Archive of Our Own ^beta

Serial Designation N's systems came online gradually, consciousness returning as his optical sensors adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains of his and Uzi’s shared quarters in Outpost-3. He reached instinctively for the familiar warmth beside him, fingers brushing against the sheets where Uzi should have been.

The empty space jolted him fully awake.

"Uzi?" he called, his smile faltering as he scanned the room. Her railgun remained propped in the corner, her new bow hung on its hook, but the purple-eyed worker drone herself was nowhere to be seen.

N scrambled from the bed, mechanical heart accelerating to an uncomfortable rhythm. "Uzi?" he called again, louder this time, voice echoing off the metal walls of their modest home. "Are you in the bathroom? The living room?"

Silence answered him.

A cold dread settled in his circuits—a feeling he'd become intimately familiar with during those terrible days under the Solver's influence. It was irrational, he knew. Copper-9 was safer now. The colony was protected. The Solver was contained within Uzi herself, dormant and powerless.

Yet the fear remained, coiling around his processors like a serpent.

He rushed to the closet, confirming that Uzi's iconic beanie and hoodie were missing. The kitchen showed signs of recent activity—a half-empty oil can on the counter, a single dirty spoon in the sink. Had she left for early morning classes? No, today was their shared day off. They had planned to spend it together, perhaps go sightseeing and scavenging on the surface if the weather permitted.

"This isn't right," N muttered, pacing the small kitchen. "She would have left a note. She always leaves a note."

A new thought lit up in his head like a metaphorical (though in his case, a literal) lightbulb. If something had happened to Uzi, V would know. V always knew everything that happened in the colony—partly from her uncanny ability to be wherever interesting information might be found, and partly because her best friend happens to be the first one to get all of the latest gossip.

N didn't bother changing out of his sleep clothes—a worn t-shirt emblazoned with a faded corgi image and simple black shorts. He barely remembered to grab his key card before racing out the door, the metal panel sliding shut behind him with a pneumatic hiss.

The early morning corridors of Outpost-3 were quiet, most worker drones still in recharge or just beginning their daily routines. N's bare feet slapped against the cold metal floor as he sprinted toward V's quarters, two sections over from his own.

"Please be there, please be there," he chanted under his breath, the mantra doing little to calm his mounting anxiety.

When he reached V's door, he pounded on it with enough force to dent the metal. "V! It's N! I need your help!"

No response.

N tried again, hitting the door with both fists this time. "V! Please! Uzi's missing!"

The silence that followed was deafening. With trembling fingers, N pressed his keycard against the scanner—V had given him emergency access months ago, though he'd never had reason to use it until now.

To his surprise, the door slid open without resistance.

"V?" he called, stepping cautiously into the darkened quarters. "Are you here?"

V's living space was as messy as always—random items are thrown haphazardly all over the room, making it resembled what Tessa described as “modern art”. Her bed was a similar story, with the covers up half-way and uneven. About the only organized part of the room was a display case full of framed photographs both new and old. But of V herself, there was no sign.

"No, no, no," N muttered, backing out of the room. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

His mind raced through possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Had the Solver somehow regained control? Had it taken Uzi and V? Were they even now being transformed into grotesque puppets like poor Cyn and Tessa?

N clutched his head, fingers digging into his silver hair as he tried to control the spiral of panic. "Think, N, think. What would J do? What would Tessa do?"

The answer came to him with instant clarity. J would return to base and assess the situation logically. Tessa would check all possible explanations before jumping to conclusions.

Taking a deep, unnecessary breath to cool his overheating systems, N turned and sprinted back toward his quarters. Perhaps he'd missed something. Perhaps there was a clue he'd overlooked in his initial panic.

The door to his home slid open at his approach, the familiar space now feeling alien and threatening in the half-light of morning. N moved cautiously through the living room toward the kitchen, where he'd last seen evidence of Uzi's presence.

