You're Safe Now

He looked around, shivering from the cold wind that blew hard against his sore and battered body. His tail and ears were numb from the cold; his feet and hands were frozen. He wrapped his arms around himself, hoping to garner even a tiny bit of warmth, but to no avail.

The last thing he remembered was that he had been in a big battle, fighting some of Dr. Nefarious's robots. The details were fuzzy in his mind, but he knew it had been a big and deadly battle. One of the robots had come up behind him and then... IT SHOT HIM! The entirety of that horribly memory came screaming back to him now, and he suddenly remembered that he had been shot in the shoulder and then fainted. Up until now he had not felt the pain in his shoulder due to the cold, but presently, as he was standing there in the snow all alone, a dreadful sting in his shoulder began to make itself felt. He shivered both from the cold and from the pain, whimpering through teeth that couldn't stop chattering.

Where were the others? He couldn't see very well because of the frigid air that was blowing in his eyes, and tears slowly began to run down his frozen muzzle. Looking around the area revealed nothing but more snow-covered landscape, and he realized in despair that he was stranded in a white desert, completely alone. In resigned frustration he slipped down to his knees in the cold snow, where he sat with his tail wrapped desperately around his cold feet. His ears whipped back and forth in in the merciless winter wind, and snow gradually began to settle over him. He tried to shake it off, but he was getting tired. The wound on his left shoulder had stopped bleeding, but the pain cut into him at full strength. He fell helplessly on his right side, his body sinking into the snow and his tail laying still behind him. He could no longer stay awake. His eyelids started to get heavy; his sight began to blur. He was too tired to even move as the snow frosted his lifeless body. As he slowly closed his eyes he whispered in a hoarse, desperate voice, "Clank, I'm sorry."

"Ratchet! RATCHET!" He thought that he heard someone yell his name as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. He started to get up, but his body was too stiff from the cold for him to make it more than halfway. Then paralyzing spasm of pure agony seized his shoulder, and he fell down in the snow again, grunting in pain. He tried to roll on his back, when another torturous jolt shot through his body. It hurt so badly that all he could do was gasp and lie still.

"Ratchet!" His ears perked. It was Clank. And Alister. He tried to get their attention, but he couldn't move; the pain from his shoulder wound was invading his whole body now. He opened his mouth to shout, but no sound came out. He lay there, helpless and in great pain, with no way to reach his friends who were looking for him, and so close!

His ears perked again—this time much weaker—when he heard footsteps. Slowly turning his head to the direction of the sound, he saw a blurred figure silhouetted against the snowstorm. "Ratchet?" he heard someone say. It wasn't a metallic voice like Clank's; it was deep and organic. The figure must be Alister, Ratchet thought.

General Azimuth gasped with fearful concern at the sight before him: laying there on the snow-covered ground was Ratchet, half conscious. Alister's heartbeat quickened from worry as he gazed down at the young Lombax. He had never seen Ratchet in a weaker state, and it frightened him. Slowly he took a step forward, and Ratchet looked up at him with bleary, unfocused eyes as he knelt in front of the young Lombax and looked him over. He looked so weak. There was a gunshot wound in his left shoulder, and it looked like it was infected. It looked like he had frostbite, too— his ears were a deep blue, as were his tail, fingertips, and toes. His breathing was low and slow, like he was having difficulty drawing breath. Alister carefully lifted the young Lombax up in his hands, gently for fear of hurting him more, and held him in his arms like a baby. As he walked back in the direction he came from he whispered in his charge's ears, "Don't worry, Ratchet... you are safe now." He looked down at the youth who rested helplessly yet trustingly in his grip, and saw a little smile appear momentarily on his face before he fell unconscious again.

Alister smiled affectionately down at the young Lombax in his hands and held him close and he walked back to where Clank should be. Ratchet was like a son to him, and he had been worried sick when they got separated in the snow storm two days ago. He had seen Ratchet get shot and was heartbroken at the thought that he mightn't been killed, but now... yes, now that he had his surrogate son safely in his arms, he promised himself that he would never let any harm come to Ratchet again.

"I promise you that, Ratchet," he whispered as he made his way back to the ship where Clank was waiting.