If you asked him how it happened, The Brain would have responded that the structure of his magnetic pulse gyroscope had lacked a few spare screws and a rubber band, thus rendering it too top heavy and incapable of remaining upright while the current laws of gravity were still upheld.

If you asked him why it happened, well… you would just be mimicking him. For that was the only question on his mind after he realized he'd been pushed out of the way of the giant magnet's descent, effectively saved from being crushed beneath its unwarranted weight. That was the only question on his mind as his heart, which had stuttered to a stop once he heard the screeching of titanium alloy and rapidly calculated that the trajectory of the collapsing invention would place its landing directly on him, jumped into his throat and proceeded to beat faster than the wings of a hummingbird. That was the only question on his mind because there was only one other soul with him in the lab who could've pushed him out of the way, and he'd already calculated that even Pinky's speed could not manage to move him before he'd be smothered by science.

Well, move him and survive.

Paralyzed by shock, well aware that the adrenaline would kick in once his body and brain simultaneously realized he'd cheated death, Brain stared with unseeing eyes at the countertop. It was cool against his cheek (like Pinky's hand when he'd cup it after making him blush like a flighty school girl) and its solid weight beneath him grounded him, held his mind in check (like when he'd lay on Pinky's chest as he fell asleep and feel his heartbeat in his head).

The blood rushed so suddenly in his ears that it made him dizzy, he didn't even realize he'd stood up and turned around until he saw the metal mangled mess before him (why why why why). His knees gave way, were it not for the adrenaline propelling him forward he'd have fallen down (down down down ashes ashes). They'd been smashed and squashed and bopped and slammed and crushed before. Surely, surely he'd find it was just a bump, just a scratch. There was nothing to worry about. But instead he discovered a strength he'd been previously unaware of encompassing, lifting the half-charged (half ton) magnet up and away.

Pinky was still.

(Like that morning where he woke up first, it never happens but then it did and he was sleeping so peacefully until he woke him up. Gentle and soft and kissing and touching and eyes fluttering and pulses rising and he wasn't still then, oh no, never still then. Always wiggling, squirming, touching, breathing)

The logical part of him—the part that didn't shut down at the sight of stillness—reminded him to be careful of moving his head (hit his head, always hit his head). He didn't remember how he moved him or even touching him at all, but he must have because when he looked down at the mouse who (loved him) saved him, he was in the middle of the counter and far, far away from the remains of his machine.

It was as if he was a robot, going through the motions in a mechanical manner (stop it Pinky don't touch that Pinky I'm going to have to hurt you Pinky) but couldn't actually feel anything. Brain went through the calculations again (the density and the mass times the velocity times Pinky's speed divided by the length of his arms squared by the durability of his head) as well as the mental checklist for how long a body lasts before it begins to decay.

Decay. Pinky was still.

(Brush your teeth Pinky don't want to get tooth decay won't kiss you if you have a cavity don't look at me like that don't don't don't don't don't. Do)

His vision blurred and Pinky's fur was getting wet, little splotches of moisture dampening his fur in patches. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. He couldn't. Gasping for air, he cringed as a series of otherworldly sounds accosted his ears. Brain clutched at his chest, fur snagging and pulling (like when Pinky got too excited raking his fingers through his fur throwing his head back). He couldn't breathe! His chest ached and his throat was raw and his eyes were burning.

"No. No. No. No no no," he moaned, so much like those alien sounds his sobs created.

Once it started he couldn't stop (which is why we wait until after the plan Pinky) and his despair mounted, consuming him. He ran his hands over that face (he knew he liked it his cheeks warmed every time he placed his hands against them his eyes became cloudy). His fingers searched the eyes, the nose, the forehead, his jaw and down his throat over his chest.

Pinky was still…

(Sneak up behind him and play with his tail oh he hated that but turn around and he kissed the breath right out of him. The plan had failed but there was always Pinky. Always loving always warm always there)

"Why? Why why why why?" Brain knew the answer to many things, but he didn't know the answer to this. Would never know.

