Needleman!”

“Smitty and Needle…” Sulley whispered, eyes narrowing in concentration. All of a sudden he came to at once, nearly bowling the janitors over as his body swung down to the floor.

“Did you see the cat?” he cried out.

Smitty and Needleman blinked at him, appearing as nervous as they were confused.

“Uh… what was the question?” asked Needleman.

Sulley sat there on the floor, looking between the two of them. Like the water soaking into his fur, he slowly reabsorbed the situation.

“I said… did you see that crash?” He chuckled awkwardly. “I almost went right through the wall.”

“It looks like you did go through the wall, Mr. Sullivan,” said Smitty.

“Huh?” Sulley gathered himself to his feet and looked behind him, where a Sulley-sized crater of damaged plaster left its imprint in the wall. As he watched, a few chunks of plaster crumbled to the floor. Smitty nervously spoke up.

“You’re not mad at us, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you? It was my fault for not watching where I was going.”

“Because technically we shouldn’t be mopping this floor yet and we didn't put up a wet floor sign—” He whimpered when Needleman slapped him.

“Why would you say that? Do you want us to get in trouble?!”

“My mom said that honesty is what makes a true monster!”

“Was that before she got arrested for shoplifting?”

“It’s not her fault she’s got sticky skin folds!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” said Sulley, raising his hands. “First of all—gross.”

Smitty drooped his head. “Yeah,” he admitted. 

“Second of all, neither of you are in trouble. I just gotta know what you’re doing on this floor. Shouldn’t you be mopping the Scare Floor right now?”

“You know our maintenance schedule?” asked Needleman, exchanging a starstruck expression with Smitty. “Wow. It’s like he cares about us. Thanks, Mr. Sullivan!”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Sulley, glancing quickly to the side. “Would you answer my question?”

The teenagers exchanged a nervous look.

“Well,” said Needleman, “we got these free tickets to this really awesome concern tonight—”

“—but we couldn’t find anyone to cover our shifts—”

“—so we’re trying to mop extra fast so we can—”

“GO!” shouted Sulley, then caught himself. “I mean, you two are long-time, dedicated workers of Monsters, Incorporated. That warrants an early shift close, right? Just this once?”

Smitty and Needleman gaped at him. “Do you mean it, Mr. Sullivan?”

“Go, get out of here,” said Sulley with a grin, pretending to be joking, not urgent at all. “And don’t come back until tomorrow! I’ll take care of the floors. AND, uh, how about you head down that hall instead? It’s closer to the main entrance.”

“It is?”

It wasn’t. But Sulley convinced them, and the two friends backed away with big smiles.

“Gee, thanks Mr. Sulley!” said Smitty, and Needleman smacked him.

“You can’t call him ‘Mr. Sulley!’”

“But we had a connection!”

“You’re lonely and delusional!”

The bickering faded away down the hall. With an exhausted groan, Sulley let his shoulders drop, then winced at the knotted-up muscles. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding so much tension.

He rolled a shoulder in a useless attempt to loosen his muscles, groaning at the pain. “This kid is gonna be the death of me.”

“I’m gonna be the death of this kid.”

Mike held his arms crossed and glared at the wall of the elevator, impatiently tapping his foot. “I hardly got two words out, and it was off to the races. She’s old enough now to know better. I don’t care what Sulley says. Then again, who cares about what I say? No one.”

The elevator reached the bottom floor with a ding. They slid apart, revealing a dimly lit, deserted floor, a colorless place made of concrete, transfer pipes, and just enough hanging lightbulbs to make the dark navigable. Mike stepped into the open and immediately got chills from the concrete under his feet. He shivered.

“This place could use some heated floors,” he muttered to himself. “A splash of color wouldn’t hurt, either. Would accentuate… the gray…”

He peered all around—no human child to be seen. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Boo!” he whisper-shouted. No one answered back. Just the endless din of machinery. “Okay, if I was a senseless five-year-old kid, which way would I go?”

He glanced to the left and the right, but nothing about the thick metal pipes that jutted every which way from the walls, floors, and ceiling—or the out-of-storage doors hanging motionlessly overhead—or the occasional insulatory grates suggested anything of whimsy.

“Uh… maybe not that way,” droned Mike, tapping his chin. “Maybe not that way… oh! I got it!”

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, extending his arms out in front of him, summoning the mind of a child with a pink shirt and pigtails. Then he began to spin around, calling out in a high-pitched voice, “My name is Boo. I love Kitty and Mike Wazowski and drawing and not listening to anything my uncles have to say even though the green one is always right and I respect him so much and—AH!” He spun right into a low metal pipe, striking it hard beneath his right horn.

