The Veldin sky was bathed in a beautiful cascade of blues, pinks, and oranges as the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sparse clouds in vivid colors that speckled the landscape, long shadows being casted by all the buttes and mesas that rose out of the desert ground. And on any other day, Ratchet might've actually cared about it.

But instead, he was wordlessly flying Aphelion through the clouds, not speaking, instead staring straight ahead as he focused solely on flying, and just getting back home. Clank sat next to him in the passenger seat, but he didn't attempt to speak either, instead contentedly resting his clasped hands in his lap as he too stared straight ahead.

That didn't stop him from stealing occasional glances to the Lombax beside him, however. He didn't attempt to break the silence that set in immediately after they both left Ratchet's old orphanage about fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence, broken only by his breathing and the gentle hum of Aphelion's thrusters.

Clank then looks down, glancing at the unassuming folder resting between them both, a clearly worn piece of paper with years of age and crumples covering its mostly dirty surface from living in the bottom of a filing cabinet for however old Ratchet was, only recently unearthed and rediscovered from his caretakers deciding to do some spring cleaning in their offices.

However, Clank's gaze is torn away from it as he feels a small jostle, and looks up to see their garage come into view, the landscape underneath them slowing to a stop before rising up, and feeling another small jostle as Aphelion's landing gear rests them on the sandy ground.

She hopes that they have had a good flight, but Ratchet doesn't respond as he shuts her off then looks back down to the folder, staring at it for a few seconds before he takes a deep breath and grabs it.

"Well, we're home, pal." He says somberly, opening the cockpit's canopy. "I'm… going to call it in early tonight."

Clank immediately understood that didn't mean he was just going to go to bed right now—instead, it was Ratchet simply telling him that he needed to be alone for the rest of the night.

Clank didn't argue that assessment at all, understanding why he would ask such a thing, but that didn't stop him from reaching over and placing a hand over Ratchet's, prompting him to turn his head to look at him with mild surprise from the contact.

"Alright." Clank says softly. "But just know, Ratchet… I am here for you. Just like I always have been. Okay?"

Ratchet regards him for a few moments, simply staring back at him with a mostly neutral expression, but then a small smile cracks on his lips as he gives a tiny nod.

"I know. Thanks, Clank." He says quietly yet gladly, leaning over to give him a side-hug that Clank is sure to return, the both of them lingering there for a few seconds before Ratchet breaks it, grabbing the folder once again with a deep breath. "I'll… Let you know if I need you."

"Will do, Ratchet." Clank returns with a nod. "Have a good night."

Ratchet huffs a dry, humorless laugh out of his nose as he climbs out of Aphelion's cockpit, walking over to the door of his home. "I'll try." He mutters.

Clank follows suit as well, but Ratchet doesn't wait up for him, instead just leaving the front door open for him as he continues his trek towards his bedroom. When he reaches it, he quietly shuts the door behind him, and takes a seat at the small workbench that he kept in there for his simper projects and gizmos, turning on the small lamp affixed to its surface.

He brushes away the nuts and bolts and assorted tools littering its surface, making a relatively clean spot in the middle of it that he places the folder on, the large 'FOR RATCHET' freshly scrawled across it in his caretaker's handwriting.

And for a minute, he does nothing more, instead simply staring at it, hands resting on either side of it.

He thinks about the call he got an hour ago while he was just watching some holovision in the living room, being from his orphanage. He picked it up thinking it was them asking if he could do another press conference to help them raise some more money, something that he was always willing to do, of course. Always willing to do his part in helping make the kids' life there better, wanting them to have better childhoods than he himself had.

However, when he answered, it wasn't a request to participate in a fundraiser, but instead, a call to let him know they found something of his when they went to clean out his old file. Something that was found along with him when he was just a baby in a basket sitting on their doorstep that night. Something that was written in a strange, mechanical-looking script that they couldn't translate at all.

Something that was now just sitting on the desk in front of him, waiting to be read.

He was thankful he took up Tal's suggestion to learn to read Lombax, initially proposed as a way for them to bond a little more, and also because she got a little tired of Ratchet having to ask her to translate every little artifact she had in her collection as well.

It was because of those lessons that he was able to read the first three words of the letter to confirm his suspicions the instant his caretaker described it over the phone—three words that made the breath catch in his throat, and made him freeze on the spot.

