Most of the Zoni hum all around the Great Clock, with some overseeing the station's functions and others watching over Their various guests. The bedroom is sparingly used, being that any tired or injured Zoni would just retreat to their home dimension and Sigmund remained in near perfect health due to his lineage. Standard maintenance of the Clock was supposed to be a distraction from the events that have unfolded today, but he remains uneasy despite his best efforts. Plus, the grand stories Qwark tell leave little mental space to escape from his rather loud volume, so he decides to continue mapping out the Great Clock in his mind to center himself.

There's other rooms in the Clock as well, including a kitchen and a more casual living space. Centuries prior, the crimson robot asked Orvus why he built such facilities in the first place. "After all, mortals aren't meant to stay here," he'd questioned.

"It will be needed someday," was his friend's response, although it didn't make any sense to him until this very moment.

Clank remains still, yet as he feels a gentle squeeze around his hand, he calls for the others with pure joy in his voice. Sigmund and Saros rush over, and the commotion encourages Nova to finally open her eyes.

Her first instinct is confusion, although upon closer inspection there's no need to ask her location. The markazian looks down, and finds that her own clothes are gone once more. Instead, she's wearing clean white bedclothes, adorned with intricate gold trimming. A gift from the Zoni, she assumes; the cloth is softer than anything she's ever touched in her life, resting against her skin with a slight, comfortable warmth.

In fact, the very air she breathes seems to be filled with this warmth, meant to encourage rest and healing. Whether that's a lifetime of being raised to see this place as a holy site or some subtle power the Zoni have, she's not sure. Despite this, her mind can't rest. Not now.

Everything feels too light.

She decides on a better question. "How am I still here?"

"I don't know," Sigmund answers honestly, his voice low to make the news as gentle as possible. "Something kept you here, but you were...time-locked. The Zoni helped Clank and me bring you back."

Nova turns away, her eyes lowered as she takes in his words in silence. "I didn't know what else to do," she whispers in shame.

Saros speaks up, unsure if he should interrupt but curious nonetheless by her reaction. "Wait, did you-you knew?"

As the young woman slowly picks herself upright, her gaze hardens to the floor as she explains, with a bit more volume this time. "Zoni energy is an extremely potent and powerful force. I heard stories, shamans on Quantos pushing too far into powers mortals aren't meant to fully understand. It's said their souls shattered under the pressure. They…their consciousness drowns in the Cosmic River." She shakes her head, not daring to speak more of the fate she nearly met.

Sigmund picks up where she left off, picking up on the metal markazian's confused look. "The Cosmic River is a space between dimensions, where even Time itself can't reach. The victim's physical body becomes stuck in the moment they left, hence the term 'time-locked'. They don't age, and they can't starve or get dehydrated; they just..stop. They might as well turn to stone."

"Oh shit," Saros breathes out. "Why would you do that if you knew you might as well die, no, worse than that?"

Nova gives it some thought, rubbing the silk of her shirt between her fingers as she searches for the words to explain it. "When Nefarious said there was nothing to stop it...I figured if that machine was gonna kill me anyway, it'd be better to break what was left of me before I let him take Ratchet. Like...like emptying a bullet shell before it can be shot. But I was too late," she sighs, staring into her shaking palms. "I can feel it. I feel lighter, thinner." Curling her fingers into a fist, Nova throws the covers to the side. "Where's my gear-"

The young woman stumbles, crumbling to the ground as her entire body shakes from the shock of the last 24 hours. Clank reaches for her, but she turns away from him to grab the bed in an attempt to stand on her own. "You are still not well. Please, I...we almost lost you today."

She refuses to look at him, her hands and legs still trembling. "If I'm alive somehow anyway, I can't sit here while Nefarious holds the power of a Zoni soul," she says, far too quickly and with far more aggression than intended. "A powerful one at that, like yours. The galaxy doesn't deserve what he'll do with that power. Ratchet doesn't deserve that fate. Come with me or don't. I don't care."