He buried his face in that chest, his tears staining them both and the fur muffling his keening lamentation. All he'd wanted that day was a kiss. A kiss. But Brain denied him (later Pinky the plan always the plan). It wasn't often Pinky tried to initiate affection before the world slipped from his grasp yet again. It wasn't often those dreams awoke an itch beneath his skin that Pinky just couldn't ignore as his eyes roved over Brain's figure and his ears drank in his voice. Pinky didn't ask for much (but he gave oh he gave gave gave), but Brain sent him away. With nothing more than a quick slap to the wrist, an irritated growl, and a "Later, Pinky".

Now there would be no later. There wasn't even a now really. Brain didn't even know how long it had been since he first heard the telling creak and Pinky's startled gasp. He didn't care to know. All that mattered was the weight beneath him, solid and soft and… and…

Pinky was… still… breathing.

His chest rose and fell like trembling leaves, his heart nothing more than a flickering firefly. But he was still breathing. His heart was still beating.

Pinky was still alive.

Brain immediately sat up, as if any more weight atop that struggling heart would smother it and the life with it. His fingers traced the curves of Pinky's face once more, moving to smooth back his brow. One hand diverged from this path, traveling down the lanky arm to latch around his wrist, squeezing until he could detect the pulse pushing at his palm.

"Pinky, Pinky, please." Relief warred with terror, Brain knew they weren't out of the clear. His friend (his lover) could still never wake up. "Pinky! Please!"

(Please what Brain? Please this or please that? Narf! Tell me what you want what you like I like when you're happy)

"Pinky, don't go." Brain slapped his cheek lightly, hoping to jar awareness back into his body. "Don't you leave me or I shall have to hurt you!"

He cradled him, nuzzled him, rubbed his nose with his own. Anything to persuade him to leave whatever light he was walking to in order to come back and be his light (blue eyes bright happy half-lidded with his head against the pillow). Brain kissed his forehead, pressing his lips firmly as if he could reach him in his subconscious swamp of a mind.

"I love you, Pinky, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, please come back to me." He murmured into his ear, hoping for that familiar twitch (his ears were so ticklish everything about Pinky was ticklish he always laughed laughed laughed). "I love you…"

Something brushed against his cheek. Pinky's lashes fluttered, his eyelids twitching towards wakefulness. The heart in his hand felt stronger. As he stroked his thumb against his wrist, the skin warmed under his touch. His brow knit together and Brain's breath hitched as he watched the twin slivers of blue grow into a pair of dazed (beautiful) eyes.

"Pinky…!" The megalomaniac exhaled, choking on the fresh tears sprouting as he watched his friend (lover) blink slowly. "Oh, Pinky!" His arms wrapped around him as he felt the subtle shift towards him. Even in his delirium Pinky desired Brain's closeness, cuddling against him in a weak, weary impression of his usual bouncy behavior.

"…Brain…you're crying?" Pinky wondered, his voice far away and close at the same time, confused and unstable.

Grip tightening, The Brain could only nod, muffling his relief in Pinky's neck. Slowly, trembling, Pinky hugged him back despite the pain his body surely endured and continued to endure. If anything, this attempt to soothe only made Brain cry harder. Why had such a soul as this come to him? Why did he find him and why did he stay?

Because Brain knew how. He knew how they met, merely children, and he knew how he made Pinky feel for he shared those feelings on numerous occasions. So, perhaps the why was not important as long as it continued to be this way.

Peppering kisses along his jaw, up right under his ear and relishing the quiet spasm he received for his efforts. "Are you alright, Pinky? What hurts? It's okay, you'll be okay. What do you need, Pinky? Just tell me-"

He was silenced by Pinky's lips ghosting along his own. Well, if he wanted a kiss, he would get a kiss. Brain cupped his face gently, and the kiss was anything but.


I really don't know where this heartache came from.

I blame it on "The Vow" and seeing the "Titanic" preview and listening to super depressing music and... I don't know. Angst was born.

But Pinky's okay! He's not dead and he and Brain will live happily ever after as rulers of the world with all their little clone babies and much love and narfs!

This is what happens when I'm left to my own devices when writing PatB fanfiction...