"To my son."

To be honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to read it. Could he even deal with it? Hearing words straight from the father that he never knew, but wished he had? Reopen those old wounds he tried to close when it came to the Lombaxes? Was it worth it?

All of these questions and more were all that he could think about on the flight over. And honestly, right now, he still didn't have an answer to them.

But there was a small part of himself that was just simply dying to know what waited inside. And whether or not he answered yes or no to all those questions, he knew that part of himself would scream louder than the rest of his rational self.

So… He might as well go ahead and get it over with now, and deal with the consequences later, whatever they might be. At least that way he could out this past him for good, and never think about it again if he didn't want to.

With a very deep breath, he closes his eyes, steeling his mind even though he knew it probably wouldn't do anything to dampen the feelings he'd undoubtedly get from reading this letter, but something was better than nothing.

So, he opens his eyes, landing on the folder in front of him, and with a hand that he didn't notice was very subtly shaking, he opens the cover, revealing the worn and crumpled paper inside, covered in the simultaneously familiar and alien language of the Lombaxes, written by his father's hand.

And then he begins reading.

To my son:

As I'm writing this, you are sound asleep, lying next to me on my ship. It's the first time I've let you out of my arms ever since we left Fastoon, and only so that I would be able to write this letter to you.

You are just shy of a year old, and your naming ceremony would have been in a few days if these were normal times, but… I'm afraid they're anything but. It's such a shame, too. Me and your mother, Marie, picked a good one; Kipler. We were both excited that we'd finally be able to tell all our friends and family what we have decided to name you, but I guess they will never know. Not even you, most likely.

I don't know how old you'll be when you read this. If you read this. I am sorry I only really know how to write in Lombax and not a language you can understand. Foreign languages aren't really my forte, unless you count Zoni runes in all the temples and artifacts I've researched, but even if anybody outside of zealous researchers like me could understand it, it's not as if I'm fluent enough to write this letter for you.

But, if by some miracle you manage to learn our language and decipher this letter so that you can actually read these words I'm writing to you:

I am sorry, Kipler.

I am so, so, so sorry that this had to happen to you. To us. To everyone.

I have no choice but to leave you on a planet far away from our home for your own safety, to escape a maniac that seeks to exterminate Lombaxes like me and yourself and… your mother, may she rest in peace.

I can only hope they treat you kindly on Veldin and raise you as well as I and your mother could have. I can't properly put into words how it kills me that this is what the situation has come to, but as much as I want you to keep you in my arms for the rest of my life, I couldn't ever live with myself if you got hurt by my selfishness.

You will grow up confused, wondering why you're so different from all the other kids. Why you don't have a mommy and daddy like the rest of them do. Why you have these random, curious urges to build things, and wondering where you came from. And thanks to our people's secrecy, you may never be able to find all the answers. Perhaps none of them, if I'm being honest with myself. No child should have to live that way, and I wish I was there to help you every step of the way, but I won't.

I won't be there to hear your first words. I won't be there to watch your first steps. I won't be there to drop you off at your first day at school. I won't be there to help give advice for your first crush. I won't be there when you make your first gadget. I won't be there to see you graduate from the Academy. I won't ever see you fall in love and walk down the aisle. I will never see you have kids of your own.

I will never be there, and I curse everything responsible for making me suffer through that. For making you suffer through that.

Despite everything, though… I know you will grow up to be a great person. You will endure your inevitably tough childhood, and rise above any challenges that come your way. You will help others around you, and act with courage when the occasion calls for it. It's in our blood as Lombaxes, and even more so with our family. Same with ingenuity, if your constant playing with my tools is any indication.

In fact, you liked playing with my tools so much that I joked about naming you 'Screwdriver' with how often you like to chew on mine. Your mother didn't think it was as funny as I thought it was, but hey, that's pretty normal when it comes to her and my jokes, haha!

Ratchet notices a large gap in the page, along with a few especially wrinkly, warped spots, showing that the paper has been wettened by droplets.

I hate this.

I hate this with every single fiber of my being. This entire fucking situation.

This should never have been the life you were given. If only Alister listened to me, and refused that damned Cragmite, we wouldn't be in this mess, Kipler.

