Chapter Text
Robert's suspension from SDN proved to be boring, if not depressing.
After the team had so graciously dropped him during their celebration, Mandy insisted he see a doctor. Robert was reluctant, knowing the emergency room would be jam packed. He didn't feel like his injuries were severe enough to require those resources, though his dizziness and blood-stained shirt said otherwise. It took Malevola opening a portal and shoving him through to make him relent.
He didn't mind waiting. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. However, exhaustion and stress were catching up to him. His phone was dead, and he had nothing else to occupy his time, so he was forced to watch the news on the waiting room's tiny TV while he fought to stay conscious. The casualty report was grim, and all around him were reminders of the carnage that took place. Robert wished he could have done more.
He didn't remember dozing off, only Chase nudging him awake after his name was called. Mandy was there too, though he had no idea when either of them arrived.
Blearily, he followed the nurse through winding hallways before finally being directed into a room. She took his blood pressure, noting that it was low. After charting his basic information, she departed.
His heavy eyelids slipped closed once he was alone. He startled awake when the door opened again. Glancing at the clock, he gathered that he was only asleep for a few minutes.
The doctor pulled him into another room for imaging. They determined that he was bleeding internally, but it wasn't severe enough to require surgery. Their main concern was the other injuries he sustained. His abdomen was littered in cuts and bruises from the hours of torture he endured at the hands of Shroud and Coupé.
Despite their prodding, Robert was tight-lipped about what happened to him. Eventually, they gave up and assigned him to a room with a bed so they could keep him for observation.
The next few days were a haze of prescription drugs and shitty Lifetime movies. He turned out to be quite the combative patient, resisting treatment and insisting he was fine to go home. After the third argument with one of his nurses, he was certain they started putting something in his IV line to keep him sedated. From then on, it was difficult for him to not feel like a leech. Despite their insistence on the severity of his injuries, he knew he had dealt with worse on his own. The first few years of his career were by far the most gruesome. Young and grieving, he was totally reckless back then and consequently learned a lot about taking care of his own injuries.
He had visitors each day, and though he hated people fretting over him, he had never felt so loved.
Mandy and Chase kept him updated on the reconstruction of SDN's Torrance branch as well as the city. Mostly, they kept in contact through text since all heroes and dispatchers available were putting in as much work as possible to rehabilitate the city. They were stretched thin while what remained of the Red Ring took advantage of the chaos and weakened law enforcement.
Without Shroud, their augments ceased working. Robert figured that Elliot was paranoid enough to have some sort of dead man's switch in place. Thus far, no one had been able to reverse engineer the tech. Robert had effectively cut the head off the snake, but it would still take time to round up the scattered gang members.
The Z-Team made time to visit him as well, much to the chagrin of the hospital staff. They were a rowdy bunch, even in such a somber environment. They weren’t allowed in his room all at once, but Malevola snuck a few people in while Visi got in no problem.
The team all had the same questions as the doctors and nurses, wondering how his injuries came to be. He recounted his tale of visiting the Sardine alone. All the while, Coupé looked anxious and guilty, though no one but Robert seemed to notice. He left out the part she played in his torture. There was no reason for him to draw up resentment toward her within the Z-Team.
Everything she had done was out of desperation, not simply anger. Getting cut from the Phoenix Program meant she was on the run, either avoiding prison time or dodging daggers in the dark. If it had been up to him, no one would have been cut from the team. They all deserved a second chance. Now that their fucked up little family was reunited, Robert would never abandon any of them again.
Coupé offered him a small, nearly imperceptible smile in gratitude. She could tell the team when she was ready, but he would defend her for as long as it took.
Before they left or got kicked out by staff, the team offered him small sympathy gifts. Visi brought snacks, including all the sour patch kids he could ever want. Although Golem wasn't allowed inside due to his bulkiness and habit of accidental destruction, Visi also gave Robert a greeting card signed by him. Coupé - and Punch-up by extension - dropped off some books. While they weren't Robert's particular taste, he did appreciate having something else to do. Prism gave him a fluffy brown blanket to use instead of the paper thin ones provided by the hospital. Sonar and Malevola provided magazines and comics, respectively. Ever the conman, Sonar's reading material was all about crypto currency. Waterboy reported that he cleaned Robert's apartment, which made Robert wonder how he found anything but some dust in the barren place. In addition, he brought Robert's phone charger and some clothes, wrapped in plastic to prevent them from getting wet.
Much to Robert's surprise, even Flambae had offered him well wishes in his own strange way. He brought food at dinnertime each day. The first couple times, Robert had been asleep, but he eventually caught sight of Flambae as he was leaving. Robert tried to ignore the way his heart swelled and refrained from calling out to him to stay.
He blamed his frazzled emotions on the drugs. Part of him was glad Flambae didn't stick around, otherwise he would have seen Robert crying over a bowl of soup. It was simple, but better than anything he had ever cooked for himself. He felt like he didn't deserve it.
After what seemed like ages, he was discharged with a warning to take it easy. Robert didn't know the first thing about taking it easy. He already felt useless, especially since Mandy refused to let him do any independent work while suspended.