He stumbled back, staggered around, nearly tipping to the side before finding his footing. He clutched his head, wincing.

“Great,” he muttered. “Another bruise.”

While he waited for the pain to ebb away, he thought he caught a glimpse of something. A shadow. He squinted in its direction. “What the…”

Halfway between the ceiling and floor, tunneled into the wall, a half-circle opening led into a hidden corridor. This corridor emitted a banner of light, which draped across the ladder built into the wall. A ladder that Boo could have climbed. And, as Mike watched, a shadow darted across it once more.

“Ha!” he cried. “There she is! And here comes Mike to save the day. Really, what’s new?”

He jogged to the ladder and started to climb.

When he made it to the final rungs, just high enough to peer over the threshold, he paused. The corridor interior, dark and damp and covered in mildew, looked more like the cave of some dangerous creature than one of the corporate ambulatories that allowed this esteemed facility to function. A dozen lines of pipe running along the exterior wall turned sharply into this corridor, crowding the walls before veering again into a perpendicular passageway.

At the junction of these two corridors, a single exposed bulb gave its light from the ceiling. It reminded Mike of that species of fish in the Human World, the one that looked like it belonged in the Monster World. What was the name? A kid a few years back had it in his fear profile… an angler fish, right. Yeah. Mike couldn’t blame him for that one. Those things were freaky.

He realized he was stalling. He closed his eye, took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Everything is gonna be fine,” he said. Then he clambered onto the gross, sticky floor—some of these pipes were definitely leaky—and padded down the corridor.

It was only about 30 feet to the junction. When he reached it, he was faced with that stupid dilemma once more: left or right? Again, neither sides of the dark, dank corridor, which led into even more dark, dank corridors, seemed particularly designed to catch the fancy of a child. But Mike wasn’t about to spin around again. And, if he remembered correctly, the shadow had darted toward the left. So he headed down that way, peering down every tunnel he passed.

These led on indefinitely, extending into the furthest reaches of the Monsters, Incorporated underbelly. Pipelines and emergency shut-off valves covered the walls. It really made Mike appreciate what a gargantuan feat of engineering it required just to use the water fountain outside of his office. It also made him appreciate the wonderful world of Boo’s mind, the one that made messy, beautiful drawings of color, and would never conceive of such a cold, mechanical place. He thought of how scared she must be to be lost here. He picked up the pace.

When he rounded the farthest corner, he halted at the sight that greeted him: in its own room at the end of the corridor—perhaps the conclusion to the great journey of the dozens of pipes heading eagerly its way—an enormous water tank stood, too big to be properly seen through the threshold. This room emitted a steady, low hum, one Mike hadn’t really noticed through the obnoxious sounds of flushing and draining and rumbling. These sounds occurred about once every twenty seconds, and the building was pretty much empty at this time. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be down here at the height of operations. Those MIFTers got paid well, didn’t they?

“Boo?” said Mike as he peeked through the threshold. “You in here?”

He scrolled his gaze across everything: the humongous water tank the size of two Sulley’s stacked, the smaller tanks, the pipes, and what Mike could best describe as “mumbo jumbo” covered in mysterious gauges and valves. It was quite the operation, apparently. There were a few decent hiding spots, too. He went to check behind the water tank when he heard something scuttle behind him.

He whirled around, but nothing was there except for one of the smaller tanks. He made to examine this particular tank when the scuttling happened again. Spinning around, he saw nothing but plumbing.

Mike started to feel kind of nervous. He jumped and yelped when the water tank crackled out of nowhere. Hopefully it was supposed to do that. Either way, he wanted nothing more than to get out of this place. Back to where daylight didn’t seem like a thing of the unreachable past.

“This isn’t a game,” called Mike, his voice shaking. “Come out where I can see you, young lady.”

Then, beyond the mechanical hum, he started to pick up on a different sort of noise.

Every now and then, he heard sounds like a hiss from the pipes. Mike had assumed this was normal. But what he heard now sounded more like a growl. Rumbling. Throaty. As in, possessing a throat.

Boo was never one to growl. And yet, logically speaking, human children could growl. Mike knew this from experience. Not all kids liked his comedy routine and not all kids were properly socialized. Some kids didn’t know the first thing about constructive criticism. Heck, some kids liked to bite! But not Boo. Boo would never. Mike reminded himself of this. He gathered his courage and approached a tank to the far left of the room, where this growling noise was coming from.

“Boo?” said Mike again. He peeked around the tank, praying to see a small set of eyes. He got half of what he wanted.

Mike barely had time to register the one-eyed purple fur ball with fangs when it slammed into his face, sending him screaming and reeling about blindly.

“GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!”

He had just got his hands around it and was prying it off his face when he rammed into the main tank. He stumbled back and collapsed on the floor. The little monstrosity, satisfied with its work, jumped from his face. It even had the audacity to blow a raspberry at him. Mike quickly got back to his feet, curling his fists as he glared at the beast. It crouched in front of the tank, blanketed by his shadow.

“You little hairball,” he snapped, “I should put you in one of the pipes, I should…”

His words trailed off when the wings unfurled from his shadow. He didn’t remember having wings. As a matter of fact, he didn’t have wings.

“What in the…”

“MISTER Wazowski.”

“Ahh!” Mike screamed and whirled around, tripping right back on the floor. With a primitive chuckle, the hairball leapt off Mike’s face into the arms of its master. Duncan absently pet it, observing Mike with a smile that reached to the top of his eye stalks.

“So sorry to scare you, Mr. Co-CEO, sir.”

Mike climbed onto his feet. “You know, just ‘CEO’ is fine. I don’t know where people got this ‘Co-CEO’ idea from. Now what are you doing down here?”

Duncan stared at him blankly. “What am I doing down here?” he deadpanned.

Mike stumbled on his words. “Well, the facility is closed! Shouldn’t you MIFTers be at home? You clock out at five, correct?”

“While my associates flee at 4:59, I myself am loyal to this company. So I waited till close to drain ol’ Kristina. This place can be deafening otherwise.”

On cue, a rumbling flush shook the room.

Mike waited for the noise to simmer away, then looked at Duncan with confusion.

“Kristina?”

Duncan sighed with pity. “Poor girl had a buildup of sediment. Could hear her from the hall, she was popping like rotcorn. But no need to worry, sir. Thanks to the diligent work of Duncan P. Anderson—Deputy Supervisor of the Monsters, Inc. Facilities Team—Kristina is now right as rain.” He chuckled. “Get it? Because, water?”

Mike squinted at him. “You’re referring to the water tank.”

“Oh, right. You monsters on the upper floor don’t know these gals like we do. The tank on the opposite side is Kristina. The one right behind you is Clare. We call them the twins.”

“Okay,” said Mike. “That’s… well now that you’ve taken care of the problem, feel free to head out! I mean, not sure if there’s a Mrs. Anderson waiting for ya—”

“Usually there is, but Mother’s out of town, so she shouldn’t be worried. Besides, I’m letting Roto here stretch his legs. Poor guy spends most of the weekdays cooped up in his enclosure. Today he was feeling particularly antsy.”

Cradled in Duncan’s arms, Roto snarled and bared his teeth, looking much like he’d like to tear off Mike’s face.

He chuckled nervously. “Isn’t that nice. You know where a good place to walk your nuisance—I mean pet is? The cafeteria, y’know, plenty of smells, I heard smelling things can be very enriching for… uh…”

“What are you doing down here, Mr. Wazowski?” asked Duncan, his four eyeballs narrowing suspiciously. “Usually we’re given notice when there’s going to be an inspection.”

“Inspection?” said Mike. Then he latched to the excuse like that pet to an innocent face.

“Inspection! Right! We forgot to send the memo, didn't we? Well, it’s nothing official anyways, I just noticed the water from the fountain outside of my office was tasting kind of gritty, and I couldn’t ask you to stay any longer than your scheduled hours, so—”

“It wasn’t a problem, sir,” said Duncan, seeming satisfied enough by this flimsy answer. “And now that the sediment’s been cleared, gritty water should no longer plague the outside-your-office fountain.”

“Boy, what a relief. You know what? You deserve a reward for all your hard work.”

Duncan’s eyelids flew up, his eyeballs crowding closer to Mike like the hungry heads of snakes. “Like a promotion to supervisor?”

“Ehhhh,” said Mike, sidestepping around him. “How about a free reservation for Harry Hausen’s? You can take a special lady.”

Duncan did not look the least bit appealed. “Like I said, Mother’s out of town.”

Something buzzed in the utility belt at his hip. He pulled out a walkie talkie.

“MIFT deputy supervisor… uh huh… whoa, whoa. Did you get any pictures?... Gotta keep all the fun for yourselves, huh? A MIFTer would never. Alright, calm down. I didn’t mean it, calm down. I’ll be up in a minute. Thanks for keeping me notified.” He stuck the walkie back in his belt and looked back at Mike. “That was word from the janitors. Sounds like Top Crust just knocked the crust off one of the walls.”

