Behold, everyone, I happily present you all with my first "Ratchet and Clank" fan fiction, based off of my favorite Christmas story "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens. (This actually ended up turning into a mix of "A Christmas Carol" and "It's a Wonderful Life".) I know this is late for Christmas, but think of it as prolonging Christmas a bit longer.

I do not own anything in the "Ratchet and Clank" series (if I did, Nefarious would be in every game). The series and everything included in it are property of Insomniac. I, of course, do not own "A Christmas Carol" or "It's a Wonderful Life", either.

A Ratchet Christmas Carol

Chapter 1: Christmas Eve

Evening found the immense buildings and bustling streets to be veiled in a curtain of snowfall, multicolored lights glimmering amongst the snowflakes from where they hung in tree branches above the heads of people all heading home for the day, a spring in the step to be detected in most of those out right now that wouldn't normally be expected in such chill weather. This scene put no question in anyone's mind, organic or robot alike, that it was surely Christmas Eve in Metropolis, which could be the only explanation for the cheer in the air and the inexplicable smell of peppermint.

And in one particular apartment high above dwelt two more getting ready for tomorrow, a certain Lombax and robot pair that had had more than their fair share of busywork this past year, making one holiday all about relaxing and good times with friends all the more appealing. Saving the galaxy (and sometimes, the universe) on more than one occasion was quite a trying affair, not to mention all the other troubles the two found themselves involved in, by accident or otherwise, and Christmas was just what they needed, and if Ratchet had anything to say about it, it couldn't come sooner.

Currently, the Lombax in question was reclining on the couch in front of a large holo-screen, doing battle with hordes of lycanthropic space Vikings, not horribly different from what he normally spent his time doing (minus the lycanthropic space Vikings), but it was quite a different experience entirely when you weren't really in mortal peril and you could conveniently drink Qwark-cola (occasionally shortened to a rather hard to say Qola) from the comfort of your own couch.

Behind him, Clank was busy with the finishing touches to their small Christmas tree, complete with presents beneath its boughs they had gotten for each other and from friends that couldn't make it this year (which, when it came to some of them, was a relief).

"Do you think we should put up the ornament we got from Captain Qwark last year?" Clank asked.

The Lombax paused his game after just dealing the finishing blow to the boss of level 8, a particularly nasty vampire dragon that shot razor sharp bats from a cannon mounted on its back (Ratchet had to admit that this was one of the more ridiculous enemies he had encountered thus far), to look back at his friend.

"We still have that?" he asked, wincing at the ornament Clank held up in one hand from where the robot stood on the stepladder beside the tree. The ornament in question depicted the superhero dressed as some kind of ridiculous cop from one of his movies, shirt unbuttoned and hairy chest exposed (as the need for a Tetrafiber vest for someone in law enforcement had apparently been overlooked) and a blaster in either hand.

Clank frowned at the monstrosity for a moment longer before returning his attention to his friend. "I feel guilty throwing it out, but I think re-gifting it would be even worse."

"Yeah, that would be pretty mean," Ratchet said, as a sly smile spread across his lips. "If I had remembered we still had that, I'd have sent it to Nefarious." The Lombax turned back around, picking up the controller again. "Just get rid of it. It's not like he'll ever know."

Ratchet began the next level of his game, which opened with a hectic dogfight against the fleet of the vicious Vi-King, while a question resurfaced in his mind that had been nagging at him these last few weeks. "So, are you still not going to tell me what you got me for Christmas?"

He heard a thump as the ornament was, at long last, put where it belonged. "Ratchet, you know very well that it is proper protocol to wait until Christmas before opening presents."

"Yeah, but Christmas is technically only a few hours away."

"Six hours and 37 minutes to be exact," the robot said. "And people typically wait until the morning of—"

"Oh, come on, Christmas doesn't have to be that strict! And if you tell me, I'll tell you what I got you for Christmas," he said, the conversation doing nothing for his concentration as the right wing of his ship got blown clean off, sending it careening out of control into the nearest asteroid. "Darn it!"

"No, I do not want to know what you got me until tomorrow."

"Fine," the Lombax said, as he was forced to start the space battle over again from the beginning. Under his breath, he added, "That won't stop me from opening my presents after you go to bed."

"I heard that."

He continued his game, having much more success this time, until he found his ship to be pursued by a pack of carnivorous, flying…space elk? With his concentration restored, he took them out with a few well-placed mines. "I am good." He began to sniff the air. "You're not burning that candle again, are you?"

"The woman at the store said it was intended to be 'festive'."

