Cora wasn't a science geek—never had been and never will be—but she sure as hell knew that something wasn't right.

No shit, Sherlock; what was your first clue?

Maybe it was him breathing like he'd run a million miles, yet he technically didn't need air to survive. Maybe it was him sweating entire buckets of ice-cold sweat, but it wasn't possible for him to overheat—not with the tech that Tenma put in there. Maybe it was him drifting in and out of consciousness constantly, even if he didn't need sleep to function, and only slept out of a habit she didn't know the origins of. Or maybe it was just because it was Astro who was on the goddamn bed with a fever.

Yes.

A fever.

When she'd first seen him use his rockets, two years ago in a fight against one of Hamegg's robot fighters, it had come as such an amazing shock to her that she just couldn't believe it. A part of her had still thought Hamegg was wrong, wrong, wrong. A part of her had still thought that it was just simply impossible for the heartfelt, animated friend could actually turn out to be a cold lump of microchips and hardware. But she'd come to decide that microchips or no, he was her friend, and a damn good one, too. Half of that was still because she couldn't accept he was a robot. She loved him. He couldn't be a robot.

They'd both been thirteen when the Peacekeeper destroyed Metro City. Cora was fifteen now, almost sixteen, going to school, enjoying her parents, making friends, stressing over homework—ultimately growing older.

Astro was still thirteen.

She was slipping away, aging every day, yet he'd remain eternally young. He'd stay that way until the Blue Core ran out, which was when he'd die—and yet, the Blue Core had enough power to supply him for the next thousand years, even he only had half of what he'd given to Zog so long ago. The Blue Core's power was just that strong. In its original state, it would have lasted for thousands and thousands of millennia, Elefun had once told her. Maybe even longer.

Seeing him stay fixed at that one point in time had fully convinced Cora that Astro was, emotions or no, a robot. Maybe that was why she didn't see him as often as she used to, didn't hold quite as lively conversations with him, didn't go out of her way to find him on some building in the far corner of Metro City. It was a bit cruel, and when Astro finally saw what was happening when she hit fifteen, his hurt eyes had been in so much pain—

—but hey, just microchips.

He wasn't growing older. Undeniable proof he was just a robot.

Now? Cora wasn't so sure.

From what passing scientists had told her, it looked for all the world like a fever. According to them, he was sweating, he was burning up, he was rolling around on the bed, looking for cool spots on the sheets, he was unconscious half the time. He kept muttering things under his breath, things they couldn't hear.

Why was she sitting here? Here, outside the room Astro was in, as if hoping she could rack up enough nerve to go inside? At this point, she hardly qualified as a friend anymore. They met every month if they were lucky, just in passing to say "hi" or "howzit." She was…the ex-friend. The ex-friend who'd had a secret crush on a robot. The ex-friend who'd been a stupid little girl and how now grown up. She didn't love him anymore.

Well, then, said a nasal little voice in her head, why're you sitting here?

Cora didn't know. Her school backpack was slumped against the chair she sat in, posture equally slumped. She realized she was pouting, and quickly straightened. Hadn't she just told herself that she wasn't a stupid little lovesick girl anymore?

Well, then, the nasal voice began again, why're you

Shut up, she told it. Just shut up.

It shut up, and she nodded absentmindedly in approval.

"—we can try, but honestly, he doesn't seem to want to cooperate. And…well…I think we both know what happens when Astro doesn't want to cooperate."

Cora's head shot up and her gaze snapped to her left. Coming down the corridor was Elefun and Tenma, Astro's father—but why Astro always called Tenma "father" escaped her. She'd never asked. All she knew was that Tenma had one day just decided he was going to make a robot with emotions and did it. Then named the robot Astro. And somehow the robot named Astro wound up on the Surface. Amazing, how little she knew about her friend—or, ex-friend.

"You have to," Tenma said urgently, grasping Elefun's ample shoulders with his slender fingers. "You have to."

Elefun sighed. "I don't know about that."

"I will not lose my son again," Tenma hissed with ferocity Cora hadn't ever seen before.

There it was again— Tenma calling Astro his son and Astro calling Tenma his father. What on Earth? Strange creator-robot relationship.

And then Cora realized something even stranger. Tenma had just said he wouldn't lose his son, referencing to Astro, again. Had he lost Astro before? What? Was there more to Astro's backstory than she knew? Was it really more than Tenma creating Astro and then dumping him on the surface? Perhaps he was just talking about how he'd nearly lost Astro to the Peacekeeper.

