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Description
The sky was pitch black—no surprise, as it was almost midnight. But that would just make finding him more difficult.

As if driving this old car wasn’t hard enough. Dr. Light had slammed down the brakes almost a minute ago, and the damn thing was still chugging along. After three minutes, the car finally ceased moving, allowing the doctor to step outside. If there was anyone else here, especially any of Wily’s robots, then the last thing Dr. Light needed was the piercing car alarm to go off.

Nor could he keep his flashlight on. While his tracker indicated that only one robot occupied the area (hopefully, that ‘one robot’ was his son), Dr. Light was well aware how easy it was to hide one’s signature from the small device. Megaman couldn’t do it, but someone who had the spare time to do some self-tinkering—say, Tenguman—might. And if Dr. Light had a run-in with him, nothing would save him from the masked robot’s wrath.

In which case, he’d better let his eyes grow used to the darkness.

The area was situated fairly far from civilization, a great place to go to if you wanted to kill yourself. After all, who was going to drag their asses to this ratty stretch of crabgrass, dirt, and rocks for any purpose other than suicide? And given everything that had transpired these past months, perhaps Megaman had been thinking the same…

Dr. Light immediately banished the thought. His son had to be alive, he had to…

Something underneath his shoe cracked. He glanced down in alarm—that wasn’t metal he just stepped on, but something organic. Dr. Light took a step back and tried to discern exactly what that ‘something’ was.

A body.

A quick examination revealed that this had once been a member of ‘Zentradei’, the organization and purpose of which escaped the doctor’s mind. It didn’t matter what this particular man had been doing here, or why. Just that he was dead and would remain so. His entire head had been split clean open, leaving his face a cleaved death mask of horror. Blood no longer flowed from his nostrils or open mouth, or the chasm that was once his forehead. This murder had been committed long ago.

Normally Dr. Light would have been shocked out of his wits, but this was Zentradei he was dealing with. He felt no pity for the dead grunt.

Besides, they weren’t important.

He continued walking, eyes fixed on the screen of the tracker in his hand. Despite flawlessly showing every robotic being in a forty-yard radius (well, except the ones it didn’t), it couldn’t tell the user where they were positioned. The best guess Dr. Light could make was that he was somewhere below the bottom edge of the screen, moving west. He was still in danger of entirely missing whom he was searching for, even if he was a mere inch away from the marker indicating that his son was even here. So relying on the tracker was iffy at best.

He could always call out for him, but if there were live Zentradei grunts here—though he heard nothing but the cicadas and his own footsteps—then he might as well shoot himself in the head. Zentradei never hesitated to attack anyone.

By now he could see well in the darkness. Maybe this wasn’t such a great thing, as now the rest of the bodies were in clear view. Most died near their own equipment, mostly by head trauma. A few appeared to have been strangled or shot—one wretched woman had been electrocuted. The area stank of blood, unsurprisingly.

Dr. Light pressed on, stepping around the corpses. Megaman would know better than to hang around here, even if the police didn’t come by this area. And why should they? After all, this was just a dead stretch of land. Only the insects lived here.

Contrary to ‘opular’ belief, Megaman was not programmed to do anything. More accurately, he did not have to limit himself to any one behaviour. Megaman was free to do as he wanted, limited only by his values and logic. That was the beauty of having such an advanced A.I…he had free will, and was thus sentient. The way he saw the world was his own interpretation, not his creator’s.

On the negative side, his older brother Protoman had that same A.I., and within four days of his activation he branded the world as shit. Perhaps having a faulty reactor and realizing that his life was severely limited contributed to that decision, but what mattered most was that Protoman, too, had free will. Wily hadn’t reprogrammed him into serving the mad scientist—that had been his own decision, albeit out of dread of such reprogramming. Likewise, Protoman’s defection to the ‘good’ side hadn’t been out of interest for humanity, but he simply hadn’t been ready to die.

He shouldn’t have died after all that trouble, damn it.