Sure enough, the air was beginning to smell like gingerbread, and Ratchet's stomach grumbled. "You know food-scented candles make me hungry." How was he supposed to concentrate on fending off space Vikings when the air smelled like cookies? Cookie-scented air or not, however, after several more tries, Ratchet finally managed to reach the Vi-King's ship at the center of the fleet. Let's do this.

He barrel-rolled to the left just in time to avoid an enormous laser directed at him, and then he was taking out the Vi-King's cannons one by one with his homing missiles. This would be easy. Almost too easy. Several more minutes of intense fighting, and he was almost there. The Vi-King's ship was nearly done for, smoke pouring off of it and most of its defenses crippled. He just had to take out the bridge, and it would all be over.

Ratchet was startled by a needlessly loud knock on the door, his ship disintegrating as the Vi-King's laser caught it and his heart sinking when he heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door.

"Open up, cadets, and prepare for a visit from your old pal, CQ!" After a pause, the voice added in a less epic tone, "And by CQ, I meant Captain Qwark, just in case…you didn't get that…"

Game forgotten with more urgent concerns on his mind, Ratchet spun around on the couch, hands clutching the back. "Clank, don't…"

"Why, hello, Captain Qwark. How nice to see you," Clank said, and Ratchet groaned at seeing the door no longer closed and able to protect him from one of the faces he wanted to see least of all this Christmas Eve. The ornament was more than enough.

The suspiciously muscular man tramped in (while he denied ever having used steroids, Ratchet was pretty sure this was only because he didn't know what they were), his coat, well, coated with snow, pulling off striped, woolen mittens and a green scarf, a duffel bag tucked under one arm that could only mean bad things were in store for them in their future.

"It's chilly out there," the superhero said, mittens and scarf being dropped onto Clank for safekeeping, while Ratchet stared at him. "Would you take care of these for me? Thanks."

"Qwark, what are you doing here?" the Lombax asked, as he heard his ship crash again on the screen behind him due to his neglecting to pause the game at the arrival of their unexpected guest.

The man dropped his bag beside the door before unzipped his coat, while Clank worked on extricating himself from the scarf that had wrapped itself around him.

"What are you talking about?" Qwark asked, taking off his coat and dropping it onto the nearby coat hook, causing Ratchet's own jacket to slip to the floor, before striding forward, leaving puddles of snowy water in his wake, his next words emphasized with several, well-placed dramatic gestures. "It's Christmas time, a time for gift-giving and friends and family gathered around a fireplace. A time for good will towards men, and probably women, too, and those…candies that look like snowmen, except they actually have peanut butter inside. And you," by now, the man had reached the Lombax and gave him a pat on the head, unaware of the glowering he received in response, "my fine, furry friend, get the awesome honor of having Captain Copernicus Qwark at your Christmas this year."

Ratchet shook his head hard enough to make his large ears flop from side to side, as he pushed himself back from the couch to stand on his own two feet, slightly farther away from the superhero, but not nearly as far as he would have liked. "Wait a minute, no, uh-uh!" Ratchet began, arms waving around in front of him. "You're not staying here! Not—!"

But, further protests were cut short when Qwark put one arm around Ratchet, squeezing the breath out of him. "Don't you worry your little, Lombax head over it. If you're concerned about space, I'll just bunk with you for the night. Word of advice, though. I tend to snore, so you'll probably want to try to fall asleep as quickly as possible."

The Lombax struggled free from the other man's grip, almost tripping over the coffee table behind him in his effort to escape. "That's not— Look, Qwark, we didn't invite you, and we had a rough year. Clank and I planned on just having a peaceful Christmas to ourselves tomorrow. Okay?"

Qwark's grin finally faltered, his face taking on a confusion that was not at all out of place for such a man. "But, I brought presents and everything. And it's Christmas. A time for—"

Ratchet threw his head back in exasperation, hands to his face. "I know what it's a time for, but—"

"We would be happy to have you stay with us. Wouldn't we, Ratchet?"

They both directed their attention to the small robot who had been all but forgotten during their conversation, Qwark's scarf now folded neatly in his hands, the mittens resting atop. Ratchet's mouth hung open. "What? You don't…"

"Captain Qwark is right," Clank began.

"I never thought I'd ever hear those words."

"Ratchet. He is right, it is Christmas time, and we cannot turn our friends away, now can we?"

"But…"

"Great!" Qwark went to rummage through the bag on the floor before emerging with several holo-discs in hand. "And I even brought some of my movies. I have 'My Blaster Runs Hot', 'Unicop', and my newest, 'Cloudy with a Chance of Awesome'. If you're not familiar with that last one, it's where I play a ruggedly handsome weatherman turned vigilante targeted by the Fongoid mafia after their picnic is ruined by an inaccurate weather forecast. It even has two hours of deleted scenes! It's like a whole extra movie! So, which do you want to see first?"