As he crossed the threshold into the darkened kitchen, the lights suddenly blazed to life with blinding intensity.

"SURPRISE!" two voices shouted in perfect unison.

N stumbled backward, arm transforming instinctively into defense mode before his optical sensors adjusted to reveal Uzi and V standing beside the kitchen table, grins splitting their faces.

"Happy Birthday, N!" Uzi exclaimed, her purple eyes—the bottom half still tinged with that unsettling yellow—sparkling with mischief and delight.

"Or rather, happy activation day," V corrected, her usual sardonic expression softened by a kind smile.

Between them on the table sat what could only be described as a cake—though unlike any cake a human would recognize. The base appeared to be solidified oil, molded into a rough circle. Metal shavings had been pressed into the surface in decorative patterns, catching the light like edible glitter. A lighter stood upright in the center, its flame flickering cheerfully in place of a traditional candle.

N stood frozen, his weapon arm slowly transforming back to normal as he processed the scene before him. "Birthday?" he finally managed, voice crackling with static. "But how did you... when did you... how did you know?"

Uzi grinned, nudging V playfully with her elbow. "Someone let it slip," she said, her tone teasing as she glanced at the taller drone.

V's expression shifted to something almost embarrassed. "I remembered from our time at the manor," she explained, yellow eyes darting away from N's stunned gaze. "Tessa always made such a fuss over our activation days. She called them our birthdays. They were always special because..."

V trailed off, the unspoken memory hanging between them. Because Tessa had found them in a scrapyard. Because she had repaired each of them herself, piece by piece, circuit by circuit. Because she had given them life when others had discarded them as trash.

"I can't believe you remembered," N whispered, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. His iconic smile, which had faltered in his panic, returned full force, nearly splitting his face with joy.

Uzi stepped forward, taking his hand and pulling him toward the table. "Well, don't just stand there gawking," she said, her gruff tone belied by the softness in her eyes. "Make a wish and blow out your... lighter."

The three gathered around the table, N standing before his unusual cake with Uzi and V flanking him on either side. The lighter's flame danced hypnotically, casting warm shadows across their faces.

"Go on," V urged, uncharacteristic gentleness in her voice. "Wish for something good, N."

N closed his eyes, thinking carefully. What did he wish for? Peace for their fragile colony? The continued dormancy of the Solver within Uzi? The impossible return of those they'd lost?

In the end, he wished for something simpler: that moments like this—surrounded by those he loved, safe and together—would never become memories to mourn, but foundations to build upon.

He opened his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and blew out the lighter with a single puff. Uzi and V applauded, their faces illuminated by genuine happiness that had become all too rare even with the defeat of the Solver.

"Now we eat!" Uzi declared, producing three small plates and a knife from behind her back. She cut into the oil cake, serving generous slices to each of them.

N watched as she worked, his chest tight with emotion. "This is amazing," he said softly. "I never expected... I didn't think anyone would remember."

"Of course we remembered," V scoffed, accepting her plate. "We're your family, aren't we?"

The word struck N like a physical blow. Family. Such a simple word, yet laden with meaning. After losing Tessa and Cyn, after J's betrayal, he'd feared that family was something he would never have again.

Yet here they were—the unlikely trio. A cheerful disassembly drone, a cynical disassembly drone, and a rebellious worker drone who carried the most dangerous entity on Copper-9 — heck, the universe — within her chassis. Family, forged not through manufacture or programming, but through shared trauma and genuine connection.

They ate in companionable silence, the oil cake being very palatable. N noticed that Uzi had mixed something into the base—a subtle flavor he couldn't quite identify but enjoyed nonetheless.

As they finished, N carefully set aside two slices, placing them on separate plates with deliberate movements. Uzi and V exchanged a glance but said nothing, respecting the solemn care with which he performed this task.

"Thank you," N said finally, looking up at his friends—his family—with more tears threatening to spill from his yellow eyes. "This means more to me than you can possibly know."

