Disclaimer: I don't own Wreck-It Ralph or anything associated with it.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! This is my first WiR fanfic (in the past I've written Red Dwarf and Friends, so if you like either of those please check out my profile!) I saw the movie a few weeks ago as it took forever to come out here in the UK, so my memory of it is a little hazy, but it has quickly become one of my favourite Disney movies (or indeed, one of my favourite movies ever!)

I totally fell in love with Felix and Calhoun - what an odd yet wonderful couple, who just work so well together! So I was inspired to write some fanfic about them :) If you like it, or would like to see me write more, please leave a review! Warning - this gets quite fluffy near the end ;)

P.S. WiR should have totally won the Best Animated Feature Oscar over Brave. :P Just my opinion!

Game Over

-A Wreck-It Ralph Fanfic-

Sergeant Calhoun wasn't supposed to die. It wasn't part of the program.

She cocked her gun. "Alright, ladies. We're about to enter the tower. It's twenty floors of cy-bug-infested hell up there, so if any of you have a weak stomach I suggest you get your sorry behinds back to training camp." Her voice was sharp, authoritative, and even through her helmet the troops cowered under her stern glare.

The first-person shooter trundled along beside them. On the screen was a nervous-looking boy with a scruffy mop of brown hair and a face dotted with freckles. Calhoun estimated him to be no older than ten - an unusually young age for a player of Hero's Duty - but he was doing well, better than most recruits had fared that day.

"Listen to me, soldier," she said to the screen. "Those god-forsaken insects have taken over the central control pillar. They'll attack us in waves. It's our job to take 'em down." She emphasised the last three words with almost rehearsed precision.

The boy watched with both fear and anticipation as Calhoun cranked open the door lock. The large, heavy gate hissed, ejected a blast of steam, then slowly began to rise. The boy raised his gun, and Calhoun could see that he was visibly shaking.

"Hold it together, soldier," she barked, signalling him to wait.

It didn't take long to emerge from the darkness - that unmistakeable scream, that hellish sound that seared Calhoun's eardrums and reverberated to her very core. Cy-bugs.

"Now go, go, go!" She leapt into action, waving the troops forward. The men, with their brutish builds and heavy armour, bundled into the tower like a pack of elephants, their boots heavy and pounding against the floor. The first-person shooter, almost lost in the chaos, wheeled its way in after them.

Although the game was on rails, and the player had no control over their movement, they maintained full command over the usage and direction of their weapon - a standard-issue laser pistol with optional upgrades hidden around the game's desolate world. Although weaker than the majority of the troops' high-tech weaponry, the pistol still packed a punch, and was capable of dispatching most cy-bugs with relative ease.

As the swarm of fluorescent green insects poured into the room, the boy started to panic. Calhoun, suddenly overwhelmed with the number of them, fired a round of bullets into the crowd. The cy-bugs squealed and exploded into a revolting mess of thick, green slime. She turned up her nose at the stench. "Don't just stand there," she ordered, reloading. "Clear them out!"

Calhoun could see that the first-person shooter was having trouble. His aim was off - way off - and the cy-bugs were coming thick and fast. "Kohut, take the left side," she shouted to her comrade, her voice getting desperate now, more urgent. "And kid, don't -"

Before she could finish her sentence, she was knocked off balance, and with a great metallic clang landed awkwardly against the grated floor, sending pain shooting through her shoulder and down her arm. A huge cy-bug, larger than her torso and legs combined, pinned her to the ground, its weight keeping her from anything much more than a struggle. She reached for her gun. The cybug loomed over her, so close that she could see its rows of pointed, jagged teeth, hear the gentle plop as lumps of its saliva landed against her visor and dribbled down her helmet.

"Not today," she said through gritted teeth. With one swift movement and all of her energy, she kicked the insect away, sending it skidding backward along the ground with a dreadful screech.

At the same time, the little brown-haired boy fired his gun.

"Sarge!"

