There was nothing in the world that I loved more than dancing. Music was my very existence, intertwined with every aspect of my identity and quite literally encoded in my very programming. Rhythm and melody came as naturally to me as swimming came to fish. Although many would say that robots did not have souls (and I do not necessarily contest such a postulation), I think that the closest I've ever felt to having one was whenever I was dancing. Nothing made me feel more alive than listening to the perfect harmony between song and dance, music and movement.

And some of the most enjoyable dances I'd ever had the honor and pleasure of participating in were partnered dances. Be it waltz, tango or what have you, some of the most fun I'd ever had on the dancefloor was when I had someone else to share the joy and magic with. And given my station, all of my partners were children. They were lovely little creatures, even the ones who had a very poor sense of beat and balance. I just loved to watch them learn the art of dance! The only time I was ever unhappy was when the dances had to come to an end. But although I could not stop the relentess flow of time, I could always offer a promise and a farewell, and it became ritual for me to say it at the end of every performance: "Save me a dance for another day, perhaps."

It was a request, it was a hope. I wanted these children to return to me day after day. I wanted them to always have at least one more dance left in store for me, so that I knew I would see them again. Whether they were too tired to dance any further, or if they were up in arms against the idea of going home, I wanted them all to save me a dance for another day, so that whatever we could not finish now would be returned to later. It was the promise of more, of perpetuation and reunion. Nothing would ever have to end or close or shut down. Or at least, it wasn't supposed to…

ooo

It's been so unbearably quiet and lonely of late. I miss the days when music used to fill these halls, and children would laugh and dance and sing throughout. It has been so many years since I last saw a friendly face in this pizzeria. Now, the only people who come by are maintenance workers. But they are crude, vile men to be sure. They are not gentlemen, and I would never wish to share a dance with any of them. But, oh, how I long for the days when I could waltz freely across these tile floors with someone whom I loved wrapped tightly in my arms…

I have had many partners in my time, but I must confess that there was always one young lady whom I favored in particular, above all the others. Her name was Rachel, and she was one of the only little ones to never fear me whenever I drew near. Although many of the children loved me, and I them, some of them would still tremble and cower in fear whenever I came too close. But I suppose I understood it. I've always been so tall and imposing, I'm sure it must've frightened some of the smaller ones.

But never Rachel. Even from that very first day, she was never afraid of me. I think it was because she was also rather tall. She still barely even reached my waist, but for a child, she was tall. Perhaps she saw me as something of a kindred spirit in that regard? Perhaps that was why she'd ever decided to approach me at all? I still remember that day as if it were only yesterday…

ooo

"Hey, it's Ballora!" That was the first time I ever heard Rachel's voice. I turned in time to see her running towards me with wide, excited eyes. Her dark brown hair streamed out behind her as she ran over to me. And I can still remember what she wore on that very first day: little blue shorts and a white tee-shirt with a giraffe on the front.

"Wow, she is very tall, and very pretty!" she murmured to herself as she looked up at me.

"Why thank you, my child," I replied, tilting my head in appreciation. Her eyes grew even bigger. Clearly, she had not expected me to reply. But rather than becoming frightened, as some other children might have, she only laughed in delight. I felt incredibly flattered. It pleased me to think that she found me so fascinating. And that was when she asked me to dance.

"Would you like to dance with me?" she asked hopefully, and I, of course, obliged.

"I would be honored, my dear," I replied, extending my hand to her and curtseying. She gave a little squeal and curtseyed back before eagerly grabbing my hand. Suddenly, we were spinning across the dancehall, whirling and twirling, smiling and laughing. It was one of my happiest memories, and I could tell from the look on her face that she felt the same.

It became ritual for us, after that. Whenever she came to the pizzeria, I was always the first animatronic that she would visit. And she was always the one to initiate our waltzes. I found it quite charming. And to show that our friendship was mutual, while she always opened our dances, I always closed them. I would curtsey to her and thank her, telling her what a lovely time I'd had with her. And, as always, I would ask her to save me a dance for another day. She would always say yes, and without fail, she would keep that promise.

ooo

But I had not seen her in over a decade. After our pizzeria shut down, that was it. For years, we were left alone to rot and decay, withering and forgotten. But even though we were locked inside, the doors having closed and never reopened, there were still ways I kept tabs on the outside world… In the intervals in which our pizzeria did not have a nightguard (which was a chronic "problem" of our establishment, as none of them ever lasted very long before… retiring), I would sneak into the office and teach myself how to operate the computers. Across the years, I became very good at it, and that was how I managed to escape this nightmarish place, even if only for a few hours each night.