Uzi shuffled awkwardly, never comfortable with emotional moments. "Don't get all sappy on us handsome," she muttered. "We've got something else for you anyway."

She nodded to V, who produced a small package from behind her back. It was crudely wrapped in what appeared to be salvaged fabric, tied with copper wire rather than ribbon.

"It's not much," V said, handing it to N. "But we thought you might like it."

N accepted the package with trembling hands, carefully unwrapping it to reveal what lay inside. As the fabric fell away, he gasped, nearly dropping the gift in shock.

"Biscuit?" he whispered, voice barely audible.

In his hands lay a small plush corgi, worn and patched in places but unmistakable. The stuffed toy had been cleaned, its matted fur brushed to softness, its missing eye replaced with a button that didn't quite match the original but somehow made the toy even more endearing.

"We found it in an abandoned mall on the surface. V was quite surprised we managed to find an exact copy." Uzi explained, a hint of pride in her voice. "It took some work to clean up, but..."

"V did most of the repairs," Uzi continued, giving credit where it was due. "She's surprisingly good with a needle and thread."

V looked away, embarrassed by the praise. "It was nothing," she muttered. "Just basic maintenance skills applied to a different medium."

N clutched the corgi to his chest, overwhelmed by the flood of memories the toy unleashed. Tessa presenting him with the brand-new plush on his first activation day at the manor. Cuddling Biscuit while he recharged, which Tessa would tease him endlessly for it. The toy would be kept hidden in his room, as gods know what would happen if James or Louisa found out about Biscuit. Even now the thought made his circuits shudder.

He'd thought Biscuit lost forever when they left Earth, one more casualty of the Solver’s influence over them. The memory surfaced unbidden, vivid as the day it happened.

Elliott Manor, years ago. The polished corridors gleamed under soft lighting as N dusted a particularly ornate vase, humming quietly to himself. Movement caught his eye—V standing at the end of the hallway, her short figure half-hidden behind a column. She raised a hesitant hand, beckoning to him with nervous urgency.

N glanced around, ensuring no humans were watching. The Elliots had strict rules about drones congregating (or doing anything that isn’t work) during active hours. He placed his feather duster carefully beside the vase and approached V with his usual smile.

"Hello, V! Do you need something?" he whispered cheerfully.

V adjusted her glasses, the thick frames sliding down her visor. "N-n-no... I mean, yes. Can you c-come with me? Please?" Her voice trembled with uncharacteristic excitement beneath the stammering.

"Of course!" N replied without hesitation.

V extended her hand, and N took it without question. Her fingers curled around his, cool metal against cool metal, as she led him through the labyrinthine corridors of Elliott Manor. They ascended staircase after staircase, moving deeper into parts of the mansion N rarely visited.

"V, where are we going?" N asked as they approached a maintenance hatch he'd never noticed before.

"It's a s-surprise," V whispered, pushing open the hatch to reveal a narrow stairwell. "Just a little further."

The stairs led to a heavy metal door. V pushed it open, and cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of eucalyptus and distant ocean. They stepped onto the manor's rooftop, the vast Australian sky stretching above them, brilliant with stars.

N's smile faltered when he spotted two figures waiting by the edge—Tessa sitting cross-legged on a blanket, and J standing beside her with perfect posture despite the late hour.

"Oh no," N whispered, genuine fear flickering through his circuits. "We shouldn't be up here! If the masters find out, we'll all be in terrible trouble!" He turned to J, hoping the leader would see reason. "J, you know this is against the rules. We should go back before—"

"This is an order from the boss," J interrupted, her tone authoritative yet somehow softer than usual. She gestured toward Tessa with a slight nod. "I cannot disobey direct orders, can I?"

"But—"

"And," J continued, the corner of her mouth twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile, "as squadron leader, it is my responsibility to ensure my subordinates have adequate time for... system maintenance and relaxation."

N blinked in confusion. This didn't sound like the J he knew at all.