“Sulley?” gasped Mike. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” said Duncan dismissively. “Leaving their mark is what CEO’s do. Workers like me are just damage control.” He set Roto in his utility belt and made a show of adjusting it. “I’ll have the wall fixed within the hour, Mr. Wazowski. Again, that’s Duncan P. Anderson, in case of future reference.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait!” cried Mike.

Duncan didn't turn around, but his eyeballs swerved to regard him.

“You’re taking your pet with you?” asked Mike. “To the upper floor? To run freely?”

“Well, sure,” said Duncan, turning to face him. “Since the building is empty, I figured it wouldn’t be a problem. Why? Is it?” In the utility belt, Roto growled.

Mike wasn’t sure which scenario should worry him: the cat eating that thing, or that thing eating the cat. Honestly, though, getting Duncan out of this room was his biggest concern.

“No at all,” he finally answered. “Just… make sure it doesn’t wander too far!”

“He never strays far from his master,” said Duncan snootily, “though I appreciate your concern.”

He ambled down the corridor, then turned out of sight around the corner.

“Yeah,” mumbled Mike, “I’m sure you would.”

He didn’t really like that MIFTer. There was definitely something fishy about him. But a sniffle banished all thoughts of four-eyed monsters and their creepy hairballs. Mike jumped to face the water tank, where a couple of pig tails peered out at him, then swiftly ducked back into hiding.

“Boo!” he cried and hurried to the tank, which left just enough room between itself and the wall for a Boo-sized child to fit. Even that was a tight squeeze.

With her back against the wall and her knees against the tank, Boo watched him through tearful eyes. Her face was half hidden in her arms, but by the look in her eyes alone, Mike could tell the poor thing was terrified.

He hadn’t been sure what his reaction should be to finding her, whether he should scold her or talk to her or give her the silent treatment and wait for Sulley to make things right, as he always seemed able to do when it came to the kid. Mike was never very good at the heart-to-heart stuff, and when it became apparent to him that such a task was in order, he suddenly wished that he’d been the one to go after the cat. Getting clawed up was preferable to saying the wrong thing to his niece. She looked like she was one “wrong thing” from a full-blown meltdown. And he’d already screwed up once. What had he been thinking? This sort of thing was for Sulley to handle.

“How about I go get Uncle Sulley,” Mike sheepishly suggested, but a high-pitched cry wiped that right off the whiteboard. “Okay, okay, I’ll stay,” he said, raising his palms. “I’ll just be right here. In case you need me. And if you want to talk… I’m not too good at the ‘talking’ thing. Not when it’s helpful, at least. I guess that’s what got us down here in the first place.”

He chuckled a little, then stood there awkwardly, fiddling with his hands. Boo didn’t respond, other than turning her face from him. With a sigh of defeat, Mike slid down the wall to a sitting position.

Without really thinking about it, Mike mimicked Boo’s posture, drawing his knees to himself and wrapping his arms around them. He didn't really know what to say. He cast a couple awkward glances at Boo, who at least seemed a little bit comforted by his presence. Her breathing evened out, her eyelids began to droop until her eyes were nearly closed.

Mike realized how exhausted she must be. The thought occurred to him that maybe he could simply wait for her to fall asleep, then extract her from her hiding spot and carry her back to her room. Mike knew he was a coward for it, but he decided this was the best way to go.

He closed his eye and was starting to doze off himself when Boo said, “I don’t want them to take me away.”

Mike looked at her, but her face was now fully hidden in her arms. He searched for the best thing to say, deciding on, “They’re not going to take you away, Boo. I didn't know what I was talking about earlier—”

“They take away my drawings. They put them in a drawer. And then they—” Her voice rose too sharply. She took a moment to breathe—a shallow, shuddering breath—and continued, “They say I shouldn’t talk about you so much.” Again, her voice rose too sharply for her to continue, so she broke down in quiet sobs.

“Hey, hey,” said Mike, who awkwardly reached out a hand to place on Boo’s shoulder. She showed no signs of acknowledgement to this. Was that a good thing? It was better than her pushing him away, right? Mike tried to think of more words to say.

“I mean, there are more interesting things to talk about, right? Maybe not when it comes to me, but when it comes to Uncle Sulley, then definitely!”

His joke didn't seem to comfort her all that much. In fact, her sobbing picked up for a second. What in the world was he to do?

“How—how about lions? Tigers? You like those things, right? All those plushies in your room—”

Boo swiped his hand from her shoulder and sprung to her feet.

“I hate them!” she shouted, her little fists curled with childish rage. “I don’t care if they’re real! Monsters are real! Mom and Dad don’t believe me. They say you’re made up.” She stomped her foot at the notion. “You’re not made up.”