Calhoun clutched her hand to her chest. It took a few long seconds for the shock to fade before the pain set in; an intense, agonising burn that rippled throughout her body. The laser beam, weak though it was, had cut through her armour as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

Her head started to spin, and she knew then that her code was starting to unravel. It was a strange feeling, like her stomach was being pulled away, and she felt in that moment as if she were standing on a great precipice, looking down into the darkness, knowing and dreading the impending fall. On the monitor of the first-person shooter, she saw the expression of disappointment in the boy's face, saw him lower his weapon in defeat. She looked past him, and as her vision started to falter, she could just about make out the brightly-coloured, time-weathered cabinet of Fix-It Felix, Jr. Then, wincing in pain, she collapsed onto the floor.

Game Over.

"Mr Litwack?" The nervous little girl looked down at her shoes. "It's not working."

Litwack knelt down beside her. "What's that, little missy?" he smiled, chuckling at her shyness. He was always a kind man, doing his best to keep the arcade going, to keep the kids enthused about his favourite pastime. He stood up and glanced at the game, peering studiously over the rim of his glasses.

"He won't move," said the girl, pointing at the screen with a chubby finger.

"I see." Litwack rubbed his chin. "Well, perhaps the controls are stuck. Let's see here." He took hold of the joystick, and pushed it to the left, then the right, and then more forcefully, left, right, up, down.

But no matter which direction he chose, Fix-It Felix stood frozen in place.

"Felix!" Gene stuck his bulbous head out of a window on the level below. "What is wrong with you? Move!" His voice was worried, but tinged with irritation. He watched, terrified, as Litwack tried the controls again.

Gene tried one more time, his voice louder, more forceful now. "Felix!"

The handyman jumped a little, startled. "S-sorry," he stammered, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. Looking up at their window of the outside world, he saw Litwack staring down at him, and felt the pull of the controller on his feet. He suddenly realised the gravity of the situation. "Oh, jeepers."

After a few more tries, Litwack seemed satisfied. "There we go," he said, stepping back. "Give that a try." The little girl, barely tall enough to reach the controls, started to play, and sure enough, Fix-It Felix moved with her, following her every gesture.

She laughed with delight. "He's moving again. Thanks, Mr Litwack!"

"You're welcome, little lady," Litwack smiled. "I knew old Felix wouldn't give up the ghost that easily. He's been with us since before you were born, you know."

He was right. For thirty long years, Felix had lived in that whimsical, 8-bit world. Niceland seemed like such a simple place, when he thought about it. Even the name was simple. It was a nice apartment building, filled with nice people, under a nice, permanently-starry sky. In contrast, the bleak wasteland of Hero's Duty was a world filled with cold metal, fraught with danger at every turn. And this, this endless nightmare, was where Calhoun had to live. Felix knew it was what she was coded for, and that the programmers had equipped her with all the know-how she needed to survive there. But part of him wondered if she hated it. Part of him wondered if it was fair.

"What in the Land were you thinking?!" Mayor Gene demanded. In all their years at the arcade, neither Felix nor Ralph had heard him so furious, and from the colour of his face, it truly seemed as if his head was going to explode. He paced up and down, his hands wrung behind his back; a pottering little walk, more like a kitten than a tiger.

"Hey, don't be so hard on him," said Ralph. "I'm sure Felix has a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything." He smiled down at his pint-sized comrade, and Felix managed a sheepish smile back. For a bad guy, Ralph really wasn't all that bad.

"Yes, perhaps he decided to go Turbo - just like you." Despite his rather friendlier attitude in recent months, Ralph knew deep down that Gene still harboured a little prejudice toward him - especially when it came to the whole game-jumping incident.

"I didn't go Turbo," said Ralph, frowning. "And I'm sure Felix would never do that either. Why don't we listen to what he has to say?"

At this, all eyes turned to the handyman. He shrank slightly under the weight of their stares, and let out a nervous laugh. "I'm, uh, sorry everyone," he squeaked, with his unmistakable Southern twang. "I…I don't know what came over me." He paused for a moment. "But… you betcha it won't happen again."

