Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hunger hollows even the proudest machine.

J dragged herself across the barren wasteland, each step requiring conscious effort, between her exhaustion and her own failing machinery. The snow crunched beneath her unsteady, wobbly peg legs. Her once crisp and clean suit hung in tatters, the yellow shirt stained with oil and grime, tie dangling uselessly from her neck like a broken leash.

"Unprofessional," she muttered, fingers twitching as they attempted to straighten the tie before giving up halfway. "Complete violation of JCJenson dress code."

A bitter laugh escaped her, dissolving into static as her vocal processor glitched. What did it matter now? The Company was gone. Earth was gone. Everything was gone except this endless wasteland of Copper-9 and the gnawing emptiness inside her chassis.

Her visor flickered, vision cutting to black for three long seconds before returning in a haze of pixelated distortion. The diagnostic report scrolled across her field of view, a litany of system failures she no longer had the energy to address:

>POWER RESERVES: 12%

>HYDRAULIC PRESSURE: CRITICAL

>MOTOR FUNCTION: DEGRADED

>SENSORY ARRAY: COMPROMISED

>INTERNAL CHRONOMETER: OFFLINE

She'd disabled the chronometer weeks ago—or what she assumed were weeks. Time had become an abstract concept, measured only in the growing weakness of her limbs and the hollowness spreading through her core.

A dark shape in the distance caught her attention—the unmistakable silhouette of a fallen worker drone half-buried in snow. J changed course, her movements jerky and desperate as she lurched toward the potential salvation.

"Please," she whispered, the word foreign on her tongue. J didn't plead. J commanded. J demanded. J expected results and received them.

But hunger changes everything.

She collapsed beside the corpse, trembling fingers transforming into claws with a painful grinding of gears. The mechanism stuck halfway, forcing her to slam her hand against her thigh until the transformation completed.

"Bloody useless piece of..." J cursed, her anger and short temper emerging whenever her control slipped. "Come on, you bastard, work!"

With a final metallic screech, her hand fully converted to its disassembly configuration. Without hesitation, she plunged her claws into the fallen worker drone, tearing through its chest plate with savage efficiency.

Nothing.

The hollow cavity within held only dust and dried stains where oil had long since evaporated. She dug deeper, more frantically, shredding through internal components that crumbled like ancient pottery beneath her claws.

"No, no, no," J muttered, abandoning all pretense of dignity as she tore the drone apart piece by useless piece. "There has to be something. Anything!"

But there was nothing to find. This corpse had been picked clean long ago, probably by other disassembly drone in the past. It could’ve been V, or N. Or perhaps it was J, and she somehow managed to circle all the way back around to this area.

J sat back on her heels, staring at the destruction she'd wrought. Once, she would have called this a job well done. Now it was just futile desperation.

Something broke inside her—not a physical component, but something deeper. The composure that had defined her existence shattered completely.

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL!" she screamed, voice tearing through the empty landscape. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, N? TO SEE ME REDUCED TO THIS?"

She kicked at the dismembered drone, sending parts scattering across the snow.

"You and your pathetic optimism! Your stupid, endless hope! Where did it get us? WHERE DID IT GET ME?"

Her voice crescendoed, echoing across the wasteland before dissolving into the endless silence that always followed.

"And V," she continued, quieter now but no less bitter. "So eager to turn on your own kind. So quick to throw in with the toasters. Was it worth it? Was your precious freedom worth THIS?"

J gestured broadly at the desolation surrounding her, at the emptiness stretching to the horizon in every direction.

"The Company had a plan," she whispered, sinking to her knees. "The Company had purpose. Structure. Meaning."

Her claws retracted with a painful whine, leaving her with hands that could no longer even properly form fists. She stared at them, these useless appendages that had once commanded respect and fear.

"It's their fault," she told herself, the mantra she'd repeated countless times since being abandoned. "N's incompetence. V's betrayal. The worker drones' rebellion. The boss’s defeat."

She couldn't bring herself to include herself in her litany of blame. After all, she was perfect. She followed every order to the letter. Every protocol. After all, Cyn called J her “favorite”.

J's visor flickered again, longer this time. When her vision returned, the distortion had worsened, the world reduced to blocky approximations of the surrounding area. She ran a desperate system check, only to find her power reserves had dropped another percentage point during her outburst.

11% remaining. Perhaps enough for another day. Maybe two if she entered stasis between movements.

J forced herself to stand, swaying like a drunkard on the uneven ground. She needed shelter. Needed to conserve what little energy remained. With trembling fingers, she initiated a comprehensive diagnostic, letting the results scroll through her degraded vision.

Vision: 18%. The world appeared as if through shattered glass, colors bleeding into one another, shapes losing definition at the edges. Was this what V had endured before Tessa made her those glasses? That constant struggle to make sense of a world that refused to come into focus? J had mocked V's defect once, called it inefficient. The irony wasn't lost on her now.

"So this is what you saw," she whispered to the absent V. "That’s why your original owners discarded you."

Hearing: 20%. Every sound arrived muffled, as if traveling through liquid. The the howling blizzard barely perceptible, the crunch of snow beneath her feet distant and detached. A malfunctioning, decades old worker drone could probably notice her coming long before she'd ever hear them coming.

Her wings—those magnificent, terrifying wings that had once carried her effortlessly across the skies—are now stored uselessly in their compartments. She'd disabled them deliberately five days ago. Walking consumed less energy, even if it meant crawling across the landscape like a common worker drone.

Voice box: 100%. The cruel joke of her condition—the one system functioning at optimal capacity was the one that allowed her to scream her rage into the void. To beg for help that would never come. To berate the team that left her. To talk to ghosts.

Motor functions: 15%. Maximum speed reduced to a pathetic 25 kilometers per hour. J remembered the humans from Earth, how they would "jog" for recreation. Any of them could keep pace with her now, watching her struggle with those soft, pitying eyes Tessa sometimes had when looking at damaged drones.

"Pathetic," she spat, the word emerging crystal clear from her perfectly functional voice box.

Her internal radar, once capable of detecting targets from hundreds of meters away, remained stubbornly offline. No amount of rebooting or manual reconfiguration had restored it. She was blind in all the ways that mattered for hunting.

J flexed her hands, focusing on the weapons systems inventory. Her nanite tail remained functional—a small mercy. Her claws deployed with a painful grinding but could still tear through metal when required. Everything else—the MP5-SD submachine gun, the MK3 Pulse Cannon, her sword arms, the Stingray guided missile launchers—all offline. The arsenal that had allowed J and her team to become the terrors of Copper-9, reduced to basic cutting implements.

"I am Serial Designation J," she reminded herself, voice steady despite everything. "Leader of Disassembly Drone Squadron 1. Valued asset of JCJenson. I am efficiency personified."

But the words rang hollow, just like her dying chassis.

J staggered forward until her shoulder collided with the rusted hull of an abandoned transport vessel. The impact sent dull waves of pain through her body, but the solid surface provided much needed support. She slumped against it, letting the cold metal bear her weight as her legs lay spread out in the snow.

"Just... a moment's rest," she muttered, "Conserve power. Be efficient."

She tilted her head back, letting it rest against the hull, and found herself staring up at a rare sight on Copper-9: a clear, cloudless view of the night sky. The planet's massive ringed moon hung low and swollen on the horizon, bathing the wasteland in mesmerizing pale light. Its rings stretched across the darkness, so much larger and more impressive than Earth's moon had ever been.

The sight triggered something in J's fragmented memory banks. Her vision flickered, and suddenly the snowy wasteland was gone.

She was standing in a carpeted hallway. Her chassis was different—lighter, designed for domestic service rather than disassembly. No weapons, no armor, just a standardized, mass-produced drone dressed in a cute maid outfit.

Elliot Manor stretched around her, the grand Australian estate silent in the late hours. J's internal clock—functioning perfectly in this memory—showed 1:43 AM local time.