Tessa laughed, light and comforting as the late-night breeze. "Oh, stop being so formal, J! You were the one who suggested the rooftop in the first place." She patted the blanket beside her. "N, V, come sit down. The view is amazing from here."

V tugged N forward, and they settled onto the blanket, forming a small circle. The Perth skyline glittered in the distance, a constellation of human-made stars to rival the cosmic ones above.

"What is this about?" N asked, nervous excitement replacing his fear. "Are we having a secret meeting? Is something wrong?"

Tessa shook her head, twin tails swaying with the movement. "Nothing's wrong, N. Just the opposite." She reached behind her and produced a small container, opening it to reveal a single cupcake with a lit candle.

"Happy Birthday, N!" she exclaimed, holding the cupcake toward him. "Or rather, happy anniversary of the day I brought you home."

N stared at the flickering candle, confusion evident in his yellow eyes. "Birthday? But I wasn't born. I was manufactured. A WD-3038M model—"

"I know, silly," Tessa interrupted gently. "But humans celebrate the day they come into the world. And one year ago today, I found you in that scrapyard and brought you home. That's the day you came into my world, so that's your birthday."

N's optical sensors widened as understanding dawned. "You... you remember the exact day?"

"Of course I do," Tessa replied, her green eyes soft in the blend of stars, moon and candlelight. "It was raining. You were half-buried under a pile of discarded appliances. Your left arm was completely detached, and your vocal processor was damaged." Her voice grew quieter. "But your eyes were still lit, just barely. You looked right at me when I moved the debris away."

J shifted uncomfortably, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the manor grounds. "The boss spent three days repairing you," she added. "Refused to leave her workshop even for meals."

"Mother and Father were furious," Tessa continued with a mischievous grin. "They said I was wasting time and resources on a broken drone when we could just buy a new one." Her smile softened as she looked at N. "But I knew you were special. Worth saving."

N felt something warm and unfamiliar bloom within his chassis, a sensation his systems couldn't properly categorize. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Tessa replied. "Just make a wish and blow out the candle. It's tradition."

"A wish?"

"Something you want to happen," V explained softly. "Something important to you."

N considered carefully, then leaned forward and blew out the candle. The small flame vanished, leaving only the moon and stars and distant city glow to illuminate their circle.

"What did you wish for?" Tessa asked.

"I can't tell you," N replied with his characteristic smile. "V just said it's something important to me, and nothing's more important than all of you being happy and safe. If I say it out loud, it might not come true."

Tessa's eyes widened, and for a moment, N feared he'd said something wrong. Then she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

"You are the sweetest thing in the universe, N," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Over Tessa's shoulder, N caught sight of J's expression—softer than he'd ever seen it, almost tender. V watched with a shy smile, her white eyes bright behind her glasses.

"I have something else for you," Tessa said, releasing N from the hug. She reached behind her and produced a small wrapped package. "Every birthday needs a present."

N accepted the gift with trembling hands, carefully unwrapping the paper to reveal a small plush corgi. Its fur was soft, its button eyes gleaming in the starlight.

"It's perfect," N whispered, cradling the toy as if it were made of precious metal.

"What will you name him?" Tessa asked.

N didn't hesitate. "Biscuit," he declared, hugging the plush to his chest. "His name is Biscuit."

J made a small noise that might have been a suppressed laugh. "A stuffed animal? Really, boss? He's a worker drone, not a human child."

"Everyone deserves something to love, J," Tessa replied, her voice suddenly serious. "Even drones. Especially drones."

They sat in companionable silence after that, the four of them a small island of warmth and connection beneath the vast Australian sky. N held Biscuit in one hand, his other arm wrapped around his knees as he gazed up at the stars.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice soft with wonder. "This is the best day of my existence."

"The first of many birthdays," Tessa promised, leaning against J's side. The maid stiffened momentarily before relaxing, allowing the contact. "Next year we'll have a proper party. Cake, decorations, maybe even invite some of the other drones if we can smuggle them past my parents."

