The uneasy knot that filled his stomach didn't go away. Not at first. This was, he supposed, what bothered him the most about this whole situation. Since the surgery, he hadn't been able to feel anything that wasn't on a very superficial level. Feelings weren't something that the Inspector had. Not these days.
In the beginning, he figured that it had all been just a simple malfunction. He had eaten something rotten perhaps – and, oh, was he not supposed to do that. Eating… anything, really, tended to spoil his circuits. But he had checked his internal wiring, and nothing was wrong (which was a blessing in its own way, after the initial doughnut incident with Chief Quimby a few weeks ago).
If the feeling in his gut wasn't from anything edible, though, what could it be? He puzzled over it for hours, in the privacy of his own bathroom, when he thought his niece was downstairs, sleeping.
Of course, Penny wasn't sleeping. How could she, after all that had happened? No, Penny often spent the wee hours of the morning up and about, following her mad uncle as he paced and paced around the upstairs space. It had only been three or four days since the tragedy, and the Inspector chalked her listlessness during the day up to shock, which wasn't entirely wrong. What he didn't realize was how little sleep she was getting in her effort to quell her own loneliness.
And Penny did find her uncle's presence comforting, even if he was too thick to register her presence. She didn't blame her uncle for her parent's deaths, though he most certainly blamed himself. She could see the guilt written clearly on his face, as she peeked from behind the door into his bathroom mirror where he scrutinized his own reflection at two or three in the morning.
She was quickly memorizing his routine. He would begin by showering, quite early in the evening. She always waited until a good half an hour after the water had stopped running. While she was curious as to his inner workings, she felt it wrong to spy on her uncle naked. She would wait until he had wrapped himself in a towel, and shaken out his hair, and all that. Then, she would steal away up the stairs, and hide herself in the little space between the door and the bathroom wall when he wasn't looking. And Penny would watch.
She would see all the questions that ran through his mind, written upon his visage in huge neon lettering – sometimes literally. On one memorable night, the words "lost," "help," and "Penny" flew by in quick succession across his chest, red-blue-green. How she wanted to run to him then, to reveal herself to him and tell him that it was all right, that he was doing just fine. She hadn't, though. She had remained hidden behind the door, just watching as her uncle ran a hand through his damp hair with a sigh.
She wondered why.
She hadn't approached her uncle for anything more than her basic needs, since that first day. The first day, of course, there had been all sorts of tears, and hugs, and burying of faces in sleek, grey trench coats. But since then, she hadn't asked him to comfort her. It just felt like too much to ask of him.
And he was doing his best, really he was. He made sure she ate regularly, and bought her a new set of clothes, and tried to help her do her hair. He even offered to take her to the animal shelter to see if there might be a pet she would like, for which she had smiled and thanked him, and had a good long cry about later that evening. But she couldn't find it within herself to ask him for even a simple hug. It just seemed too much.
It wasn't until a full week and a half after the shooting that Penny finally broke.
Gadget stood, bracing his hands on the sink. His shoulders slumped, matching the droopy angle of his hair. He stared into his reflection, judging, always judging. He had brought out another of his contraptions today: the scissors. He never really meant to use his gadgets with Penny around. He got the feeling that it made her uncomfortable. But it had become second nature to him, and today, he had slipped and used the scissors to open a package of muffin mix.
He knew he wasn't good enough to take care of Penny. He wasn't even fully human. But he had to pretend. He had to make her believe he was capable of providing for her. And if that meant no gadgets in the house, so be it. But today's slip…
It had been right in front of her. He pounded his fist against the marble countertop, in a rare display of aggravation. How could he have been so thoughtless? He winced as the marble cracked, but stopped short as he heard a much softer, much smaller sound. A gasp. He grew impossibly still.
"…Penny?" he asked, without turning around.
There was another small sound, a squeak, as Penny realized she had been found out. She clapped a hand over her mouth, suddenly terrified.
Gadget turned to face the door.
"How long have you been hiding there, Penny?" he asked softly.
Penny was silent a moment. Then-
"I'm sorry, Uncle Gadget, I'm so, so sorry, I-"
"Now, Penny," he cut her off.
"Sorry," she squeaked once more, before growing quiet. Her heart pounded in her ears. There was a tremendously long pause in which neither party dared to move from the safety of their respective position.