That was the final breaking point for Megaman. And who could blame him? He’d fought against his brother for so long, hoping to God that one day, Protoman would join his side permanently—and to finally have it happen, only for his brother to die trying to save him? Not to mention that the only people who cared were his own family. No other human would give a rat’s ass about some robot who got himself killed over another. Truth be told, they wouldn’t care about any stranger dying. It didn’t concern them, after all.

To be honest, Dr. Light would have been seriously worried if Megaman hadn’t snapped.

He finally spotted someone alive, sitting a few yards away.

The figure sat on a small boulder, hunched over and unmoving. A lead pipe, bent in several places and stained with something dark (most likely blood), was lying some ways away, probably thrown there. Only the robot’s breathing indicated that he was even functional; otherwise, he might as well have been a statue.

It was Megaman, all right.

It occurred to Dr. Light that he didn’t know how to approach his son. Sure, he had prepared extensively for not being able to find Megaman at all, or finding him injured or worse—but just sitting there, after clearly slaughtering a crowd of humans? Snapping didn’t necessarily mean going insane, but now Dr. Light seriously doubted his son’s sanity. Regardless…he had to help him.

After a minute or so of pondering, he decided how to get Megaman’s attention. “Megaman?” he said quietly. “Are you alright?”

Megaman barely lifted his head. He hadn’t jumped at the sound of his creator’s voice—it was as if he expected Dr. Light to find him nearby a massacre.

But he did not answer.

Cautiously, Dr. Light moved closer—not fearing that he would be attacked, but that he would scare the poor boy. Megaman said nor did anything, but allowed the man to kneel down beside him.

“Ah…” He was unsure of what to say. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

No answer.

“You thought I’d try to stop you, right?”

A nod. A weak one, and mostly invisible, but Dr. Light still saw it.

“Even if I knew that…”

“That I would do this?” Megaman finished. His voice was low and broken, but rather than sadness, there was…frustration. Resentment.

“Yes.”

No answer.

“You know I couldn’t have done it, Rock.”

At first, Dr. Light thought Megaman was going to remain silent, but then he spoke again. Those next words caught the doctor completely off-guard. “You have a taser, don’t you?”

“Y…yes, I do, but—”

“Maybe you should start using it.”

To put it mildly, Dr. Light was shocked. “N—Absolutely not! I would never even think of doing that to you! What gave you that id—”

“You got any better suggestions?!” Megaman yelled. During this whole ‘conversation’, he never looked up, but his fists were now tightly clenched and the muscles in his arm tense, as if he were forcing himself not to swing out at the doctor right then and there. After a moment, however, his body relaxed. “Well?” he asked, much more quietly than before.

It was Dr. Light’s turn to be silent. Never before had Megaman asked Dr. Light to harm him—he had his own guilt to punish him. Even if he didn’t deserve it. Did he deserve to feel guilty now? The Zentradei, after all, insulted the already bad name of humanity—their organization was merely an excuse to torture innocent people (even if they had never considered robots to be ‘eople’. No socio-religious bullshit could hide that. Wasn’t the world a better place without those pathetic wastes of oxygen? But to Megaman, murder was still murder.

“WELL?!” Megaman shrieked. He brought his fist down upon his leg, an action that frightened Dr. Light more than the sudden outburst.

“No,” he said quickly. “Because I would never do that, I wouldn’t fathom anything worse.”

That seemed to be enough for Megaman. He fell silent once again.

“Why not?” he asked finally.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Rock. Simple as that.”

“You should.”

“What makes you say that?”

Instead of a reply, Dr. Light got the chirping of cicadas. Why did they have to be so loud?

“It’s my fault.”

“What’s out there in the field, or everything that occurred in these past months?” Dr. Light asked. “Because neither is true.”

“It is.” Megaman’s voice became even more cracked, as if he were on the verge of tears—but there was still that anger. Anger at whom? Himself? Or someone else?

“Well…erhaps what you did just now. But I can’t blame you at all.”