"I don't know why either," Elefun said firmly, "but he doesn't want to be examined. At all."

Temna opened his mouth, then coughed into his shoulder. Elefun peered at Tenma. "Tenma? Are you alright?"

"I had a little fever last week," Tenma said, waving it off and returning to the matter at hand. "I don't care if Astro doesn't want to be examined. We'll restrain him. Tie him down if we have to. I need to find the source of this."

"And how would you restrain a million horsepower?" Elefun said dryly. "You made him yourself."

Cora chose this moment to stand from her chair and interrupt softly: "Doctor Tenma? Doctor Elefun?"

Startled, they both turned towards her. "Cora!" Elefun exclaimed, holding his arms out warmly. "Nice to see you."

"I heard about it," Cora said, jerking a finger back at the hospital door. "A while ago."

"What did you hear?" Tenma asked, approaching her quickly.

"He's totally dead. Out of it. Unconscious." She made a face, hiding the little glimmer of fear and worry for him more out of denial than anything else. The best way to cover up emotions was with sarcasm and snappy retorts, Cora had learned on the surface, and the reflex once again kicked in. Anyone but Astro would never know what was really going on in her head. But then again, they weren't friends. Would he still know as he did back then? Tone casual, she remarked, "Never knew robots could get sick."

Elefun exchanged a dark look with Tenma. "They can't," Elefun said simply.

Oh.

"It's got to be a malfunction, then," Cora stated, confident. She put her hands on her hips—there's no 'tude like attitude—and flicked a strand of black hair out of her dark eyes. "A malfunction imitating the symptoms of a human illness."

"Well, yes," Tenma said, face drawn with worry. He seemed older, the lines in his face deeper, the shadows darker. "In principle, that is exactly it. But such a malfunction has never been seen before. This could be attributed to the fact that Astro is a unique robot"—he said this with a certain measure of desperation and pride—"but I…I'm not so sure."

"Sure of what?" Cora scoffed. "He's a robot. Got the dinky doodads in him somewhere that're acting up. You might not know what it is now, but you will if you investigate. Just pull a few screws and he's fine." That was what Cora desperately hoped would be the case, as much as she tried to tell herself otherwise—she was not in love with a damn robot she hadn't held a proper conversation with in half a year.

"He's not letting us do that," Elefun interrupted.

Impatient, Cora rounded on him. "And why not?" Cora demanded.

"You go talk to him, then." Elefun pushed her towards the closed lab door, the room where Astro was in now. "If you don't believe us, see for yourself."

"H-Hey!" Cora tried to wriggle out of it, but Elefun grasped her wrist tightly. "Stop that! I'm not going in there! I said—"

That was when Elefun opened the door, firmly pushed her inside, and shut the door.

It wasn't like Elefun had locked the door, but Cora's stomach knotted a thousand times over—I told you, the voice in her head told her dryly—and she froze, somehow unable to leave the room. The room was dark, and combined with the wide area filled with scientific gadgets and pipes and whatnot and the vast ceiling, it all seemed so foreboding. But there was a small light shining in the middle of the room, which was where a bed was position. There was a lump in the sheets—Astro.

Cora gulped, then moved hesitantly towards the bed. She could make out the back of his head, complete with those trademark spikes that all of Metro City had affiliated with their "hero." His hair never mussed, yet more proof that he wasn't the human he appeared to be. She finally made it to the side of the bed, her heart pounding in her ribcage like a jackhammer, every step she took like she was wading through water.

"A…Astro?"

She almost hoped that he wasn't awake purely so she wouldn't have to face him, but her hopes were squashed when his head slowly turned to face her, his eyes closed. "Hello?" he whispered, and Cora shuddered. It didn't sound like Astro at all. Astro was up-beat, happy, optimistic. This voice sounded calm, cool, collected, mature and adult-like. And even—dare she say it?—borderline expressionless.

It sounded like a robot's voice.

And then Astro opened his eyes.

Cora gasped, backing away quickly and tripping over a cord she hadn't noticed, falling on her butt with an oof. Astro sat up, looking at her like she were some sort of specimen in a jar: with mild curiosity and interest, but no real emotion. This wasn't right. The Astro she knew had the softest eyes she'd ever seen, eyes she could see held honesty and warm in them.

