Sleep mode for robots is a wonderful thing. The down time is primarily used to recharge their physical bodies, but it's also a crucial step in self-maintenance. Without the distractions of the outside world, their processors are given time to process the day's data. From time to time, filtering through these files can induce a dream-like state. In this way, they're not much different from their organic companions.

One such robot is torn from such a slumber by a thud in the room. His internal clock tells him that it's early in the morning, and a quick scan of the room reveals the source of the noise. On the floor lies the hologame controller from last night, having fallen out of Nova's hands. Nova herself is lying still, and her chest gently rises and falls as she dreams. It's a more restful slumber that takes her now, as if there's a lot of it for her to catch up on.

The little robot gently slides off the couch, bringing the fallen controller to the entertainment center. The process of cleaning last night's mess begins in quiet solitude. The game cases they picked are neatly stacked together, returned to the larger collection. An open case lies next to the console, waiting for its disc to be returned.

Clank turns the console, and the thunderous roar of the startup screen fills the speakers. The robot turns to check on Nova, certain that the disturbance would have woken her. The markazian gives no response. It seems that she can be quite the heavy sleeper. The screen is muted, just in case, and their game is saved as the bot continues his original task.

The next thing he notices is the guitar controller they briefly used. Once tucked away in the closet, the thing is now gently propped against the wall. Clank would say that it's a miracle that everything still works after all these years, but if there's one thing Ratchet took pride in, it was the maintenance of his various gadgets. If not for the thin layer of dust that such things gather in use, they're almost completely untouched by time.

Time...what a peculiar concept. Time could be considered a double edged blade, one that brings change with each slice. On one end, time can bring new life, new relationships, and new technology. On the other end, time is the most destructive force in the universe, and destroys the very things it creates. Perhaps that is why Death holds a scythe, Clank thinks.

Clank shakes the melancholic thoughts out of his head. There he goes again, dwelling on death. Being a robot, and a half Zoni one at that, he'll always remain just out of that scythe's range. It's a thought that sometimes plagued his mind on the Clock, as he used its monitors to watch over the universe he left behind all those years ago. He'd never throw himself at the mercy of that blade, though; that was one of the last things Ratchet asked of him. An old memory file of that conversation is opened.

…

'As much as I will miss your company, I believe it will be what is best for you, Ratchet.'

'What about you? I can't just up and leave you like that, especially if I don't have to.'

'Do not worry for me; I will be in good company with Sigmund. I know that you deserve to rest, with the family you never knew and the friends we have made. I am sure they miss you dearly as well.'

'I should know better than to try and change your mind, huh?'

'Yes, you should, my friend.'

'Maybe you're right. After all, it would be nice to have an eternity away from Qwark!'

They laugh together for a moment, just like old times, and Ratchet hugs him. Clank notes that his grip is comparable to that of their previous goodbye, despite his age.

'...If you're sure about this, then I trust you. Just promise me you'll keep fighting, pal. For everything you'll still have.'

...

Green optics gaze out the window. The defect robot pauses his cleaning to reflect on how the universe can be so different from before, yet just the same as it has always been.

Then he hears the couch shuffle, and it brings him right back to the present. Nova stretches, mumbling through a yawn as she rubs the crust from her eyes. "Good morning, Clank."

Clank moves closer to the young woman, deciding that the chores can be done at a later time. His optics glide over her form as his processors summarize her history. A rounded face, common with many female markazians. Her body is slightly smaller than what is typical for her age, likely a side effect of the shock she was born from. Her palms are rougher than most girls her age, he notices. Whether this is from a lifetime of living amongst the trees or the lessons he's given her, Clank can't say for certain.

The silence is a bit concerning, and Nova sees an expression normally reserved for when he's in the deepest reaches of his CPU. "Is everything alright?"

In that instant, Clank realizes that all this time, he's subconsciously compared the two of them in every aspect of life, from hobbies to fears to appearances. With that realization comes a question: I thought that I had accepted his passing, but am I projecting him onto her?

Am I desperately clinging to the past, or am I truly looking to the future?

"I am sorry, Nova."

Nova blinks, a bit more alert than before as she sits up straight. "What for?" She pats the side of the couch, offering him a seat next to her. "If something's up, I'm here for you. You said the same for me, remember?"