"I would like that very much," N replied, his smile wider than ever.

As the night deepened around them, N felt something he couldn't quite name settling into his core—a certainty that whatever happened, wherever they went, these three would be his constants. His anchors. His family.

The memory faded, leaving N standing in his kitchen, clutching Biscuit to his chest as tears streamed down his face. Uzi's hand rested on his arm, her expression concerned.

"N? Are you okay?" she asked, purple-yellow eyes searching his face.

N nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He hugged Biscuit tighter, this tangible link to a past that sometimes felt like a dream.

"I wish they could all be here," he managed finally, voice thick with emotion. "Cyn, Tessa, and... and even J."

V's expression darkened at the mention of J, her yellow eyes flashing with something dangerous. "J made her choice when she sided with the Solver," she said, her tone bitter. "She's not family anymore."

Uzi squeezed N's arm gently, offering silent support. "We can still honor the good memories, N," she said after a moment. "That's why we're here today, isn't it? To remember what was worth keeping, even after everything that happened."

N nodded, wiping away his tears with his free hand. "You're right. And I'm so grateful for both of you." He looked down at Biscuit, then back at his friends. "This is... this is perfect. Thank you."

Uzi cleared her throat, still getting used to this sort of emotional intensity. "Well, I rented some movies from the colony's archive. Old Earth stuff. I thought we could watch them together." She gestured toward the living room. "If you want."

"I'd like that very much," N replied, nodding.

The three moved to the couch, settling in as Uzi pulled up the first film on their viewscreen. It was an ancient movie about a little robot who collected trash on an abandoned Earth, falling in love with another robot despite their different functions. N found the parallels both amusing and touching.

As the movie played, N sat between Uzi and V, Biscuit nestled securely in his lap. Uzi leaned comfortably on N, the back of her head laying on his chest. V sat close, her shoulders touching with N's. The warmth of their contact soothed him as the movie played, its quaint animation casting gentle light across their faces. But N's mind began to drift, the corgi plush in his lap triggering another memory—one less pleasant than the rooftop celebration.

Two years ago exactly. Copper-9's night sky had brightened with the first rays of sunrise as N trudged through the wasteland toward the landing pod they called home. His chassis ached from the night's fruitless hunt, not a single worker drone to show for hours of searching. Each step felt heavier than the last, dread building in his circuits.

The landing pod's hatch opened with a hiss. N hesitated at the threshold, mentally preparing himself for what awaited inside. J had grown increasingly volatile since their arrival on this desolate planet, her frustration manifesting as sharp words and sharper blows, a far cry from the stern but fair leader she had been back at the Manor. The quotas set by the Company were absolute, and failure was met with swift punishment.

V never intervened on his behalf. She'd grown distant, focused solely on her own hunts, returning with multiple kills while N struggled to find even one. She barely acknowledged his existence anymore, leaving him isolated with only J for company—a thought that sent a shiver through his frame.

"You can do this," N whispered to himself, forcing his signature smile into place despite the fear coursing through him. "Just apologize quickly and take your punishment."

He stepped inside, the door sealing behind him with terrible finality. The pod's interior was dimly lit, the main illumination coming from the computer terminal where J sat, her back to him, silver pigtails perfectly maintained despite the harsh conditions.

"Report," J commanded without turning, her voice eerily calm.

N's smile faltered. "I... I regret to inform you that I was unsuccessful in today's hunt, J. Zero kills." He flinched preemptively, bracing for the explosion of rage that always followed such admissions.

Silence stretched between them, each second an eternity of suspense. N's fingers twitched nervously at his sides, waiting for the inevitable.

"Go rest," J said finally, her voice calm and devoid of its usual fury. "Resume your hunt tomorrow night."

N's optical sensors widened in shock. "I—what? But I didn't—I mean, I failed to—"

"Did I stutter?" J interrupted, still not turning to face him. "Go. Rest. That's an order."