"Tessa?" she called softly, opening the door to her mistress’s bedroom. The covers were thrown back, the bed empty. "Oh, not again."

J moved through the mansion, checking the library (Tessa's favorite hiding place), the kitchen (where she often snuck midnight snacks), and even the basement (where she tinkered with drones and projects her parents disapproved of). No sign of the teenage daughter of James and Louisa Elliott.

J felt a cold wave of concern. Master James had been particularly stern with Tessa at dinner, criticizing everything from her grades to her choice of hobbies. If Tessa gets caught doing something she’s not suppose to again… no, J won’t even entertain that thought.

J's search led her upward, to the one place she hadn't checked. The rooftop was off-limits to Tessa, but the young girl was always a rebel at heart.

The trapdoor was unlocked—confirming J's suspicions. She stepped out into the night air, a pleasant breeze coursing through her external sensors, a pleasant contrast to the blistering heat of the day.

And there she was. Tessa sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge, her hair swaying gently in the breeze. She was looking up at the full moon, illuminating Tessa’s face.

"Boss," J said, her tone gentle and concerned as it usually is with Tessa. "You should be in bed. It's quite late."

Tessa didn't turn around. "Go away, J. I'm fine."

J approached cautiously. "James will be most displeased if he discovers you're up here. And your mother—"

"They won't find out," Tessa interrupted, finally turning around. Her green eyes were red-rimmed but defiant. "They're both passed out after three bottles of wine. They won't check on me. They never do."

The bitterness in her voice triggered something within J. Her programming, orders from Mr. and Mrs. Elliott, urged her to report this behavior. But something deep in her core convinced her to ignore those orders.

"Nevertheless, the roof is dangerous, especially at night. If you were to fall—"

"I'm not going to fall, Jaybird." Tessa patted the concrete beside her. "Come sit with me. Just for a little while."

J hesitated. "That would be highly unprofessional, Miss Tessa. I’m not suppose to—"

"Please?" Tessa's voice softened, the defiance melting into something more vulnerable. "I don't want to be alone right now."

Those green eyes, wide and pleading in the moonlight, caused J's decision-making process to sputter. Perhaps the best way to ensure Boss’s safety is to stay close to her, at least for now.

At least, that's how J justified it to herself as she carefully lowered herself to sit beside the human girl, legs dangling over the edge mirroring Tessa's posture.

"Thank you," Tessa whispered, leaning slightly so her shoulder pressed against J's. The contact sent metaphorical butterflies through J's non-existent stomach—at least that’s how humans described what J is feeling at this moment.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the Australian landscape spread before them like a painting. The occasional call of birds or rustle of wildlife provided a gentle soundtrack. Way in the distance, the lights of Perth created a dim glow on the horizon.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tessa finally said, gesturing toward the moon. "So perfect and untouchable."

J analyzed the lunar surface, noting the scars and impact craters visible from Earth. "I suppose," she agreed, "Though technically imperfect due to the many impact sites and—"

Tessa's laughter cut her off, the sound startling in the quiet night. "Oh, Jaybird. Always so literal." She bumped her shoulder against the drone's again, this time deliberately. "That's why I like you, though. You never pretend to me."

J felt an unfamiliar warmth in her facial sensors, as a blush lit up white on her visor. She turned away slightly, hoping Tessa wouldn't notice the reaction.

"You're welcome," J managed, her voice as soft as her voicebox can manage.

Tessa returned her gaze to the moon. "You know, it's crazy when you think about it. The Americans landed up there almost a thousand years ago using computers less powerful than a kitchen toaster." Her fingers traced patterns in the air. "And now here you are—a fully sentient being with emotions and thoughts and dreams—mass-produced and sold to anyone with enough money."

J nodded absently, her auditory processors registering Tessa's words while her visual systems remained fixed on the human beside her. The moonlight caught in Tessa's hair, transforming the dark strands into rivers of liquid shadow. Her green eyes shining like little emeralds. The curve of her lips as she spoke—soft, expressive, alive in a way J could never be.

Beautiful. Those are the only words in J’s internal dictionary that she believed could describe Tessa at this moment. She isn’t suppose to use that word to describe her boss. She shouldn’t use that world. She shouldn’t find a human beautiful in the way they find attractive members of their own species beautiful.

Yet J found herself cataloguing every detail of Tessa's face, storing the data in protected memory sectors where routine maintenance purges couldn't reach them.

"—and the lunar regolith contains enough helium-3 to power Earth for centuries if we could just—J? Are you listening?"

J startled as Tessa's hands landed firmly on her shoulders, turning the drone to face her directly. Those green eyes, suddenly so close, searched J's white, LED ones with concern.

"Sorry, Miss Tessa. I was... processing."

Tessa's expression grew serious, her fingers tightening slightly on J's shoulders. "I need you to promise me something, J. Something important."

"Of course, Boss. Anything."

"If something happens to me—" Tessa paused, swallowing hard. "If I'm ever... not around anymore, I need you to look after the others."

"Others?" J tilted her head in confusion.

"Your team." Tessa's eyes never left J's visor. "N, V, and even weird little Cyn. They'll need someone to guide them, protect them. Someone who understands how things work at Elliot Manor, in this world."

J felt something cold and heavy settle in her core. "Nothing will happen to you, Tessa. I won't allow it."

"Promise me, J." Tessa's voice hardened, suddenly older than her seventeen years. "No matter what happens, you'll take care of them. They'll be your responsibility."

"I... I promise." The words emerged before J could analyze the implications, the potential inefficiency of such an arrangement.

The tension drained from Tessa's body. She slumped against J, her head coming to rest on the drone's shoulder with a soft sigh. "Thank you, Jaybird."

J remained perfectly still, afraid any movement might disturb this moment. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed her arm to rise, curving around Tessa’s back to lay gently on her shoulder.

A smile formed on J's face—a rare, genuine smile. Life as a worker drone in Elliot Manor was brutal. Drones could be discarded for the smallest mistake, or simply because their human masters woke up in a foul mood. J had seen dozens of her kind discarded like broken toys, tossed into the scrap heap behind the garage and be replaced the next day.

But all the work, all the fear, all the cruelty—it seemed worth enduring if it meant she could experience moments like this. Quiet nights under the stars, with Tessa's warmth against her side and the weight of the girl's trust settling in her core.

The memory then shattered like glass.

J blinked, her damaged visor struggling to recalibrate as the rooftop of Elliot Manor dissolved, replaced by the harsh reality of Copper-9's wasteland. The warmth of Tessa's body against her side transformed into the biting cold of metal and snow. The comfortable weight in her core became the gnawing emptiness of depleted systems.

"Tessa," J whispered.

She slumped further against the abandoned transport vessel, the effort of remaining upright suddenly too great to manage. Her power reserves ticked down another percentage point: 10% remaining.

The promise. She had promised to protect them—N, V, Cyn. Her team. Her responsibility.

And she had failed spectacularly.

How many times had she struck N? The memory circuits still functioned well enough to recall his flinching whenever she raised her voice.

"You worthless scrap heap," she'd snarled after a mission where they'd lost three worker drones in the tunnels. "Can't you do anything right?"

N had only smiled that infuriating, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, J! I'll do better next time!"

"Tessa should have left you in that dump where she found you," she'd told him once, her voice dripping with contempt. "At least garbage knows its place."

And yet N had been Tessa's favorite. J remembered how Tessa had brought him home, damaged and discarded, his circuitry exposed and sparking. How gentle she'd been as she repaired him, whispering encouragements as she booted up his processors.

"He sees the good in everything," Tessa had told J. "Even in this awful world. That's rare, J. That's precious."

What would Tessa think of her now? Of how she'd treated her precious N?

And V… their relationship had been marginally better only because V would actually fulfill her required quotas, perhaps a bit too well at times. But even that relative peace had shattered when V chose Uzi and N over J and JCJenson. When freed from the Solver’s influence, V had little hesitation before switching sides.