Marie would still be alive right now. You'd be sleeping in your crib. I'd be bored out of my mind on patrol, just itching to see you two at home again. We would have dinner together, with me trying to make your mother laugh while she gets frustrated at how you seem to throw your dinner rather than eat it. We would both take turns holding you and playing with you, loving the way you laugh when you play with your toy blocks. Then we'd take you to bed, and read you bedtime stories and sing lullabies until you sleep, where we would wake up to a new day of fun together.

But instead, I'm writing this letter to you, in a ship on its way to Veldin, where I'll have to leave you, as our old home is destroyed, littered with dead Lombaxes, including your mother. I'm going to have to hold you for one last time, knowing that I will never see you again, helpless to do anything but pray to the stars that you will be safe. Knowing that we will never have those fun times together again. Knowing that I will never hear your cute little laugh again.

Why is the universe so cruel? What have I done to deserve this hell?

Another gap, more tearstains.

But… that's in the past now. All that matters is that you will escape this madness. That you will be safe, just as I promised Marie in her final moments.

You probably won't understand why it had to happen this way. In fact, you'll probably grow up to hate us, the parents that you'll believe abandoned you in an orphanage because we didn't want you. And while that's a thought that hurts my heart more than you can imagine, I will gladly let you think that about us if it means that you were able to grow up at all.

But all I ask is that if you do manage to read this letter, just know that we don't hate you, Kipler. We love you. More than you can ever hope to fathom.

Another gap.

You being just a baby should have made this easier. You're barely grown enough to have a unique personality, and you won't have the sadness of remembering a family you lost if you can't even remember them in the first place.

But as I'm getting closer and closer to Veldin, I'm now realizing it makes it worse, not being able to know for sure the person who you you'll become, with all of your quirks and flaws.

I already see small snippets of the person you will be in what little personality you already have. The way you play with my tools, curiously grabbing at whatever bug flies near you, and listening quietly when I talk about my latest breakthrough with your mother; almost as if you actually understand the jargon.

I want to know more about you, but I never will. You will be smart, that I can see at least. Maybe even smart enough to find a way to find our species on your own, but that's probably being too hopeful. There's only so much a single Lombax could do.

I hope the orphanage is good enough for you. With what little time I had to find one, it seemed like the best option. The headmistress seems like a nice lady.

I just gave you one more kiss on your little forehead. You're so cute when you sleep. I've seen Marie cry a couple of times because of just how cute she thought you were when you were when you slept in her arms. I'll miss the way you always grab onto the closest thing when you're snoozing away, too.

I regret not bringing your favorite toy, the little plush OmniWrench. I didn't have enough time in the chaos. Alister gave it to you after you were born as a gift. I thought it was sweet of him, but he would've made fun of me for being so sappy if I said it out loud. He was always teasing like that, especially while I was crushing on Marie.

Maybe they'll have something else like your plushie at the orphanage. I hope so, it always seemed to soothe you when you were holding onto something. But I'm sure they'll figure that out, same with all the other nuances of you being a Lombax on top of being my son.

I hope you'll be a good kid, and have a good friend like Alister was to me. Just make sure that they actually listen to you so they don't do anything stupid like he did. And even if they don't… make good memories with them, okay?

Another gap. Even more tearstains.

I'm just rambling now. Trying to put off what must be done.

I hope you will grow up and learn our language someday, so you'll be able to actually read this letter. I'm sorry I couldn't make it easier for you, since I'm not very good with other languages.

But… I think I know enough to at least answer one question you and your caretakers will have:

The word 'LOMBAX' is crudely written in a large font in the standard galactic language Ratchet grew up learning. It is clear that he struggled remembering what the letters looked like. Accompanied with it are multiple arrows pointing off the page, likely meant to point to Ratchet's infant self when it was laid on top of him.

I also know enough to translate my most important message to you:

The words 'I LOVE YOU' are written, even bigger than the previous translation, taking up nearly the whole sheet of paper it was scrawled on.

Kipler, I will miss you so, so, so, so, so much. I love you with every fiber of my being. Me, and your mother.

Just know that we will be watching over you, and that we can't wait to hold you in our arms again in whatever life comes after this one.

Please, grow up to be strong. You will need it in a cruel universe such as this.

Good luck, Kipler. Make us proud, and no matter what, remember that I will always love you until my dying breath.

- Your loving father, Kaden.