The scorn in her voice hurts, but the smaller caretaker tries not to let that show. Instead, he does his best to remember that she's hurting too, and doesn't have a healthy way to approach it. At least, not yet. "Is this mindset from what Nefarious said to you in the-"

"Clank," she interrupts, her mouth desperately trying to keep up with the hurricane of thoughts in her mind. "Please. I really don't wanna talk about that right now. I don't need to hear the whole 'I love you for you' thing. The last thing I need right now is a reminder that you only saved my life because of him." Despite her best efforts, the exhaustion in her voice shows. Gripping the sheets as she leans against the bed, she continues to avoid his eyes. "I know the Zoni only showed you me because I was some, like, present in the making or-or whatever! I don't know. I don't even wanna think about that right now. I'm sick of being some-some damned-"

The phrase freezes in it's tracks, and her brain refuses to find the word she's looking for. With an annoyed groan, she skates around whatever term it was. "Whatever I'm supposed to be! Orvus knows. I don't- I don't even know anymore."

She takes in a heavy breath, and stares into the backs of her hands. And she can see it; thin horizontal lines that dance across her knuckles. Marks that never would have been there if the string of fate never led Ratchet to her. "I don't know," the woman mutters, all emotion drained from the phrase as if there wasn't the energy to spare for it.

The warbot backs away, solemnly taking it in and giving a short, low response. "Okay. I will…give you some time alone if that is what you need."

"Yeah," she finally whispers, sensing a building tension she'd rather avoid his presence for.

With that Clank reluctantly walks to the door, looking back to the young woman once more before leaving. She fully sits back on the bed, never lifting her head to acknowledge it. "Saros," she mutters, rolling the cloth between her fingers. "Where's my staff?"

Carefully stepping forward, the metal markazian averts his gaze. "It's not pretty."

"Show me," she insists, but her heart completely drops as he slowly offers the crystal's shards.

"This is all that's left. I'm so sorry." Closing her hands around the pieces, all she can manage to do is grieve for that last piece of herself. Her breath and voice shake as she makes one last request of him.

"Go."

The metal markazian can see it now. Knowing the context, knowing everything he does about Nova through the time they did spend together, it all boils down to this one moment. His part in this began with not listening to Nova, but now, he's thankful he listened last time. If he, Clank, and Qwark were caught in that explosion…

Despite this, doubt creeps into his mind. Something in his gut tells him that yes, she and Clank have been right about Nefarious, but now? Now, he can see a friend. A friend that happens to be terrified, exhausted, and to leave her now would be the opposite of what she really needs. And so, he plants his feet instead. "No."

Nova shoves the shards beside her, tapping her fingers against her legs in annoyance. "Look, just go, okay?! Things are already bad enough, you're a—a robot for Orvus' sake! You were his slave! You almost got wiped; if he'd pressed that button—if I didn't-"

"Hey, stay with me, Nova," he interrupts. "I'm fine now, that's what matters. I just want to say something first, then I'll give you space, alright?" It's said with such a smoothness that it surprises even him, as if something in his mind clicked suddenly, and he finally understood the rhythm that worked to talk to her in this state.

Sighing in defeat, she allows it, for as long as she's able. It might buy her time, anyway. "You risked a lot to warn me about Quantos. It's only fair."

Saros looks at her, his face dropped in a deep sadness and shame for how far things got; the physical and emotional pain it's caused her and everyone else. He recalls Clank's advice from so long ago, and decides to use such directness selflessly this time. "I never hated you. Nefarious never made me hate you. I was scared for your sake, and he used that. By that point, well, he kept close tabs on you. On my folks too, he said, so I..I couldn't risk it. But after I saw Quantos, and I saw the script, I knew this was a lot bigger than just our families; it's not personal, it's universal. I was wrong about a lot of things, but you're hurt; in a lot of ways. I want to make up for it, for everything. Please, let me fix this."

Scowling at that last choice of words, she harshly looks away. "Not now," Nova insists, harshly rubbing her arms in discomfort. "Later. Just go. Please."

He glances to the floor, tapping his arm in an uncertain rhythm as he lets out a puff of steam from his metal mouth; a synthetic huff of 'air' that feels too disconnected from the real thing. His mind sticks to her words and he takes the hint; he's done what he can, although it is a hint of progress. But now's not the time for further progress, and so he turns to leave. "Alright. Just, you know, get some rest, okay?"

As the door shuts, Sigmund taps his screen, unsure what to do or say. "Did you, um, want me to go too?"

