"Space. Want it all. Space. Bop…bop…bo-" Space's words became sluggish, and dropped down a few octaves. He eventually stopped, with a hiss of static.

Silence.

Wheatley gradually opened his eyes, flinching from the pain. Although Wheatley appeared to be human, he was made of metal and synthetic plastics; which weren't eternal. His glasses were fractured as well; limiting his line of vision even further. This made him more defective then he already was. His defective traits being the aptitude to feel pain, and his lack of fundamental comprehension. Especially in the field of arithmetic.

"You alright, mate?"

Silence.

"Hehehhe….uhm….Seriously…." Wheatley's words were unhurried, and slurred. He felt his CPU click and groan. He couldn't auscultate sound, but he did sense it. It didn't feel right.

Wheatley flicked his eyes to Space's body. His head was hunched; his golden hair covering his face. He looked so….

Inert.

Wheatley felt anxiety slowly creep in to his mind. He felt as if his throat were closed in. He took an unnecessary breath in.

"Mate?"

It became very clear at that moment, Wheatley was alone. He no longer had Space's bothersome shouts ringing through his ears. He often thought that he would be glad to be rid of him, but now…he wasn't so sure.

He was utterly alone.

"Looks like…I'm the last one…huh, Space?"

More silence.

At least he died where he was wanted most.

"Goodnight….Space."

Wheatley closed his eyes, with the hopes of never waking up.