Ratchet simply stares at the last few words as he finishes the letter. At first, he doesn't move. He barely even breathes.

But then he feels his eyes start to sting, and a lump growing in the back of his throat. He lets the first few tears fall from his face before he buries his face in his arms on the desk, letting all of his feelings come out in strained sobs.

He was never the kind of person to cry. He only ever really sobbed once, after the Great Clock, unable to save Alister from himself, mourning him along with the rest of his family. Afterward, he thought he got over his inner turmoil with never knowing them.

But this letter… his father's final message for him… it broke him. Being so close, yet so far to him.

He wished he could see his father and show him the person he became, like he wanted. He was a hero who saved three galaxies and time itself. He even defeated the Lombaxes' sworn enemy ofTachyon and the Cragmites—the entire reason his people were gone. The reason his parents were gone.

He was strong. He was courageous. He was smart. And he had the best friend in the universe that he could ever hope for.

He was everything he didn't know his father wanted him to be.

And he will never get to see it.

Ratchet cried for what must have been ten minutes before the sobs slowly fell to shaky breaths. He raised his head up from his arms, wiping the damp fur on his face as he looked back onto the pages. It pained him seeing all those tear stains on the pages, his father also unable to hold back his sorrow for a future that couldn't be.

He stared at the crudely written 'I LOVE YOU' on the page, desperation showing through the way he struggled to write in another language. Then he glanced to the beginning, on his mother's name, then his own.

Marie. Kipler. Kaden, Marie, and him, Kipler. His family. He finally knew both her name, and his as well. At least he has some closure in that regard.

He rereads the letter again, shedding more tears, but not sobbing this time. It was clear that his father resented Alister for trusting Tachyon. But it was also clear he cared for him deeply with how often he was mentioned.

How would his father react, knowing that Alister got to see the man Ratchet became, but not himself? Probably something about the universe being cruel, if he had to guess.

He takes one last, long look at his father's most important message: "I LOVE YOU." Staring at it for what felt like an eternity, trying to imagine what his father's voice sounded like saying that.

Eventually, though, Ratchet takes a deep breath, and shuts off the desk light, bathing the room in darkness. It was late, and he was exhausted. He didn't have dinner yet, but he wasn't hungry. He laid down on his bed, and stared at the pocket watch he kept on his nightstand.

He flipped it open, and stared at the image of his father, standing proudly next to Alister. He then closed his eyes and held it to his chest, thinking about his final words.

"I love you too, dad." He whispers quietly. "I can't wait to see you and mom, too."

And with that, he removes the watch from his chest, staring at his father's image for a few more seconds before he places it on the nightstand, and lays back down to let sleep finally claim him from his exhausting day.

And through his racing mind that grew drowsier and drowsier with every minute, he felt content as he was now able to answer all his questions from earlier before he eventually fell asleep:

He was glad that he decided to read that letter after all.

A year ago, I watched this one video on YouTube that I'm sure plenty of people have seen: Kaden's Letter. In which, as the name implies, a small animatic of Ratchet discovering a letter written to him from his father.

That video inspired me to write such a prompt myself, and I was actually so bummed out writing that prompt that I wrote a short, self-indulgent story about Ratchet being able to meet Kaden so they can actually get that happily ever after they deserve, goddammit. And, wouldn't you know, it was that self-indulgent story that eventually became Lost Time, and kicked off a now 350,000 word AU that I am still working on today.

So, honestly, 'Kaden's Letter' is responsible for Lost Time being a thing, which was a neat thought to think about.

And today, I was honestly feeling pretty bummed out, and when I was listening to my favorite sad song of 'BB's Theme' from the game Death Stranding—a game that is also the primary inspiration for me to actually write Lost Time as well, in fact—it got me in an angsty mood, as that game (and especially the song) is the epitome of 'father willing to sacrifice everything for their child', and reminded me of this prompt.

So, I thought I might as well get productive with my angsty sadness, and blew off the cobwebs off this prompt that I haven't touched in almost a whole year to polish it up at what is 1AM right now and publish it for other people to read.

So, here ya go.

And, shameless plug incoming, if I made you equally bummed out at the bittersweetness of this fic, then go ahead and check out Lost Time so that you can read Ratchet and Kaden getting that happy ending after all.

Not that you have to or anything. I'm not a cop, after all, do what you want.