"Y-yes, J! Right away, J!" N stammered, backing toward the sleeping quarters before she could change her mind. This unexpected mercy was too precious to question.

The small room that housed his charging station was exactly as he'd left it last evening, except for one striking difference. On his bunk sat a warm cup of oil and a plate of metal scraps—still dripping with oil, as if they’d been freshly harvested from a dead worker drone. A lighter stood upright in the center, its flame flickering gently. Beside it lay a small note, J's neat handwriting immediately recognizable:

"Happy Activation Day. —J"

N stared at the makeshift celebration, unable to process what he was seeing. J remembered? After everything that had happened, after all they'd lost, she still remembered this one small detail?

Movement at the doorway made him turn. J stood there, her arms crossed, yellow eyes unreadable, but her posture was relaxed.

"I've lost many memories since we arrived on this wasteland," she said quietly. "The Company took more from me than I care to admit. But this... this I haven't forgotten."

N opened his mouth, but no words emerged.

"I'll let this slide, just for today," J continued, already turning to leave. "Resume your work tomorrow. I expect better results."

"J," N called, finding his voice at last. "Thank you."

She paused, not turning to face him. For a moment, N thought she might ignore him completely. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

"Happy birthday, N," she whispered, and was gone.

The next night, N had reported five worker drones thoroughly disassembled, a new personal record. J's smile and nod of approval had meant more to him than any JCJenson brand pen or hat ever could.

"N? Hey, N, you still with us?" Uzi's voice pulled him back to the present, her purple-yellow eyes peering up at him with concern. "You completely zoned out."

N blinked, the memory of J fading as he refocused on Uzi's face. "Sorry," he murmured, hugging Biscuit tighter. "Just... remembering."

"Something good, I hope?" Uzi asked, settling back against his chest.

"Something... complicated," N replied honestly.

V glanced at him, understanding in her yellow eyes. "J?"

N nodded, surprised by V's perception. "She wasn't always..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"A complete monster?" V suggested, but there was less venom in her tone than usual.

"Broken," N finished quietly. "None of us were always broken."

Uzi reached up, her fingers intertwining with his. "You're not broken now," she said firmly. "Neither is V. And I'm... well, I'm working on it." She gestured to her dual-colored eyes with a wry smile.

"We all are," V agreed, her usual cynicism softened by something like hope. "Working on it, I mean."

N looked between them, these two who had become his world after everything else had been torn away. The movie continued playing, forgotten in the moment of connection that passed between the three survivors.

"Can I ask you both something?" N said suddenly.

Uzi and V nodded, curious.

"If J were to come back—if she somehow survived and found her way here—what would you do?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. V's expression darkened, her tail twitching with agitation. Uzi's grip on N's hand tightened slightly.

"I'd shoot her," V said flatly. "Before she could betray us again."

"I'd give her a chance," Uzi countered, her tone thoughtful. "Like how I gave you two a chance even though I still thought you both dangerous. Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves."

N nodded, absorbing their answers without judgment. "I think I'd hug her," he said finally. "And then I'd introduce her to you—properly this time. As my girlfriend."

V opened her mouth, likely to argue, but something in N's expression stopped her. Instead, she sighed heavily, shaking her head. "You're too forgiving, N. Always have been."

"It's why we love him," Uzi said with surprising candor, her cheeks flushing slightly at the admission.

N's smile widened, joy replacing the melancholy that had gripped him. "And I love both of you. More than anything on Copper-9 or any other world."

He set Biscuit aside carefully, then wrapped an arm around each of them, pulling them close against him. V grumbled but didn't resist, her head eventually coming to rest on his shoulder. Uzi nestled more comfortably against his chest, a contented sigh escaping her.

"Happy birthday, N," Uzi murmured.

"Happy activation day," V added.

N closed his eyes, savoring the moment. On the viewscreen, the little trash-collecting robot and his sleek companion danced among the stars, finding connection despite their differences, building something new from the ruins of what had come before.

