After stepping out of Aphelion, all he can do to gather his thoughts, to prepare for this conversation, is to count the deep clicks and thumps of the Great Clock. 'One, Two, Three,'
"When this is over, I'll back whatever decision you make." That's what he'd said, and some selfish part of him wishes he'd never said it; even if he knows deep down in his heart that as Clank would've said, it's the right thing to do. 'Four, Five, Six..'
'Seven, Eight,' he continues, watching as the Zoni fly by. A group of three then stops, watching their new master for a moment before moving on. Their light reflects off of Clank's metal and optics before fading from the distance. 'Nine, Ten.'
'Can't put it off any longer, I guess.'
"So..I can't talk you out of this, can I?" He already knows the answer, deep down in his gut, but he can't help but ask the question anyway.
"Ratchet," Clank gently offers, "We have been on many adventures, but the Clock needs someone to protect it."
The lombax can't help but twist his hands together, tracing the curves of his palms as his thoughts begin to race. 'Two years. Is it selfish that I wanted us to go home after this?'
"It is…what I was built for," the warbot adds, and Ratchet's known him long enough to hear the sadness and hesitation in his voice. But he also knows Clank enough to know he's right. And so, he takes a deep breath in. 'I'm proud of you buddy; you've got a huge responsibility and I know you can handle it. But..guess I gotta hold up my promise now, huh?'
The sound of whirring parts calls him from his thoughts, only for a moment, as he sees his best friend offering him a handshake.
But that doesn't feel right. It feels far too formal, far too impersonal, for that to be their goodbye. Thoughts flood in from the day Tachyon was defeated, the day the Zoni…
'I'm glad you're safe. I trust you. But I wish I wasn't losing you for good.'
Ratchet completely ignores the outstretched hand, instead leaning in to hold onto his friend tightly, the warmth of the hug pulling forth memories of their time together; good and bad, tense and casual.
Clank can feel the lombax shake slightly, but he chooses not to mention this; to keep it private between themselves.
"Wait, so that's it?" Baffled by the very thought, the general pleads with the both of them. "What about the lombaxes?"
They're not in danger; they've just..moved on," Ratchet clarifies, although Clank can hear the heaviness in his tone. "And we'll find 'em." Lowering his hand and stiffening his voice, he makes his point very clear. "But the past stays where it is," he insists, before turning his attention to the zoni warbot.
"Come on, pal. I'll walk ya in," Ratchet gently adds as he slowly shuffles forward, taking care to listen closely to the sound of Clank's footsteps, the pulse of his internal cooling fans. 'It's gonna be fine, Ratchet. You'll visit. Just because he's staying here doesn't mean you'll never see him again. Not getting rid of me that easy.'
The lombax recalls the day they'd met, how the miracle of a robotic ignition system, no, a friend, saved his life. He thinks of the cruelty he'd once treated Clank with, and the knot grows in his throat and gut thickens. 'I'm sorry for being such an ass at first,' he thinks, biting the inside of his lip.
His mind's tone then shifts, pushing that regret away in favor of him teaching Clank how to play chess, only to be then consistently stomped once the bot had gotten the rules down better than he did. To the warbot learning how often his organic friend would order takeout, and making it his personal mission to cook more nutritious meals. The back and forth banter of a friendship over a decade old by this point. He loosens up a bit, and attempts to offer the other a weak smile. 'I wouldn't trade you for the universe.'
He lightens his voice slightly as they walk, in an attempt to convince his friend, and himself, that this goodbye isn't forever. Swallowing down the tension, he phrases his thoughts as best he can. "You were never a sidekick, you do know that, right?"
'I don't know what I'm gonna do without you watchin' my back.'
"I always thought that you were the sidekick!" The warbot's tone is brighter still, and he lets out that signature giggle with the quip.
The lombax truly smiles now, thankful that the bot's always had this uncanny ability to read between his lines. It takes everything he's got not to cry. Not now, not here; he refuses to let the last thing Clank sees of him be a blubbering mess. His friend's off to do bigger and grander things after all; that should be celebrated, right? 'I'm gonna miss that laugh so much. Damnit, Ratchet, don't start now.'
