Ratchet awoke screaming.

Clank jumped awake as well, startled by his friend's sudden reaction.

"Ratchet! Are you okay?" Clank asked worriedly.

The lombax had just woken from the first dream he had since destroying Vox's enterprise. In his dream Vox and Ace were still alive and were holding him down raping him. Their hands were everywhere and, even awake, he swore he could still smell the lingering musk of sex.

"Ratchet?" Clank repeated, concerned when he didn't reply.

"I'm fine Clank, just a bad dream." Ratchet finally replied, sighing. He didn't need to tell Clank. He had been fine the entire time since they took down Vox, which was two weeks ago. With the distraction of parades, press conferences, and all the celebration that came from taking down the network, he had been so distracted he didn't have the time to really think about everything that had happened. He had planned on keeping it that way. Surely he could push the whole ordeal to the back of his mind, and forget the unpleasant parts of his latest adventure. Yet he couldn't get them out of his head. He swore he could feel them right now Touching him all over. Breathing on his skin. The room felt like it was getting smaller, and was it him or was it getting hard to breathe in here.

"I'm fine," He repeated. Just like he had repeated the night he was locked in the bathroom with Ace. Just like the time after he had been held down by Vox's robots in his office.

"Everything's…" Ratchet touched his face. It was wet with tears. His rapist's voices suddenly rang out, as clear as day.

"Make sure you do a good job for the camera."

"You can't hide from me Ratchet, I want to hear how much you're enjoying this."

"That's a good boy."

"Now, there's my good little whore."

"I want you to remember this."

Ratchet's breath caught in his throat. Ace and Vox had used him, used him for entertainment. Made him kill, made him fuck, made him perform for their own sick enjoyment. He had just let it happen.

Suddenly Ratchet jumped out of his bed and took off for their apartment balcony. Air! He needed air! He was suffocating! Ratchet flung open the door and leaned over the balcony. Gripping the railing for dear life, he sucked in huge gasps for air. He could still hear them. He could still feel them; their ghostly hands squeezing the life out of him. Everything was going black.

"Ratchet!" A familiar voice called out to him.

"Just breathe, you are okay. Just breathe."

There was a small hand on his back too, moving in slow circles. Ratchet synchronized himself with it; breathing in when the hand was at the highest point on his back, and breathing out when it got to the lowest. In…Out…In…Out. The blackness receded, and the bright lights of Metropolis greeted him. Ratchet finally turned to Clank. The little robot nervous but thankful to see his friend had stopped panicking.

"I'm not fine," Ratchet whispered as if speaking a well-kept secret.

"Everything's not fine."

Clank took Ratchet's hand and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze.

"That is okay," Clank said "I will help you make it fine again."

The two of them stood there quietly holding hands and listening to the white noise of the city life below them, as the early morning sun bathed them in a warm glow.

I had been putting off this final chapter for a while now, mostly because I couldn't figure out exactly how I want to end it. I've rewritten this Chapter maybe three times, now. The original draft was much longer, but there were too many things I didn't like about it. This version is shorter, but I feel is much more poignant.