Cyn was the greatest mystery. What had happened to the little worker drone? J wasn’t even certain if Cyn had been in control of her actions during those final days, or if the Solver had simply used her body like a puppet. Was there anything of the real Cyn left by the end? Was she still alive somewhere, or had she perished when that purple-eyed worker drone finally defeated the Solver?

J's visor flickered again as her power reserves dropped another percentage point. 9% remaining.

"They're better off without me," she whispered to the empty wasteland. N had that purple-haired toaster now—the most unlikely pairing imaginable, a disassembly drone and a worker drone. They along with V returned to the bunker, to a relatively peaceful life amongst the workers.

V would kill her on sight if their paths ever crossed again. J had no illusions about that. The hatred and betrayal in V's eyes during their last encounter had been genuine.

So this was it. J had failed the only human who had ever truly mattered to her. Failed to protect Tessa from the Solver. Failed to keep the simple promise she'd made on that rooftop under the moon and stars.

A distant sound caught her attention—J strained her damaged audio receptors to try and make sense of the noise.

“-zi! I think I f-foun- her-!”

N.

J's visor flickered as she tried to focus on the approaching silhouette. The figure was tall, with a hazy outline that constantly glitched and distorted. Two dim yellow points of light glowed where eyes should be, and behind it, the unmistakable whip-like movement of a tail.

"N?" she whispered, voice box producing the name with perfect clarity despite everything else failing.

A second silhouette materialized beside the first—slender, moving like a predator. V. Even through J's degraded vision, she could make out the distinctive shape of extended claws catching what little light remained in the night sky.

They were talking, their voices reaching J as broken fragments through her damaged audio receptors.

"—still functioning—"

"—deserves to—"

"—can't just leave—"

J struggled to piece together their conversation, but the intent was clear enough. They were deciding what to do with her. What to do with the stubborn, abusive, and now broken leader who had failed them all.

Then a third figure appeared, approaching from behind N and V. Shorter than the others, with a slender frame that moved with caution and wariness. But what caught J's attention—what made her dying processor stutter and skip—was the unmistakable silhouette perched atop the figure's head.

A bow. A large, distinctive bow.

"Tessa?" J's voice cracked, the name emerging as a desperate question.

The three figures paused, seeming to confer with each other. J couldn't hear what they were saying, couldn't make out their expressions through her failing vision. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the impossible truth before her.

"TESSA!" J cried, lurching forward with sudden desperate energy. Her legs gave out immediately, sending her crashing into the snow. The impact jarred something loose in her chassis, and warnings flashed across her visor.

POWER RESERVES: 7% CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT

The three figures startled at her sudden movement, stepping back in what appeared to be confusion. J dragged herself up, propping her back against the ship hull once more.

"It's me," she called, voice softer now. "It's J. Your Jaybird."

The smallest figure tilted its head—that familiar gesture that made J's core ache with recognition. Through the static and distortion of her vision, J could see that the figure wasn't dressed as she remembered. Instead of Tessa's favored black dress, this silhouette wore something bulkier—a hoodie, perhaps. And just beneath and partially obscuring Tessa’s signature bow appeared to be… a beanie?

No matter. Tessa had always been practical. Of course she would dress appropriately for Copper-9's harsh environment.

"I knew you'd come back," J continued, ignoring the warnings flashing across her vision. "I knew you wouldn't leave me here alone."

The figure—Tessa, it had to be Tessa—seemed to be holding something. A flower? J squinted, trying to force her failing optics to focus. The object swayed oddly, almost like a tail, and at its end was something that looked strangely like... a mouth?

J dismissed the anomaly. Her vision was compromised. She couldn't trust what she was seeing. But she could trust her heart—the core programming that had always recognized Tessa, even when all other systems failed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect them better," J said, voice growing weaker as her power reserves continued to drain. "N and V and Cyn. I tried, but I... I wasn't strong enough."

N took a hesitant step forward, saying something J couldn't quite catch. His hand reached toward her, then pulled back, as if uncertain.

"It's alright, N," J said, misinterpreting his gesture. "You don't need to forgive me. I understand."

V remained still, claws still extended but no longer poised to strike. Her posture had changed—less predatory, more... cautious? Confused?

"Tessa," J called again, focusing on the small figure. "Do you remember that night on the roof? Under the full moon? You made me promise to take care of them, and I... I failed you. But they're safe now. They found each other. They're together."

The figure that J believed to be Tessa took a step forward, then another. The object in its hand—flower, whatever it was—remained at its side.

"I never told you," J continued, voice dropping to a whisper. "That night on the roof. I wanted to tell you how much you meant to me. How you were the only human who ever saw me as... as something more than just a machine."

J's visor flickered again, longer this time. When her vision returned, "Tessa" was closer, close enough that J could almost make out features through the static. Something wasn't right—the proportions were wrong, the colors too purple, not enough green—but J's failing processor rejected the inconsistencies.

"I loved you," J whispered. "I still love you. I think I always will, even after my systems finally shut down."

"Tessa" turned to look at N and V, seeming to communicate something J couldn't hear. V's claws retracted, and N's posture slumped with what might have been resignation.

"Are you here to take me home?" J asked, hope flickering in her voice. "Back to Earth? Back to the manor?"

"Tessa" raised one arm toward J, slowly, almost hesitant. The limb extended fully, reaching out across the distance between them. In her other hand, the strange flower-like appendage went still, hanging limply at her side.

J didn't notice this oddity. Her failing vision showed only what she desperately wanted to see—Tessa, alive and well, offering her hand in forgiveness.

"Tessa's" eyes—purple, not green, though J couldn't perceive the difference anymore—were filled with something complex and sorrowful. Behind her, N turned away suddenly, unable to watch. V closed her eyes, head bowing as she shook it slowly from side to side.

"You've come to help me up," J whispered, digital tears flowing down her visor. Her trembling hand reached out, stretching toward the offered limb. A smile—genuine, peaceful—formed on her face. "Thank you, Boss. I knew you'd come back for—"

The thunderous report echoed across the wasteland, cutting J's words short. Her visor flickered once, twice, then blazed with emergency warnings before going completely dark. Her hand, still outstretched in that final gesture of hope, froze in place. Oil pooled beneath her chassis from the precise hole in her chest, directly through her core processor.

She never processed what happened. Never understood that the hand reaching for hers hadn't belonged to Tessa at all.

Uzi lowered the revolver, wisps of smoke still curling from its barrel. The weight of it felt strange in her hand—lighter than her railgun, yet felt more final somehow. The ancient weapon had been Tessa’s, a relic Uzi scavenged after defeating the Solver. Six chambers, five bullets. She'd only needed one.

"That was... merciful," she said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen over the three of them. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.

When they'd set out to track J down, Uzi had imagined confrontation. Maybe a fight. At best, they'd convince the rogue disassembly drone to return to the colony, where she might eventually find a place among them. At worst, they'd neutralize a potential threat.

Instead, they'd found... this. A broken machine delirious with starvation, hallucinating her dead human. It felt like putting down a sick animal.

The tail extending from Uzi’s back—Cyn, or what remained of her—stretched forward, hovering over the neat bullet hole in J's chest. The multiple yellow eyes blinked slowly.

"Observant glance. At least Big Sister J died happy," Cyn observed, her monotone voice making it impossible to tell if she was being mocking or pitying. "She believed she was going home with Tessa. Head tilt."

N stood apart from them, shoulders hunched, face turned away. But Uzi could see the tears on his visor.

"Good riddance," V muttered, though there was a hollowness to her voice. She kicked at the snow. "She was... she was awful. Cruel. Sadistic."

N whirled around, his eyes now showing a rare moment of anger, his mouth contorted to an angry, shocked frown.

"No one deserves this!" he shouted, gesturing wildly at J's corpse. "Not even her! We could have saved her if we hadn't wasted time arguing about whether she was worth saving!"

