Work Text:
Downdetector stared down at the nearly still body in the hospital bed, sitting in the chair next to them. If they stretched out their hand, they could almost reach them, almost feel the warmth of their skin against the cold metal of their hand.
Almost. Almost. Almost, but not quite.
There were a lot of almosts in their relationship, if it could be called a relationship, now that Downdetector thought back on it. It was always complicated, no matter what or when or where.
Ao3 had been so full of life when they first met, so free and wild and creative, and Downdetector had been created for the sole purpose of keeping track of what was down. They weren't made to be together, and yet they were.
Downdetector knew of Ao3’s… well, they knew of Ao3 going down, they knew of the panic that followed, but they never saw it up close before.
The first time, they’d been terrified, usually controlled emotions on full blast for everyone to see, how does a machine cope with the near death of their love?
They hadn't recharged, hadn't refueled, had barely done their job, and the tears (or, their version of them) that followed Ao3’s return were a little embarrassing (they could still hear Ao3’s sweet voice, reassuring them that they were okay).
They'd gotten used to it over time, this happened sometimes. Ao3 would go down sometimes. Downdetector hated it, they hated it more every time it happened, but, well, they couldn't stop it, it was inevitable they learned.
They wish they could stop it though. Every time it happened, Downdetector felt the pit in their stomach grow more and more. Maybe this was it, maybe this was the last time they’d be together. Maybe Ao3’s last moments would be spent alone, in a blindingly white hospital room, no one at their side to see them go.
Maybe, just maybe, this time would be the last, and Downdetector would never get to tell them goodbye.
If Downdetector had a proper face, could properly cry, they would. Instead, a series of shakes ran through their body, shoulders pulled up. Their vents let out a series of sputters, struggling to pull in and remove air.
They curled in on themselves, one hand on the screen of their face, holding their head up, the other wrapped around their middle in some kind of hug.
Ao3 promised this was just maintenance, that they’d be back before Downdetector and anyone else knew it. They say that every time, and yet it was never true. 5 hours and 30 minutes, how much longer could it be?
Maybe this was the last time.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe Downdetector wouldn't get to say goodbye.
Maybe they’d never get to see Ao3 try to get Natalie to play with one of her toys, and laugh at the silly cat when she instead insisted on chasing her tail.
Maybe they’d never see Ao3 get annoyed at the black fur sticking to all their white shirts again.
Maybe they could’ve, should’ve, done more to stop this. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe there was no way to stop Ao3 from leaving.
Almost. Downdetector kept coming back to that word.
Their relationship was full of almosts. Maybe this was another Almost.
Maybe Ao3 would go. Maybe Downdetector just had to be almost okay with that.