“Of course we’re not made up. But we’ve talked about this, right? Your parents… they aren’t supposed to know. No one is supposed to know.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “You’re my friends. My family. Just like Mom and Dad.”

With the sleeve of her pajamas, Boo wiped her tears and runny nose. She seemed to have regained some composure, but the look on her face as she stared at the floor, like the child had accepted some terrible fate, made him feel even worse. Mike had worn that same look as he gazed into the lake in the human world. This was after he’d attempted—and failed—to scare a human child after breaking into the door lab in college.

It had been his lowest moment at that point in his life. His whole world as he knew it had just been torn to shreds, and nothing he could’ve done could’ve possibly changed it. He remembered that sense of hopelessness and powerlessness. And it pained him immensely, to think of Boo experiencing a fraction of those feelings.

Mike’s next words came naturally, without a single thought.

“We’ll always be your family, Boo. No matter what anyone knows, or thinks. That will never change anything.”

Boo scrubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. When she met Mike’s gaze, the sheer vulnerability in her tear-stained face made him wish he could keep her forever in this world, to protect her from all the misunderstandings that awaited her in the human world.

For the millionth time, Mike questioned him and Sulley’s decision, how intrinsically selfish it was to expect a young child to live two different lives for their own sake. For the millionth time, Mike acknowledged to himself that he was okay being selfish, so long as it meant he could be there for Boo when she needed him as well. And right now, she looked at him as though his following words would fix or destroy her whole life. A hefty responsibility for a guy like Mike Wazowski, who knew himself to be less than tactful when it came to the things that he said.

“But what if they take me away like you said?” asked Boo.

Mike gazed at her for a moment, appreciating just how precious she was to him.

He might get more time each week with some basketball-chucking maniac than with Boo. But every minute he spent with her outweighed a thousand hours with any other kid. The words came out of their own accord.

“Me and Sulley, we would find you, kid. If we had to look through every door in the world.”

It was a very irrational statement. So it kind of surprised Mike, how he meant it in full. And though Boo visibly attempted to remain upset, the sincerity of his gaze sent her tripping into his arms, and he hugged her back with all of his strength. To think his small size used to feel like a burden.

“Alright, okay,” he said with a smile, patting her back. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

She withdrew from the hug to gaze at him worriedly. “What about Fluffy?”

Mike smiled and tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry, Boo. Uncle Sulley’s got it under control.”

It wasn’t an outright lie. Mike had no earthly clue of the scene going down overhead, where the clumsy monster was currently making a fool of himself in his pursuit of a cat.

Having worked as a scarer for many long years, venturing into thousands of kids’ rooms, Sulley was no stranger to human-world pets. He had encountered every sort of animal that could legally be kept as a pet, and then some. Aggressive dogs and squawking birds were automatic door-deaders. Cats, on the other hand, were tricky. They did not tend to be noisy enough to alert human parents. And their size did not make them an outright threat. Nor were they guaranteed to be protective of their kid.

Cats were known for their broad range of attitudes toward monsters. Some bolted from the room, some hid under the bed, some huddled in the corner… Sulley had once known a cat to watch him silently from the dresser, never flinching, only staring at him with those big gleaming eyes. He might have messed that job up on purpose, just to get the door shredded. Other cats were affectionate, purring and rubbing against his legs as he desperately tried to out-maneuver them. Others were courageous, lunging and spitting and baring their fangs. He thought he’d seen it all through the years. But Sulley had never dealt with a cat like Fluffy.

As it dodged from his grasp, then dashed down the hall, then waited for him to catch up, and then dodged from him again, it even seemed to be messing with him. This chase had led them six hallways away from Boo’s door. When they reached the end of the current hall, Sulley lurched for the cat, and it jumped on his shoulder. This time it didn't run off, but glided around him with the ease of a snake as he twisted about in his struggle to grab it.

His momentum and panic kept him going.

He stumbled around the next corner, yelling, “Hey! Hey! Gotcha! I gotcha!” And he did manage to grab its scruff. This was about a second before he tripped right into three industrial trash cans that were lined up against the wall.

The trash cans spilled over like dominos, emptying their contents onto the floor, which at least provided Sulley with a cushion on which to land. Spread out on a mat of wrappers, crushed cans, soiled paperwork and styrofoam coffee cups, he looked up to the cat sitting several yards away, delicately scrubbing its face with its paw.

Sulley growled. “Mike was right about you. All you’re good for is a mess.”

The cat continued to clean its face as if it hadn’t heard. But it gave him a side eye that glinted with mischief.

Sulley clambered to his feet, and while the cat kept an attentive eye glued to him, it did not immediately flee. Sulley held up his palms, toeing ever so slowly closer. He cringed when the cat stood up, but instead of running off, it turned to face him with its nose in the air.