Yet here, bright green eyes literally glowed in the dark, and everything about them was cold and artificial.

Astro didn't have green eyes.

It wasn't like his irises had changed color. It was like that X-ray vision he had, just a sickly green color instead of pale blue. They were like flashlights, and when Astro's eyes met hers, Cora was momentarily blinded and had to look away.

"Astro?" She staggered to her feet. "What's going on?"

There was no response.

"Astro, talk to me!"

No response.

"Look, I know I haven't talked to you in forever, but seriously—"

"Who are you?"

For the third time today, Cora's breath caught in her throat. She stared at those nasty green lights, and a sadistic, choked laugh escaped her. "Who am I?" She sneered. "Who am I? I'm—I'm—"

The girl who denies she still loves you after two years? the voice laughed.

Shut up, she told it, and it did as told.

"I'm your friend, dickweed! I'm worried for you! We used to be best friends! I come here to check if you're alright and"—Cora sucked in a breath—"you give me bullshit like WHO ARE YOU?"

Abruptly, the green lights shut off, and all that remained was the wide brown eyes Cora knew—had known, she reminded herself, had known so well. "Cora?" he exclaimed, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes widened even further in that typically childlike shock expression he'd given her so many times. "Cora, I'm so sorry, I—"

"You just didn't recognize me," Cora finished scathingly. "Right." Before he could say anything else, she sprinted for the door.

"Wait!" he cried behind her, desperate. "You don't understa—"

She never did hear what she didn't understand, because she'd slammed the door behind her as hard as she could. Tenma and Elefun gave her confused looks, but she snatched her backpack and dashed away before they could ask, leaving the Ministry of Science as far away as she could.

He hadn't even remembered who she was.


She went home and did her homework. Get over it, girly, she told herself. He's a damn robot. He has nothing to do with you anymore. You've grown apart. It's in the very physical workings of this whole thing. You'll grow older and he'll stay the same until he blows a circuit or something. Best to just separate yourself from him now.

You don't believe that, the voice in her head told her.

He didn't even remember who I was, she retorted.

It wasn't him, the voice said. It wasn't him talking.

Don't give me that Yoda shit, she snapped back at it, breaking her electronic pencil on her touchpad. Just shut up.

It did, indeed, shut up, just like always.

She went to bed early.


The world was hazy, and she was standing on a dock, the wind blowing on her face and through her clothes, refreshing her with its crisp scent. It was the scent of one of those nature parks in Metro City, the ones with the big fancy lakes for fishing. Beside her, sitting down, was a boy, fishing with a homemade fishing pole.

"Hi," the boy said. He seemed around thirteen, but mature beyond his years. He acted like an adult, almost. He looked up at her, and she blinked, surprised to see Astro's face looking up at her. But this wasn't the first time she'd dreamt about him. Why should she be surprised? Maybe, she thought, because this Astro didn't seem like Astro at all. It was like...

It wasn't him. It wasn't him talking.

"Hi," she responded.

"Astro didn't want to come," the boy who looked like Astro said, shrugging. "I don't even know if it's possible for him to come."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she just stayed silent.

"But I'm sorry," he said, voice in that same polite, expressionless tone he never seemed to stop using. "I messed up."

"It's okay," she replied, but she honestly had no clue what he was talking about.

"Alright." He stood up. "Astro was just really cut up about it, you know? He really likes you." The boy who looked like Astro surveyed her with a critical eye, silently appraising her. "I suppose you are kind of pretty. I'm not him, but I can still see."

"Gee, thanks."

He grinned, but it wasn't the crookedly warm smile Astro gave her. It was a sly, calculating grin. "You're welcome." He pretended to check a watch, then announced, "I've got to go. In this memory, Orrin'll be serving dinner soon, and then I'll go to sleep. I'll wake up, do some calculus drills, watch a video in my AP class about robots, ace a pop quiz in all of one minute, and from there… well…" He smiled, stood up, and stretched. "The bottom line is I've got to go.

"Looking forward to future business with you."


When Cora woke in the morning, she couldn't remember anything. All she could remember was that it really was, for some strange, inexplicable reason, not Astro's fault he hadn't recognized her.


A/N: So how's it coming? Good? Bad? What? I typed this up in an hour, didn't bother to edit, and slapped it up here. What do you guys think? Review, guys, and make me day.