"Father, what is this place?" The little iron bot piped up as Peter Walter I spoke, his eyes gazing upon the hollow darkened grounds before him. He didn't want to have to do this, but Hatchworth's portal was proving to be completely unstable all thanks to a little hairline fracture. Who knew such a miniature line could deal such great damage and even cause badgers to raid the Yearly Tea & Quiet Music Exhibition. While the Walters had paid for the damage that the hatch and badgers had caused, the Walters knew they couldn't take another risk with Hatchworth's portal.

"This….this is the vault." Peter Walter I briefly explained in his raspy tones and coughed rather harshly into the crook of his elbow, causing Hatchworth to alarmingly glance at him.

"Father, what's wrong?!"

"Nothing…," Peter Walter I composed himself as quickly as he could despite his old age. "Nothing, my son."

Peter Walter I didn't have long to live. He had been bedridden for months now and rarely did he ever emerge from his chamber to socialize or even get some air. This occasion Peter Walter I knew was something he couldn't miss. It would probably be the last time he would ever see Hatchworth and in knowing this, he gazed upon his iron creation through half rimmed glasses and tired eyes.

Hatchy had fared rather well – initially crafted to win Delilah's heart and fight in the Weekend Wars and many other wars, he performed every action with precision. He did wonders in combat with his rift and cannon fire, which aided the Walters and others to victory. Hatchworth had even grown to become a respected member of the Walter family and adored his brothers dearly. Peter knew how deeply Hatchworth cared for his family and that he would do anything for them from creating amazing sandwiches to tending the gardens and everything in between. To see him enter this darkened, lead lined chamber was enough to break the old man's heart, but he knew it had to be done. Sighing, the escaping breath shuddered through the elder's frame causing Hatchworth to gently grasp his shoulders.

Hatchworth was stripped down to his metal frame. His metallic touch was no longer inviting and kind as it was before. It had to be done this way – Peter Walter II had stripped him down to get a better look at his internal wiring to figure out the problem. Yes, only he saw the problem, but Peter Walter I was too weak to physically provide a solution. Explaining it to Peter Walter II would be too much of a hassle, despite the fact that the second Walter was intelligent. Besides, Peter Walter II was only starting to get his hands on the robots and their workings; at best, he just knew basic repair, but the fractured core was something beyond Peter Walter II's knowledge. Peter Walter I quietly hoped that he would live long enough to offer a proper solution to Hatchworth's conundrum as his fingers trembled from the sudden chilly air that often lurked in the vault. Hatchworth would be going in there and he would be alone, but hopefully not cold.

Looking up at the exoskeleton of his creation, he bitterly swallowed tears that he could feel forming in the back of his eyes. Whether that was from this inevitable parting or the dizzying fever his sickness had brought on, he wasn't sure, but he knew that it was time to say goodbye.

"Hatchy, my boy, you need to get into the vault." Peter spoke as sternly as he could as he watched the bot's brows arch in confusion.

"Why? Wait, what did I do, father?"

"You did nothing, my boy. Your…your core…it's…unrepairable at the moment."

"Father, I apologized for ruining that exhibition." Hatchworth's voice crumbled with worry as concern flooded his tones. "Please, father, believe me, I meant-"

"I know you did, my boy. It…it was probably damaged from the war…and only now is it growing severe. We do not know what…will happen," Peter Walter I coughed again, hanging his head low, away from Hatchworth's frightful expression as the bot still held onto his inventor's shoulders.

"We do not know what that blue matter will do. We can't risk anyone getting hurt."

"Father, I don't want to hurt them!"

"I know…I know you don't. It's not like you, Hatchworth. So please….for me…I…I need you to get into the vault. I wouldn't do this…or ask this of you, if I knew it meant it would hurt you. But…but this needs to be done. "

If Hatchworth had a heart it would fall apart with every word Peter Walter I spoke. He could always control his core, but now, now it seemed like he was a walking weapon of danger. He was something from the war that was meant to cause terror to opponents and victory for his comrades and family. He had lost control of the one thing he could always keep a firm grasp on and to know this loss of dominance was sending him to somewhere dark and lonely made his cogs feverishly spin. Yet there was nothing he could do – by no means had anyone within the Walter family tampered with his core. Hatchworth knew they wouldn't, it would be senseless and uncharacteristic of them to do so. He didn't want to harm anyone near and dear to him, even if it meant being alone for –

"How long will I be in there?" Hatchworth hesitantly asked only to receive another coughing fit for an answer.

Who knew how long Hatchworth would be in that vault? How long would it take for them to find a solution to his problem? Watching the old man shudder and writhe from his coughing fit, Hatchworth could feel his temperature through his clothes. Biting back a release of steam and blue matter smoke, Hatchworth felt how cold his inventor was – he was never this cold before and he wondered why his cheeks were as pale as a snow moon. He hadn't been looking too well in the past few months from what he had seen when he wasn't sleeping. There was only so much medicine could do and there were only so many remedies the doctors could provide. Perhaps entering the vault would make him feel better and maybe it would alleviate Peter Walter I of any stress or sickness that had befallen him, especially regarding the blue matter core.