Its gaze locked on something just over his head as it sniffed with accumulating interest. Then it caught Sulley off guard by stepping closer, meowing. He uneasily lifted his foot while it weaved through his legs. Then it stood on his knee and meowed at him sweetly.

“Uh…” said Sulley, looking back and forth. He became aware of something hovering just outside his peripheral vision. He raised a paw to his left horn, where a tin can of some sort had gotten impaled. He tugged it free, and as soon as he did, the courteous meowing gave way to eager cries.

Sulley studied the can. He recognized the logo from the vending machines. It was Mystery Meat 36-Hour Protein, something he’d never tried himself. He gave the pink goo a sniff and was walloped in the nose by the rankness of it. He looked at the cat dubiously.

“Don’t tell me you want this?”

The cat did, in fact, want it.

It paced back and forth, its patience running out, before finally taking it upon itself to leap into his arms. As it ravenously ate from the can in Sulley’s paw, he considered throwing it away, since he wasn’t really sure if cats should be eating that stuff. He wasn’t sure if monsters should be eating that stuff. But as the cat relaxed in his hold, he determined that this was the best-case scenario. With the way things were going before, he was starting to worry the facility would open to him chasing a cat around the lobby. 

“Alright,” said Sulley, cradling the cat, “let’s get you back to Boo’s door.”

He turned around and immediately froze. The garbage on the floor was moving around. Something was tunneling through it.

The shifting mound of garbage moved closer, then a living bag of Sugar Rot popped out at him, snarling.

“What the…”

It took Sulley a second to process that there must be something inside it.

Carefully, he used one of his toes to nudge away the bag, revealing a one-eyed purple fur ball with horns. It hissed and bared its teeth at him, then pointedly took a bite of the trash mound. It looked ready to take a bite of him next. Then it choked on its garbage when the cat in Sulley’s arm turned to face it.

A low hum vibrated against Sulley’s chest.

“Hmm?” Sulley glanced at the cat, which seemed to have forgotten about the 36-hour mystery meat.

It arched its back as it glared at the monster-world animal, as if the two had somehow met before and shared some unsavory, unfinished business. If this was the case, it must’ve been the fur ball in the wrong. It nervously backed away, eye darting around in search of escape. The cat’s growling pitched into a yowl, which in turn pitched into a war cry as it sprang from Sulley’s grasp, laying into the garbage.

The purple fur ball somehow managed to evade its gruesome fate. It ran yipping down the hall, presumably the way it had come. But it wasn’t in the clear just yet. The cat tailed it in hot pursuit, Sulley following behind at a much slower pace, yelling, “Fluffy, no! Stop!”

He barely managed to turn the corner while the animals were turning the next one. He had rounded four corners when he came upon the scene of a standstill. The monster-world animal had itself cornered where two walls met at the end of the hall.

The cat, if it had wanted to, could have easily caught it by now. Instead, it crouched in front of the fuzz ball at an eerily calculated distance: enough to tease the chance of escape without actually allowing it. The cat seemed more intent on drawing out the fear response, letting the creature steep in its dread as it awaited the inevitable.

Not even the most seasoned, desensitized scarer would ever employ such merciless tactics, and it made Sulley a little bit dubious to the idea that this creature was allowed free range around Boo. Not that he could let it stay here.

Fortunately, by some happy chance, the fuzz ball had led them back in the direction of the simulation room. Now all he had to do was get his hands on the cat and make it the last few hallways to Boo’s room, where he prayed Mike and Boo were waiting for him. He couldn’t mess this up. Sulley crept closer as slowly and quietly as possible. He was halfway to the cat when it ducked and wriggled its haunches.

Mike had been right earlier. Sulley hadn’t read a single book in his time at MU, and that included the textbook on human pet behaviors. It turned out, he didn't need to read a book to know that this was now or never. So, like TJ Clawson making it home on the baseball field, Sulley dove forward and slid across the floor, and the cat had its focus so locked on its victim that it never heard him coming.

No sooner did it pounce than he hugged it to his chest, rolling to collide against the wall with his back. The fuzz ball, meanwhile, had narrowly avoided yet another gruesome fate—of being crushed between a wall and 800 lbs. of “flab,” as Mike liked to call it. Now, it ran yipping around the next corner, leaving the squirming cat in Sulley’s arms.

Sulley watched it disappear. Wherever it came from, he hoped it would never come back. The cat, on the other hand, growled in frustration as it tried to wriggle free, but Sulley’s hold was unyielding. He’d let himself get shredded to pieces before he let it go.