Upon one particular night, I stumbled across an ad for a pizzeria just a few miles away from this one. What really caught my eye, though, was the fact that the ad showed a handful of the employees smiling and waving just outside the pizzeria doors, and one of those employees was her. Rachel. Even after all these years, I still recognized her face. There was something so unique about it that even though over a decade had passed, I still knew without a doubt that it was her.

I must confess that I, foolishly, spent the rest of that night simply gazing upon her picture. It felt like coming home, seeing an old friend again after far too long apart. She looked healthy, and happy. She was the same bright and bubbly girl I remembered, she was just bigger. If she'd seemed tall before, that was nothing compared to now. I still would've been taller, but not by much…

But I couldn't help but wonder, did she remember me? Perhaps it sounds silly, but I felt envious imaging her working at another pizzeria, and it worried and angered me to imagine that she might've forgotten about me during our time apart. Children are notoriously forgetful, after all. But perhaps her subconscious mind remembered me? I could only wonder and hope…

A few days later, I broke. In a moment of recklessness, I decided to put in an order for that pizza place. I knew it was crazy, and so many things could go wrong if my plan failed, but I'd been so alone for so very long that I thought it worth the risk. Acting as if I was a new nightguard only hoping for a midnight snack before my shift began, I placed an order to Rachel's pizzeria, and they believed me without hesitation.

Although I had no guarantee that Rachel would be the delivery girl, I still paced the office and hoped and waited. In the ad I'd seen, she'd worn a shirt with the word "DELIVERY" written across it in bright, bold lettering. That became my one consolation as I glided back and forth across the tiles. Even my calmest lullabies couldn't hush the electricity that seemed to pulse and zip through my circuitry at an unusually fast pace.

I hadn't felt this unapathetic in a very long time. It was a little disquieting, but there was also something almost intoxicating about being able to feel something other than hollowness again. And all I could think about was her. After so many years apart, we might finally be reunited again. I didn't want to hope, but I couldn't stop it. Like a dance spinning out of control, my thoughts escaped me and moved to a beat all their own.

ooo

After what felt like an eternity, the delivery person arrived. Upon my instruction, they were to enter the pizzeria and meet me just outside the nightguard's office. I'd made sure to unlock the door right after placing my order, so that the delivery person would be able to get inside.

For so many years, I thought the universe only ever saw fit to punish me in any way that it could, but tonight, it seemed to have finally chosen clemency, because there she was. I could see her peering through the darkness in confusion, and maybe even a bit of fear. But just as sure as I was Ballora, she was Rachel. But I had to approach her with caution, lest I scare her away. Even though I longed for this to be just as it had been before, I knew in my circuitry that it wouldn't be. Times had changed, and if I scared her away now, that would be the end of it… forever.

"Hello?" her voice was lower now that she was all grown up, but I could still hear that familiar cadence underneath. She'd always had a pleasant voice, even as a child, and that quality had not diminished with age.

For a moment more, I continued to watch her from the shadows. I must admit that I, too, was afraid of approaching her. I was afraid I would shatter the beautiful but delicate memory that hung so preciously in the air between us. Like a dance, this interaction had to be initiated slowly, rhythmically and methodically. Neither party could move too soon, lest we lose the beat of the melody.

But I could not wait in the wings forever. The proverbial conductor was waving me on. The show had begun!

"Hello, Rachel, it has been such a long time, hasn't it?" my voice, low and smooth, echoed the dark hallway. I heard Rachel squeak in surprise and fear. It worried me, but only for one fleeting moment. I could not lose my courage now. I would not stumble nor falter. Instead, I would dance on.

"Do you remember me? Ballora? I was your old dance partner, when you were still just a child…" I let the reminder hang in the air, hoping that she would indeed remember, and relax, and that our dance could continue. I still saw that kind-hearted, wide-eyed child with the giraffe shirt. Did she?

I wished that we could draw closer together, but not every dance would begin so intimately. Instead, I had to wait for the initial steps to pass, and for the music to swell. I could not step out into the light just yet. But soon…

"B-B-Ballora?" I heard her stutter my name. It was actually quite adorable. "B-B-but how? W-w-weren't you d-decommissioned? Wasn't this whole place…?" she trailed off, and I heard a note of sadness in her voice. Did I dare believe it? Was it true? Had she truly missed us?