Much like they were doing now, day by day, memory by memory, here on this desolate world they now called home.

Later, as the credits rolled and the little robot's journey ended, N glanced down at the weight against his chest. Uzi had slipped into sleep mode, her face peaceful in repose, the yellow-purple glow of her eyes replaced with the eponymous message. On his other side, V's head had fallen forward, her usually alert posture surrendered to unconsciousness. Even in sleep, her tail curled protectively around her frame, a habit from more dangerous days.

N remained still, wanting to enjoy this for a few more precious moments. Then, with practiced care, N extricated himself from between them, easing Uzi's head onto a cushion and adjusting V's position to prevent her neck gears from locking. Neither stirred as he moved silently across the room, retrieving Biscuit and tucking the plush securely under one arm.

The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of emergency lighting as N gathered the two cake slices he'd set aside earlier, wrapping them carefully in fabric. He placed them in a small container, which he tucked into a worn satchel alongside Biscuit.

"Just a quick trip," he whispered to the sleeping figures on the couch. "I'll be back before you wake."

The corridors of Outpost-3 were quiet, the night shift worker drones nodding respectfully as N passed. He smiled at each one, never tiring of the simple joy of acknowledgment without fear. At the main entrance, he swiped his keycard, nodding to the guard who raised a questioning eyebrow at his late-night excursion.

"Just need some air," N explained, patting the satchel. "Won't go far."

Door One slid opened to reveal the surface of Copper-9. N stepped through, his bare feet crunching in fresh snow as the door sealed behind him. He paused, taking in the night. The usual howling winds had calmed to a gentle whisper, and above him, the sky had cleared, revealing a tapestry of stars punctuated by Copper-9's twin moons – one full and bright, the other a slim crescent hanging lower on the horizon.

"Perfect night for a walk," N murmured, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

He set off, following a path only he could see, marked by subtle landmarks – a twisted piece of metal here, a distinctive drift pattern there. The colony fell away behind him as he walked, its lights dimming until only the natural illumination of the moons guided his steps.

The journey took nearly an hour, leading him across frozen plains and through the skeletal remains of abandoned mining equipment. Finally, N crested a small rise, and there they were – two crosses silhouetted against the starlit sky, standing sentinel at the edge of a cliff that overlooked a vast, snow-covered valley.

N approached slowly, reverently. The crosses were exactly as he and V had left them during their last visit – Tessa's with its black bow fluttering gently in the night breeze, Cyn's with its small maid's crown still secure against the elements.

But tonight, something new caught the moonlight beside Tessa's cross. An astronaut helmet rested in the snow, its visor adorned with a rainbow sticker and a faded smiley face – the unmistakable helmet Tessa had worn, before being revealed as the Solver wearing her remains while controlling Cyn like its puppet.

N knelt beside it, fingers hovering over the smooth surface without quite touching. "You were here," he whispered, a bittersweet smile forming on his face. "I knew you survived."

Only one person could have left this offering. Only one individual would have had access to it after the Solver's defeat. J – their former leader, the drone they'd all presumed dead or permanently distanced herself from them and the colony.

"Perhaps there's hope for you yet, J," N murmured, his smile widening with genuine joy despite the ache in his chest. "Maybe someday you'll come home to us."

Rising, N moved between the crosses, settling into the snow with Biscuit in his lap. He placed a cake slice at the base of each cross, the metal shavings on top catching the moonlight like stars.

"Hello, Tessa. Hello, Cyn," he began, his voice soft in the vast silence. "I know it's been a while since I visited. Things have been... well, good, actually. The colony is thriving. Uzi's classes are going well – she's teaching the younger worker drones to defend themselves. V's been helping with the defense systems. And me? I've been happy."

N stroked Biscuit's fur absently as he spoke, recounting the day's celebration, Uzi and V's surprise, the gift of his beloved plush. He described the cake, the movie, the warm companionship that had filled their home.