Ratchet stared at him and, finding no other way out of his current predicament, simply sat back down on the couch, with the hope that ignoring the problem would perhaps make it go away. He picked up his game controller and turned the console off. May as well not have another thing he was looking forward to ruined.

"Okay. Clank, what about you?"

"I…do not believe I have a preference."

Ratchet grabbed the remote, trying to find something, anything, to watch, but settled for the news when nothing else decent could be found, just for the noise.

"I guess I'll just have to pick, then. All right, 'Cloudy with a Chance of Awesome' it is, then. There's this one scene where I do battle with a mobster Santa Claus that would be just perfect for Christmas."

Ratchet began to slouch in an attempt to disappear into his seat and turned the volume up, though this only caused Qwark to yell louder. "Oh, Ratchet, why don't you open this one present early?"

The Lombax looked down to find a small box dropped onto his lap. Picking it up, he narrowed his eyes at the Qwark-patterned wrapping paper that adorned it.

"Come on. Open it. I wanna see what you think."

Ratchet glared at the grinning Captain Qwark, the real one, before returning his attention to the box, shaking it next to his ear a few times to hear clattering inside. He began to tear the paper off with no small amount of trepidation. It was not unheard of for Qwark's gifts to induce nightmares even weeks later. He opened the box, unable to withhold a yell at what he saw.

Clank appeared from behind Qwark, with a reluctance that said he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer to his next question. "What is…oh, my…"

The Lombax had picked up by the string another ornament in Qwark's image, this particular atrocity even more traumatic than the last. This one had Qwark in a seductive Santa costume. Ratchet gagged.

"So…do you like it?"

Ratchet couldn't tear his eyes away, no matter how much he wanted to, like he was staring at a gruesome car wreck. "That's…that's certainly…you, all right."

"I know, it is, isn't it? Hand it over, and I'll hang it on the tree."

"No, that's—" He attempted to evade, but found the ornament to be snatched from his hands before he could get it out of the larger man's reach. Perhaps throwing it would have been more effective.

"There. Perfect."

Ratchet chanced a look backwards to find the ornament placed dead center on the tree, causing its appointed branch to droop horribly with the burden it was forced to bear (as did Ratchet's soul). He immediately faced the holo-screen again, trying to erase the image of their violated tree from his mind while he turned the volume up higher when Qwark questioned Clank on what sandwich ingredients they currently had in their possession. If he couldn't hear the man, maybe he wasn't really there….

"Ratchet, could you turn that down?" Clank asked.

"Fine!" He grumbled to himself as he did just that, before slouching further into the couch, trying doubly hard to dissolve right into it, and crossed his arms, glaring straight ahead with enough intensity that he believed for a second that he might be able to light the wall ahead of him on fire. No, that wouldn't do him any good. If the whole place burned down, Qwark would probably still survive. That was his luck lately.

"Ooh, is that gingerbread?"

"Why, yes. The woman at the store said it would be quite festive."

Ratchet growled, biting his lower lip and trying to ignore the conversation going on behind him, while the news anchors Kip Darling and Pepper Fairbanks discussed the controversy over the plastic surgery that Janice, one of the stars of the "Lance and Janice" soap opera, had undergone, but he couldn't help but take notice of an alarming comment from Qwark. The Lombax spun around to peek over the back of the couch, finding the superhero digging something out of the trash.

"Huh, I wonder how this got in here. Good thing I found it." The man then proceeded to head for the tree, holding the old ornament Clank had attempted to dispose of in one hand and a plate bearing a sandwich in the other, and Ratchet looked away before he had to see what came next, though it wasn't long before the superhero plopped down on the couch beside him.

"What are you watching?" Qwark said, before biting into his sandwich, continuing with his mouth full, "Oh, the news, huh? Educational. Good for you."

Ratchet was up before the man could finish talking, heading for the fridge and trying his best not to look at the desecrated tree, picking up his pace when he stepped in a puddle of cold water Qwark's boots had left behind. He opened the fridge and took out a carton of eggnog, inspecting its surface. "Great, Clank just had to get the non-alcoholic kind, didn't he?"

"Hey, you guys, you better come look at this!" Qwark said.

Ratchet frowned, putting the carton down on the counter and heading over to join the other two by the couch. The video in the upper right corner of the screen showed Metropolis under attack, the buildings aflame and smoke rising high into the air, while Kip spoke, "This just in, several strange spacecraft have just appeared over Metropolis and have begun to open fire on the city below. Officials are not yet sure who is responsible, but the Galactic Rangers have been sent out to combat the attack."

"Well, I hope everyone got their Christmas shopping done," Pepper said, her voice with a cheer that stood in stark contrast to the scene going on behind her.

"Don't you worry, Pepper, I'm sure your husband's already sold more of his vital organs in order to buy you the most exorbitant piece of jewelry out there."

Pepper laughed. "At least I'm not alone on Christmas, Kip."

"I'm sure your husband wishes he was... Ahem, it appears we've gotten some new information on—"

Qwark yelled out and dropped his sandwich, the snack missing his lap and landing in a dilapidated mess on the couch, when the screen changed to static, the three of them watching it in silence and waiting for what surely came next, and then the static was replaced by darkness and a single red light.

Ratchet sighed. "Oh, no…"

A grating voice filled the room as Dr. Nefarious stepped back from the screen, "Greetings, miserable squishies, and merry Christmas!" He clasped his metal hands together. "What do you think of my early Christmas present? It's just a little something to say I'm thinking of you." He began to cackle, while Lawrence could be seen in the background, dusting a vase.

"Do you get it?" the supervillain continued, "That was a joke! Because…" He twisted around to look at his robotic butler. "Lawrence, quit dusting; it ruins the effect!"

"Apologies, sir," Lawrence said, turning to face the screen, but eyeing his unfinished work with feather duster in hand, nonetheless.

Nefarious faced forward again with only a moment of composure before attempting his maniacal monologue again, "As I was saying, it was a joke…because I'm not thinking of you! You see, it's the exact opposite of what I meant!"

"Excellent use of sarcasm, sir," Lawrence said, his attention directed, however, on the vase, as if he could just see the new particles of dust now gathering on it.

The doctor leaned forward, only half of his face visible due to his unnecessary proximity to the screen, his voice growing low. "By for now, squishies…"

The screen returned to static before the picture was restored to a very flustered Kip and Pepper.

"Well, I guess that clears up who's behind this," Kip said, straightening his papers.

"Yes, because otherwise I would've assumed it was your ex-wife."

"Pepper…"

"Why, of all the no good, rotten…" Qwark began, pointing to the video behind the two news anchors that showed the state of Metropolis, "I think that's where I get my pedicures done. Now I'm going to have to find someplace else. Annabelle knew just how to shave my toes…."

Ratchet cringed before returning his attention to Clank. "Should we go see what we can do, Clank?"

"Yes, I suppose we should."

The two of them began to head for the door, the Lombax donning his jacket before grabbing his trusty wrench from where he had left it by the wall, while Clank took his rightful place on his back. He turned back to see Qwark still on the couch, attempting to eat his now misshapen sandwich with a sullen look on his face.

"Well, are you coming?"

Qwark looked over, bits of lunch meat sticking out of his mouth. "Are you kidding me? It's like, 60 degrees out!"

"It would not even be snowing if…" Clank began, but Ratchet spoke over him.

"The city was just…" He turned away with a sigh, giving the man a dismissive wave. "Ah, forget it. You just stay here, and we'll go save the city again!"

"Fine, you do that!"

Ratchet's head shot back. "Fine, we will!"

"Okay, then!"

"All right!"

"Ratchet, we really must be going."

Ratchet snarled at the so-called superhero a moment longer before leaving the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Well, this wasn't how he wanted to spend Christmas Eve, but he supposed it would at least give him a chance to escape from Qwark for a while.

The pair returned home late that night, Ratchet bruised and a bit singed after dealing with the troopers Nefarious had left behind and attempting to help put out the fires the attack had created. While the doctor's ships had withdrawn not long after the two of them had left the apartment, they had still caused a good deal of damage to the city, not to mention to Ratchet's spirits.

Clank dropped down as the Lombax returned his wrench to its spot by the door and surveyed the space. While the lights and the holo-screen had been left on, Qwark himself was nowhere to be found.

"Good, is he gone?" Ratchet took off his jacket and attempted to hang it back on its usual hook, pausing when he found it to still be occupied. Maybe Qwark had forgotten his coat…. He looked down. And his bag. Grunting, the Lombax hung his jacket on the hook beside Qwark's and began to pull off his gloves, dropping them onto the couch before grabbing the remote and turning the holo-screen off, while Clank had stopped nearby to frown at the plate left on the coffee table, complete with crumbs and a strip of bread crust.

With nothing left to do but locate the man he knew must surely still be around, Ratchet padded over to his room, prepared for the worst, and opened the door, the sound of snoring greeting him. He let out a groan and closed the door, turning to Clank as the robot carried the plate to the kitchen.

"He's in my bed!" He began to follow his friend. "He's in my bed, Clank! How are we supposed to enjoy our Christmas with him here?" he said, pointing in the direction of the room housing the man in question. Ratchet could almost swear he could still hear the snoring through the walls.

"Ratchet," Clank said, shaking the plate out over the trash, "I know Captain Qwark can be—"

"Obnoxious? Idiotic? A huge, arrogant jerk?" Ratchet stomped over to the eggnog carton he had forgotten to put away, which had since begun to turn warm, causing the Lombax to just now take notice of how high Qwark had turned the heater up while they were away. If it had gone bad, he'd save it for Qwark to drink tomorrow….

"Well…" Clank put the plate in the dishwasher, silent as he thought over his next words. "I know…the two of you do not always get along, but it is Christmas, and Captain Qwark simply wants someone to spend it with. We cannot hold that against him."

"Oh, yes, we can," Ratchet said, his voice low, closing the fridge after having returned the eggnog to its proper place. Please be spoiled.

"And it is just for one day. Perhaps we can have Christmas to ourselves next year."

The Lombax paced by, arms out from his sides, while Clank turned to watch him. "Next year, sure! Things will be better next year!" He huffed. "Qwark's probably going to ruin the next Christmas, too, and the next. And Nefarious and whatever other lowlife that likes to make our lives miserable." He spun around to face his friend. "Why can't he spend Christmas with someone else? Come on, there's still time. Can't we just wake him up and…"

"Ratchet…"

"Oh, I know, or," Ratchet held up one finger of each hand before him, "…don't argue with me until you've heard it…or, we get in our ship and just go somewhere. I don't even care where it is. Just somewhere where no one can find us."

"Ratchet, I know this is not what you wanted, but we will just have to make the best of it. Christmas is not a time to be selfish."

The Lombax's voice rose. "Selfish? How am I being selfish? I work my butt off all year fighting jerk-faces that want to cause trouble for other people or cleaning up after Qwark when he screws things up, and I'd just like, for one day of the year, to have a little peace. Is that really too much to ask?"

"It is, when your decision hurts someone else."

Ratchet threw his arms up over his head. "Okay, fine, just side with him. I'll just sleep on the couch."

"I am not—"

"Forget it. Qwark can just have his Christmas. I don't care. You two have fun tomorrow." He turned the thermostat down to 60 (have fun getting out of bed in the morning, Qwark) before heading to the couch, grabbing his gloves from where he had left them and tossing them onto the table. He dropped onto the couch and laid down on his side, sitting up again just long enough to wipe away crumbs that stuck to his face. How did Qwark even manage to get crumbs on this side of the couch?

"Ratchet…"

"Forget it. Just go to bed."

"Won't you get cold?"

"No, it's like 90 degrees in here because Captain 'it's chilly out there' turned the heater up!"

There was silence, and then the sound of a door opening and closing. Not long later, Clank appeared from around the couch with a pile of blankets and a pillow in his arms. Ratchet rolled around to his other side, his back now to the robot.

"In case you need them."

Not long later, the lights went off, and then he heard the sound of another door, but beyond that, not another sound greeted him, the Lombax, at long last, finally left to himself. Ratchet sighed. Why him? Why was he the one that had to deal with all the annoying people? Why was he the one forced to save the galaxy time and time again? Whenever there was trouble, he was the one stuck putting his life on hold yet again to make things better for everyone else. So much of the time, it seemed like he'd find himself swept away on one adventure or another, and while he had always believed he would enjoy adventuring, and most of the time, he did, it certainly didn't leave him much time for himself. He was young when he wished such things. He was just a naïve kid when he wished to leave his home on Veldin and go adventuring. He hadn't realized that sometimes it could be more trouble than it was worth, and frankly, he should have.

But, just because he had made one stupid wish when he was young, it didn't mean he had to do these things forever, did he? Maybe he would really retire, just like he had planned on in the past. Someone else could pick up the slack. Qwark should do it. He was the superhero. And maybe he wouldn't be stuck seeing Qwark anymore if the guy was busy actually doing his job for once. Yep, Qwark should definitely do it from now on. He was sick of adventuring. And he was sick of Qwark. Two birds with one stone.

Ratchet kept himself up for some time longer with these thoughts before he was finally able to fall asleep, hoping he'd at least find some of the peace he had been wishing for in his dreams.

Ratchet's being such a brat, huh, but you can't entirely blame him, either. Can you guess who the first ghost will be? Please review and tell me what you think so far.