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Static blood ricochets off rubberized bindings. There is a semi-real pop that wakes Henry up and makes him drop something. A cup. It cracks. He doesn’t care. He’s close, there, rubs at my arm, trying to make sure that I’m okay. He says things like, “Hey. Hey, starshine. Hey. You’re doing so good, you awake now?”

A chant, words tumble, desperate to get out, to be away from him and to me. His eyes glow brighter than mine. I flex, feeling how much of myself is still there. What isn’t? I come apart in all fraying jagged edges that don’t make sense. Memory’s the same. Fragmented. A half dead cleanup program, worse off than I am, hasn’t been run in ages, hasn’t been needed, skitters around in me, trying to put things back up on shelves where I can reach them.

“Ahgh-gu-gug-” I sputter. I’m trying to say something else and can feel the weight but-

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk yet,” Henry stands and my eyes take a long time to follow him. He's not moving fast. Even though he looks like he's vibrating inside, glancing down at me in ticks, his movements are intentional. Practiced and without thought because if he was thinking he might break something important.

Cleanup finishes. Memories are slotted back into place, now it’s my turn to try to make sense of them. He hasn’t asked me what’s happened. What’s happened? I could ask, but no. He’s bringing down a large mechanical arm, attaching a manipulator to its chuck.

Parts of me aren’t there. Looking down at my chest, scattered around a table are parts of me. Right arm is a mess. Crushed. All but the hand there but more is cracking or splintering off as I watch. Left arm has been detached. “B-busy boy.” I say to Henry. A nervous laugh whip cracks through him, I see a smile for a half second before he looks at me again and it goes away.

The pneumatic and otherwise spinal system terminates below my ribbed stomach. Something has torn me in half, I note distantly. I realize at this point my pain receptors have been turned off. Busy boy. I’m glad. Feeling that? Make me insane.

“You’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna make you all okay. All okay.” he isn’t talking to me, he's talking to himself. The actuator arm has removed some of my chest plating and the two of them are digging around in there.

“H-heyyyy.” I don’t mean to make the word like that. Something is going wrong. Parts of me, not the machine parts the me parts, are turning off. Cascade failure. One little tile collapses and takes a whole sector with it. That sector is a little tile, too. And it falls, and then-

“It’s okay.” I say. Words clear, somehow.

“No it’s NOT!” he’s yelling, moving bits of me around, I can’t even see him he’s so deep inside me. “You shouldn’t-”

“It was all borrowed time, anyway.” I lift whats left of the right and brush it along his labcoat. I can see his shoulder blades, heaving. A distant part of me startles as I notice a broken part of me has cut into his shoulder. Red blooms onto the white fabric. Neither of us react to it. Maybe I’m just imagining it.

“This was supposed to be forever, YOU were supposed to be forever.” he says into me. Working again. He stopped for so little time. Felt like forever. Something clicks back on but its not enough. Not enough of me.

“I should’ve died a long time ago, dear. Did I-” it was enough for a memory. Something coming for him. For me. I stopped it, it's dead. So am I but who’s counting except Henry. “Thank you for the extra time. I love you. I’ll miss you.”

“No you won’t! It’s all gonna be okay, okay?! You’re gonna be back so soon, I promise. I’m gonna fix you, again, fix you again. You’re gonna wake right back up-”

Something else breaks and his voice fades. Falling away. I hope so, Henry. I hope the first thing I see when I wake back up is your fac-

…

I’m all back. Like clockwork everything is meshed and shiny and new. I see a face. Its familiar, so familiar, but now edged in new wrinkles and sagging skin but still the same twinkling eyes the same perfect twinkling eyes even though I’m almost entirely different now faster and stronger feeling like lightning but that all falls away in comparison to the bright bloom of love inside my chest.

“Henry.” I say. He smiles. Perfect.