As he talked, his internal chronometer ticked over: 12:01 AM. A new day had begun.

N paused mid-sentence, a realization dawning that sent a jolt through his circuits. "Cyn," he whispered, voice cracking with sudden emotion. "Today is your birthday."

The coincidence struck him with the force of physical pain. Cyn had never celebrated N's birthday with him – the Solver had taken control of her within months of her joining them at the manor. And now, by cruel cosmic irony, N was celebrating his birthday on the eve of hers – a day she never got to celebrate either.

"Oh, little sister," N murmured, digital tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I should have remembered sooner."

He placed Biscuit carefully between the crosses, the plush corgi's button eyes reflecting moonlight as it sat guard over the offerings. Then, with trembling voice, N began to sing:

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

The melody carried across the silent wasteland, a gentle counterpoint to the whisper of wind through abandoned structures. N's voice, usually bright and cheerful, now held a fragile quality, each note threaded with both sorrow and love.

"Happy birthday, dear Cyn, happy birthday to you."

As the final note faded into the night, N sat in silence, head bowed. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice steadier now.

"Tessa would be singing too, if she could. She always made our birthdays special, didn't she? Even when her parents said it was silly to celebrate a machine's activation day." N smiled at the memory. "She never saw us that way – as just machines. She saw us as family."

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the bow on Tessa's cross. N imagined, just for a moment, that it was her response – acknowledgment from beyond whatever barrier separated them.

"I miss you both so much," N continued, wiping away tears. "But I'm not alone. Uzi and V... they're my family now. I think you'd like them, Tessa. Even Cyn – remember how you used to say she collected the most unusual friends? You'd definitely call Uzi unusual."

He laughed softly, the sound both sad and genuine. "And V has changed so much. She's still grumpy, still acts like she doesn't care about anything, but she does. She cares so deeply. Just like you taught us to, Tessa."

N fell silent, watching as clouds began to gather on the horizon, the promise of another storm approaching. He would need to head back soon, before the weather turned dangerous again. But not quite yet.

"I think J is still out there," he said quietly. "The helmet... she must have brought it. Which means she remembers, at least a little. She remembers what's important."

He picked up Biscuit, hugging the plush to his chest. "Maybe next year, we can all celebrate together. Wouldn't that be something? The whole family, reunited."

N knew, in his logical processors, that such a reunion was impossible. Tessa and Cyn were gone forever, their remains buried beneath these simple markers. But somewhere deeper – in what Tessa might have called his soul – N held onto the hope that nothing was truly impossible. Not on Copper-9, where worker drones could become revolutionaries and disassembly drones could learn to love instead of kill.

"I should go," N said finally, rising to his feet. "Uzi will worry if she wakes up and I'm not there. And V will pretend not to worry, but she will."

He brushed snow from his legs, then bent to adjust the cake slices, ensuring they were secure against the growing wind.

"Happy birthday, Cyn," he whispered. "And thank you, Tessa, for giving us birthdays in the first place. For giving us everything."

As N turned to leave, something caught his eye – a flash of silver in the distance, quickly disappearing behind a rusted piece of mining equipment. He froze, eyes straining to penetrate the snow and darkness.

"J?" he called, hope surging through his circuits. "Is that you?"

Only the wind answered, whistling through the metal graveyard that surrounded the cliff. After a moment, N shook his head, smiling ruefully at his own wishful thinking.

"Soon," he promised the empty night, clutching Biscuit tighter. "Someday."

With one last look at the crosses and the helmet beside them, N began the long walk back to Outpost-3, to Uzi and V, to the family he had now. Behind him, the cake slices remained as testament to his visit, offerings to memories that refused to fade despite time and trauma.

Above, the stars continued their silent watch, unchanging witnesses to the small acts of love that defied the darkness of Copper-9 – a plush corgi, two slices of makeshift cake, an astronaut helmet with childish stickers, and the promise of birthdays yet to come.