This time Megaman actually laughed. A dull, humorless laugh. “Figures. You never blame me for anything.” Again there was only the cicadas to fill in the dead air. “I…”

Silence.

“I couldn’t…let…”

“Yes?” Dr. Light inquired.

“Th…the Zentradei came too close last time…too close…”

But of course. Preliminary strike. This wasn’t something Megaman had done to protect himself, but his family. What was there to stop the Zentradei from targeting Megaman again? And it didn’t end with the victim; punishment extended to the victim’s family, friends, and acquaintances. The last thing Megaman wanted, Dr. Light knew, was for something terrible to happen to those he cared about and not being able to do anything about it. He would’ve done anything to stop what happened last time from repeating.

Anything.

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

Dr. Light had nothing to answer this with. He wasn’t sure what to think, now. But on the other hand, if he said nothing, Megaman might scream again, and probably injure himself like before.

“I suppose…I’m disappointed. After all, I hoped this war would end before…” He couldn’t finish, because now was not the time to bring up casualties.

“But not in me, huh?” His tone was angry again. Perhaps it was Dr. Light he was frustrated with. Frustrated that he was always so lenient.

“Given what you just said, no. To be honest, I probably would have done the same…or at least tried to report them. But the law is completely useless, so…”

What happened next would be burnt into the doctor’s mind for the rest of his days.

Megaman suddenly shot up from where he sat and faced his creator, fury in his eyes. “I can’t take it anymore!” he screamed, loud enough for the people in the next county to hear him. “Do you think I want to go around knowing that no one’s going to stop me from doing anything, but still hating me for it?! Do you think I want to be allowed to keep doing this?! What if I lose control? What if I can’t stop myself from killing someone? What will you do then, huh?! Nothing?!” He cut off the doctor’s next words, before he could even open his mouth to reply. “You wouldn’t! You’d just let me go on! Can’t you do anything to me?! Are you afraid to, or are you just weak?!”

As much as he didn’t want to seem fearful, Dr. Light had to be prepared to run. There was no telling if Megaman could control his actions at this point—every neuron in his body seemed to scream out at him to break something, anything. Anyone. There was always the fact that Megaman would never even consider harming the good doc—but did that apply now? Rage was one of the great shit-canners.

Megaman clutched his head, fingers pressed hard against his skull. He stumbled back, trying to hold on to what little self-control was left and still losing it. “Everything…” he half-wailed, half-choked. “Everything would be better if I just went away!” That said, Megaman sank to his knees.

For a while, Dr. Light just stared at his son’s quivering, pathetic form. The poor boy was despairing now, unsure of whether to simply go insane and attack everything in sight or simply lie down and, as he put, it, ‘go away’…die. He was volatile and harmless all at the same time.

And this was scarier than everything that had come before.

Still unsure of what to do, Dr. Light slowly walked over to Megaman and knelt beside him, just far away enough so that he could jump back if needed—a horrible thought, but a necessary one. Cautiously, he reached out and placed a hand on Megaman’s shoulder. As he did so, he noticed a small gash in the boy’s side, an injury most likely inflicted by one of the Zentradei. Or himself.

At first nothing happened—then Megaman’s body froze up, as if he just then realized that he was being touched. Another uneventful minute passed—then Megaman bolted.

It took the doctor a moment to realize what just happened, but he came to his senses and chased after the robot, now truly afraid that Megaman had lost his mind.

The only good thing, if you could call it that, was that Megaman’s running speed was only a little above average—hence why he needed Rush to cover large distances. Still, he was halfway to the mountains separating this ratty field from the next before Dr. Light finally caught up. He found his son leaning against another boulder, panting heavily—erhaps not entirely from running.

“Megaman! Why—” Dr. Light began, but stopped short when he saw Megaman’s wound. It had been opened to almost three times its original size; blood ran down his left leg like a morbid waterfall.

And there was blood staining his right hand, as well.

Megaman just stood there, tears flowing down his face. He was defeated, helpless.