Ralph smiled his lop-sided smile. Said with true Fix-It Felix gusto.

Gene let out a sigh. Felix was just so darn, well, likeable that he found it difficult to be angry at him. "We depend upon you, Felix. You're the star of the show, you know that. Just please, please promise us everything's okay."

"He's fine, Gene." Ralph rolled his eyes. "C'mon Felix, let's go grab a drink or something." He patted Felix on the back with his huge, oversized hands, almost knocking him off-balance.

"If it's all the same to you, Ralph, I'd rather not," Felix replied, adjusting his cap. "There's somewhere I need to go."

"He's acting awfully strange," Mary muttered as she watched Felix head swiftly toward the rickety old tram station. She pulled a powder puff out of her purse and began to dab her cheeks – something she always did when she was nervous.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't blame him," Ralph replied. He scratched his neck. "He's been through a lot today. Just…go easy on him. We'll have our Felix back in no time."

Game Central Station was positively buzzing with activity. It was that time of day, shortly after the closing of the arcade, when every character had time to relax, unwind, and socialise before the night fell. Technically, video game characters did not need to sleep, and in theory could go on forever without it. Very few chose this lifestyle, however. Not only did it hinder their responsiveness, it was a very well-known fact that all characters had all been created with the capability to dream. And rather than a vague stream of consciousness that changed and shifted, their dreams had a continuous narrative, with vibrant colours, sometimes sound or music, and were infinitely more tangible.

Vanellope had her own theory as to why this happened. "D'oy. We're made from pure creativity. No wonder our dreams are so cool," she'd said, rolling her eyes. Pretty deep thinking for a nine-year-old.

"Excuse me," said Felix, after bumping into a bystander for what seemed like the twentieth time as he darted through the crowd. He did not like to jump, even though it was faster; the sound was quite embarrassing (being as he was, he did not like to draw attention to himself), and he would hate to land on a Goomba by mistake. But eventually, and feeling quite exhausted, he made his way to the entrance of the arcade's newest, yet already familiar game - Hero's Duty. A huge man in heavy body armour blocked the way. He was almost three times Felix's height, and looked down at him with a suspicious, heavy glare.

"Oh, um, good evening, sir," said Felix, taking off his cap and ringing it nervously in his hands. "I wondered if I could come in."

The man looked Felix up and down, at his bright blue uniform, his worn jeans, the golden hammer dangling from his tool belt. He smirked. He wouldn't last ten minutes in there - but he'd entertain him for a while. "What name do you go by, pipsqueak?"

Felix ignored the tease. "I'm Fix-It Felix, Jr., sir," he said, more assertively this time. "I'm here to see Sergeant Calhoun."

"Wait, you're this Fix-It guy?" the man laughed, a great big belly-laugh that almost caused the ground to rumble. "I'd heard of you - I mean, we all have - but I wasn't expecting this."

Felix felt his cheeks turn a little flush. "Well, that's all well and good. But I have an appointment, so with all due respect, sir, I'd appreciate it if you could move aside."

The man opened his visor and wiped tears from his face. "I'm sorry, pipsqueak. No can do. The Sarge gave specific orders not to let you through here. I'll give you this though - you've got guts."

"What?" Felix barely registered his words. "Why?"

"Why don't you ask her?" the man shrugged. "She'll be out soon. Think she's just putting the last stray cy-bugs to bed."

Felix had been sitting alone for nearly three hours before he heard the unmistakeable sound of Calhoun's heavy bootsteps against the plastic floor. The Game Central Station clock read almost midnight; most characters had returned to their games, and there was little activity, save for the occasional whirring of the Surge Protector as he hummed past, tut-tutting at Felix and pointing out the time.

It had been a tense few hours, and Felix's internal monologue had gone into overdrive. One minute he was telling himself to stop being such a worry-wart, the next he was convinced his girlfriend was in danger. But all this dissipated at this one, simple sound. He leapt off his seat and into the archway.