"We were," I replied, my own voice guarded and cautious and slow. Even though only her face displayed them, I could tell that both of us were rife with powerful emotions that neither of us quite understood.

"Our dance is not yet done," I said at last, just to fill the silence. "The music still plays." And that was when I finally emerged from the shadows. "Don't forget that you promised to save me a dance for another day…"

As much as I despised the maintenance men who "did work" on me, I was, for once in my existence, grateful that they had genuinely done their jobs well. Thanks to them, I still looked quite lovely, and my form had not been diminished with time. Had they been even slightly less concerned with keeping their jobs, I may have looked far more frightening, and that was the last thing I wanted. But thanks to their diligent upkeep, I looked just the same now as I did back then, and that greatly helped in easing Rachel into our little waltz.

I took a cautious step out, gliding almost soundlessly across the floor. She was much bigger now, but I still stood a head taller.

"Don't be afraid," I implored her steadily. All she could do was stare up at me, eyes and mouth wide. I was taken back to a day many, many years ago when little children would flock to my side constantly. Many of them wore the same expression that Rachel did now. Awe and fear. But I didn't want her to be afraid. Not of me. I still didn't reach out to her, didn't even offer my hand. It was not time yet, the beat was not quite right…

"Ballora?" her voice was so impossibly soft, and she sounded more like a child now than she had ever before. Then she made the first move, just like all those times before. It started with a smile, then a proffered hand. "May I have this dance?" Just like old times.

"I would be honored to be your partner," I replied, my voice lowering even more in relief. Then I extend my hand to hers as well. How wonderful and strange it was, to feel the touch of another person again. Her skin was warm against my cold, metallic shell. I felt guilty that I could not have offered a more comfortable hand, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead, her smile only widened.

"It's been so long… I've missed you," she admitted, eyes sparkling just like they used to when she was a little girl.

"And I you, little one," I told her, wrapping my other hand around her waist and beginning our dance.

"Little?" she chuckled as we began to glide across the floor, and I echoed the sound.

"You may be an adult now," I told her, "But I'm still taller and older than you, and you shall always be my little one."

"Hmmm, well, I suppose if it's you…" she sounded begrudging, clearly she did not like being called "little", but I could see the playful light in her eyes and I knew she was not truly upset. Instead, she looked the way I felt: relieved, happy.

We spent the rest of the night whirling and twirling, laughing and chatting, singing and dancing. It was just like old times! But all too soon, I heard a clock chime in the distance. It was morning. Although it did not convey on my face, discontent surged through my wiring. The morning was always my least favorite time of the day, but it seemed even crueler now that I knew it meant I would have to let Rachel go again.

It felt too soon! One night was not enough to make up for so many lost years! And it hadn't even been a full night, because Rachel had needed to take a moment to return to work and finish her shift before she and I could properly begin our dance. Even though it had only taken her an hour to do so, every single second was valuable to me and I bitterly regretted watching the sun come along to steal my partner.

"Save me a dance for another day, perhaps?" Rachel asked as she and I turned to watch the sun peek over the horizon. I turned to her in surprise. That was my line! To hear her saying it after so many years of having never spoken it myself had caught me off guard, to say the least.

"You still remember?" I asked.

"Of course," she replied, warmth in her eyes as she continued to hold my hand, even though the dance was done. "You always said that to me at the end of every dance. And I always promised that I did indeed have another dance in me saved up for you the next time we would meet, even if "next time" took a while… But I hope that this dance was not the last one in you?" Rachel looked at me hopefully and I smiled back at her.

"Of course not," I promised. "So long as my partner wishes to continue, and so long as there's still music, then I will keep dancing. The grand finale will be very far off, and I will always save a dance for another day for you."

She smiled back at me and squeezed my hand affectionately. It had since grown warm after all the time she'd been holding it. It was the closest I'd felt to being "alive" since before the pizzeria shut down. But now, knowing that she would be willing to come back to me and dance with me again, I knew that feeling of being alive would remain long after she'd gone home for the day. I was still reluctant to let her go, but I knew she would indeed save me a dance for another day, so there was nothing to fear as I watched her go. I would see her again soon, and then we could dance and dance and dance the night away. And this time, there would be no end to it. I hadn't been this happy or hopeful in many, many years.

AN: To Boggs Chaucer, you marvelous monster, I present you my OC/Ballora with the 1st person POV. I actually had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy!