#first fic in this au happens to be the first fic of the decade ayooooo

[make-it-mavis]

Warm Blooded

TURBUG AU 7420 words Characters: Make-it Mavis, Cybug-Turbo (my redesigned version) Content Warnings: Mild blood

Premise: Turbo lost his memory and most of his mind in the cybug transformation, and Mavis has been working tirelessly to bring it back. Taking a chance, she tries something new to jog his memory, but things don’t quite go as planned.

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The tunneling caverns under Sugar Rush were cold.

Not as cold as the Sundae Mountains, for sure, but the chill had just sharp enough teeth for Mavis to shiver where she curled. The sleeves of her smock were not as long as they once were, having been torn away in fierce encounters. What little bedding she had managed to save after being overthrown was meant for a warmer climate: A roll and light blanket, what she used to sleep on in the circus tents when she could not spend the night in the royal chambers with her royal partner. The king had been so invitingly warm without fail, and just the memory deepened the cold until it reached right into her yearning heart. Her mind relentlessly conjured up images of him lying against her on the hard butterscotch brittle earth. Although she had very little left to lose, she would have given it all just to have him there with her.

But, technically, he was.

A safe distance away, Turbo lightly slept. She had been watching him from where she lay for some time. The light may have been dim, provided only from a tight fissure in the roof of the tunnel, but she could see him perfectly. Him, and his massive size. His numerous legs. The long tendrils of his tail. The giant T-shaped horn. His long body curled around itself peacefully, as if he had never been anything but a giant insect.

Yes, he was there. It just did not quite feel that way. Not just yet. But she was not about to give up. She knew he was in there, and she would draw him out by any means necessary. There were just some nights where the grief of losing her old way of life would grip onto her and squeeze until it hurt. Oft times, this grief was what drove her to keep taming him. But she could only long for the old days so much. Even if she got him talking again, even if his memories returned, nothing would ever really be the same. Not in the way she wanted. Her heart would only continue to break if she did not learn to embrace reality.

Turbo was there. He would just never be her size again. Never be small enough to wrap her arms around. Never have a mouth small enough to kiss. Nevermind sleeping with him, which had to be physically impossible. None of this was ideal. But through it all, she had to remember to count her blessings.

He was alive. He was learning. He was improving. He was not a tragedy, he was a miracle.

So, she knew there was only one thing to do with her grief, no matter how hard it was. She had to go spend some time with him and remember that she was not truly alone, and that was wonderful.

Mavis pushed herself to her feet, sore from a day's worth of running around with her bug friend. Even with the blanket draped tightly around her shoulders, leaving the body heat she had amassed in her bed was harsh. Just another reason to be close to the heated cyborg creature.

She set her eyes on what might as well have been her husband, and she slowly crossed the tunnel to him. She did not bother to sneak, for his senses were too sharp, and just as well, she wanted to avoid all chance of startling him. 

Thankfully, his great yellow eyes opened while she was still a modest distance away. She paused, searching his face. Turbo had not quite remembered normal facial expression yet, but Mavis was getting good at reading him anyway. His lids were not open wide enough to show his whole red, slit pupils, and he had not lifted his head from where it rested on his crossed, rake-like hands. Both were good signs, both signaled that he was calm and not threatened.

But she did not forget her manners. Even if she was the one teaching him, while she was in his space, he was definitely in charge. She could not let him believe she was challenging that. Turbo had enough power issues before he was a 40 ft. long monster with a throat full of saw blades.

So she crouched there in his sights, averting her gaze in a submissive display. Docile as he may have been that night, she still heard the quiet whir of his mechanical neck extending the short distance so he could check her out. She closed her eyes and felt the glowing proximity of his head, which was easily bigger than her, even without the horn. He sniffed her all over, which felt like hot, repetitive blasts from a hair dryer. Once he had deemed her fit to proceed, a nudge from his nose tipped her gently back onto her butt. When she opened her eyes, she saw him withdrawing his head to rest it right back where it had been before.

Mavis licked her dry lips. "Hi, T," she said lowly, smiling through her melancholy.

Turbo merely gave a brief, beastly chuff.

Taking that as another good sign, she rose to her feet and slowly approached until she stood just short of his tail that curled around him and its two long whiskers that twitched sensitively at her proximity. If she stepped over, she would officially be breaching the coiled circle that he had made of himself. And although he had given nothing but relaxed body language, she had trained enough dangerous animals in the circus to know to never push it. And he was, without a doubt, the most dangerous of all -- she had the scarred face and milky, blind eye to prove it.

So she looked at his face, reading just a hint of curiosity in his slightly widened eyes.

"I'm really cold," she told him. "Will you let me in and quit hoggin' all that body heat?"

Turbo, unsurprisingly, made no verbal reply. But he did offer her a slow, relaxed blink, which was permission enough for her. Freezing, but unafraid, she stepped over his tail and entered into the circle.

Immediately, she could feel the air around her warming up. His entire body radiated heat like a furnace, almost giving the impression of shelter. It drew her in effortlessly. The fact that she was surrounded by one huge temperamental monster who had quite nearly killed her once before was a decently loud fact in her head, but she was so cold, and so lonely, and he was the only company she had. Risks be damned.

Finding a comfortable place to sit with him was often a challenge, but she was not picky that night, and crossed over to just past his shoulder. His burgundy shell would have sported a sugary purple shimmer if the sunlight touched it, but in the dark, it looked almost black. It stripped away whatever sort of familiar candy appearance native to Sugar Rush he still had, and left no doubt of the cybug code he carried. Ignoring the awful memories the sight brought up, Mavis carefully lifted her hand and laid it flat against his shell.

As always, he was hot. Just shy of burning. And his new, mashed-together hulking mess of code made her feel overwhelmingly small. But she still felt him somewhere in there, and that much was a comfort. It meant her efforts would be worth it one day.

The rest of her body erupted in goosebumps in envy of the heat on her hand, so she turned and rested her blanketed shoulder against him. Exhaustion and dreariness weighed her muscles down until she sank to the ground and found herself in some sad, uncomfortable attempt to cuddle close to what was left of her partner.

From inside his body, she heard the same old chilling tale of Turbo's strange fate. Clicking, whirring, scraping, hissing, the music of a synthetic creature that was coded to kill like clockwork. But still, somehow, she also heard the great rush of lungs filling and shrinking, the motion of which rocked her gently with his breathing. She wondered just how much of him was still organic, and how it was still functioning around the machinery. As cool and as intriguing as that concept may have once been, it was upsetting to think about when it came to him. What if he was in pain? How long could a creature like that live?

There was one sound, however, that put a bittersweet pang in her chest. His heartbeat. Somehow, it sounded the same, like an idle engine rumbling away. Only now, it seemed multiplied tenfold. Maybe Turbo really lived to see his heart become an engine for real. What a concept.

In the dark of the cavern, his warmth blunting the bite of her chill, and that familiar, soothing heartbeat rumbling at a near aggressive volume… she shook. Her head bowed in the same vicious grief she had been battling since that dark day in November, the grief over the loss of their old lives. Looking at herself in this vain attempt to chase what she lost brought her almost to the brink of tears. She had to be brave. More than anything, she had to be brave. 

But Devs, life had turned so bizarrely painful.

Mavis was jostled out of her morose trance when the massive body she leaned against shifted slightly and emitted a deep grunt. Oddly enough, she had almost forgotten about him. She looked to see Turbo's head lifted a bit off his hands and pointing curiously at her. He was not angry, but he seemed confused, bordering on uncomfortable. Their new relationship had not exactly crossed into regularly snuggling territory just yet.

But there was an easy way to help it along. To help herself along in the effort to enjoy the new normal. 

Just talking to him.

Feebly, she smiled at his huge, questioning face. "I'm not used to sleeping anywhere so cold anymore," she told him calmly. "Not since the old, old days, before you n' I were even a thing. Then I got spoiled from sleeping with you. And, I mean, the castle was warm, and the circus was warm… but you were like my own personal heater. I guess you graduated into a furnace, huh?"

Turbo did not emote. He did not even blink. But that was not necessarily bad. 

Her smile grew a bit more genuine. "You used to make fun of me, y'know. I get cold at a slight breeze. It probably has somethin' to do with my sparse code, but you'd pull the race card and say I was a warm-blooded human. Y'know, whereas you were hot-blooded. Demon, and all. You'd brag about how you'd never get cold, just one of the many weird things you bragged about. Then I'd tell you that not everyone had a space heater for a heart, and you'd call me racist."

Turbo finally blinked, and she chuckled.