Calhoun flashed him a small smile as she saw him bounce into view. But in a split-second, Felix knew there was something else behind it, something hidden. He'd seen that look many times, before she had learned to start letting her guard down.

"Hey, short-stack." It was a gentle voice, a far cry from the militaristic tone she took with her soldiers. It had taken time for it to emerge, but by gosh was Felix glad when it did.

"Tammy!" He tried to suppress the inevitable honey glows that always came on when he saw her. In an instant, everything he had pent up for the last three hours started to spill out of his mouth in an unstoppable avalanche of words. "I was so worried, I mean, I saw what happened, I… I saw you get shot, and when you didn't come out, I didn't know what to think, and-"

She put her hand over his mouth. "Slow down," she said. "I'm fine. Not a scratch on me."

Felix looked at her, then down at his boots. "But there is, isn't there. Inside."

Calhoun's tone changed, becoming slightly more acidic. But that was Calhoun, and Felix knew his dynamite gal was often prone to exploding. "I can handle these things." She strode past and sat down on a nearby bench, staring absently at her gun. Felix hopped up beside her. He quite enjoyed it when they sat next to each other; with his stubby legs out of the picture, he didn't feel quite so short.

As Calhoun felt him nudge closer, she remembered the first time she had seen him. There at once was the same naivety, the same silly curiosity that made him so ridiculously charming. But he was more than that. He was brave, almost stupidly so. And in many ways, despite his almost simple outlook on life, he knew the ins and outs of things better than almost anybody else in the arcade. And throughout it all, he kept on smiling.

"It happens to everyone," Felix offered his hand, and she took it. "The first time it happened to me, well gosh, I remember it like it was yesterday. We'd only been at the arcade a few days. I tell ya, I was just about thrown for a loop when Ralph dropped that brick on my head. Took me a few minutes to realise what had happened."

She looked at him, but said nothing. Of course, she had respawned a few seconds later, back at the bridge where the recruits began their games. But all these months, she'd tried so hard not to let it happen to her, and thus far, she had succeeded. Hundreds of games - no deaths. She'd vowed it that wouldn't happen, that it couldn't happen, both to Brad and to herself. She was stronger than that. They wouldn't break her. She would never relive that pain.

It had only taken a few minutes for the cy-bugs to overwhelm the rest of the patrol, for the poor first-person shooter to be shot to pieces. But, in that moment of weakness, those few minutes she had alone, she did something she hadn't let herself do since that day.

She cried.

"I should never have let you into Hero's Duty," she said. "I know more than anyone how dangerous our game is." Her voice slipped into that familiar, imposing tone. "And I am accountable for the well-being and safety of my troops. If anything happened to you, it would be my responsibility."

"Ma'am, I would never have gone in there if I didn't think I could handle it."

"What I went through today was the least of my worries. There are far worse things that can happen in there if you let your guard slip. Things far worse than death." She looked into the handyman's eyes with a stare that almost pierced his programming. "Do you understand? I can't let that happen to you."

Felix knew what she meant. If he fell afoul of a stray cy-bug, if he allowed himself to get devoured by one of those vile creatures, he would lose not only himself, but everything he held dear. For those unfortunate ones, it was a sad, sorry existence - trapped forever in a constant battle, two minds fighting one another for control.

"Then," he offered, "I won't go to Hero's Duty anymore. But you have to promise me that you'll stop being so hard on yourself."

"Not so easy, Fix-It. It's in my code." She managed a small smile. Somehow, he always had a way of making her feel at ease.

"Well, that's okay." Felix reached for his hammer, laughing. "Maybe I can fix it."

"You know," she said pensively, nudging up the peak of his cap, "I don't think you ever used that hammer on me."

And she pulled him close and drew him into a kiss.

No, she thought, feeling his cheeks blossom bright red. You fixed me all by yourself.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed - if you did, or would like to see me write more or continue this story, please leave a review and let me know what you think! :)