There was no doubt now.

“Let’s go home, Rock.”

The ride home was mostly in silence, barring the engine whine and occasional clanking of all the loose parts. Dr. Light had handed Megaman a towel, to use to stop the bleeding, but it merely sat there on his lap. Megaman didn’t look at either the doc or out the windshield for the entire trip. Just sat there.

“Quit pacing. You’re gonna make me dizzy.”

Roll ignored Metalman’s complaint and glanced at the clock again. One in the morning. Dammit, he should be home by now.

Seeing that Roll was going to ignore him, Metalman turned away and stared at the ground. Even though he spent most of his ‘free’ life at his apartment, he knew Megaman didn’t spend over six hours walking outside. Something had to be up. Problem was, he didn’t know what. Even Kalinka, who was sitting right next to him on the couch, was out of possibilities. All they could do now was wait for Dr. Light to return.

“Why do you care about Mega, anyway?” Metalman snapped, suddenly angry. “You haven’t spoken to him all week! Maybe he left because he was frustrated with you, huh?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Immediately Roll spun around, ready to scream all sorts of horrible things at the former Wily robot—but before she could do so, the doorbell rang.

When the two failed to move, Kalinka made her way to the door and opened it. The three watched Dr. Light walk in with Megaman’s arm slung around his shoulder.

“Help me with him,” the doc begged.

Megaman continued to be silent as Dr. Light repaired him. It was almost as if he didn’t want to be repaired, but could do nothing about it. His sister, cousin, and friend watched helplessly—unable to assist him in this state of mind. For hours he just stared blankly at the ceiling, face void of emotion. Never before, even in his worst moments, had he been this destroyed.

Finally he whispered, “Why did you forgive me?”

Dr. Light put down his tools and stared silently at Megaman. “Because I care,” he said quietly.

With some difficulty Megaman sat up, and eventually embraced the old man, who returned the gesture. He murmured, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” until he passed out.

It’s after midnight. I hope you’re happy.

Description
The sky was pitch black—no surprise, as it was almost midnight. But that would just make finding him more difficult.

As if driving this old car wasn’t hard enough. Dr. Light had slammed down the brakes almost a minute ago, and the damn thing was still chugging along. After three minutes, the car finally ceased moving, allowing the doctor to step outside. If there was anyone else here, especially any of Wily’s robots, then the last thing Dr. Light needed was the piercing car alarm to go off.

Nor could he keep his flashlight on. While his tracker indicated that only one robot occupied the area (hopefully, that ‘one robot’ was his son), Dr. Light was well aware how easy it was to hide one’s signature from the small device. Megaman couldn’t do it, but someone who had the spare time to do some self-tinkering—say, Tenguman—might. And if Dr. Light had a run-in with him, nothing would save him from the masked robot’s wrath.

In which case, he’d better let his eyes grow used to the darkness.

The area was situated fairly far from civilization, a great place to go to if you wanted to kill yourself. After all, who was going to drag their asses to this ratty stretch of crabgrass, dirt, and rocks for any purpose other than suicide? And given everything that had transpired these past months, perhaps Megaman had been thinking the same…

Dr. Light immediately banished the thought. His son had to be alive, he had to…

Something underneath his shoe cracked. He glanced down in alarm—that wasn’t metal he just stepped on, but something organic. Dr. Light took a step back and tried to discern exactly what that ‘something’ was.

A body.

A quick examination revealed that this had once been a member of ‘Zentradei’, the organization and purpose of which escaped the doctor’s mind. It didn’t matter what this particular man had been doing here, or why. Just that he was dead and would remain so. His entire head had been split clean open, leaving his face a cleaved death mask of horror. Blood no longer flowed from his nostrils or open mouth, or the chasm that was once his forehead. This murder had been committed long ago.

Normally Dr. Light would have been shocked out of his wits, but this was Zentradei he was dealing with. He felt no pity for the dead grunt.

Besides, they weren’t important.

He continued walking, eyes fixed on the screen of the tracker in his hand. Despite flawlessly showing every robotic being in a forty-yard radius (well, except the ones it didn’t), it couldn’t tell the user where they were positioned. The best guess Dr. Light could make was that he was somewhere below the bottom edge of the screen, moving west. He was still in danger of entirely missing whom he was searching for, even if he was a mere inch away from the marker indicating that his son was even here. So relying on the tracker was iffy at best.

He could always call out for him, but if there were live Zentradei grunts here—though he heard nothing but the cicadas and his own footsteps—then he might as well shoot himself in the head. Zentradei never hesitated to attack anyone.

By now he could see well in the darkness. Maybe this wasn’t such a great thing, as now the rest of the bodies were in clear view. Most died near their own equipment, mostly by head trauma. A few appeared to have been strangled or shot—one wretched woman had been electrocuted. The area stank of blood, unsurprisingly.

Dr. Light pressed on, stepping around the corpses. Megaman would know better than to hang around here, even if the police didn’t come by this area. And why should they? After all, this was just a dead stretch of land. Only the insects lived here.

Contrary to ‘opular’ belief, Megaman was not programmed to do anything. More accurately, he did not have to limit himself to any one behaviour. Megaman was free to do as he wanted, limited only by his values and logic. That was the beauty of having such an advanced A.I…he had free will, and was thus sentient. The way he saw the world was his own interpretation, not his creator’s.

On the negative side, his older brother Protoman had that same A.I., and within four days of his activation he branded the world as shit. Perhaps having a faulty reactor and realizing that his life was severely limited contributed to that decision, but what mattered most was that Protoman, too, had free will. Wily hadn’t reprogrammed him into serving the mad scientist—that had been his own decision, albeit out of dread of such reprogramming. Likewise, Protoman’s defection to the ‘good’ side hadn’t been out of interest for humanity, but he simply hadn’t been ready to die.

He shouldn’t have died after all that trouble, damn it.

That was the final breaking point for Megaman. And who could blame him? He’d fought against his brother for so long, hoping to God that one day, Protoman would join his side permanently—and to finally have it happen, only for his brother to die trying to save him? Not to mention that the only people who cared were his own family. No other human would give a rat’s ass about some robot who got himself killed over another. Truth be told, they wouldn’t care about any stranger dying. It didn’t concern them, after all.

To be honest, Dr. Light would have been seriously worried if Megaman hadn’t snapped.

He finally spotted someone alive, sitting a few yards away.

The figure sat on a small boulder, hunched over and unmoving. A lead pipe, bent in several places and stained with something dark (most likely blood), was lying some ways away, probably thrown there. Only the robot’s breathing indicated that he was even functional; otherwise, he might as well have been a statue.

It was Megaman, all right.

It occurred to Dr. Light that he didn’t know how to approach his son. Sure, he had prepared extensively for not being able to find Megaman at all, or finding him injured or worse—but just sitting there, after clearly slaughtering a crowd of humans? Snapping didn’t necessarily mean going insane, but now Dr. Light seriously doubted his son’s sanity. Regardless…he had to help him.

After a minute or so of pondering, he decided how to get Megaman’s attention. “Megaman?” he said quietly. “Are you alright?”

Megaman barely lifted his head. He hadn’t jumped at the sound of his creator’s voice—it was as if he expected Dr. Light to find him nearby a massacre.

But he did not answer.

Cautiously, Dr. Light moved closer—not fearing that he would be attacked, but that he would scare the poor boy. Megaman said nor did anything, but allowed the man to kneel down beside him.

“Ah…” He was unsure of what to say. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

No answer.

“You thought I’d try to stop you, right?”

A nod. A weak one, and mostly invisible, but Dr. Light still saw it.

“Even if I knew that…”

“That I would do this?” Megaman finished. His voice was low and broken, but rather than sadness, there was…frustration. Resentment.

“Yes.”

No answer.

“You know I couldn’t have done it, Rock.”

At first, Dr. Light thought Megaman was going to remain silent, but then he spoke again. Those next words caught the doctor completely off-guard. “You have a taser, don’t you?”

“Y…yes, I do, but—”

“Maybe you should start using it.”

To put it mildly, Dr. Light was shocked. “N—Absolutely not! I would never even think of doing that to you! What gave you that id—”

“You got any better suggestions?!” Megaman yelled. During this whole ‘conversation’, he never looked up, but his fists were now tightly clenched and the muscles in his arm tense, as if he were forcing himself not to swing out at the doctor right then and there. After a moment, however, his body relaxed. “Well?” he asked, much more quietly than before.

It was Dr. Light’s turn to be silent. Never before had Megaman asked Dr. Light to harm him—he had his own guilt to punish him. Even if he didn’t deserve it. Did he deserve to feel guilty now? The Zentradei, after all, insulted the already bad name of humanity—their organization was merely an excuse to torture innocent people (even if they had never considered robots to be ‘eople’. No socio-religious bullshit could hide that. Wasn’t the world a better place without those pathetic wastes of oxygen? But to Megaman, murder was still murder.

“WELL?!” Megaman shrieked. He brought his fist down upon his leg, an action that frightened Dr. Light more than the sudden outburst.

“No,” he said quickly. “Because I would never do that, I wouldn’t fathom anything worse.”

That seemed to be enough for Megaman. He fell silent once again.

“Why not?” he asked finally.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Rock. Simple as that.”

“You should.”

“What makes you say that?”

Instead of a reply, Dr. Light got the chirping of cicadas. Why did they have to be so loud?

“It’s my fault.”

“What’s out there in the field, or everything that occurred in these past months?” Dr. Light asked. “Because neither is true.”

“It is.” Megaman’s voice became even more cracked, as if he were on the verge of tears—but there was still that anger. Anger at whom? Himself? Or someone else?

“Well…erhaps what you did just now. But I can’t blame you at all.”

This time Megaman actually laughed. A dull, humorless laugh. “Figures. You never blame me for anything.” Again there was only the cicadas to fill in the dead air. “I…”

Silence.

“I couldn’t…let…”

“Yes?” Dr. Light inquired.

“Th…the Zentradei came too close last time…too close…”

But of course. Preliminary strike. This wasn’t something Megaman had done to protect himself, but his family. What was there to stop the Zentradei from targeting Megaman again? And it didn’t end with the victim; punishment extended to the victim’s family, friends, and acquaintances. The last thing Megaman wanted, Dr. Light knew, was for something terrible to happen to those he cared about and not being able to do anything about it. He would’ve done anything to stop what happened last time from repeating.

Anything.

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

Dr. Light had nothing to answer this with. He wasn’t sure what to think, now. But on the other hand, if he said nothing, Megaman might scream again, and probably injure himself like before.

“I suppose…I’m disappointed. After all, I hoped this war would end before…” He couldn’t finish, because now was not the time to bring up casualties.

“But not in me, huh?” His tone was angry again. Perhaps it was Dr. Light he was frustrated with. Frustrated that he was always so lenient.

“Given what you just said, no. To be honest, I probably would have done the same…or at least tried to report them. But the law is completely useless, so…”

What happened next would be burnt into the doctor’s mind for the rest of his days.

Megaman suddenly shot up from where he sat and faced his creator, fury in his eyes. “I can’t take it anymore!” he screamed, loud enough for the people in the next county to hear him. “Do you think I want to go around knowing that no one’s going to stop me from doing anything, but still hating me for it?! Do you think I want to be allowed to keep doing this?! What if I lose control? What if I can’t stop myself from killing someone? What will you do then, huh?! Nothing?!” He cut off the doctor’s next words, before he could even open his mouth to reply. “You wouldn’t! You’d just let me go on! Can’t you do anything to me?! Are you afraid to, or are you just weak?!”