At first, he doesn't even hear the general speak.
It isn't until a bellowing scream and the sound of crackling electricity meets his ears that he turns around—
As a fire somehow a thousand times worse than Dreadzone's collar spreads through his chest and his body, he looks at Alister. There's not a lick of remorse on his face. It's the same face he's seen from him the entire time, with every battle they've been in together. That expression of facing down an hated enemy.
He recalls that his armor was deactivated.
'We were supposed to go home after this! To Tal, Cronk and Zephyr. Hell, to Qwark and the others too!'
He's going to die, by Alister's hand, and deep down he knows there's nothing he can do.
He can see his loved ones now; Talwyn, who'd had his back for the past two years. He'd wanted to properly thank her for that someday, her and her old warbot guardians. Qwark will wonder where they are; he'd wanted to tell him he was proud of how much the big guy's grown, to thank him for coming to help find Clank when Talwyn wasn't entirely pleased at the thought of him going alone for this whole thing. Sasha, Al, none of them will even know. As far as the others know, they both disappeared without a trace.
He couldn't even say goodbye to them. Any of them.
'Why?! We were going to find them together! Wasn't that enough?!'
He looks at Clank, and he's never seen him look so horrified. He opens his mouth to speak, to call for his friend, to beg for him to run, but nothing comes through but a painful cough. 'I can't breathe—'
Ratchet's vision blurs; whether that's from tears, the smoke from his armor, or a soon-to-be permanent lack of consciousness he's not sure. With the last of his strength, he focuses on a green light that's growing further and further despite reaching for it. He hears a voice, terrified and broken—and the hum of a charging omniwrench.
'I can't protect him anymore,' is the last thought in his mind before it all fades out to nothing.
…
When his heart skips a beat and his eyes open to his own dimly lit bedroom, the lombax almost doesn't expect it. The static feeling of one's own mind waking up before their own body explains the stiffness, and despite being unable to move otherwise, he can feel that his hand is over his chest.
The miniscule tick, tick of a wall clock grounds Ratchet back to reality, and slowly but surely, he taps his fingers to the mattress as if to ensure he's still okay. Then he turns his gaze to the side of the bed, listening for the soft hum of Clank's electronics. He's still asleep, for now, and by the complete lack of light in the window, it can be assumed that dawn is still quite a ways off.
As if on cue, sensing that his friend is no longer asleep, the warbot opens his optics to a dimmed setting to soothe him. This isn't the first nightmare he's had, after all, and it likely won't be the last either. "Are you alright, Ratchet?" It's a rhetorical question, but Clank asks anyway. He watches as weary green eyes study his frame, as if they've been in some hectic battle and the other is checking him for any resulting damage. Then, Ratchet scoops him up into his arms, holding on tightly as if he could disappear at any moment. It's behavior that's to be expected, and he doesn't mind it, really.
It's been not quite a month since Ali-…the General…The Incident.
The lombax squeezes just a bit tighter. It's the same nightmare he's had off-and-on ever since; considering the context it's not out of the question that he dreams about it…but it's the one nightmare he remembers far more clearly than any dream should ever stick.
It almost makes him wonder if it's based in reality, somehow.
"Ratchet?"
'No. It wasn't real.'
For it to be real means accepting the possibility that he failed to protect Clank from Alister, in another time. 'Just a dream.'
If there's one thing Ratchet refuses to accept, it's a reality where he isn't there to keep this tin can out of trouble. "I wanna retire," he whispers, a tear streaking down the warbot's frame as he buries his face into the cold metal. "I can't do this anymore."
The sudden request catches the warbot off guard, but there's no disappointment in his response. Instead, there's an unspoken, quiet understanding between them. "Are you certain?" A nod is the only verbal response he gets, as well as the familiar sense of the organic shivering with even greater intensity than their 'goodbye' hug; as if he's allowing the emotion of that day to finally pour out in the moment's complete privacy and safety to express it. "Very well. As of today, we are officially retired." Clank notices that Ratchet squeezes him slightly tighter, adjusting his position as another tear falls, and returns the embrace.
He waits there, until his organic friend's grip, breath, and pulse settle back into the soft embrace of a more restful sleep.