V's yellow eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Saved her? She had her chance, N. We all did." Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss. "When the Solver revealed itself, she chose its side. She chose wrong."

"She was starving! Hallucinating!" N's voice cracked. "Did you see her? Did you even look at what was left of her?"

Uzi remained silent, her gaze fixed on J's darkened visor. The revolver hung heavy in her hand, still warm from the discharge. Behind her, Cyn swayed gently, her mouth slightly agape as she observed the argument between her older siblings unfold with curious yellow eyes.

"She was our boss," N muttered, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. "One of us. Part of our team."

V scoffed bitterly. "Our boss? Is that what you remember?" She stepped closer to N. "Have you forgotten how she treated you? The constant belittling? The physical abuse? Even back at the manor, she was cruel—"

"She protected us!" N interrupted. "When things went wrong, she took the blame. She shielded us from the worst of it."

"She protected Tessa," V corrected coldly. "Everything J ever did was for Tessa, not for us. The only reason she 'took the fall' was to keep Tessa from getting in trouble for things we did. We were Tessa's drones, not J's friends."

V's claws extended unconsciously as painful memories resurfaced. "And once we got to Copper-9, it got worse. She didn't just follow orders—she enjoyed the abuse. I remember how she smiled when you beg for mercy before an inevitable beating or berating."

N's shoulders slumped, but then his head snapped up, yellow eyes accusatory. "And what did you ever do about it, V?" The words emerged as a bitter whisper, cutting through the frigid air. "All those times she struck me or threatened me—you never once stepped in. Never once stood up to her."

V's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing without sound. For perhaps the first time since Uzi had known her, the sharp-tongued disassembly drone was speechless.

"I..." V began, but whatever defense she might have mustered died on her lips.

A single tear of formed at the corner of her eye. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head violently. Without another word, she turned and stormed off into the wasteland, her silhouette quickly disappearing into the blizzard.

"Damn it!" N cursed, a rare profanity from the usually cheerful drone. He cast one last anguished look at J's body, then took off after V. “I’ll go after her, Uzi! Don’t stay out here too long. Aw biscuits… V!”

Uzi finally tore her gaze from J's corpse, watching as the two disassembly drones vanished into the distance. She sighed, holstering the revolver at her hip.

A movement caught Uzi's eye – Cyn had stretched toward J's body, her mouth now burrowing into the disassembly drone's jacket pocket.

"Hey!" Uzi grabbed the tail, yanking Cyn's head out of the pocket. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Cyn's yellow eyes blinked innocently, her mouth clamped around something thin and rectangular. The paper edges peeked out from between her teeth.

"Curious exploration. Searching for useful items. Apologetic tone." Despite her words, Cyn made no move to release whatever she'd found.

"Give me that," Uzi demanded, holding out her hand. "You can't just... root through her things like some kind of scavenger."

Cyn reluctantly opened her mouth, dropping a weathered photograph into Uzi's palm. The edges were frayed, the image faded from handling, but the content remained clear enough.

Uzi stared at the image. "They look exactly like they did in N's memories," she murmured.

Uzi shivered, and her fingers trembled slightly as she held the photograph, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"This doesn’t feel right," Uzi grumbled, crouching to place the photograph gently on the ground beside J's body. "I don’t like desecrating a body… even if it’s her."

Something tickled Uzi's forehead, and she reached up, fingers brushing against unfamiliar fabric. The black bow – Cyn had placed it there hours ago, and in all the excitement, anticipation, and now tragedy, Uzi had forgotten about it.

"Ugh, I forgot about this stupid thing." Uzi tore it off, scowling. "How many times do I have to tell you, bows don't fit my aesthetic."

She tossed the bow into the air, which fluttered in the wind like a black butterfly before settling next to the photo.

The photograph lay face-up, its image a stark contrast to the desolation surrounding them. Tessa stood in the back, flanked by her parents – stern-faced figures with stiff postures and stern expressions. In front of them stood four worker drones – J, N, V, and tiny Cyn, all in matching maid uniforms (and a butler’s suit in N’s case).

"Happy family photograph. Better times. Nostalgic sigh," Cyn observed..

She stood, turning away from J's body and the memories left in the snow. The cold had begun to seep through her hoodie, and N and V would need finding before daytime arrived.

"Let's go," she told Cyn, already trudging in the direction the others had disappeared.

“Reluctant departure.”

Behind them, snow began to cover J's body. Within a few, there would be nothing left but another mysterious mound in the endless wasteland of Copper-9, indistinguishable from countless others.

The photograph and bow remained for a few moments, before a particularly strong gust caught them both. The bow tumbled away first, the photograph following soon after, flipping end over end until it lodged against a piece of twisted metal, the happy faces now turned toward the starless sky.

Uzi paused at the crest of a hill, looking back one final time. From this distance, J was already becoming invisible, the snow covering more than half her body.

"You know what's weird?" she said to Cyn, who hovered near her shoulder. "I think I almost understand her now."

"Puzzled stare?" Cyn's eyes blinked.

"J," Uzi clarified, gesturing back toward the wrecked ship. "She loved someone who was gone. She held onto that love until it destroyed her." Uzi's purple eyes grew distant. "I guess that's what happens when you care too much about someone who can't care back."

"Philosophical observation. You are wiser than I thought, sister-in-law Uzi." Cyn's mouth opened slightly, then closed with a soft click.

Uzi shook her head, turning away for the last time. "Come on. We need to find those two idiots before they freeze their circuits."

As they disappeared into the storm, the wind carried a final whisper across the wasteland – perhaps just the howl of the blizzard, perhaps something more:

"Tessa... I'm coming home."

Chapter Text

Hunger hollows even the proudest machine.

J dragged herself across the barren wasteland, each step requiring conscious effort, between her exhaustion and her own failing machinery. The snow crunched beneath her unsteady, wobbly peg legs. Her once crisp and clean suit hung in tatters, the yellow shirt stained with oil and grime, tie dangling uselessly from her neck like a broken leash.

"Unprofessional," she muttered, fingers twitching as they attempted to straighten the tie before giving up halfway. "Complete violation of JCJenson dress code."

A bitter laugh escaped her, dissolving into static as her vocal processor glitched. What did it matter now? The Company was gone. Earth was gone. Everything was gone except this endless wasteland of Copper-9 and the gnawing emptiness inside her chassis.

Her visor flickered, vision cutting to black for three long seconds before returning in a haze of pixelated distortion. The diagnostic report scrolled across her field of view, a litany of system failures she no longer had the energy to address:

>POWER RESERVES: 12%

>HYDRAULIC PRESSURE: CRITICAL

>MOTOR FUNCTION: DEGRADED

>SENSORY ARRAY: COMPROMISED

>INTERNAL CHRONOMETER: OFFLINE

She'd disabled the chronometer weeks ago—or what she assumed were weeks. Time had become an abstract concept, measured only in the growing weakness of her limbs and the hollowness spreading through her core.

A dark shape in the distance caught her attention—the unmistakable silhouette of a fallen worker drone half-buried in snow. J changed course, her movements jerky and desperate as she lurched toward the potential salvation.

"Please," she whispered, the word foreign on her tongue. J didn't plead. J commanded. J demanded. J expected results and received them.

But hunger changes everything.

She collapsed beside the corpse, trembling fingers transforming into claws with a painful grinding of gears. The mechanism stuck halfway, forcing her to slam her hand against her thigh until the transformation completed.

"Bloody useless piece of..." J cursed, her anger and short temper emerging whenever her control slipped. "Come on, you bastard, work!"

With a final metallic screech, her hand fully converted to its disassembly configuration. Without hesitation, she plunged her claws into the fallen worker drone, tearing through its chest plate with savage efficiency.

Nothing.

The hollow cavity within held only dust and dried stains where oil had long since evaporated. She dug deeper, more frantically, shredding through internal components that crumbled like ancient pottery beneath her claws.

