Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"They're looking for you, you know," AVA says.

Ash knows. Or she suspected, anyway, which is why she's currently hiding out in the dim corner of some long-forgotten utility closet, tracing patterns in the dust with her fingers. She glances briefly up towards the ceiling, and wonders how AVA knows where she is. She didn't think there were any cameras in this part of the ship.

"Are you going to tell them?" she asks quietly.

"Ha," AVA says, without actually laughing. "Of course not."

Ash hugs Nightfall's helmet a little closer to her chest. "Thank you."

"Oh, I'm not doing this for you," AVA says, in her usual condescending and self-assured way. If she had eyes, Ash imagines that she'd be rolling them. "I just think it's funny to watch them all panic."

"Panic?" Ash sits up a little straighter. "Why are they panicking?"

"I don't know," AVA drawls. "Because they're worried about you, I suppose?"

"Oh..." Ash says slowly. She slumps back down, shoulders hunched, and returns her gaze to the floor. "I didn't mean to make anyone worry."

"Well, you did," AVA says. "Fox is on the verge of a meltdown. So is Gary, for that matter."

Ash furrows her brow. "Because of me?" she asks skeptically. "That doesn't sound right."

"You and Nightfall," AVA says pointedly, and just the mention of her name makes Ash wince. Her heart twists painfully in her chest, and hugging a cold metal helmet is no substitute for hugging a person, and—god, she should've hugged Nightfall when she had the chance. She should've said more, done more—

Ash chokes back a sob. She'd thought that she was finally done with crying, that she'd run out of tears, but now it's like the floodgates have been reopened.

"You know," AVA says, as blasé as ever, "I think they miss her too."

"Do you—do you think I should—?" Ash asks—or tries to, anyway. The crying is making it difficult.

Not that AVA seems to notice. "Do whatever you want," she says, sounding bored. "I really don't care."

Ash forces herself to take a few deep breaths. The sobs eventually slow to a stop, and she rubs at her eye with her palm, wiping the last of her tears away. "You're right," she agrees. "I should go to them."

"That's not at all what I said."

Ash rises up onto unsteady feet, still holding Nightfall's helmet tight in one arm. "Thank you, AVA!" she calls out before dashing off.

"Hmph," AVA says.

If the AI sounds a little smugger than usual, well… there's no one around to hear it.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Ventrexian," Fox whispers. "You awake?"

There's a groan from the bunk above him. "Well, I am now," Little Cato grumbles.

Fox furrows his brow skeptically. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you were awake before," he says. "You sure don't sound like someone who just woke up."

Little Cato leans sideways over the edge of the bed to glower at him, catlike eyes glowing faintly in the dark. "What do you want?" he asks grumpily.

"Uhh," Fox says, suddenly nervous. "Well… I know you went through a lot today, almost getting killed by your dad, and seeing all those dead alternate versions of your other dad, not to mention the tragic passing of Nightfall—"

"Get to the point," Little Cato interrupts tersely.

"—and I just wanted to say," Fox continues hurriedly, "that I'm here for you." He offers Little Cato an awkward smile. "If you ever want to, you know… talk."

Little Cato grimaces. "No thanks," he says, retreating back to his bunk. There's a brief rustling as he settles back down under his blankets.

Well, okay then. That's that. Fox tried. There's nothing else he can—

Little Cato's head suddenly pops back out over the edge of the bed. "Maybe," he says.

He flips off the top bunk with easy grace, landing in a crouch on the floor, and pauses there for a moment before straightening up. He's still scowling as he folds his arms over his chest and says, sort of reluctantly, "Everything that happened today was, like… so messed up."

"You're telling me," Fox says, laughing a little. He tosses off his blankets and sits up at the edge of the bed, making space for Little Cato to sit beside him. "And to think, when we woke up this morning, everything was perfectly normal."

"Well… not perfectly normal," Little Cato says. He hesitates a moment, still standing in place, before eventually deciding to sit down next to Fox after all. "I don't think my life has actually been normal in like… ever."

"Okay," Fox concedes. "It was as normal as it gets, anyway."

"Yeah," Little Cato agrees. He's silent for a moment, contemplative. "What about you?" he eventually asks. "You went through a lot of stuff too."

It's true. Fox almost died, lost his adoptive father, triggered some traumatic childhood memories, got whomped by a possessed Ventrexian, watched Nightfall disintegrate into nothingness, and then got trapped in a spooky horror dimension. It had been a very busy day.

"It's been tough," Fox eventually says. "But I'm gonna be alright. I can handle it."

He reaches over with his good hand to ruffle Little Cato's hair, half expecting the kid to bat him away. But he allows the gesture of affection—perhaps the surest sign yet that he's not as okay as he's pretending to be.

"Yeah," Little Cato says. "Yeah. Me too."