"I'm not angry," Gadget said eventually, breaking the silence. "I'm… sorry you had to see that."
Penny nodded slowly, then realizing she was still behind the door and he couldn't see her, she said, "I understand."
There was another uncomfortable silence. Gadget was the first to speak again.
"Would… would you like me to make you some coffee? Do you… you're just a kid; do you even drink coffee?" He cursed himself. "Do you even know what's in coffee?"
Penny laughed, a small, weak laugh. "It's fine, Uncle Gadget. Thank you."
He placed a hand on the back of his neck and rubbed, mussing the fringe of his hair.
"Are… are you going to come out?" he asked after a moment, looking incredibly lost.
Penny took in a deep, shuddering breath. She said nothing in reply, but the door creaked in the familiar way that it sometimes did, and Penny took a shaky step toward her uncle.
Gadget's eyes softened. He knelt, putting himself at the same level as her. Now that he looked at her, really looked at her, he could see it – the purple rings under her eyes that suggested a severe lack of sleep.
"Why aren't you sleeping, Penny?" he asked gently.
"Because-" she tried, voice cracking. She sniffed, and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pajamas. "Because it's lonely," she managed to get out. A muffled sob escaped her lips, and she brought her hands to her mouth, mildly horrified.
The lost expression returned to Gadget's face. He held out a hand as if to pat her shoulder, before remembering that he wasn't wearing anything but a towel, and his gadgets were showing. He blushed.
"I. Erm," he said pathetically, gesturing vaguely toward his general bodily area. "Sorry. I'm not very good at this. I'm sorry I'm not…" he trailed off, waving a hand. "HUMAN" flashed across his chest in a silver hue, gone before it was really there.
Penny laughed between another round of sobs.
"Is that… r-really what y-you… think, Uncle G-Gadget?" she asked, keeping herself composed as best she could. "It doesn't b-bother m-me. The… you. Y-you're fine, Uncle," she said, reaching out herself and patting his metal arm.
He flinched slightly, closing his eyes.
"Now, Penny-"
"Hush," she said, continuing to gulp back sobs.
"You're not… afraid of me?" he asked weakly, terrified of her answer.
She shook her head. "N-nope."
Gadget opened his eyes. His mouth opened and closed once or twice.
"Really?" he managed.
"Of course n-not," she replied, giving him a weak smile. She moved closer to him and put her small arms around his shoulders, holding him as he knelt in front of her. He teetered in shock, but ultimately kept his balance.
It was mere moments before she really began to cry, in deep, rolling sobs, onto her uncle's shoulder. Tentatively, he placed a hand on her back, making sure it was gentle enough not to hurt her.
"Penny," he breathed after a few moments.
Her only response was to tighten her grip on him, wrapping herself around him as if he were the only solid thing left in creation. Gadget realized, then, that this wasn't just her being upset at having been found out, or being lonely. This was a full week and a half's worth of grief and shock over two dead parents, a lost home, and the shock of it all.
"Oh, Penny," he said, even more softly, closing his eyes. He wrapped his two arms around her. He added a third arm and a fourth arm, when it wasn't enough. After all, he reasoned, what good were extra arms if they couldn't hug? She made no protest, which encouraged him greatly.
They remained like that, on Gadget's bathroom floor, for some time, until Penny finally began to cry herself out in soft little gasps. Gadget gave her one last squeeze, then lifted her small body, cradling her against his chest. He stood, and Penny mumbled something before she was out like a light.
The brave Inspector held his niece for some time, afraid to move for fear of waking her, before finally deciding to just bring her into his bedroom. It was, he reasoned, closer, and he wouldn't have to let go of her if she slumbered in his bed.
Decision made, he carried her limp form into his room and set her as softly as he could on top of the down comforter. She moaned softly and curled into a tight ball, but did not wake, and for that Gadget was thankful. He quickly changed into his nightshirt and boxers, discarding the towel. Once clothed, he lay on the bed with his niece, placing a gentle hand upon her back.
Maybe tomorrow, he supposed, they would go to the animal shelter and pick out a pet, like he had said. Maybe a dog. Penny would get to choose, of course.
But for now, Gadget thought to himself, stretching his other arm out to the closet to fetch a fleece to cover Penny… for now, they would sleep, and heal.