Chapter Text
Hours went by, tirelessly she worked, sweat trickled down her forehead as Dr Lalinde’s mind was riddled with reminders of when her own daughter was on this table. When she was barely recognizable as Quake Woman, let alone Tempo, and how she had failed her. Failed to save her, failed to bring her back, and here she was now, struggling to save the closest thing Tempo had to a friend.
…though, maybe “friend” wasn’t the right word for it, no, she couldn’t go putting a label on a relationship that was not hers.
She looked to Tempo, laying her head down next to Blues’, reserving her power as his faded and distorted emerald eyes remained fixed on to her.
Lalinde’s mind wandered, wondering what the two could’ve been like had they met before the world turned upside down. Back when Blues was no more than Light’s greatest achievement, back when Tempo was eager, up beat, and full of life.
Gosh, the thought was so sickeningly cute, how her fascination and excitement would inspire his bright eyed wonder. How they would learn about the world together, shape each other.
…it reminded the doctor of her younger self and a younger Thomas Light.
The two kids in front of her had more than deserved that life, they should’ve had that life. Maybe they still could, if she could only save the prototype that paved the way for a brighter tomorrow. She was almost there, just a few more wires, a bit of welding, and all he would need is a recharge.
She sighed, continuing the process wordlessly now like clockwork.
“…mom?”
Lalinde’s head darted up, a little too fast as she felt the stress take a toll with the sudden dizzy daze that struck her. She managed to get her eyes focused on the sight of Vesper Woman who had sheepishly buzzed into the room with a tall glass of water and a plate with a hastily put together sandwich. Though most pressingly was the worried look on her face as she approached her mother slowly.
“Ah, Vesper, I’m terribly sorry dear…I completely forgot about lunch,” Lalinde’s voice had been almost as dry as her eyes as she took the platter from her daughter, “I suppose I had lost track of time…”
Vesper Woman sighed, looking at the table with Proto Man still struggling to conserve power and her sister still clutching him tight. If the situation hadn’t been so heavy, it would’ve been the perfect scene to tease Tempo for caring so much about someone she was oh-so-very adamant wasn’t her boyfriend. She knew better, though the thought kept her mood from plummeting to complete despair as Vesper finally managed to clear her throat enough to try and encourage her mother.
“You know who you’re acting like?”
Lalinde cocked her head to the side as she haphazardly took a bite of her sandwich, nearly gagging as she heard the comparison.
“You’re acting a lot like how you talk about Dr. Light, and how he needs to stop that.”
She looked down at Blues in a mix of nostalgia and melancholy, sighing as she nodded.
“I know you’re worried about him, about her, I am too…” the robot’s voice was soft as she rested her hand on her mother’s shoulder, “But you fixed her, and I know you can save him, just remember you can’t go pushing yourself all crazy like this!”
The doctor smiled, a gentle laugh escaping her as she took a sip of water.
“I know I designed you to be a sister to Tempo, but perhaps I could’ve designed you to be a proper psychologist.”
Vesper Woman gagged, faking disgust at the thought.
“And make me a no-nonsense workaholic like you and Tempo? I would run off to work for Wily on my own!”
Lalinde laughed, her strength slowly returning as she finished the meal prepared for her.
“Thank you, Vesper. What would I do without you and your sister?”
Vesper Woman smiled as she took the plate and glass back to the kitchen, leaving the doctor once more to concentrate on the task at hand.
Nearly twelve hours had passed, her own memories of guilt had blinded her to her surrounding, worsened by the several missed calls from Thomas who had been informed by Rock of Blues’ condition. She doubted that he knew his son was here, she had promised once to keep Blues’ visits a secret.
Could she keep that secret much longer?
Her own thoughts were drowned out by the sound of metal melding with metal. After nonstop work, the prototype’s legs were reattached. She smiled at him, the fatigue in her eyes gave way to hoe badly she herself needed rest.
“Could you be a dear, Blues, and open up your core?”
Weakly he nodded, opening the lid that held his power supply. She nodded in gratitude as she attached a charger to his chest apartment. Looking over to the door to see her youngest daughter beckoning her out.
“C’mon, mom, let the lovebirds have some privacy…”
She yawned, following Vesper Woman out the door, looking back towards the two one last time before she gave herself a rest.
“Rest easy, Tempo, please do keep an eye on him.”
Tempo stirred, nodding as she moved her hand from Blues’ forearm to his hand. Against all logical conclusions as to how to restrain him, she found herself more at ease holding it than she had his forearm.
She looked at him, curious with a small smile, thinking of all the strange characteristics he had shown her over their time of knowing one another. He never followed any proper lines of logic, even Rock in all his heroics seemed to have a method to his ways. Yet, Blues did not.