Nova slightly rocks on the bed in near silence, rubbing and tapping her fingers and palms together in a feeble attempt to keep her composure. Despite her best efforts, her mind reels with the weight of it all. The harshness in her chest makes everything loud. Too loud. Even the lights are too much.

As her breath hardens, the anxiety stacks higher. It's rare for her, but there's a weight on her soul she can feel coming, that she knows she can't stop and she'd rather not have witnesses for. "Need a weapon. Somethin' to hit."

"Like combat training?"

"Mhm." Her chest heaves in and out, as her breath grows heavier. Her palms curl into white-knuckled fists that grip the sheets around her waist. "Alone."

The crimson caretaker pulls up a map from his screen, and upon finding an empty space, he makes a suggestion. "I might have an idea. Will teratropes work? Might be a few that snuck in somewhere, where Clank fought the Hypersonic Brainwave Scrambler. Might be able to make a hologram of it for you, too."

A nod is all Sigmund can draw from her, and he leads the way to a nearby teleporter.

…

The space is perfect, she decides; an open area far, far away from the others. Without a word, she gives Sigmund a thumbs up of approval and he takes the hint. He shuts the door behind himself, and he's gone. As if on cue, a few tiny cracks in the ground form, with a dozen teratropes bursting from them.

As Sigmund explained on the way, they pop up occasionally in this area, but nowhere near the numbers or frequency they did when Nefarious was here. They apparently "eat quantum energy", however one would do that, but Nova doesn't have the mental strength to question it. She remains eerily silent as she grips the mop Sigmund loaned her from a nearby closet. 'Damn this.'

Nova rushes forward with a furious cry, slamming into the nearest teratrope and sending it flying. Their screeches makes her cringe, like scraping a cheese grater against her brain; the things need to go anyway, and they're so ridiculously weak that she needs something she can't screw up somehow. The woman twirls her makeshift weapon and fights with furious purpose. Each and every screeching sound seems to stack on top of the last as they fall one by one.

It isn't long before the Holo-Brainwave Scrambler itself shows up. Throwing herself at the projection, she swings, watching as it's knocked back from the force. She doesn't bother to question how the Clock has this kind of tech; it doesn't matter right now.

The device sends out a pulse of energy across the floor, one that she leaps over as she slams down into it once more. Her opponent sends a more controlled volley of blasts now, ones that she dashes between to go for another swing.

Another teratrope pops up out of nowhere, and it's close enough to grab her ankle. It bites down hard, and the pain shoots up her leg with a harsh hiss. Nova punts it away in fury, using it to strike the holo-weapon once more. Rushing in before waiting for an opening earns her a full blast of it's area-based energy. It knocks her off her feet, but doesn't hurt as much as the bite did; as if the projection was designed not to cause damage, but to harmlessly stun.

Gripping the mop to the point of blistering her palms, Nova scrambles back up, dodging the final wave of attacks as the weapon completely destroys the Holo-Scrambler.

The markazian is left in silence; still frustrated and without a target as it's parts blink out of existence. 'Damn it all!' Rearing her arm back, she throws the mop, watching as it flies to the lower parts of the Clock. Her adrenaline wanes, but the anger remains. Every tick of the Great Clock echoes like a hammer in her skull, every light shines too bright. A stray Zoni floats by in the corner of her eye, and she notices it's reflection at her feet.

Blue eyes meet her own, and she doesn't recognize the person she sees. Their hair is unkempt, with curls in their face as the stranger's chest heaves in and out. Nefarious hadn't bothered to return her original threads; It was better to wear this cursed orange thing than the bedclothes for combat anyway.

Debatably.

She can feel sweat dripping at the base of her neck, where her hair might as well be cooking her skin. The edges of the shirt seem to dig into her; a harsh, ungodly plastic that feels more like a cheap, itchy costume than actual clothing. The wound at her ankle begins to burn, making her hyper-aware of the blood trickling from the space which leaves the cloth around it sticky and cold.

'I believe you are ready for the task ahead,' Nova hears Clank say in her mind, recalling the hair pin he'd given her. 'You have always been a hero to me'. For a moment, she recalls Qwark's party; the weight of the Q Force pin on her dress, and the pride she felt when she and her partner were lifted for the crowd. 'Do I know how to pick em or what?!' EvenSaros' voice and smirk comes to mind. 'You looked badass out there.' The memories of their faith sting far too much, echoing in her ears as she scowls at her reflection.