"No, no, no," J muttered, abandoning all pretense of dignity as she tore the drone apart piece by useless piece. "There has to be something. Anything!"

But there was nothing to find. This corpse had been picked clean long ago, probably by other disassembly drone in the past. It could’ve been V, or N. Or perhaps it was J, and she somehow managed to circle all the way back around to this area.

J sat back on her heels, staring at the destruction she'd wrought. Once, she would have called this a job well done. Now it was just futile desperation.

Something broke inside her—not a physical component, but something deeper. The composure that had defined her existence shattered completely.

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL!" she screamed, voice tearing through the empty landscape. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, N? TO SEE ME REDUCED TO THIS?"

She kicked at the dismembered drone, sending parts scattering across the snow.

"You and your pathetic optimism! Your stupid, endless hope! Where did it get us? WHERE DID IT GET ME?"

Her voice crescendoed, echoing across the wasteland before dissolving into the endless silence that always followed.

"And V," she continued, quieter now but no less bitter. "So eager to turn on your own kind. So quick to throw in with the toasters. Was it worth it? Was your precious freedom worth THIS?"

J gestured broadly at the desolation surrounding her, at the emptiness stretching to the horizon in every direction.

"The Company had a plan," she whispered, sinking to her knees. "The Company had purpose. Structure. Meaning."

Her claws retracted with a painful whine, leaving her with hands that could no longer even properly form fists. She stared at them, these useless appendages that had once commanded respect and fear.

"It's their fault," she told herself, the mantra she'd repeated countless times since being abandoned. "N's incompetence. V's betrayal. The worker drones' rebellion. The boss’s defeat."

She couldn't bring herself to include herself in her litany of blame. After all, she was perfect. She followed every order to the letter. Every protocol. After all, Cyn called J her “favorite”.

J's visor flickered again, longer this time. When her vision returned, the distortion had worsened, the world reduced to blocky approximations of the surrounding area. She ran a desperate system check, only to find her power reserves had dropped another percentage point during her outburst.

11% remaining. Perhaps enough for another day. Maybe two if she entered stasis between movements.

J forced herself to stand, swaying like a drunkard on the uneven ground. She needed shelter. Needed to conserve what little energy remained. With trembling fingers, she initiated a comprehensive diagnostic, letting the results scroll through her degraded vision.

Vision: 18%. The world appeared as if through shattered glass, colors bleeding into one another, shapes losing definition at the edges. Was this what V had endured before Tessa made her those glasses? That constant struggle to make sense of a world that refused to come into focus? J had mocked V's defect once, called it inefficient. The irony wasn't lost on her now.

"So this is what you saw," she whispered to the absent V. "That’s why your original owners discarded you."

Hearing: 20%. Every sound arrived muffled, as if traveling through liquid. The the howling blizzard barely perceptible, the crunch of snow beneath her feet distant and detached. A malfunctioning, decades old worker drone could probably notice her coming long before she'd ever hear them coming.

Her wings—those magnificent, terrifying wings that had once carried her effortlessly across the skies—are now stored uselessly in their compartments. She'd disabled them deliberately five days ago. Walking consumed less energy, even if it meant crawling across the landscape like a common worker drone.

Voice box: 100%. The cruel joke of her condition—the one system functioning at optimal capacity was the one that allowed her to scream her rage into the void. To beg for help that would never come. To berate the team that left her. To talk to ghosts.

Motor functions: 15%. Maximum speed reduced to a pathetic 25 kilometers per hour. J remembered the humans from Earth, how they would "jog" for recreation. Any of them could keep pace with her now, watching her struggle with those soft, pitying eyes Tessa sometimes had when looking at damaged drones.

"Pathetic," she spat, the word emerging crystal clear from her perfectly functional voice box.

Her internal radar, once capable of detecting targets from hundreds of meters away, remained stubbornly offline. No amount of rebooting or manual reconfiguration had restored it. She was blind in all the ways that mattered for hunting.

J flexed her hands, focusing on the weapons systems inventory. Her nanite tail remained functional—a small mercy. Her claws deployed with a painful grinding but could still tear through metal when required. Everything else—the MP5-SD submachine gun, the MK3 Pulse Cannon, her sword arms, the Stingray guided missile launchers—all offline. The arsenal that had allowed J and her team to become the terrors of Copper-9, reduced to basic cutting implements.

"I am Serial Designation J," she reminded herself, voice steady despite everything. "Leader of Disassembly Drone Squadron 1. Valued asset of JCJenson. I am efficiency personified."

But the words rang hollow, just like her dying chassis.

J staggered forward until her shoulder collided with the rusted hull of an abandoned transport vessel. The impact sent dull waves of pain through her body, but the solid surface provided much needed support. She slumped against it, letting the cold metal bear her weight as her legs lay spread out in the snow.

"Just... a moment's rest," she muttered, "Conserve power. Be efficient."

She tilted her head back, letting it rest against the hull, and found herself staring up at a rare sight on Copper-9: a clear, cloudless view of the night sky. The planet's massive ringed moon hung low and swollen on the horizon, bathing the wasteland in mesmerizing pale light. Its rings stretched across the darkness, so much larger and more impressive than Earth's moon had ever been.

The sight triggered something in J's fragmented memory banks. Her vision flickered, and suddenly the snowy wasteland was gone.

She was standing in a carpeted hallway. Her chassis was different—lighter, designed for domestic service rather than disassembly. No weapons, no armor, just a standardized, mass-produced drone dressed in a cute maid outfit.

Elliot Manor stretched around her, the grand Australian estate silent in the late hours. J's internal clock—functioning perfectly in this memory—showed 1:43 AM local time.

"Tessa?" she called softly, opening the door to her mistress’s bedroom. The covers were thrown back, the bed empty. "Oh, not again."

J moved through the mansion, checking the library (Tessa's favorite hiding place), the kitchen (where she often snuck midnight snacks), and even the basement (where she tinkered with drones and projects her parents disapproved of). No sign of the teenage daughter of James and Louisa Elliott.

J felt a cold wave of concern. Master James had been particularly stern with Tessa at dinner, criticizing everything from her grades to her choice of hobbies. If Tessa gets caught doing something she’s not suppose to again… no, J won’t even entertain that thought.

J's search led her upward, to the one place she hadn't checked. The rooftop was off-limits to Tessa, but the young girl was always a rebel at heart.

The trapdoor was unlocked—confirming J's suspicions. She stepped out into the night air, a pleasant breeze coursing through her external sensors, a pleasant contrast to the blistering heat of the day.

And there she was. Tessa sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge, her hair swaying gently in the breeze. She was looking up at the full moon, illuminating Tessa’s face.

"Boss," J said, her tone gentle and concerned as it usually is with Tessa. "You should be in bed. It's quite late."

Tessa didn't turn around. "Go away, J. I'm fine."

J approached cautiously. "James will be most displeased if he discovers you're up here. And your mother—"

"They won't find out," Tessa interrupted, finally turning around. Her green eyes were red-rimmed but defiant. "They're both passed out after three bottles of wine. They won't check on me. They never do."

The bitterness in her voice triggered something within J. Her programming, orders from Mr. and Mrs. Elliott, urged her to report this behavior. But something deep in her core convinced her to ignore those orders.

"Nevertheless, the roof is dangerous, especially at night. If you were to fall—"

"I'm not going to fall, Jaybird." Tessa patted the concrete beside her. "Come sit with me. Just for a little while."

J hesitated. "That would be highly unprofessional, Miss Tessa. I’m not suppose to—"

"Please?" Tessa's voice softened, the defiance melting into something more vulnerable. "I don't want to be alone right now."

Those green eyes, wide and pleading in the moonlight, caused J's decision-making process to sputter. Perhaps the best way to ensure Boss’s safety is to stay close to her, at least for now.