He had sought her out to try and find the kindness in him that he couldn’t find, trusted her to know his worst secrets, his greatest fears. No one else knew him quite like she had at this point, and stranger still, a part of her wanted to keep it that way.
Keep all the secrets of him to herself, why was that?
—
Nearly a day goes by as he slowly recharges, yet he doesn’t truly rest. Never would he admit it, but the thought of truly dying had started to scare him again. It was a thought that just a while ago had been accepted as his fate, had accepted that he had been wrong all along, had accepted that he needed to repent for the mistakes he had made.
His life had been wasted, being scared of accepting help and the fear of how his family would react to him trying to come back home. He wondered if he would ever be worthy of that luxury, if there was a place for him in the world still. Even in all his unending confusion, there was one person who seemed to be logical through it all. Who made him feel like he wasn’t an anomaly all alone in the world.
Ever since he saw her from footage of The A.R.T.S. Show, she scared him. The way she had been dealt the hand he feared would happen to him, and still she remained with her creator. How she was not threatened by his presence, how she saw through the mask of cold indifference to see how much he was hurt by the creation of his siblings. He wanted to understand her, overcome his fear of what she is.
Yet, somewhere along the way, that fear started to turn to fondness. The desire to come see her whenever something happened with him, to keep her involved in his life, even when all others were shut out.
Why was that?
Did he hope he could help her in the way she helped him?
Help piece back together the person she was?
He couldn’t figure it out, it was all so confusing to him, and yet…when she had placed her hand in his, it felt right.
He lightly wrapped his fingers around hers, waiting to be fully recharged.
…then he would have to go back to fight, to help his brother, to repent and atone for all the wrong he had caused.
He would have to face it alone, the only way he could allow it.
Tempo had not needed to conserve power the way she had. She chose to, in the case of what she suspected to happen next. Her prediction proved positive, yet she had not anticipated how quickly she would “wake up” upon not feeling Blues’ hand.
She looked around in a mild panic, hoping her full expectation would not ring true. Though as she looked around she couldn’t find a trace of him, the evidence seemed to favour the outcome she dreaded. Dread was the most logical emotional response to his absence, factoring in his condition and complete disregard for his own health and safety. Yet, it was odd, the dread was interwoven with sorrow. That feeling was less explainable to her, of course if he were to die it would be tragic, but that possibility was not being accounted for.
No, his sudden absence had left her feeling…isolated. Perhaps, some selfish part of her wanted him to say goodbye, or perhaps she had wanted to attempt to stop him from leaving.
Before her thoughts could spiral into a logic loop, she heard a whistle.
Heard his whistle.
Without any thought or meaning that she could make sense of, her feet had already sprinted towards the source. There standing back turned to her, was Blues.
“WAIT-”
Had she yelled? She hadn’t intended or registered her volume, she couldn’t be able to as she tripped forward over her own feet.
He had noticed her before she shouted, and had dashed over to her as she fell. Even if it was as simple as her taking a faceplant, his instincts had acted like she had been in danger. His sense of what was right had always had him help even in the littlest ways. Still, he could’ve spared her the theatrics as he held her gaze for a moment too long in his arms.
Her face was as red as his helmet, she could’ve gotten up on her own, caught herself on her own. Against all reason, she felt like she was right where she wanted to be.
The silence between the two accented by the setting sun felt poetic in a way neither could properly describe. Tempo ran the scenario through her memory, looking for a solution to disarm the tension between the two. The first match that came to mind was a movie Vesper had forced her to watch. Some old western romance film that told the story of a lone desperado and the farm hand who captured his heart. There was a shot exactly like this one, where the farm hand had tried to stop him from going to a fight he would most certainly not return from.
Then, in that same scene, the two shared…
Before she could finish her thought she shot upwards, grabbing Blues by the shoulders.
“Why are you like this!?”
He had been frozen in a lock of confusion for the past few moments, his head racing to figure out a way to leave without causing her any harm. Not in a physical sense, no, he couldn’t bring himself to even think of the idea of fighting her. No, he had for once in a blue moon been considering her feelings.
He would’ve questioned that of himself, but she had beat him to it.
“…you’ll have to be more specific.”
She groaned, releasing her grip on him to pull at her own face, what DID she mean by that?
“Why are you, here!?”
The words flowed from her mouth without thinking, no realization she was speaking out loud her process of understanding.
“Why did you come to me!? Usually whenever you do it’s because there’s something eating away at you that you refuse to accept without a harsh truth. It’s always me you come to, so then why-”
She had unknowingly began pacing, her hands punctuating every word she needed to emphasize. It was a strange alteration of the same frustration she had with her sister’s pranks.