"Then I'd say I was racerist, and you'd punch me in the arm. Remember that?"

His head tilted a bit. Of course, the only answer could have been 'no'.

She gave one soft, sad chuckle. "I figured. It's okay. You will eventually. I promise."

It was an irresponsible promise to make, but she had been making a whole lot of those ever since she found him. She was certain they meant nothing to him, but they meant everything to her. She would find a million ways a day to swear to herself that she could save him. It helped keep her optimistic, anyway.

Laying her cheek back against the hot metal of his shell, she became wistful over the sound of his heart again. Her gaze fell downcast in a mournful way, but a smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth. There was a warm nostalgia there, and she followed it as best as she could.

"Your heart sounds the same, you know," she muttered softly. "Just bigger… Almost as big as you thought yourself to be. I've always… well, I've always liked the sound. It was unique. I love unique. And… you're more unique than ever, now, aren't ya?"

Turbo lowed quietly. His face still showed no clear emotion, but it was nice to hear him responding.

"Exactly," she sighed in mock understanding. "I like you a lot, big guy."

His tail flicked once at the praise.

Sucking on her lip a bit, Mavis looked down at her anxiously twisting hands. Another bittersweet memory had surfaced, and it slowly fell from her mouth as a nearly pointless ramble. Just like the rest of her monologue.

"You'd usually make fun of my heartbeat, too… Say I sounded barely alive, heh," she paused. "But… there was one time, after too many drinks, when you passed out on me, and you mumbled, uh… that my heartbeat sounded like the whoosh of wings flapping. Like a little eagle in my chest, you said."

Turbo's head lifted a bit higher and his brow furrowed slightly. His tongue darted out a few times with audible slurps. He was really confused now, but he was clearly thinking -- an encouraging fact. It urged her on.

"I wouldn't expect you to remember that, even before… all this," she told him. "I never told you, either. I mean, it was just so corny. But… all the same, I've remembered it this long. It… I dunno, I liked it. I've always been a crazy free-flyin' bird at heart. I had my wings, and you had your engine… sorta two sides of the same coin, if you squint."

She gave him a small, rueful smile. "I wonder what you'd think of my heart now. It'd probably just sound real tasty, huh?"

That curiosity suddenly but softly possessed her. Maybe he would not understand… but maybe hearing it would remind him of their intimate moments and jog some memory deep in his subconscious. A long shot, perhaps. But there was a chance, and she was loathe to pass those up when they arose. 

So, slowly, she stood. "Do… you want to hear it now?"

Turbo tilted his great, horned head and merely blinked at her. Not quite a yes, not quite a no. Not quite safe.

Regardless, she carefully stepped forward, putting her life on the line like she did every day. Her tools were still back where she had been curled in the cold, so if she were to misstep and set him off, she would be defenseless, and he would most likely kill her instantly. The danger was noted, but willfully ignored as she walked right up to his crossed, deadly claws.

The intimidating creature's gaze was fixed on her, his head hovering just a bit higher than hers. He was within reach, so she took a chance and slowly raised her hand. But, as expected, his eyes narrowed and he pulled back from her touch, his lip curling to flash a monstrous, curved golden fang. A low warning growl even rumbled from his throat. Still not a fan of having his face touched, unfortunately.

Promptly, she lowered her hand. "Okay, okay," she said, hushed. "I won't touch you. I promise. Look--" she dropped the blanket from her shoulders and crossed her arms behind her. "See?"

Turbo dropped his lip, but he did not drop his suspicious glare.

She smiled up at him, trying not to look too pleading. The whole idea was a long shot. She could not be disappointed if it failed. She reasoned, "All I'm askin' is that you listen to my chest for a sec. You can do that, can't ya?"

The suspicion in his eyes leaned a touch closer to perplexity, but her request apparently seemed doable. Curiously, he lowered his huge, monstrous head. Mavis focused on breathing evenly and remaining still, but she was unafraid, even as the beast encroached right into her space. For good measure, he took a moment to sniff her again, his nose just a hair away from her body as it searched her up and down, like he thought he could catch the scent of any ulterior motive she may have been hiding. Thankfully, he found none, and slowly began to turn his head.

Turbo had no real ears anymore, from what she could tell. Not in the traditional sense. His helmet had become fused to his head after the transformation, like just another plate of armor. But between the cords that ran along the side of his head, she could see very thin slits in the helmet, shallow divots that held fine metal mesh like a microphone. To say that his hearing was unnaturally sharp would have been all too true. She just hoped he could pick up the sound in her chest with it.

His head turned fully, and with unsure curiosity, he inched it closer and closer to her body, until he was quite nearly pressing against her. He waited, and Mavis could feel her heart pounding with anticipation. Her muscles were coiled, prepared to leap away if things went sour.

After a few moments that felt too long, he withdrew. Head lifted a bit higher, he looked away from her gaze, his eyes seemingly far away as he contemplated. Mavis held her breath.

His eyes twitched. His nose wrinkled. She jumped as he sneezed sharply and suddenly, the sound of which echoed through the caverns. He blinked hard and fast, as if there were sand in his eyes. Mavis wisely took a few steps back as he propped up squarely on his massive elbows. Things were definitely going sour. Turbo groaned harshly, slashing a clawed hand against his helmet with shrill, metallic scrapes and shaking his head in distress, causing some loose cords hanging from his neck to clatter. 

Not good. Not good. Not good at all.

As carefully as possible, Mavis backed away from him, leaving her blanket behind. It was better to be cold than eaten or slashed to pieces. She just managed to step over his tail before it slapped against the ground angrily. However, she did not manage to make it out of the danger zone before her heel kicked up a loose piece of brittle, and his gaze snapped to her. She froze.

Then another sound began to echo down the cavern halls -- a deep, menacing growl, pointed right at her.

"...Okay," she breathed, slowly showing him her empty, raised hands.

It did nothing to help. His lips lifted to threaten her with jagged teeth and pincer-like fangs. Nodes lined along his sides began to dimly glow an electric yellow, and matching in color were two circles on his forehead, giving the chilling impression of a second set of eyes.

The cybug in him was less than pleased.

Her need to flee turning more and more urgent, Mavis resumed backing away, putting as much space between her and the angered beast as possible. But the beast was not keen on letting her get away.

She had barely a second to react, and the agile sprite took it. Narrowly escaping death, she leapt out of the way of a huge, bladed hand striking the ground where she stood. The sharp fingers curled and carved deep gashes into the ground as he pulled his hand back and stood on his four hefty insect legs. He remained low, hands down and back arched, poised for attack.

Here we go again, she thought with a sigh.

She could not run. His prey drive was too strong. All she could do was hold her ground, dodge, and attempt to reason.

"Turbo," she called out to him calmly but forcefully, "you don't wanna hurt me!"

A swift swipe of claws claimed otherwise, but Mavis managed to spring clear of the swing. Righting her footing, her hair thrown haphazardly over her face, she stared down the snarling monstrosity she was faced with. He truly was terrifying. He would have barely fit in the circus ring, and his growling was deeper and louder than her lion's ever was. He was a lab experiment gone horribly wrong, the severed head of her partner fused to cables and wires that piloted a mismatched body right out of any decent sprite's nightmares. The terrible sight stole moments of Mavis' breath and set painful coals alight in her chest. But it was not fear that he struck in her heart.

It was frustration. Anger. The very same that would arise in a heated argument that did not potentially endanger her life.

He was making things so hard for her. He had to be better than this.

"This isn't you, and you know it!" Mavis shouted boldly. "This is just that big, brainless parasite! You're letting it win again! You can't let anyone win! You're Turbo!"

The creature skirted closer to her in a flash, rearing up his front half and towering over her. Four gargantuan wings shot from the chutes in his back like glowing helicopter blades, and they only served to make him look bigger when he spread them out. His glow burned brighter, he brandished his claws, and he let out a piercing shriek that drove painfully into her brain. She clapped her hands over her ears, nearly crumbling with the sound. But when it was over, she straightened up and looked him right in the eye again.

Manners no longer had any place in that tunnel. He was big and scary, but he could not use that against her. In her look, she cast a challenge. She cast the resolute fact that she could not be intimidated.

"Yeah. Go on. Try again." She spit on the ground. "You don't scare me."

The huge, glowing, slitted eyes, filled with something urgent and primal, held unbroken contact with hers. His long body swelled and shrunk with heavy, hissing breaths. Mavis was fully prepared for him to continue his needless threat display, but his momentum seemed to rein in for a few beats. Snarling simmered down into growling. Wide eyes narrowed. His wings quivered in a hostile, frustrated sort of way, creating a low hum in the air, but he made no move to strike.

Mavis breathed deeply and licked her dry lips. This was, at least, a turn in the right direction. Maybe sinking to her knees and turning her eyes to the ground would have made it all end quicker. But no matter how tired she was, she could not roll over. That was not the Mavis he knew. Not the one he would remember.

So she merely nodded slightly at him, blinking against the light of his eyes. “Yeah. S’right. I know a hissy fit when I see one.”

Turbo’s growl deepened and sharpened, but he began to withdraw, lowering his body back down closer to the slinking position he mostly took. Mavis’ head began to swirl as her spiked adrenaline began to cautiously fall. She had expected more push back, especially from her snide comment, but he seemed to be backing off already. That had to be some manner of good sign, she assured herself. Maybe his memories of her had deepened just the tiniest bit, and held him back from harming her. Maybe. Even if his tense, restricted body language betrayed his temptation to.

“See?” she sighed, pushing her hair from her face, some strands sticking to her sweat. “You know you don’t wanna hurt me.”

If Turbo could have spoken, he may have made protest to her tone. Perhaps he would have told her that she could not tell him what he knew. Or, at the very least, cussed her out.

What the mute king actually did was furiously rake his hand through a tall stalagmite nearby, sending almond brittle shrapnel hurtling towards Mavis, whose guard was lowered just a touch too far. Failing to dodge in time, Mavis yelped and threw up an arm to protect her face. The barrage of impacts staggered her and sank her to the ground, where she painfully caught herself against the earth with her palm. It had all happened in a flash, but by the time it had passed, and the rolling rubble had fallen silent… Mavis understood his message clearly.

Unsteadily, she sank fully onto the ground, held up only by an elbow. For a moment, she remained there, her body rigid with pain while she pressed a hand firmly against her throbbing head. The hit she sustained there was not serious, she could tell that much, but its sting still made the corners of her eyes well up. So much that the image of Turbo was foggy when she dared to crack her eyes open and look.

The glow of his body had been extinguished, but his eyes were clear, and they were wide and round, further away than when she last looked. He was flitting about, scurrying and pausing, growling and huffing. Just when it seemed that he could not decide what to do with himself, he tore off down the tunnel, leaving only the echoes of his skittering legs in his wake.

Mavis was raw. Bruised in both body and mind. As much as she tried to shrug off the ache, she was deeply disheartened. She supposed she had only herself to blame for getting hurt, like any other animal attack. But therein laid the depressing truth -- he was still more animal than Turbo. Every attack only served as a reminder. He had come along way since he sliced the vision out of her eye, but he still had such a long way to go.

She would never give up. Ever. But there were times, especially when she lay alone with pain he inflicted, that the effort to save him felt unfathomably gargantuan. And at those times, she felt unfathomably small.

So that tiny Easter Egg remained there on the cavern floor, letting the sorrow pass through her until regret followed, along with reasoning, and resolve. The situation was mostly on her, but her wounds would heal, and she would carry on and do better. That mindset had carried her thus far, and she would not soon let it go.

Mavis rose to her feet, a sharp pain still shooting over her head. When she took her hand away from it, she found her palm smeared with blood. She sighed. That was just great. The wound was not any cause for concern, but the amount of blood from a scalp wound would have led one to think otherwise. She knew it would be some time before the bleeding stopped.

Briefly, she checked her body for any other blood drawn. There was a gash across her forearm that was trickling red -- that much would need attention. But apart from a few other shallow scrapes, she was fine. Worse had been done before. Worse was likely yet to come.

She looked around at the empty cavern. All was silent. Any sign of Turbo's presence had faded away, along with any reason she had to stay in the cold.

She could hardly bear another moment in that place anyway. Packing up her bed roll and bags, she set out for warmer air.

An amount of time passed that no one bothered to measure.

Mavis was almost asleep. Rest was so close, teasing her so painfully, but holding her just above the edge, in the territory where thoughts blurred and dreams made small talk. With her eyes closed and her brain bobbing as if in water, she could almost see the red, shining body of her licorice lion lounging close by. She was petting him, her hand running over the black fronds of his mane. His tail slapped gently against the ground, and he rumbled contentedly… What a good boy he was. 

But his rumbling grew louder, until he was lowly bellowing, and the sound became far too real to sleep through. With a jolt, she shot fully awake.

The deep wild of the candy cane forest spread around her, where the trees grew thick and dense and towering. Their higher branches, the ones that stretched taller than the cliff she was nested under, glistened beautifully in the warm sunlight. Mavis was no longer cold, and the ambient sound of candy corn crows cawing in the distance brought back memories that warmed her further. But she was by no means comfortable. She was sitting on her roll, leaning against the unyielding rock candy cliff face. Her forearm was bandaged, but she was still holding gauze against her pulsing head. She must have been doing it for so long, she quite nearly fell asleep. Checking the gauze, she found it gruesome, but a quick dab on the clean side found the wound dry. Finally.

Another small shock jolted her system as the sound that woke her up returned. Restrained, tentative bellowing echoed out of the cave entrance next to her, the one that was more like a narrow crevice that only she could fit through. 

Now, who could that have been?

Scooting over carefully, she peered into the crack, into the darkness. As the entrance passage was a bit twisted and uneven, it was hard to see him. But those eyes in the dark were unmistakable. They watched her from a little ways in, curious and adamant, as far as she could read. With a weary sigh, she leaned the good side of her head against the edge of the opening. Despite being irritated at losing her moment’s peace, she was undeniably relieved to see him calmed down.

“Well?” she spoke to him quietly, but she knew he could hear. “Have ya come to apologize, or what?”

She heard him click a few times, like steel clacking together. So far, she had not been able to quite translate those sounds, but his eyes were speaking a bit more clearly than they had been earlier. There was tightness in his lower lids, speaking to frustration or distress, presumably from the fact that he did not, and could not, fit through the hole to reach her. He did not understand why she was shutting him out, but he clearly wanted her to stop. He really was clingy for such a territorial creature.

“You hurt me again, y’know,” she said lowly, regretfully.

Turbo’s gaze fell just a little bit lower, surveying the rocks. It could have been nothing, but she still noted his choice not to look at her.

Idly, she herself looked down and began picking at nicks in the rock candy beneath her. She sighed. “It’s not your fault. I know I freaked you out. And… I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I can’t be sorry. If this is gonna go anywhere, both of us are gonna have to get real uncomfortable. I wish that wasn’t the case, but…”

Lifting her gaze, she still found his pointed away. “But you can’t freak out at me like that,” she said firmly. “You just can’t. You’ll kill me. I’m the only one who can save you. I know you don’t understand that right now, but, y’know, Devs forbid you figure that out after I’m already dead.”

Turbo chuffed, and then his long, sharp fingers jut into the passageway in attempt to reach her. They fell short of Mavis by a fair bit, only serving to scrape and clack against the rock candy and shave off fresh, fragrant powder. Mavis did not move at all, merely watching with what would have been interest if she was not feeling so blue. Turbo gave up with a frustrated trill.

Mavis folded her arms, letting her eyes follow a distant cinnamon squirrel as it scurried from branch to branch, expertly avoiding the double-stripes. Without looking at Turbo, she told the open air, “You were in love with me, once.”

She paused. There was only silence, apart from a distant caw.

“I know I’ve told you that before,” she continued. “I know it probably means nothing to you. It’s okay. It will someday. But I can tell you for sure… if I died, you’d miss me. You wouldn’t even know why.”

There was a quiet growl inside the cave, one that carried no hostility. She chanced a glance at him, and found inquisitive, but guarded eyes watching her.

“I bet you miss me already,” she said with one twitch of a smile. “Or… miss knowing who I was. Bet it’d be nice to remember why you haven’t eaten me yet, huh?”

Turbo huffed, his eyes narrowing in what might have been vague agreement. At least, maybe to the last sentence.

Mavis sighed again through her nose. Slowly, she slid her flat palm against the ground a little more into the cave, as if he were sitting right next to her and she could tentatively brush her fingers against his. But as it stood, even his huge claws could not reach that far.

“I miss you,” she muttered. “More than… everything. That’s why I push things too far. That’s why I do anything, I guess.”

Turbo’s eyes were trained on her. It was obvious enough that he did not understand, but if she squinted, she could see him trying to. He wanted to know, but just could not. That was nothing she could have held against him.

Clearing her throat, resolving to move on from the heavy, emotional nonsense she had been presenting him with, she pushed to her feet. Her head became fuzzy once upright, but she had suffered more than a few bonks to the head in her years, and just powered through as she gathered her things. With her bed roll under her arm and her bags over her shoulders, she snaked through the tight space in the rock. The transition into the Sugar Rush caverns would have felt not unlike stepping into a refrigerator, if not for the huge furnace waiting for her right at the entrance.

Turbo stood the moment she entered, but did not immediately stray from his spot. Mavis paused to look at him, and found herself standing there longer than intended. She just got caught up in studying his face and the way its contours were painted by what little sunlight managed to pour in from the split in the rock. As this was the tunnel’s only light source, the rest of his body was blanketed out of sight in the shadows. All she could see of him was the part that still looked like her partner.

Her heart bubbled over with boiling, toxic affection that spilled hotly into her guts. 

“...Hi,” she breathed uselessly.

Her partner merely chuffed in reply. But the way he looked at her slowly stole her coherent thought, as it often did. This look did not come from the cybug, nor did it come from the Turbo she knew. It came from the Turbo that had been maturing since the day his memories were stolen away. The Turbo who had no idea who she was. What that Turbo thought of her exactly, she could not have been sure. But he looked at her as if she were an old riddle, one both intriguing and vexing, both charming and maddening. As if he were certain that he would figure her out one day, but stopped believing that day would come soon.

Like she was some soft obsession.

She swallowed, continuing to speak even as his eyes distracted her. “Uh… I’ll go find you some… cherries… tomorrow. We can call that my apology.”

Turbo’s head tilted, and she cleared her throat. Looking into the yawning darkness of the cave, she said, “It’s seriously bedtime now, though. I’m gonna delete if I don’t recharge.”

She had moved barely a few paces before Turbo gave a passing groan and crawled past her. His pointy legs clicked in a spidery way as he wandered around, scoping out the best place for him to situate himself. Those big eyes, glowing like low headlights, spread enough light in his search that Mavis was able to easily find a spot for herself before he was even done. He had always been the pickier one, anyway.

With all of her things laid out, she knelt on her bed roll and paused. She could just barely see Turbo’s body with the help of his glowing eyes and the faintest light from the crack, but she watched him finally pick a spot not all that far from her. He circled, scratching away any debris or sharp points. Then he circled again, and again, until he finally folded his legs and laid his body down. He yawned widely, and the harsh yellow light in his throat cast outlines over the surrounding lumpy floor before dropping it all back to darkness again.

Pondering how he still managed to be cute, Mavis laid down, preparing to fight the cold for a restful sleep again. The earth was hard and unforgiving, even under her bedding, but she was used to it by then. So much that she sighed with relief as she became horizontal. Joints popping as they settled, she blinked hard and realized that Turbo’s headlights were pointed her way.

She smiled sheepishly at him. “Goodnight, T,” she called tiredly.

Turbo grunted.

Thinking that was the end of it, she closed her eyes, but then Turbo groaned again, a bit more insistently.

“Uh huh,” she replied. “And sweet dreams.”

With that, she rolled over, ready to succumb to sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy, nearly glued shut. Almost immediately, she felt the world turning to jelly around her.

But it all snapped back into solid, unforgiving rock when Turbo's clicking startled her awake. 

"Uuugh," she groaned without rolling over. "Turbo! Shut it!"

For a few moments, she heard nothing. Then came some shifting and shuffling, presumably as he made himself more comfortable.

That was when three metal claws wedged beneath her, and the ground swiftly sank away. Before she knew it, she was being carried, bed and all, cupped in both of Turbo's hands like a cramped cage. 

"HEY!" she snapped. "WHAT GIVES?! PUT ME DOWN!"

Turbo did not obey, not immediately. In the dark, she could not see where he took her, but the skittery ride was short. It could only have been his own sleeping space. Then, just like that, he released her back onto the ground, where she tumbled like a dropped ball.

Exhausted, in pain, and confused, she was in no mood for Turbo's weird antics. Mavis sprang to her feet and pointed a stiff finger right at those glowing eyes.

"Don't do that!" she scolded. "Whaddaya think I am, some kinda doll? Y'gotta ask before--"

Her thought was cut short as Turbo crawled in a swift circle around her, paused, and circled again, before she just barely managed to see his body nestle down against the ground. The earth hissed and crackled as he made himself comfortable, and just like that, he was curled around her like a dragon protecting its egg.