"You need rest," she told him firmly on the drive home. "Royd is under orders to keep you out of the mech until you're healed. No exceptions."
He didn't argue. Though he knew they were right, he didn't want to admit it. There was always a voice in the back of his head telling him that a hero's work was never done. His father's voice or his own? It was hard to tell. Robert had internalized everything his father told him in preparation for him to one day take his place. Really, his only decent conversations with his dad were when he was training Robert to be Mecha Man. The last thing they spoke about was his dad never being around for anything else. It didn’t go well, and Robert kept people at bay ever since. Only recently had he started to come out of his shell.
"How are you holding up?" Mandy's voice broke through the clouds of gloom in his head.
"Fine, just kinda tired." He didn't have the words to describe how he felt. This was the first time in days that he had a clear head, but his thoughts were still muddled by the sheer amount of things he had to reflect on.
Though she would never admit it, Robert could see that Mandy had lost some respect for him after he killed Shroud on the rooftop. At the very least, everyone saw him in a different light now.
He knew it had set a bad example for the Z-Team, but Robert couldn't let Elliot walk away. Not after everything he did. It wasn't just Robert's life he destroyed. The Red Ring killed and wounded innocent civilians. He wasn't going to give him the chance to escape prison again.
His gaze was fixed out the window to avoid Mandy's worried glances. While they had managed to save the city from total destruction, everywhere he looked there were crumbling buildings, burned up cars, and people displaced from their homes.
He was half tuned in to Mandy rambling to fill the silence. "It might take a few weeks before we can get you back in the field. I've already asked them to make the investigation a priority since we're so short on people right now. Other than that, it's out of my hands."
Robert wasn't even sure what to do with himself during that time. Work gave him purpose, and he didn't really have any meaningful hobbies. He was still learning how to be Robert and separate himself from Mecha Man. It had been nearly a year since the bomb forced him into retirement, but he still felt like that wasn't near enough time to discover himself.
There was one gnawing thought at the back of his mind. He wanted to die in the suit before. He thought it was the only way out. Now, he had been shown another way, and despite that, he still felt obligated to be Mecha Man. Saving people made him feel good, but it never seemed to be good enough. It was second nature to him, all he had ever known. From birth, his father ensured he would take on the mantle, and he never allowed Robert to plan for any other future. Even after he died, it still felt like the only way.
His savior complex was a self destructive cycle, fueled by the fact that he still lived in his father's shadow. His predecessors were geniuses ahead of their time while Robert was average in comparison. In his father's eyes, he always had a proclivity for insufficiency. That strive to prove himself still remained, though he knew it was foolish to care about what his dad would think. Maybe now he just wanted to prove that he hadn’t killed their legacy.
Some part of him had hoped that killing Shroud would bring some sort of closure, like avenging his dad could break the cycle. As it turned out, murder didn't solve much. Still, his heavy conscience was better than letting Elliot get another slap on the wrist and opportunity to start all over again. It was one atrocious act that prevented many others. He did what he thought was best, but he didn't feel good about it, not like he thought he would.
As they pulled up to the curb outside his apartment, Robert clawed his way out of his own mind and the pit he ruminated himself into. He thanked her for the ride, but it sounded colder than he intended, void of any emotion.
"Robert."
He turned back to her, hand still on the door handle. All the concerned looks he had been receiving lately made him want to flee, unaccustomed to having anyone care for him.
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, hesitating on her next words. He hated seeing people walk on eggshells for him.
"Call me if you need anything. Seriously, I mean anything. I've been bored out of my mind without the amulet."
Robert laughed lightly, relieved by her attempt at normalcy. She knew he was a broken man, had been for a long time, but she always treated him with dignity.
"Yeah, life's just not as interesting when you're a normie." He offered her a genuine smile, though it was small, more a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. "I'll keep in touch."
He trudged inside his lonely apartment. Beef was with Chase, though he was reluctant to let his dog leave his sight after what happened. He would be back later that night, after Chase left work. For now, Robert was alone with the deafening silence.
He had made sure to bring Flambae's tupperware home from the hospital. He washed it rather than setting it down in the sink, knowing if he did that then it would just sit there indefinitely.
Afterwards, he sat on the couch with a sigh, hanging his head in his hands. He wished he could feel happy, or at least satisfied that Shroud was dead. Instead, there was a void left behind where that seething hatred once was.
It dawned on him that the desire for revenge was a disease, and even after achieving what he thought would be the end, it still ate away at him like maggots on festering flesh. He let his quest for vengeance change him, and now there was no going back to who he was before.
His actions haunted him. It was difficult to detach himself from the fact that blood stained his hands. This wasn't the first time. Sometimes it was kill or be killed, but he was in the mech all those times. This was different. Robert killed him, with his bare hands at that. He still remembered his reflection in the pool of blood - disgust, rage, hatred, fifteen years of rancor all bubbling to the surface.