“Why come to me when you could have died!? Your self loathing and resulting exile from your creator’s lab couldn’t possibly override your innate instinct for survival!”
She marched up to him, pulling him up by the scruff of his scarf.
“You did not even ask for my mother, you simply spoke my name. It stands to reason your intent had been to find me, so then why-”
She wanted to hesitate, but her actions worked faster than her desire.
“WHY DID YOU COME TO ME WHEN YOU COULD HAVE DIED!?”
He had no answers for her, none that he could articulate, none that made sense to him. Her presence, even now as she held him so close that he could see the lines of her lit-up eyes, was a comfort to him. Her continued trust in Dr. Lalinde, her patience with his appearance, the way her subtle expression shifted seamlessly, she was so alive despite all that had befallen her.
When he had first met her, he was jealous of all that she had, and in truth, the mercy of having her sense of self stolen. At that time, he wanted nothing more than to function without thought, without guilt. The perfect little soldier he was conceptualized to be.
But then he saw what she was, who she had been, and that envy turned to rage. At himself, at Lalinde, at her.
Still he would find her when he was lost, when he needed the truth no other could give, no other could see.
Slowly he moved his hands over hers, guiding them to the sides of his helmet. He couldn’t bear to remove the mask he had made his face, not unless someone wanted to see what was underneath.
She stopped for a second, her sudden anger switching to a confused understanding. She wanted to see him, but she still couldn’t comprehend that desire. Nothing was sound in its logic about any of her actions when it came to him.
Even still, she slowly removed his helmet, her hands under his slowly released as she pulled the mask of Proto Man close to her chest.
He slowly drifted his hands to his sunglasses, removing them with his right, and slicking his hair back with the left. His emerald eyes flickering as coolant clouded the lower ducts of his visual receptors.
“I wanted to see you, truly see you, at least once.”
The words were soft, but the weight they carried was monumental. He had accepted he was about to perish in that moment, that he was finally to rest in whatever awaited artificial consciousness at oblivion. All he could bring himself to do, was go to the one person who saw through his actions, who saw him.
Even if it was for one final moment.
She stared at him.
Her eyes had began to “water” in response to the rising temperature in her face. Still fixed on him, on Blues, on the broken boy that had been ready to die in her arms. She had been unknowingly been mimicking the steady breathing habits of her mother whenever she had been stressed. It served no function other than ventilating her inner circuitry.
Her armour had been starting to sizzle, her internal fans had grown louder, and her face had flushed red. She finally broke her eyes away from Blues, looking now to his helmet, her grip tightening on it.
Part of her was screaming to smash it into the ground, drill into its sides and destroy it, a Hail Mary Hope that it would stop Blues from running off into danger again, that he would see his presence still mattered outside of his mistakes.
Without looking at him, she asked aloud a stupid question.
“I cannot stop you, can I?”
His head lowered and turned to ensure his sight was away from the pained posture of Tempo. He couldn’t bear to see her like this, look this broken up over his own safety.
Once more, he had been selfish, once more he had made a mistake, and as always…
He was a fool.
She held the helmet closer to her face now, her own eyes reflected in the visor of Proto Man. She stared into her own eyes, thinking of all the moments she saw herself when she looked at it, looked at him.
Would she do the same if their lives were traded?
Would they still have met?
Did any of that truly matter now?
It was an agonizing air of silence that crept in as the wind’s howl began to settle. She had to break the quiet, she knew what had to be done.
Against logic, she was still upset.
She took a deep inhale of cooler air, exhaling as she raised her head to the sky. Then it snapped locked onto Blues, marching over to him as she held the helmet over his head.
“You can go, on the promise that if anything goes wrong, you will retreat.”
She held it higher, her gaze deadly serious.
“And you will promise me, that when it’s done, you will come see me, and show me you are alright.”
She saw him move to meet her eyes.
“Are we in agreement?”
He saw how serious she had been, saw how much she cared. In turn, he could feel his face begin to heat up, his body desperately expelling the rising temperature to keep his unstable core cool.
He would have returned to her even if she hadn’t stopped him, but it was nice to know she’d be looking forward to seeing him.
The emotions began to subside as he gave a confident grin.
“It’s a d-”
He stopped, he frowned, and smiled again.
“Deal.”
She reciprocated a smirk, placing the helmet gently back on his head.
“I’ll be waiting for you, Proto Man.”
With his power recharged, his body repaired, and his heart on fire, he whistled a song only he knew the meaning of.
In a flash of red light, he was gone.
Tempo thought back on that old western movie again, and though she smiled, a tiny sliver of her cursed herself for not finishing the thought of that scene.
Of the desperado and the farm hand sharing the words that always got caught in their throats.
Perhaps, they’d share those words another day…