A bit too tired to think clearly, she did not move at all. “Uh…” her eyes slowly shifted around, “what’s going on?”

Turbo’s eyes turned to her, his head still lifted off the ground. He seemed expectant, like he actually meant for her to sit down. Mavis was processing this when his Turbo-like impatience showed through, and two huge fingers pressed down on her shoulders hard enough to force her to kneel. Her knees landed on her bed roll, so she followed through with the motion and sat, tentatively picking up her blanket. 

Mavis could not ignore the way her heart was racing. This was something entirely new in their strange, broken relationship. A level of trust not yet achieved. She knew that trusting him was still likely unwise, but if he trusted her, she absolutely had to return the favor. It was the only way progress could be made.

“You…” she muttered, “...you sure? I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to, but…”

Turbo’s reply came only in the action of him lowering his head to the ground, a fair bit closer to her than she expected. His eyes narrowed as he watched her, blinking slowly in a contented way.

“...Huh.”

He chuffed.

“...Okay,” she breathed, smiling a bit with an incredulous chuckle. She situated herself a bit more comfortably, and laid herself down again, parallel to his head. “Alright. As you wish, your majesty.”

In the darkness, his glowing eye peered at her sidelong, its fiery pupil a bit dilated and relaxed. Those slow blinks quickly became more frequent, until he closed his eyes and left Mavis in the dark, aware of his surrounding body only by the whoosh of his hefty breathing and the heat it emanated.

Yes. Yes, that heat. The longer she stayed there with him coiled around her, the less she felt the cold, black cavern surrounding them. He was like a heat lamp, filling her mind with images of hot baths and warm beaches and cozy bedrooms with the man she missed so dearly.

But he was there… and he was so close.

And amazingly enough, after the silence had carried on a while and Mavis felt sleep carefully knocking at her door again, that silence was broken by Turbo’s head shifting a bit nearby. The sound occurred again and again, growing closer each time, until the breath from his nose washed over the ground by her feet. Mavis could hear her own heart pounding… which made her realize just which part of his head he had chosen to move so close.

“Are you…” she whispered, her mouth twitching into a smile, “are you listening to my heart again?”

“Mmlah,” he put a bit of his deep, crackling voice into his vague protest.

Laughter left Mavis softly and carefully, the sound glowing like candlelight. The night had taken a turn she would not have dared to expect. Suddenly, all the stress and the bleeding really did seem worth it. Something must have gotten through to him. Bless the Devs.

“So, what do I sound like?” she asked, not expecting an answer, and not receiving one.

He was so close now. Even if she had two good eyes, she would not have been able to clearly see him, but by the sound of his breathing, she knew he was within arm’s reach. It was so tempting. It would be so easy to lift her hand and lay it against his helmet, or stroke the bristly ruff of silver fur that circled behind his head. To just touch him, even just somewhere close to his face. She reached her hand up…

...But lowered it to the cold ground. He was already showing so much trust for her. She could not rightly break that trust and push him again. Besides, even just lying so close to him put a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with his body heat.

With a wistful sigh, Mavis prepared to tell him what she tried to tell him once a day.

“I still love you, T.”

The barest sliver of his eye cracked open, lazily glancing her way.

“No matter what you look like. No matter what you remember. But I’ll never give up on you. At least remember that for me.”

Turbo’s eye closed again, and a breath that seemed a touch longer than usual blew out from his nose. Mavis was not sure how much of that he could understand, but she had a feeling it was enough.

“Goodnight, Turbo.”

At last, Mavis closed her eyes and surrendered to the pull of sleep. Tired as she was, it did not come swiftly. That was not so unusual. But that night, the scars on her old, battle-worn heart did not flare with the pain of bittersweet memory. After all, why would it? In the end, she had gotten what she had been kept awake longing for at the start of the evening -- the warmth of her partner sleeping soundly beside her.

Even after all that, there was one last noise that caught her attention. There was a stirring, as soft as a whisper. It was steady, it was rhythmic, and as faint as it was, it was close by. It was just confusing enough to keep her awake, searching her mind for what it could be.

It took a fair bit of contemplation before Mavis realized it was Turbo’s tail lightly twitching, and a fair bit more to realize its tempo matched the beat in her chest.