Eve returned to him, her hands filled with what circuit boards she could find in the dark, cavernous garbage area. She didn't feel very hopeful about any of them—she suspected that his architecture was many years old, and that none of these more recent parts would work. He lay in a heap, very weak, with M-O sitting quietly beside him. She noticed that, as bad as Wall-E looked right now, his exterior appeared a bit cleaner. She spared a small bit of gratitude aimed in M-O's direction.
Facing Wall-E, she began holding up each board and humming softly, in question. ('This one?') He moaned softly, shaking his head and indicating 'No'. She would toss the one aside and hold up a new one. The response was the same for all of them. The pain evident in his voice, and the effort it was taking him to utter even this moan, cut her with each iteration. Running out of them, she looked around, preparing to search for other boards.
He caught her attention by shaking open his chest compartment. She turned her head towards him. Inside, of course, was the plant. The plant he had saved from demise by being there in the garbage chute in the first place. The plant I blamed him for hiding when I first discovered him on the bridge. Oh God. It hurt to even remember her anger. What she had seen on the security video had seared her consciousness at the same time that it melted her heart. How…how I could have thought that of him? That his…say it…eccentricity…would ever lead him to do something like that, even in innocence. She knew it was a case of 'mistaken identity', to which shame should not attach, but it did nevertheless. My cruelty…sending him away. And all he wanted to do was…she had to catch her breath, for she would cry if she didn't…was to help me, and hold hands with me. Dear God, forgive me. I'm not sure I can forgive myself. She went further, further blaming herself; she knew it was counterproductive, but she felt compelled. Let's not forget your own…eccentricities. You know quite well what you did when you were first on Earth and the ship disappeared. Did that have anything to do with your directive? No. That was pure…oh God, it was pure bliss. To be free, and able to fly. No directive, just for a minute. I felt really alive for the first time. And remember now, how it felt at his place…all those things he had so painstakingly collected and shared with me so proudly and eagerly. They were…really interesting! It really fit somehow. I liked how we both seemed to be able to…forget the directive sometimes. Something was happening to me…and then he tapped me on the shoulder and…I blacked out, and the moment was lost. She paused. And now seeing it—the whole thing—it comes back to me. What I was starting to realize just then. And then…all what he did for me.
He took the plant in hand and raised it slowly up to her. "Di-i-i-r-recti-i-ive…" he uttered, pressing the plant into her hands. As the plant touched her hands, there flashed across her internal screen the by-now familiar words, "DELIVER TO AXIOM SUPERIOR", along with a map showing how to accomplish this.
Always the things onscreen. Telling me what to do, and how to do it. What have they gotten me? What have they done for me? They…they sent me into danger on a mission they were never going to let me complete. They probably would have wiped my memory clean…if…he hadn't been there to…oh…no…save me. He thought they were killing me, and he wanted to save me. And all those other things happened and I was so angry with him. I went from being a valued crew member to a fugitive, and it was all his doing. That's what I thought. So I thought, "Send him back to Earth. Get him out of here, he's screwing up my life." And…the whole time…he was saving me...from having all my memories erased…which include…those times with him. She could hardly keep from crying at this point, as she continued to gaze at the plant in her hands. Those times…which I've now seen…I would rather be shut down and scrapped for spare parts than lose those. What is the rest of my existence to compare with those? Everything else was programming, directive, secrets. This was…caring…attention…joy. How can I go back to anyone involved in hurting him? How can I serve them? I won't. I won't do it. No. I refuse. I won't help them. That is not my directive. But. This. This is what is important.
Looking up at him, she began shaking her head slowly, and tossed the plant aside. Raising her right arm to him and holding out her hand, she said warmly, "Directive." Being with you is my directive now. Caring for you is my directive now. Nothing else is important. I'm not going to let them hurt you again.
At this, Wall-E was buffeted by a hurricane of conflicting emotions. Wha…? Wait. She wants…that? She wants…to hold hands? His heart soared. Yet at this very moment the pain coursing through every part of his body checked this flight. No. Can't think of that now. Have…have to try and make her understand. The parts…my parts are…there…back there…on Earth. My place. And…the plant. It makes…the ship go. Go back there. But it doesn't go…without…plant. She can…do it. Only she. Make her…see…
He strained with every bit of strength left to him—both physical and emotional—to do the thing he now must do. He slowly raised his own hand to hers—and—pushed it aside. Desire to linger, to take that hand so sweetly offered…passing by that joy hurt worse than his physical pain. But. Must…make you…see. He began crawling slowly towards the plant.
Eve cried out in surprise and confusion as he pushed her hand aside. What!? What are you doing? Why? Why are you going back to that stupid plant? I'm done with that. What is wrong with you?
Picking up the plant from the floor, he turned to her and raised it once again towards her. The sincerity in his action, in his eyes, and in his voice cooled her temper and made her slow down and try and listen. "Ear-r-r-th," he was weakly saying, as she took the plant in her hands once again. She ignored the directive—the old directive, she thought—flashing once again across the screen. Is that…what AUTO can't do? Think? Reassess a situation when things have changed, and ignore an outdated directive? What did he say? "Must follow my directive." That's…wrong. What about Wall-E? He has a directive. But I don't think he was directed to collect stuff that caught his eye. Or learn to dance and have fun…and…like someone very much. The tears coming to her eyes, and the constricted feeling around her voice circuitry made her whirring thoughts stop for a moment. Slow down. Stop leaping to attention…to serve them…or even to leap to be with him…just slow down. She waited. She was still uncertain of what he was getting at. Listen to him.
Then he reached into one of his front 'pockets', and withdrew—the lighter. The lighter she had found at his place and lit and gazed at, while he played that funny videotape for her. The lighter she was looking at when she saw the two people looking in each other's eyes, and singing, and taking each other's hands, and walking. Which she was holding when she had just begun to make a new connection, relating that information to her own…life…and then…the directive. It got in the way. It stole that moment. I…I hate directives!
He ignited the lighter. The flame burned warmly between the two of them. "This…", he said. Still fixated on directives—but with the haze clearing—Listen! To him, not to yourself—she replied, "Earth?" But what does Earth have to do with us, my dear one? With the lighter? With the plant?
You can fix this. But the parts are…on Earth. Don't you see? Do you remember? How I did this? He took his circuit board in hand and dropped it back into the slot and closed it. He then took one of his binocular eyes in hand and adjusted it. "Earth," he replied, moving his eyes up and down, as he did when he reset his eyes after he repaired...them...at his place...
Her eyes began to widen. "Earth—" Oh! Oh my God! How could I have forgotten?! Your spare parts! They're on…"Earth!" she exclaimed with joy and hope. The plant…yes…somehow get it to the holodetector. God knows how we're going to do it. But we have to try and find a way. I'm not doing this for them. For any directive they implanted inside me. I'm doing it for us…for you. She joyfully scooped up his broken body in her arms and held him affectionately but gently. I will protect you, my dear one. I know you are hurt. With effort, he turned his head towards M-O and called, "M-O…", indicating he should hitch a ride with them. M-O did not need any more prompting and leapt onto one of Wall-E's hooks—the one Wall-E would use to take his collection cooler to work. She felt yet another energy surge go through her. A surge she was beginning to recognize as something to do with affection and pleasant feelings and attachment to someone. She did not have a word for it. But she knew it was not "directive". It was something else. Thinking of someone else at a time like this! She sighed affectionately. Wall-E...my treasure.
Bringing out her ion cannon, Eve took aim at the roof of the garbage area, and fired a perfect shot. The three then winged their way upwards as the Wall-A units waved, wishing them farewell. Earth!