"I suppose that is true." He obliges, and Nova is patient as he finds the words to begin.

"You can be so much like him at times, and I would be lying if I said that I do not miss him. However, it is unfair of me to compare the two of you. You never asked for everything this has brought you. I should have insisted we leave this to the Defense Force." He averts his gaze, hands on his lap. "I worry that I have unintentionally molded you into Ratchet as a coping mechanism."

Two arms surround him, breaking off the embrace after a few quiet moments. When she responds, Clank can see a gaze all her own. The expression firm and certain, yet not angry in the slightest. "Clank, when you offered me that piece of leather, I had every right to refuse it. You did ask to notify them. And it was just that: an offer. I took it for two reasons."

"And what reasons would those be?"

"First, I wanted to redeem myself. I grew up harassing the local wildlife with a stick when they got too close to the village. When I had to pick a coming of age trinket, I made a weapon, not some necklace or sash, or earrings. I always wanted to protect my home. But when Nefarious showed up…" A deep sigh, coated in shame. "I couldn't even fire my staff."

"I had no idea what he was," she continues. "I tried to stand my ground anyway, and I lost all resolve. When I saw his face again, on that screen, I panicked. Just like the first time. I felt like a failure, like I'd allowed him to win. Becoming a hero meant I could have a second chance to make things right."

"You will, Nova. I know it." Nova smiles at his words as a silent 'thanks'. Clank lets her finish, and that look returns.

"Second, I knew that he was talking to me when he gave his time limit. I knew that if I ran and the Defense Force failed, he would destroy everything. Just like Quantos. I lost everything I'd ever known that day. You and the bakery are all I have left now. I can't, no, I won't let Nefarious take everything from me again."

"What about Saros?"

"What about him?"

"He is a friend, is he not?"

"Oh, right. He's a neat guy," Nova gives Clank a warm smile. "-but my priorities are elsewhere."

The tension in her body completely melts away. "Anyway, I know for a fact that Ratchet has nothing to do with my choice, but do you know why?"

"No, how do you know?"

Nova twists her arm to Clank, her fingertips pointed to the skies to display her scars. "Because I took that harness before I knew what these were for. But knowing what I know now, I'll choose to wear it proudly, and embrace what it's given me. Speaking of gifts, he left something for you."

"For me?" Clank blinks, touched by the idea.

"Yup! Come on, let's see it." Nova gets up, and gestures for Clank to follow her to the bedroom. By the time Clank turns the corner, the excited girl is already kneeling by the nightstand. Her hand hesitates over the knob for a moment, but she slowly overpowers her nerves. Gently digging through the clutter, the prize is found: a lunchbox-sized metal container with a gear-shaped indent at the top.

Clank leans in closer to the object, and Nova hands it to him. He tilts it, studying the thin line that splits the sides and bottom apart. Something opens it, but what? More importantly, "What is this?"

Nova retrieves her brooch, and Clank sets the box on the ground in between them. Kneeling in front of the object, she shows Clank the 'key'. "This is your present."

The gear is placed in its slot, turning into place with a click. There's a hiss, the release of pressurized air, and the two front panels split apart to reveal the contents inside. A folded piece of red cloth. A Megacorp employee card, tickets to the Secret Agent Clank premiere. A broken gear from one of Clank's arms. A pocket watch that hasn't been used in decades. Letters, photos, and other small keepsakes from a lifetime ago wait for Nova and Clank's eyes.

Blue eyes lock onto a small tuft of gold fur sealed in there by pure accident, showing just how airtight that box must have been. A smaller box with the same grooves as before also lies inside. Nova gently picks up the projector, placing the moonstone lens piece on top. It quickly flickers to life, the stone giving off a warm glow as the device begins to float. A stream of light shoots toward the bed, and a body takes form, sitting at the side of the mattress.

"Hey, pal."

Both of them are stunned to silence, but for different reasons. Ratchet seems much older in this form, with wrinkles and grey fur with the rest of his colors. It's completely different from the person Nova saw in her mind. But to see him, the real him instead of a mind projection or as Jeeves, it's so much more real to her. For Clank, it's seeing the face of an old friend for the first time in a century. Something a thousand times better than a mere photograph or memory, and new.

"If you're watching this, it means that I'm not around anymore. Well, at least not entirely. I recorded this message because your father came to me..."