He knew his inventor wouldn't ask him to do something unless it harmed him. Besides, maybe he could think of some new songs while in the vault. That way, when he would leave the vault, he'd have new material for The Spine and Rabbit and they would love it. He knew they would be strong and understand the gravity of the situation, but even so, they could probably visit him every now and then. He was sure Peter Walter I would allow that; he couldn't see why not. As much as he tried to see a positive side of his new vault life, Hatchworth couldn't help but to shake a sudden terrible feeling rising from the core of his mind and burning in the pit of his boiler. There was nothing else wrong with him (that he knew of) and so he wondered why of all times was he feeling such relentless unease and dread. Accepting a new life of endless darkness wasn't easy, but there was something else. What, he couldn't put his finger on; regardless, he knew he had to put on a show and bear it for his inventor.

A wreath of steam released from his frame. Tinged with blue matter, Peter Walter I watched the smoky tendrils flit through the air before seeking out the shelter of the vault. He dared not look his robotic son in the eye, knowing that the vault would be different from Hatchworth's usual homey setting of a warm fire in the study, his brothers playing and singing with him, and even the Walter workers aiding him with dinner and his functions. It would be a life much different than what he had, but Peter Walter I had to accept and possibly make himself that Hatchworth was a smart little bot who would be able to cope with this sudden transition.

"Father," Hatchworth spoke, watching the old man breathe heavily, each breath shaking his frame and causing his fingers to tremble. "I understand."

The shaking seemed to stop some.

"Hatchworth, my boy, I thank you greatly." Looking up at his creation, he didn't feel the tears well in his eyes as Hatchworth's optics widened.

"Father, why are you crying?"

Drawing a shaky hand to his eyes, Peter Walter I steadily wiped the tears from his eyes. Not wanting to worry his invention any, he hurriedly threw on a crescent moon smile and looked up at him.

"Just from the coughing is all."

Hatchworth didn't like the looks of this. He didn't like it before, but now he really didn't like it. Yet there was nothing he could do or say to persuade Peter otherwise. He had to follow orders like the good little bot he was and by no means, did he want to hurt anyone or dissatisfy his father. He couldn't bring himself to free his hands from Peter's shoulders, wanting nothing more than to hug his father. Maybe a hug would help him and maybe it would even ease Hatchworth into this situation. Hatchworth went to position his arms better and scoop the fragile man into a hug when he felt his cogs jerk into a sudden stop. His mind reeled – what if he Peter would be sucked into that portal when he hugged him? It had never happened before, but now with his damaged core, well, anything could happen, right? After all those puppies and kittens turned to badgers and were flung into an unintentional location. What if that happened to Peter? Hesitantly pulling back, Hatchworth slowly ventured into the vault.

Peter watched his son warily. He wanted to embrace him one last time before his possible, soon demise. He wanted to hold him close like a father to his son and yet, here he was, sulking into the vault. Perhaps, Peter thought, Hatchworth didn't want a hug because he would be reminded of it in due time and it would spiral him into sadness. Could a robot even express or feel sadness? For his bots, yes, yes they could. His shaky fingers reached for his son, only to pull them to his chest. This would be for the better, he believed; Hatchworth would grow to not miss the embrace of a beloved or even the sight of another human being. God only knew how long he would be in that vault until someone could properly repair him.

Approaching the door, Peter gazed upon the bare exoskeleton of his creation who hung his head low, peering into the darkness. He was adjusting to it; he was turning away from the mere shred of light seeping into the vault – his last chance of seeing illumination. He would have to grow used to this and he was just starting; he would be strong, he was strong in the wars, he could be strong here or so Peter believed.

"Goodbye, Hatchworth."

The words rung throughout the vault, causing Hatchworth to suddenly realize something dreadful and his head to jolt upward as the door slammed behind him. No sooner the door was secure with a lock, Peter stepped back to examine his work. Hatchworth now rose quickly, throwing himself to the door and banging on the only thing blocking him from his once wondrous life and father.

"Father, please!" The robot pleaded, needing to voice the sudden dread arising in his skull as he understood what it was. This feeling that burned in his boiler and made his mind run as cold as his inventor. He needed to voice it – surely his father would care, he couldn't see why not. Yet through the glass, he watched Peter walking away as fast as he could; by no means could the old man run, it would knock the wind out of him. He wasn't as physically fit as he used to be as he quickened his pace and Hatchworth yelled even louder.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE FORGOTTEN!" Hatchworth called out to him through the door as Peter walked away, biting back another string of coughs. Peter felt his spine tremble at Hatchworth's plea and hung his head low, swallowing tears. He had to be reassuring, but let him go, like a father sending his son off to college.