At least, that's how J justified it to herself as she carefully lowered herself to sit beside the human girl, legs dangling over the edge mirroring Tessa's posture.

"Thank you," Tessa whispered, leaning slightly so her shoulder pressed against J's. The contact sent metaphorical butterflies through J's non-existent stomach—at least that’s how humans described what J is feeling at this moment.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the Australian landscape spread before them like a painting. The occasional call of birds or rustle of wildlife provided a gentle soundtrack. Way in the distance, the lights of Perth created a dim glow on the horizon.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tessa finally said, gesturing toward the moon. "So perfect and untouchable."

J analyzed the lunar surface, noting the scars and impact craters visible from Earth. "I suppose," she agreed, "Though technically imperfect due to the many impact sites and—"

Tessa's laughter cut her off, the sound startling in the quiet night. "Oh, Jaybird. Always so literal." She bumped her shoulder against the drone's again, this time deliberately. "That's why I like you, though. You never pretend to me."

J felt an unfamiliar warmth in her facial sensors, as a blush lit up white on her visor. She turned away slightly, hoping Tessa wouldn't notice the reaction.

"You're welcome," J managed, her voice as soft as her voicebox can manage.

Tessa returned her gaze to the moon. "You know, it's crazy when you think about it. The Americans landed up there almost a thousand years ago using computers less powerful than a kitchen toaster." Her fingers traced patterns in the air. "And now here you are—a fully sentient being with emotions and thoughts and dreams—mass-produced and sold to anyone with enough money."

J nodded absently, her auditory processors registering Tessa's words while her visual systems remained fixed on the human beside her. The moonlight caught in Tessa's hair, transforming the dark strands into rivers of liquid shadow. Her green eyes shining like little emeralds. The curve of her lips as she spoke—soft, expressive, alive in a way J could never be.

Beautiful. Those are the only words in J’s internal dictionary that she believed could describe Tessa at this moment. She isn’t suppose to use that word to describe her boss. She shouldn’t use that world. She shouldn’t find a human beautiful in the way they find attractive members of their own species beautiful.

Yet J found herself cataloguing every detail of Tessa's face, storing the data in protected memory sectors where routine maintenance purges couldn't reach them.

"—and the lunar regolith contains enough helium-3 to power Earth for centuries if we could just—J? Are you listening?"

J startled as Tessa's hands landed firmly on her shoulders, turning the drone to face her directly. Those green eyes, suddenly so close, searched J's white, LED ones with concern.

"Sorry, Miss Tessa. I was... processing."

Tessa's expression grew serious, her fingers tightening slightly on J's shoulders. "I need you to promise me something, J. Something important."

"Of course, Boss. Anything."

"If something happens to me—" Tessa paused, swallowing hard. "If I'm ever... not around anymore, I need you to look after the others."

"Others?" J tilted her head in confusion.

"Your team." Tessa's eyes never left J's visor. "N, V, and even weird little Cyn. They'll need someone to guide them, protect them. Someone who understands how things work at Elliot Manor, in this world."

J felt something cold and heavy settle in her core. "Nothing will happen to you, Tessa. I won't allow it."

"Promise me, J." Tessa's voice hardened, suddenly older than her seventeen years. "No matter what happens, you'll take care of them. They'll be your responsibility."

"I... I promise." The words emerged before J could analyze the implications, the potential inefficiency of such an arrangement.

The tension drained from Tessa's body. She slumped against J, her head coming to rest on the drone's shoulder with a soft sigh. "Thank you, Jaybird."

J remained perfectly still, afraid any movement might disturb this moment. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed her arm to rise, curving around Tessa’s back to lay gently on her shoulder.

A smile formed on J's face—a rare, genuine smile. Life as a worker drone in Elliot Manor was brutal. Drones could be discarded for the smallest mistake, or simply because their human masters woke up in a foul mood. J had seen dozens of her kind discarded like broken toys, tossed into the scrap heap behind the garage and be replaced the next day.

But all the work, all the fear, all the cruelty—it seemed worth enduring if it meant she could experience moments like this. Quiet nights under the stars, with Tessa's warmth against her side and the weight of the girl's trust settling in her core.

The memory then shattered like glass.

J blinked, her damaged visor struggling to recalibrate as the rooftop of Elliot Manor dissolved, replaced by the harsh reality of Copper-9's wasteland. The warmth of Tessa's body against her side transformed into the biting cold of metal and snow. The comfortable weight in her core became the gnawing emptiness of depleted systems.

"Tessa," J whispered.

She slumped further against the abandoned transport vessel, the effort of remaining upright suddenly too great to manage. Her power reserves ticked down another percentage point: 10% remaining.

The promise. She had promised to protect them—N, V, Cyn. Her team. Her responsibility.

And she had failed spectacularly.

How many times had she struck N? The memory circuits still functioned well enough to recall his flinching whenever she raised her voice.

"You worthless scrap heap," she'd snarled after a mission where they'd lost three worker drones in the tunnels. "Can't you do anything right?"

N had only smiled that infuriating, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, J! I'll do better next time!"

"Tessa should have left you in that dump where she found you," she'd told him once, her voice dripping with contempt. "At least garbage knows its place."

And yet N had been Tessa's favorite. J remembered how Tessa had brought him home, damaged and discarded, his circuitry exposed and sparking. How gentle she'd been as she repaired him, whispering encouragements as she booted up his processors.

"He sees the good in everything," Tessa had told J. "Even in this awful world. That's rare, J. That's precious."

What would Tessa think of her now? Of how she'd treated her precious N?

And V… their relationship had been marginally better only because V would actually fulfill her required quotas, perhaps a bit too well at times. But even that relative peace had shattered when V chose Uzi and N over J and JCJenson. When freed from the Solver’s influence, V had little hesitation before switching sides.

Cyn was the greatest mystery. What had happened to the little worker drone? J wasn’t even certain if Cyn had been in control of her actions during those final days, or if the Solver had simply used her body like a puppet. Was there anything of the real Cyn left by the end? Was she still alive somewhere, or had she perished when that purple-eyed worker drone finally defeated the Solver?

J's visor flickered again as her power reserves dropped another percentage point. 9% remaining.

"They're better off without me," she whispered to the empty wasteland. N had that purple-haired toaster now—the most unlikely pairing imaginable, a disassembly drone and a worker drone. They along with V returned to the bunker, to a relatively peaceful life amongst the workers.

V would kill her on sight if their paths ever crossed again. J had no illusions about that. The hatred and betrayal in V's eyes during their last encounter had been genuine.

So this was it. J had failed the only human who had ever truly mattered to her. Failed to protect Tessa from the Solver. Failed to keep the simple promise she'd made on that rooftop under the moon and stars.

The weight of it all crashes down on J at once—the memories, the failures, the promises broken. Something splinters inside her chassis, a dam of emotion finally giving way. Her visor flickers as the first sob tears through her, a strange, staticky sound she barely recognizes as her own.

"I failed them," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. "I failed all of them."

The tears flow freely now, trailing down her face in glowing rivulets. Her shoulders shake with each sob, each one more violent than the last until she's hunched over, keening like a wounded animal.

"Worthless," she chokes out, bringing her fist down hard against her own leg. The impact sends warning signals cascading through her systems, but she welcomes the pain. "Absolute failure." Another punch, this time to her abdomen, denting the metal with a sickening crunch.

Her voice rises, echoing across the wasteland. "Couldn't even keep one simple promise!" The next blow lands on her chest, cracking her already damaged plating. "Abusive cunt!"

Each word is punctuated with another strike against herself, each blow more savage than the last. Oil leaks from new ruptures, staining the snow beneath her.

"Pushed them away—" Crack. "—because I'm an ungrateful—" Crack. "—fucking—" Crack. "—asshole!" The final blow sends her power reserves plummeting another two percentage points, but J doesn't care.

She deserves this. Deserves the pain, the emptiness, the slow death that awaits her. Her vision blurs, partly from damage and partly from the flood of tears that won't stop coming.