Fortunately, after some seconds the cat seemed to realize it wasn’t going anywhere. It relaxed into his chest, its only remaining protest the flicking of its tail.

Sulley dropped his head against the floor, released a long and powerful sigh.

“What a close one,” he muttered.

At least his biggest problem was finally over.

“My poor, precious Roto!”

“Annnd we’re off.”

Sulley rolled to his feet and, as much as it pained him to do so, headed the opposite way. They were only several turns from the simulation room, and now he was forced to put more distance between them. But he didn’t have a choice. The voice was approaching, which he recognized as one of the MIFTers.

One of them must’ve stayed after hours, and the janitors must’ve informed them of the wall he’d mistakenly damaged. Sulley would’ve been impressed by his workers’ dedication to Monsters, Incorporated… if they weren’t on the verge of destroying his life.

He ducked into the gap where a door was set into the wall, sucking in his gut to hide himself fully, when the MIFTer rounded the corner.

“Go, Roto!” said the MIFTer. Sulley recognized it as Duncan. “Show me where they are! No one terrorizes you and gets away with it!”

A devious growling noise—almost a chuckle—signaled that “Roto” was just fine with tattling. This growling got closer, and closer. The cat growled back for just a second when Sulley muffled it, his giant paw engulfing its head.

Unfortunately, this was a second too late.

“What was that?” said Duncan. “I hear you over there! Was it you who bullied an innocent animal? I may not be a moral monster myself, but I will not stand for bullies who think they can scare my Roto and not lose a—”

The MIFTer was practically screaming in Sulley’s ear when he paused.

“Huh?” said Duncan. “What’s that? You hear that, Roto?”

Sulley listened. He could hear it, too. Somewhere off in the distance, a sound between whirring and screeching, like the infamously difficult chainsaw roar one of his colleagues had perfected. But unless this colleague was back from retirement, he had not the slightest clue what it could be.

Duncan, however, seemed to have an idea.

“My reciprocating saw!” he gasped.

With dramatic, hassled breathing, Duncan hurried back the way he had come. As the sounds of retreat became distant, Sulley peeked out from his hiding place. Roto had followed his master. The hallway was empty and clear.

Releasing the breath that had sucked in his gut, Sulley hastened down the hall. He would have to take the long route to the simulation room. At this rate, he would’ve been happy running a lap around the entire facility, so long as it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with any off-the-clock workers.

Sulley had made a list in his head of all the people he’d least like to run into—Roze topping the charts—by the time he arrived at the simulation room. Though all of these monsters were probably home, it felt like dumb luck that he’d made it. But he wasn’t about to question it.

Sulley pushed through the double doors, taking pains that they closed as noiselessly as possible, then turned to Boo’s door. It was still there, still activated, thank goodness. There was no Roze, no CDA waiting to arrest him. He sighed with relief, then wasted no more time.

As he turned the doorknob and stepped through the threshold, the cat, by this time, was napping in his arms. It seemed to enjoy being cradled in fluffy blue fur. So when it was deposited on the floor to make way for the child running straight for Sulley’s arms, it appeared rather jilted and strutted away with its dignity tarnished.

“Boo!” cried Sulley, sweeping the girl up in a flourish of giggles and laughter. Though they never loaded canisters onto her door, each visit with her could have filled at least ten.

The monster held her close, feeling quite like he had when he’d discovered that she hadn’t been crushed into a garbage cube. At that point in time, Mike hadn’t been nearly as concerned about Boo as Sulley had been. Now, Mike waltzed to the reunion with an air of indifference, saying, “I think I deserve a hug after everything I’ve been through.”

Sulley knelt on one knee and Mike joined in on the hug. But even with Sulley kneeling, he could barely reach Boo. He opened his eye with a scowl.

“Alright, this is ridiculous. Give her to me.”

“But we just—”

“C’mon, it’s time to put her to bed. Look. The poor thing’s exhausted”

Sulley glanced at where Boo dozed off on his shoulder, her hands curling into his fur. He stood back up and tried walking to her bed when Mike intercepted him.

“Hey, why’s it always you? I can take care of her too, you know.”

“Are you sure?” said Sulley, a teasing smile playing at his mouth. “She’s not as small as she used to be.”

“I’m not a weakling, Sull. You know that.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. Remember the baseball game with FearCo? I hit the ball clear out of the park. Could a weakling do that?”

“Right,” said Sulley, rubbing his chin. “I actually read somewhere that it’s more about trajectory and the angle of contact—”

“You read something?” Mike scoffed. “Yeah. Pass the pipe, pal.”