As much as he didn’t want to seem fearful, Dr. Light had to be prepared to run. There was no telling if Megaman could control his actions at this point—every neuron in his body seemed to scream out at him to break something, anything. Anyone. There was always the fact that Megaman would never even consider harming the good doc—but did that apply now? Rage was one of the great shit-canners.

Megaman clutched his head, fingers pressed hard against his skull. He stumbled back, trying to hold on to what little self-control was left and still losing it. “Everything…” he half-wailed, half-choked. “Everything would be better if I just went away!” That said, Megaman sank to his knees.

For a while, Dr. Light just stared at his son’s quivering, pathetic form. The poor boy was despairing now, unsure of whether to simply go insane and attack everything in sight or simply lie down and, as he put, it, ‘go away’…die. He was volatile and harmless all at the same time.

And this was scarier than everything that had come before.

Still unsure of what to do, Dr. Light slowly walked over to Megaman and knelt beside him, just far away enough so that he could jump back if needed—a horrible thought, but a necessary one. Cautiously, he reached out and placed a hand on Megaman’s shoulder. As he did so, he noticed a small gash in the boy’s side, an injury most likely inflicted by one of the Zentradei. Or himself.

At first nothing happened—then Megaman’s body froze up, as if he just then realized that he was being touched. Another uneventful minute passed—then Megaman bolted.

It took the doctor a moment to realize what just happened, but he came to his senses and chased after the robot, now truly afraid that Megaman had lost his mind.

The only good thing, if you could call it that, was that Megaman’s running speed was only a little above average—hence why he needed Rush to cover large distances. Still, he was halfway to the mountains separating this ratty field from the next before Dr. Light finally caught up. He found his son leaning against another boulder, panting heavily—erhaps not entirely from running.

“Megaman! Why—” Dr. Light began, but stopped short when he saw Megaman’s wound. It had been opened to almost three times its original size; blood ran down his left leg like a morbid waterfall.

And there was blood staining his right hand, as well.

Megaman just stood there, tears flowing down his face. He was defeated, helpless.

There was no doubt now.

“Let’s go home, Rock.”

The ride home was mostly in silence, barring the engine whine and occasional clanking of all the loose parts. Dr. Light had handed Megaman a towel, to use to stop the bleeding, but it merely sat there on his lap. Megaman didn’t look at either the doc or out the windshield for the entire trip. Just sat there.

“Quit pacing. You’re gonna make me dizzy.”

Roll ignored Metalman’s complaint and glanced at the clock again. One in the morning. Dammit, he should be home by now.

Seeing that Roll was going to ignore him, Metalman turned away and stared at the ground. Even though he spent most of his ‘free’ life at his apartment, he knew Megaman didn’t spend over six hours walking outside. Something had to be up. Problem was, he didn’t know what. Even Kalinka, who was sitting right next to him on the couch, was out of possibilities. All they could do now was wait for Dr. Light to return.

“Why do you care about Mega, anyway?” Metalman snapped, suddenly angry. “You haven’t spoken to him all week! Maybe he left because he was frustrated with you, huh?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Immediately Roll spun around, ready to scream all sorts of horrible things at the former Wily robot—but before she could do so, the doorbell rang.

When the two failed to move, Kalinka made her way to the door and opened it. The three watched Dr. Light walk in with Megaman’s arm slung around his shoulder.

“Help me with him,” the doc begged.

Megaman continued to be silent as Dr. Light repaired him. It was almost as if he didn’t want to be repaired, but could do nothing about it. His sister, cousin, and friend watched helplessly—unable to assist him in this state of mind. For hours he just stared blankly at the ceiling, face void of emotion. Never before, even in his worst moments, had he been this destroyed.

Finally he whispered, “Why did you forgive me?”

Dr. Light put down his tools and stared silently at Megaman. “Because I care,” he said quietly.

With some difficulty Megaman sat up, and eventually embraced the old man, who returned the gesture. He murmured, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” until he passed out.

It’s after midnight. I hope you’re happy.