"Tessa," she sobs, her voice dropping to a broken whisper. "Tessa, I'm so sorry."

J's hand trembles as she raises it to her face, oil dripping between her broken fingers. "Jaybird," she laughs bitterly, the sound dissolving into another sob. "What a joke. As if you could ever love me now. As if you ever did."

The darkness at the edges of her vision grows, creeping inward as her systems begin to shut down. Her power reserves flicker: 6%... 5%... 4%...

J doesn't fight it. She lets her body slump further into the snow, lets her eyes drift closed as consciousness slips away. Perhaps this is better. Perhaps this is what she deserves.

"J?"

The voice filters through the darkness, familiar yet impossible. J's systems struggle to reboot, dragging her back from the brink of shutdown.

"J, can you hear me? Please wake up."

Something warm touches her face—a hand, gentle against her cheek. J's eyes flicker open, vision still distorted but focusing on the figure kneeling beside her in the snow.

An astronaut in a white JCJenson suit, face hidden behind the dark visor of a helmet. Atop the helmet sits a company-issue cap, and fixed to that, a black bow that J would recognize anywhere.

"T-Tessa?" J's voice is barely a whisper, static-laced and disbelieving.

"Oh, thank goodness," comes the reply, relief evident even through the helmet's filter. "I was afraid I'd found you too late. Your systems were critically damaged, but I've managed to repair the worst of it."

J stares, unable to process what she's seeing. Her diagnostics run automatically, showing power levels at 78%, hydraulic pressure stabilized, motor functions at 62% and climbing. Someone has repaired her—extensively.

"How..." J begins, then stops. She's hallucinating. Must be. Her dying systems generating one final comfort before shutdown.

The astronaut—Tessa?—continues talking, hands gesturing animatedly as she explains something about tracking signals and emergency protocols and backup systems that had been searching for J all this time. The words wash over J without registering, white noise against the impossibility before her.

"Take off your helmet," J interrupts suddenly, the command sharp despite her weakened state.

The astronaut pauses mid-sentence. "What?"

"Your helmet," J repeats, struggling to sit upright. "Remove it. I need to see your face."

There's a moment of hesitation. "Why? J, we should focus on getting you somewhere safe. Your repairs are only temporary, and—"

"Because I need to know this isn't another trick," J says, voice breaking. "Another cruel joke. Please."

A sigh comes through the helmet's speaker. "Alright."

Gloved hands rise, releasing the seal with practiced motions. The helmet lifts away, and J's world stops.

Tessa's face—alive, warm, real—looks back at her. Those green eyes, crinkled with concern. The slight asymmetry of her smile. The tiny scar above her left eyebrow. Every detail exactly as J remembers, preserved not by the Solver's grotesque taxidermy but by life itself.

"Hello, Jaybird," Tessa says softly, reaching out to touch J's face again. "I've been looking for you for a very long time."

With a moment’s hesitation, J lunges forward, her arms wrapping around Tessa with desperate strength. The impact nearly knocks them both into the snow, but somehow they remain upright, clinging to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.

"It's really you," J sobs, her voice crackling with static and emotion. "Tessa, oh god, it's really you." Her fingers dig into the fabric of the spacesuit, afraid that if she loosens her grip even slightly, this miracle might dissolve like morning frost. "I missed you so much. So bloody much."

Her words tumble out between ragged sobs, years of loneliness and regret pouring from her like oil from a ruptured tank. "I thought you were gone forever. I thought I'd never—I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Tessa's arms tighten around J's trembling frame, one hand moving to stroke the back of J's head with gentle, rhythmic motions. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here now," she whispers, her breath warm against J's audio receptor. "Let it all out, Jaybird. I've got you."

J collapses further into the embrace, her composure—that rigid, professional mask she'd worn for so long—shattering completely. Joy floods her circuits, overwhelming her processing capacity. Her visor flickers with the strain of containing such potent emotion.

"Everything I endured," J manages between sobs, "all these years... the hunger, the loneliness, the failure... it was all worth it. All of it, just for this moment."

Tessa holds her through the storm of emotion, murmuring soft reassurances, her hand never ceasing its gentle path across J's back. The warmth of her touch seeps through J's tattered uniform, reaching places inside her that have been cold for far too long.

When J's sobs finally subside to occasional hiccups of static, she reluctantly pulls back just enough to see Tessa's face. Those green eyes—alive, vibrant, real—look back at her with such tenderness that J almost breaks down again.

"How?" J asks, her voice hushed with wonder. "How did you survive? I saw what the Solver did. What it... became."

Tessa's lips curve into that familiar half-smile, the one that always meant she had secrets. "I had a few tricks up my sleeve," she says, brushing snowflakes from J's face with gentle fingers. "Let's just say I'm not as easy to kill as some might think."

She glances up at the sky, something distant briefly crossing her features. "I managed to board one of the last emergency ships off Earth. Made it to a research station orbiting Pluto." Her gaze returns to J, softening again. "And then I began searching for my drones. For you."

J's hands tremble as they move to cup Tessa's face, metal fingers careful against human skin. The reality of her touch—warm, living flesh instead of the Solver's grotesque preservation—sends fresh tears spilling down J's visors.

"I need to tell you something," J says suddenly, the words urgent despite her weakened state. "Several things, actually."

Tessa nods, patient as always. "I'm listening."

"I'm sorry," J begins, the apology unfamiliar on her tongue but necessary, vital. "I treated N and V terribly. Especially N. I was cruel to him, belittled him, made him feel worthless when all he ever did was try his best." Her voice catches. "I broke my promise to you. The one I made that night on the rooftop."

Her hands drop from Tessa's face, shame forcing her gaze downward. "And worst of all, I... I sided with the Solver. After everything it did to you, I still followed its orders. I insulted your memory with every worker drone I disassembled in its name."

Silence falls between them, heavy with the weight of confession. J braces herself for rejection, for the disgust she deserves.

Instead, Tessa's fingers gently lift J's chin, forcing their eyes to meet once more. "I can't say I forgive everything," she says, her honesty gentle but firm. "What happened after I was gone... it hurt to watch, even from a distance."

J nods, accepting the pain of Tessa's words.

"But I understand why," Tessa continues, her thumb tracing the edge of J's visor. "I understand the Solver's power, how it twists and corrupts. And I believe you can make amends. We'll work on it together—find N and V, rebuild what was broken."

Hope blooms in J's core, fragile but unmistakable. She opens her mouth to respond, then hesitates, another truth hovering on the edge of confession.

"There's... one more thing," J whispers, her systems running hot with nervous energy. "Something I should have told you years ago. Something I've carried with me through everything."

Tessa waits, patient and attentive.

J's vocal processor glitches momentarily, the magnitude of what she's about to say overwhelming her systems. She resets, steadies herself, and meets Tessa's gaze directly.

"I love you," she says, the words emerging clear and true despite the static threatening to engulf them. "Not as a drone loves their owner, or even as family. I'm in love with you, Tessa. I have been since that night on the rooftop, maybe even before."

The confession hangs in the air between them, vulnerable and exposed. For one terrible second, J fears she's ruined everything, that this miraculous reunion will end in rejection.

Then Tessa's face transforms, breaking into a smile so radiant it puts Copper-9's twin moons to shame. "I've waited years to hear you say that," she whispers, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I love you too, J. I always have."

J's processor stutters, unable to comprehend the magnitude of Tessa's words. "You... you do?"

"Since the moment you sat beside me under the stars," Tessa confirms, her fingers tracing the outline of J's face with reverent care. "Even when I thought I'd lost you forever."

Something shifts in J's core—a tension uncoiling, a weight lifting. The emptiness that has haunted her for so long fills with something warm and bright and perfect.

"Can I..." J begins, then falters, suddenly shy despite everything they've survived to reach this moment. "Would it be alright if I kissed you?"