With a snort, Sulley handed Boo to Mike, who only looked out of his depth for about three seconds before adjusting her in his arms. He padded to her bed and Sulley winced as he all but tossed her onto her mattress, but luckily Boo was out cold for the night.

“Pretty top-heavy, aren’t they? Alright, now the next part.”

He adjusted the blankets over Boo’s frame, then tapped his lip as he studied her.

“Something’s missing,” he said as a stuffed bear drifted into his peripheral. It nudged his horn. He snatched it from Sulley. “I would’ve remembered,” he snapped. Then he carefully positioned it next to Boo’s head.

“There. Perfect. You know, Celia would get such a kick out of this. We should invite her sometime. Let her bask in what a nurturing husband she’s got.”

Mike glanced at Sulley, then glanced at him again when he noticed his unsure expression.

“What? I did good, didn’t I?”

Sulley jogged his eyebrows. He ran his hand over his head and down his neck.

“Yeah, you did great, Mike, I just… you don’t think we should talk to her? She looked pretty upset before she took off.”

“She was upset. And I did talk to her. And I made it all better.”

Sulley raised his eyebrows.

“Really?” he said, this time with pointed doubt.

Mike crossed his arms. “I’m a very comforting presence when I want to be.”

“It looks like you hit your head.”

“Is it really so hard to believe?”

“No, I mean, there’s a bruise by your horn. What happened?”

“Oh, that,” said Mike, tentatively touching the area. “I think I’d prefer not to talk about it. In fact, maybe we should leave the events of the past half hour behind us. Excluding that bit when I saved you.”

“Saved me?”

“Who do you think turned on the ‘reciprocating saw?’ That purple little savage?”

“Oh. Thanks. You ran into them too, huh? They didn’t see Boo?”

“Course not.”

“Are you sure?”

“If that MIFTer had seen Boo, we’d already be in the CDA’s custody, and her door would be woodchips all over again.”

He spoke too loudly and Boo shifted in her sleep. Her eyebrows knitted together, but when her forehead brushed her teddy bear, she hugged it tightly to her chest and her face relaxed once more.

Mike and Sulley stood there, watching her. And the fact that they nearly lost her—that they’d nearly lost everything—finally weighed upon their shoulders.

Sulley turned around, sitting heavily against the back of Boo’s bedframe. He stared at the closet door, his gaze not shifting, not even when Mike walked past him to take a seat beside him. He looked at his friend with a nervous smile.

“Don’t tell me I have to comfort you, too, now?”

Sulley didn't respond. Mike looked at the door, drumming the hardwood floor with his fingers.

“Look,” he said, “It was close. Some would even say it was too close. But you know what? We got the best of it again. And if we could manage to do that at all… who’s to say we can’t do it forever?”

Sulley, who had been imagining the door being put through the shredder a second time, met his friend’s gaze. He managed to smile and placed a paw on Mike’s head.

“Hey, hey!” Mike objected, though kept his voice quiet so as not to wake Boo. “Skincare, skincare! Who knows where your grubby paws have been?”

Sulley chuckled and got back on his feet.

“Guess you can’t complain about not seeing enough of Boo after today.”

“Honestly, thank goodness it’s the weekend,” said Mike. “I need to decompress. That MIFTer guy gives me the creeps. And not in a good way.”

“Duncan? Why? Because he’s small and green with scrawny little arms?”

“Keep trying to be funny, pal. I’ve gotta rub off on you someday.”

Sulley snorted. “Sure.”

“But, seriously. That guy is up to something. I can see it in his eyes. All four of ‘em.”

They headed for the door. Sulley grabbed the doorknob, then paused. He gestured at his own forehead.

“You sure you don’t want a bandaid for that?”

“You know that only works when it’s coming from Boo. Now come on, let’s move, let’s get out of here.”

“Oookay,” said Sulley as he opened the door. They stepped through the threshold together. “But I don’t want to hear you complain when your head starts to… what is it? What’s the matter?”

Mike stared directly ahead, his eye as big as a dinner plate. Bigger.

Sulley furrowed his brow and then chuckled. “You look like you’ve seen a—”

The word got caught in his mouth.

Standing directly ahead of them, Duncan grinned at them with a big, toothy smile, arms held behind his back and his wings halfway extended. Partially hidden behind his feet, Roto peered at them, growling suspiciously.

Sulley’s shoulders drooped.

“Monster,” he sighed.

“So, Mike,” said Duncan, voice brimming with glee. “Can I call you that? ‘Mikey?’ No no, that’s too close. Gotta maintain that professional distance, right?” He chuckled a little, his wings furling slightly, then steepled his fingers. “Anyway, given any more thought to a certain… promotion?”