Chapter Text
Three years. That’s how long he’d been stuck in this space station, banished to his cavern sealed with cement. No, that wasn’t fair. No one had forced him here; the bandicoots had even offered to house him.
The very thought of that interaction, that extension of trust and kindness, absolutely demolished him. Even now his chest ached, his heart raced, and his breathing quickened. He forced it from his mind and tried, as always, to focus on the matter at hand. He was homeless, jobless, and completely alone. Everything he had spent these last decades building was gone and now lay rubble on a small, unknown island.
“Doctor Cortex! N Gin has made dinner, he would like you to come enjoy it before it hardens and cools. It is the wagon wheel pastas; N Gin knows how much you enjoy them!”
Cortex clenched his jaw and did not turn from the window to face his henchman. Gin was the only one who stayed, but somehow his presence was more of a burden than it was uplifting. Though they resided in the same space, their conversations were often one-sided. In truth, Cortex had not spoken since his last defeat.
It was not necessarily the loss that got to him, it was the rebellion that followed and the utter betrayal he felt at the hands of all his peers. Except for the one.
He turned to look at N Gin and was met with a beaming crooked smile. He was wearing an apron he’d embroidered with flowers, and a small chef’s hat atop his missile. Though Cortex could not manage to emote, he couldn’t help but smile a smidge inwardly at his companion’s happiness. At least one of them was getting by alright.
With effort, Cortex managed to uproot himself from where he stood. This was his spot and the worn patches on the tile spoke of his ownership. He longed to return to earth but knew there was nothing waiting there for him any longer. He’d been banished to the cold hell of space until old age claimed him, but when he gazed out the space station window down at Earth, he could relive his former life. It provided him comfort and a sense of normalcy.
“Doctor Cortex?”
He snapped back to his senses and realized he’d been staring at the tarnished floor. He was three paces away and he felt nervous and wrong. Instinctively, he went back to the worn patch that perfectly fit the outline of his shoes and then looked back to Gin with visible uncertainty.
N Gin nodded in understanding, his demeanor remaining pleasant and serene, “Eeeet is okay, N Gin understands the beautiful view. We will dine in front of the stars tonight!”
With that, he waddled off to the galley. Cortex sighed and pulled up a chair. He slumped over, resting his chin in his hands as he patiently waited for their nightly routine. Gin was kind about it, to a sickening degree. This had been their routine for a solid year, and still, he acted as though it were a spur-of-the-moment thing. He hated it, but part of him needed that understanding. He needed someone to go along with this like it was normal.
He knew something was wrong with him, but he didn’t know what. He’d never cared much about the idea of ‘feelings’ and he felt as though he were at a standstill. Something needed to change, but the idea of change was too frightening. It was too overwhelming a concept to tackle when he had no idea where to start. He had no funding, no colleagues, and no family.
Cortex looked around at his area, at the sleeping bag on the floor and the mess of ramblings and scribbles of a madman trying to understand an impossible situation. He suddenly felt very ashamed, he felt disgusting, beneath, less than, and that feeling terrified him. His anger quickly turned over into panic as he clenched his fists and steadily rocked back and forth.
“Shh, look at the wagon wheels. How many spokes do they have?” Came N Gin’s disembodied voice from a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Cortex glared at it but did as he was told. Something about it helped the anxiety and helped him find a moment to breathe. When he finally drew a breath in, his chest ached, followed by an emptiness. He felt calmer, but worse in a way. Still, he could function easier being sad than upset, and he offered a small nod of reassurance to Gin.
Cortex limply took the presented bowl from his companion and looked down at the fluorescent orange pasta. This was always his favorite food to eat when he was feeling under the weather, and N Gin instinctively knew when and how to make it. However. He’d had this pasta every day for three years, and the idea of eating another bowl made him nauseated. This wagon wheel pasta haunted his dreams as much as his hardships on earth.
He looked to N Gin to offer it back, but seeing the joyful expression on his little pug face took away any fight he had left in him. He relented and began eating at a slow, mechanical pace, a striking difference from his animated henchman.
“Ohh! There was an asteroid. Eeet was so pretty… Do you think that if we wish on an asteroid in space, it grants our wishes?” N Gin happily ate his macaroni and kicked his dangling feet casually as he stared out the window with wide, curious eyes, “When N Gin was but a young grub, he wished to go to space and see the stars. And now here he is. Remember to always keep wishing.”
Cortex looked at him skeptically a moment, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. He gave N Gin a thumbs down, blew a raspberry, and resumed eating. He then paused and rolled his eyes, scribbling on a piece of paper, ‘I hate it when you try to be motivational. I’ve lost my appetite. Thanks'.
All Gin did was giggle and resume admiring the distant earth and surrounding nebula. There didn’t seem to be a care in the world as he ate and soaked up the scenery. He’d seen the same sights for years, yet they never seemed to get old to him.
Cortex tapped his spoon on the bowl which earned the attention of his henchman. Cortex awkwardly signed out ‘I want to story’, to which N Gin gasped excitedly and sat his bowl down to clasp his hands together in joy.
“Of course! N Gin loves story time! Hmm, but what one, what one…?” He tapped his chin a moment.
“Oh! N Gin will tell you about the time he was lost at sea with only a popsicle stick and a drink umbrella, and how he was able to tame a pelican to carry him home! You see, it was fifteen years ago, and we were lost in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. N Gin’s ship had been sank by enemy fire, and he was surrounded by sharks, with machine guns, and lasers! And you see…”
Cortex sighed inwardly and closed his eyes. He focused on N Gin’s eerily calming synthesized voice. He didn’t really know what he was saying, but he just enjoyed the sound. His mellow voice rolled like smoke and the small tinny inflections reminded him of wind chimes. Cortex took a deep breath and exhaled, slowly feeling himself relax as the robotic tones enveloped him and hushed the tumultuous thoughts in his head.
He got through another day, he reassured himself. But he was growing tired of the status quo, and he knew he soon needed a change. For now, however, he would leave that problem for his future self, and enjoy the moment. He opened his eyes again to watch N Gin animatedly chatter on and on about his adventures. The cyborg’s smile was wide and, judging by the feeling of his own lips upturning, contagious.