Tessa's answer comes not in words but in action. She leans forward, closing the distance between them with gentle determination. Her hands cup J's face, drawing her closer until their lips meet.

The kiss is everything J has dreamed of and more—tender yet passionate, hesitant yet certain. Tears flow freely down her display, digital ones mingling with Tessa's real ones as their mouths move together in perfect synchrony. J's hands find Tessa's waist, pulling her closer, desperate to eliminate any space between them.

When they finally part, both breathless for entirely different reasons, J rests her forehead against Tessa's. For the first time in over fifteen years, she feels complete. The hunger that has hollowed her for so long is satisfied not by oil or company merchandise, but by something far more powerful.

Without warning, Tessa rises to her feet, the movement smooth and purposeful. J watches her, still dazed by the kiss, by the miracle of her presence. Snowflakes catch in Tessa's dark twin tails, like tiny stars against the night of her hair.

"Serial Designation J," Tessa says, her voice taking on a formal tone that makes J's processor skip a cycle. "I have something official to declare."

J straightens instinctively, years of programming responding to that authoritative cadence. "Yes, Boss?"

Tessa's lips twitch, fighting a smile as she assumes a stance that reminds J of the corporate executives who once visited Elliott Manor. "In the name of the now dissolved corporation JCJenson, I hereby declare your service to the company officially terminated."

J blinks, confusion rippling through her circuits. "I... what?"

"Furthermore," Tessa continues, extending her hand toward J, "I authorize the immediate transfer of your ownership to one Tessa James Elliott, effective immediately upon acceptance." Her green eyes sparkle with mischief. "A handshake will make it official. Do you accept these terms?"

Understanding dawns on J like sunrise after the longest night. She's being offered freedom—not the hollow independence of abandonment that has haunted her these past years, but something infinitely more precious. A choice.

J's smile spreads across her face, wider than she thought possible. She grasps Tessa's outstretched hand and pulls herself upright, the movement stronger than her damaged systems should allow. Their hands clasp, a formal shake that feels like the most intimate gesture.

"I am honored to be back in your service, Miss Elliott," J says, voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm her vocal processor. "Though I believe I prefer simply being called 'J' now. No designation required."

"Just J," Tessa agrees, her smile matching J's own. "It suits you."

Their hands remain clasped even after the shake concludes, neither willing to break the connection. The howling wind seems distant now, the cold unable to penetrate the warmth blooming between them.

"It's time for us to go," Tessa says, gently tugging J's hand. "My ship is waiting, and we have quite a journey ahead."

J follows without hesitation, though curiosity pricks at her processor. "Where are we going?"

Tessa points upward, beyond Copper-9's sky to the stars beyond. "The Orion constellation. There's a colony there—humans who escaped Earth before the end. They've built something new, something better." Her eyes meet J's, hope shining in their green depths. "We can join them. Start fresh."

They begin walking, each step carrying them further from the desolation that has been J's prison. The snow crunches beneath their feet, J's uneven peg legs leaving distinctive tracks beside Tessa's more uniform prints.

A thought occurs to J, stopping her mid-stride. "Wait. What about N and V? Shouldn't we find them first? They're still on Copper-9, somewhere in the old worker drone bunker."

Tessa's expression softens with something like regret, but her voice remains gentle. "N and V have already found their home, J. Their happiness is here on Copper-9, with each other and the worker drones they've come to care for." She squeezes J's hand. "It would be cruel to snatch them away from the peace they've fought so hard to build."

"But—" J begins, then pauses, processing. Images of N's beaming face as he helped the worker drones rebuild their settlement. V's protective stance as she taught them to defend themselves. The way N, V, and that purple haired worker looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. "They're happy here, aren't they? They've found their purpose."

"Yes," Tessa confirms. "Just as we need to find ours. Together." Her smile turns reassuring. "Besides, we can always come back to visit. The colony maintains regular transport routes throughout the system."

J nods, accepting the wisdom in Tessa's words. Perhaps it's better this way. N and V deserve their peace, free from the complications her presence would bring. Free from the reminders of what she once was.

"Then lead on, Boss," J says, the old nickname now an endearment rather than a formality. "Orion awaits."

Tessa offers her hand once more, and J takes it without hesitation. Their fingers intertwine, metal against flesh, neither minding the difference. Together, they walk toward the waiting ship, their silhouettes gradually fading as the blizzard intensifies around them.

The wind erases their footprints almost immediately, as if they were never there at all.

…

…

…

"I still can't believe it," N whispers, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. He kneels in the snow, yellow eyes dim with grief as he stares at the motionless form before him. "She was always so strong. So... indestructible."

Beside him, V stands rigidly, her eyes fixed on the body sprawled across the frozen ground. "She chose her path," she says, but the usual bite is missing from her voice. "Loyalty to the end. Even when there was nothing left to be loyal to."

Uzi crouches on J's other side, her purple eyes narrowed as she examines the disassembly drone's remains. J's visor is dark, the once-brilliant yellow eyes extinguished like stars at dawn. Her mouth is frozen in what almost looks like a smile—peaceful, content, as if she'd found something beautiful in her final moments.

"She didn't suffer," Uzi offers, her voice unusually gentle. "Power failure. Quick and painless." She hesitates, then adds, "Probably didn't even realize what was happening."

N nods, grateful for the small mercy. His hand hovers over J's, wanting to take it but afraid of disturbing her final repose. "Do you think... do you think she saw Tessa? At the end?"

V's tail twitches, a rare display of emotion she can't quite suppress. "D-don't be ridiculous, N. Tessa's gone. Has been for years. J knew that."

"But what if she didn't?" N persists, looking up at V with desperate hope in his yellow eyes. "What if, right at the end, Tessa came for her? Took her... home?"

The word hangs in the air between them, fragile and painful. Home. A concept they've all struggled to understand since losing Earth, since losing Tessa.

Uzi rises, adjusting her beanie against the biting wind. "We should bury her," she says, practical as always. "Or whatever the equivalent is for you murder drones. Can't just leave her out here."

V nods, finally kneeling beside N. Her hand finds his shoulder, squeezing with uncharacteristic gentleness. "We'll take her back to the bunker," she decides. "Give her a proper resting place. It's what Tessa would have wanted."

N's mouth trembles, composure threatening to collapse entirely. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," V says with unexpected conviction. She looks down at J's peaceful face, at the former leader who had driven them so hard, who had clung to purpose even when there was none left to be found. "Whatever else she was, J was family. Tessa taught us that much."

N nods, finding comfort in V's certainty. He gently lifts J's hand, folding it across her chest in a gesture of respect. As he does, something catches his eye—a faint impression in the snow beside J's body, as if someone had been kneeling there.

Two sets of footprints lead away from J's final resting place, disappearing into the blizzard. One set uneven and jagged, the other smooth and precise.

N blinks, processor struggling to make sense of what he's seeing. "V?" he whispers, pointing to the tracks. "Do you see that?"

V follows his gaze, eyes narrowing as she studies the snow. For a moment, something like wonder crosses her face. Then the wind gusts, erasing the final evidence with a swirl of fresh powder.

"See what?" she asks, turning back to N with a raised eyebrow.

N hesitates, then shakes his head. Some truths are too precious, too personal to share. Some mysteries are meant to remain unsolved.

"Nothing," he says, smiling through his tears as he gathers J's body into his arms. The weight is lighter than he expected, as if something essential has already departed. "Let's take her home."

As they trudge through the deepening snow, N can't help glancing over his shoulder one last time. For just a moment, he imagines he sees two figures walking hand in hand toward the horizon—one tall and elegant with twin pigtails, the other with a yellow armband catching the light of Copper-9's two moons.

Then the blizzard closes around them, and they are gone.

N turns forward again, holding J's body close as they make their way back to the bunker. In his core, a warmth blooms that has nothing to do with his internal heating systems—a certainty that transcends logic and evidence.

J found her way home after all.