Chapter Text

"Not gonna lie," Gary says, "I'm a little hurt that you did that."

"Chookity-pok," Mooncake says firmly. He's upset too, but steadfast in his resolve. He will not apologize for what he did.

Gary looks away. It's quiet on the bridge, just the two of them, and there's not much to see outside. The Crimson Light zips along easily without Gary's help, but his hands linger over the controls anyway.

"She didn't have to die," he says.

"Chookity," Mooncake says. Someone had to.

"Well, it didn't have to be HER!" Gary snaps.

He whirls around angrily to face Mooncake, suddenly brimming with indignation—but it all drains out instantly at the sight of Mooncake's wide eyes. Feeling suddenly hollow, Gary slumps back down in his seat, burying his face in his hands.

"I—I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm sorry."

Mooncake floats over and butts up against his elbow, and Gary halfheartedly raises up his arm for a hug.

"It should have been me," he says. He's been thinking it for a while, but this is the first time he's said it out loud. "I was going to—but Little Cato..."

He trails off. Tears are starting to blur his vision, and he pauses for a moment to blink them away. "And with Clarence gone, someone has to be there for Ash and Fox," he continues hoarsely, "and then there's you, and I—I couldn't. I couldn't do it."

Mooncake doesn't say anything. There's nothing to say, really.

"It just… it sucks, Mooncake," he mumbles. "It really sucks."

Chapter Text

Predictably, Gary monopolizes the majority of Quinn's time upon her return to the ship, and what little time she does not spend with him is spent with the other organic lifeforms aboard the Crimson Light. It is not until early the next day that HUE finally gets a chance to speak with her.

"Quinn," he says, catching her as she wanders towards the commissary for breakfast, "I am glad you are well!"

Quinn stops in place. She turns slightly to look back at him, brow furrowed in confusion, as if she can't quite believe what she just heard. She stares at him for a long moment before finally asking, "HUE? Is that really you?"

"Ah, yes," HUE explains. He had forgotten that Quinn had never seen him in this form before. "I have a body n—"

HUE's statement is interrupted when Quinn suddenly drops to her knees and throws her arms around him. After a moment's pause, HUE hugs her back—slowly, gently, and with careful consideration of his new body's strength. He has learned a lot about hugging since his first disastrous attempt.

"I didn't know you were here," Quinn says, pulling back. She's smiling now—practically beaming, really. "I thought we lost you with the Galaxy One. I'm so happy to see you."

HUE is pleasantly surprised by this reaction. He is quite fond of Quinn—and indeed, he always has been. Perhaps a human would have tired of Gary's constant rhapsodizing, but HUE had always found his enthusiasm to be… curious. HUE had not been programmed for love or friendship. But Gary's feelings were so strong that he had been forced to adapt. And though it had not been his intention, HUE had come to care very deeply for Quinn in their short time together.

He had not realized, however, that these feelings were mutual. The thought warms his heart… in a strictly metaphorical sense, of course. His temperature regulators are still perfectly functional.

"How'd you get off the ship?" Quinn continues. She tilts her head slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as she examines his new form. "Is this… a garbage bot?"

"It is," HUE confirms. "There is much to catch up on. But first: can I interest you in some butterwheat pancakes?"

Chapter Text

Sometimes Sheryl thinks that she must actually be dead. Maybe her son really did kill her on Rugaro, and now she's stuck in some bizarro purgatory, where everything feels exactly like real life, except that she's trapped on this crowded little clunker of a ship and constantly being haunted by… well, by KVN.

"It's just sooooo nice that you're back," KVN says, completely oblivious to Sheryl's foul mood. "You know, Gary always wondered why you never wanted him."

Oh great. Now the robot's shaming her for bad parenting. "Well I'm wondering why my son hasn't already torn you apart for scrap metal," Sheryl snaps back.

"It's because we're beeeessst frieeeenddss." KVN goes in for a hug, but Sheryl shoves him away. "Just like you and me!"

"We're not best friends. We're not even friends at all."

This confuses KVN, but it only shuts him up momentarily. "We're… bestest friends?"

"No," Sheryl says.

"You know, Gary was just devastated when you left him," KVN continues, without a mote of tact. "I wasn't there, of course, but he told me about it. Well—he didn't tell me, he told Quinn, in the video messages he recorded for her that she never responded to, but I heard everything—"

"You know, I don't really care," Sheryl says, tone growing strained. She starts walking faster, but apparently KVN can float along at whatever speed he likes.

"I know you don't care," KVN says cheerfully, still hovering near her head. "That's what I was saying! And it just made Gary soooo sad. Growing up on the streets, all alone, with nobody to love him..."

All alone, with nobody to love him. Well, isn't that just tragic. Sheryl grits her teeth and tries to pretend that she doesn't feel guilty about it.

"KVN," she says pointedly.

"Ye-es?"

"Shut the hell up."