'Some hero you were,' she thinks to herself.

For a moment, she thinks of the hologuise attached to these clothes, hoping that maybe imagining her predecessor would be a source of inner strength or inspiration, but it's only a source of shame. Her very essence feels thinner, like butter scraped over too much bread. Nova shuts her eyes, falling to her knees before the markazian at her feet. The sides of her fist slam into her skull, some attempt to smack the Clock's tick away, to fight the anger and shame in her mind, to pull some answer for what to do next from her brain...but to no avail. 'I couldn't protect them.'

She brings her hands to her scalp, pulling hard as the hurricane of anger and guilt weighs on her entire being. 'I wasn't strong enough. I failed.' With the side of her palm now harshly pressed between her teeth, the pain feels deserved somehow. 'I should have been able to do this!Why couldn't I stop this?!'

Nova's fists slam into the glass, cracking a larger piece off of the panel. As she faces the stars beyond the Clock, she screams without words to the heavens, the sound cursing everything that led to this moment without coherent, spoken words. She curses Nefarious, for everything he's done, and for not killing her when he had the chance.

She curses the Zoni, and Orvus, for somehow being in on Time's cruel jokes. She curses Ratchet, for conspiring with them and not staying dead and bringing her into this mess. Saros, for offering her a romance she never asked for, pursuing it to the extent of ruining both of their lives in the process. For the rest of her life, she'll never understand what she did to garner his personal attention, or any of this attention at all. And while the emotion attached to the question changes over the course of her life, she'll often wonder to herself why the universe wouldn't let her live out her entire life small and quiet, like her childhood in the village.

She curses herself, for being dumb enough to believe that Clank meant what he said when he kissed her that day, and curses the fongoid elders that helped bring her into the world. 'Damn it all!' Her voice begins to crack, and her scream fades away as it loses it's power.

Finally, she curses the very hair that drapes down from her shoulders, for being long enough that it cost her everything on Quantos. Harshly grabbing her curls with one hand, she hacks away at the length with the chunk of sharp glass, leaving it a much shorter, uneven, terrible mess as the cut hair is then shoved into the hole in the floor and abandoned to the stars.

There's no one really left to blame anymore, anyway. Instead, the markazian simply watches in numbed silence as her tears fall onto the glass, curling up into a ball as the Clock's ticking mocks her.

"I am so sorry."

The silver caretaker's voice startles Nova, and she stumbles in her attempt to sit back up. Sigmund, Saros, and even Qwark are by his side, but none of them say a word. "How—how much did you see?"

"Enough." Upon seeing her immediately stiffen in horror and embarrassment, Clank tries to ease her fears. "There is no shame in this, Nova." He looks away from her eyes for a moment, instead placing his focus in the bruising on her body, and the specks of blood at her ankle. He takes notice of the marks in her glove.

He knows those signs, not from experience, but as knowledge locked away in old research. "I…" Solemnly, he speaks from the heart, praying that he says this right.

"I know there is nothing I can ever do or say that can take back what I said to you that day. I deeply and truly regret not understanding who you are from the very start. I doubt there is anything I can do that will make up for how you feel right now," He meets her gaze once more, yet retains his current distance. "But Nova Albedo..."

Placing a hand on his chest, he continues. "I swear to you on Time itself that I will try for the rest of my life. I will do everything in my power to show you how grateful I am to have you in my life, and to make sure you never feel the need to sacrifice yourself like that again. I swear that I will be there for you for as long as you need me, and I will ask for nothing that you are not fully willing to give. We will all be there for you, no matter what fate brings our way."

Clank outstretches his arms, and shifts his position to reveal the others fully, waiting until she's ready. "Your life is worth far more to us than you know. You are not alone, Nova, and you never have to be." Her lip quivers, and she shuffles over to them. They embrace her, creating a wall of comfort that feels warm somehow, despite the cold metal surrounding her body.

The hug dissolves, but Clank stays close to brush aside a curl from between her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. "Would you like me to fix this for you? I have some experience with this sort of thing."

Nova chuckles, nodding at the suggestion as she wipes a tear from her eyes.