"My boy, you won't-" Peter started in a gentle, but firm tone.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE REPLACED!"

Peter stopped in his tracks. The cry of a robot, no, not a robot, his son, not wanting to be replaced let alone forgotten was just too much for him to bear. Hurriedly turning on his heel, Peter walked as fast as he could through his coughing fit and blinding tears as he reached the door and undid the lock. With every ounce of his strength, he pulled at the large handle as Hatchworth pushed against it to help him. The strength between a frail old man and an automaton was something fascinating; robot helping man to achieve freedom from themselves, to rid each other of whatever thoughts were jogging in their heads, and to possibly provide some solace where it was needed most.

The door opened rather abruptly and for the first time in months, Peter laughed, impressed by his own strength despite his age and the strength that he had instilled into Hatchworth. He was proud to have this robot as his son and he always would be. No sooner the door parted with a loud clang, Hatchworth broke from his prison and tightly embraced Peter, burying his face in his shoulder while oil spilled from his eyes.

"Fath-father..I'm…I'm…I..I don't wanttobe-" The robot sobbed and Peter held him as close and as tightly as he could. His grip was nothing when compared to Hatchworth's, after all he was only human. Yet even hugs, regardless of their strength, could easily triumph over any physical might. Everyone in Walter manor knew this – even The Spine, who had the firmest grasp of the family. Hiding his tears from his son, he needed to be the strong one now. He always was the strong one that the bots always went to and the Walters looked up to; he was possibly the mightiest being of the Walter lineage and it was something that he was incredibly proud of. In this moment though, he had to be proud for no one else, but Hatchworth. It was Hatchworth's leaving – a time to remember every single positive thing about the shuddering and sobbing robot in his arms.

"My son, my boy, my Hatchworth," Peter's raspy voice rambled those affectionate terms as he stroked the robot's back. He tried to make his voice as soft as possible without the lingering sickness and Hatchworth understood his intention, embracing him even tighter.

"Please, believe me…you will not be forgotten. You will always be within the minds of your brothers and this family."

"Can-can," Hatchworth sniffled. "Can people…come…seeme?"

"Yes, yes, of course they can!"

"Even The Spine and Rabbit, father?"

"Absolutely!"

"Even you?"

"Y-yes." Peter started off shakily, knowing that his mortal coil would soon be ending. He couldn't allow such a grim future to dampen Hatchworth's new life and so, regaining his confidence, he spoke once more. "And…even if I can't, Hatchworth," he bit hack his tears. "I will always be with you. In your mind, in your soul, in every thought that you think. I will always be there."

"Father…pl-please…I don't want to-to be..replac-"

"No one ever will." Peter spoke quickly as the tears began to culminate once more. "No one will ever replace you. Not even if it's an upgrade."

"D-Do youmeanit?"

"Yes, yes of course, my boy. I would never lie to you about anything so serious as that."

What he thought would be a quick resolution of Hatchworth's feelings blossomed into the inventor and his robot embracing for what seemed like a long time. Peter didn't mind though and couldn't care about time; his son needed him and that was incredibly important. A father could never abandon his son, no matter how dark or urgent the situation was. Hatchworth continued to cry, to mourn the leaving of his old, wonderful life in exchange for brief visitations and quiet nights in a dark chamber. It wouldn't be the same and yet he knew he had to do this for his father. Maybe it would make him feel better, maybe it would aid him in his recovery or so the little iron bot believed.

Peter needed to get back to bed so he could possibly recover, yet the options of recuperating were slim. The nurses and Walter workers and Rabbit (especially Rabbit) would plead for him to return to his bed so that he could rest. No one wanted to see him go or be replaced, he knew this, but he knew that unlike Hatchworth, he would be replaced. Peter Walter II would take over the family business and hopefully he would accomplish things he never dreamed of or explored. Perhaps Peter Walter II would start a family and he would be filled with happiness and life through science and kinship – just like he was. He hoped that he would never be forgotten through formulas and instructions and stories that would be passed down from Walter to Walter and everyone they ever met. As much as he wanted to share these feelings with Hatchworth, he knew that this was the bot's time to weep and bid a possible final farewell to his father. This was no time for Peter to bemoan his dying days or the thoughts on his mind, but he did understand what pained Hatchworth.

After hours of embracing, Hatchworth pulled away from his father, his shirt now stained with oil, but neither one cared. His worried eyes watched as Hatchworth bore a toothy, bittersweet smile.

"Thank you, father. For thinking of me and what is best for me."

Peter felt his heart sting with those words and he nodded, bearing a soft smile.

"Father knows best, or so I've been told."

"In this situation, that is indeed evident."

Climbing into the vault one last time, Hatchworth helped his father seal him in, knowing that the old man could only muster so much strength. As the door locked, Hatchworth waved to his father who returned the gesture and walked away from Hatchworth's vision.