Every time he slept, he relived that night. Sometimes there were different outcomes, but the worst of them all so far was when his dad replaced Shroud in those nightmares. He didn't understand why; he loved his dad. His best guess was that it was because he still subconsciously harbored guilt for the destruction of his mech all those months ago.
Now that he was home and no longer on heavy painkillers, he wasn't sure he would be able to sleep, knowing what awaited him in the depths of his mind. Insomnia was no stranger to him, but he knew it would further crack his fractured psyche.
Robert was aware that he should probably see a therapist, but trust issues were ingrained in him so deeply that he didn't think he could trust one enough to be honest.
He stood, paced, looked at the time, then decided he should probably try to take care of himself even if he wasn't hungry. It had been nearly half a day since his last meal.
Upon opening the fridge, he was reminded that it was desolate, not a single worthwhile ingredient in sight.
"Fuck," he whispered to himself, adding grocery shopping onto the list of shit to worry about.
He doubted there would be many stores open, and they were likely to be even more crowded than usual. Robert's resolve crumbled at the thought, losing all the energy he had mere seconds ago.
He curled up on the couch with his phone, finding a movie to occupy his time. His mind was elsewhere. He couldn't look at his own hands without thinking of them around Elliot's throat, ignoring his pleas for mercy in his blind rage.
Time slipped away from him like sand in an hourglass, stuck in his rumination. The sun was soon setting, and he felt like his empty stomach had begun eating itself.
As he considered ordering takeout, there was a knock at his door.
He padded over, shocked to find Flambae on the other side, holding Beef and a plastic container fogged up with steam.
"Where's Chase?" Robert accepted his dog from Chad, stepping aside to allow him in despite his better judgment telling him that wasn't a good idea.
"Working late. I told him I would be coming here anyways, so I offered to take Beef with me. He's got some pretty creative threats."
"I'm surprised he trusted you at all," Robert admitted with a chuckle. Glancing at the plastic container again, he added, "I never got a chance to thank you for bringing food to the hospital. I do have to ask, though, why?" A genuinely kind gesture just seemed so out of character for him. Though they were beginning to reconcile, Robert was still wary of Chad’s intentions.
Chad set the container down on the kitchen counter. "I usually just cook for myself, but there's always leftovers, and I know you never take care of yourself, bitch." To prove his point, he opened up the fridge. "Fucking knew you wouldn't have anything decent in here, but that’s just sad. What do you even eat? No wonder you’re so skinny."
"That is...aggressively thoughtful of you," Robert replied, amused despite the jab about his weight.
Chad looked around, noticing that none of the lights were on. "Why the fuck are you just sitting in the dark?"
"After being under bright fluorescents for several days, can you blame me?" He really hadn’t noticed the room getting dark, like he was disconnected from his body while drowning in his mind.
Chad didn't deem that worthy of a response, and instead started turning on a few of the many lamps scattered about the place. "Fucking depressing in here," he muttered.
Robert found it odd that he was just making himself at home, but he couldn't deny that he needed the company. As much as he was loath to admit it, in the past few months, Chad had gone from absolutely infuriating to somewhat charming. He chalked it up to years of pent up sexual frustration, spurred on by Chad constantly acting out as if he were begging for Robert's attention. He wasn't ready to accept the truth of his attraction yet. If he pretended those feelings didn't exist, maybe it would all just dissipate.
Chad returned to the kitchen and retrieved the container Robert washed earlier. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to fucking eat?"
Robert had been standing in the threshold between his living room and kitchen, leaning against the wall as his eyes tracked Chad. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled.
"If I wanted to poison you, you'd be dead by now," he added. That was probably meant to persuade Robert, but it sounded like a threat coming from him.
"You staying?" Robert asked as he opened the container. The smell of warm spices made his mouth water. He didn't know much about Afghan food, but he could identify that it was some type of beef stew over rice. Regardless, it was gourmet compared to Robert's usual diet.
"We could watch a movie or something, but I don't have a TV."
Chad seemed to be internally weighing his options for a moment before saying, "Fuck it, I don't have anything better to do, and I don't want you stealing my tupperware."
"When have I ever stolen anything from you?"
Chad stared at him for several seconds, waiting for Robert to connect the dots before he finally lifted his hand with missing fingers.
"And I don't even want to talk about my fucking tooth," he grumbled. Though he had recently gotten it fixed, it was still a sore spot for him. Robert was almost sad to see the gap in his smile gone; he thought it was cute.
Robert couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips, wincing almost immediately after at the stabbing pain in his abdomen.
"Don't laugh at me, bitch," Chad huffed, though it was a much milder reaction than Robert expected. He flopped down on the couch.
"Sorry, but that was melodramatic, even for you." Robert sat next to him and began scrolling through apps for something interesting to watch.
"Do you even feel a little guilty?" Chad snatched Robert's phone, locking it and tossing it to the other end of the couch. Before Robert could protest, he said, "Eat. I'll find us something."
Robert mulled the question over as he savored his first bite. Initially, he hadn't given any of it a second thought. Until that night at Crypto, he never even thought they would see each other again. Now that they were somewhat friends, he did feel some remorse. However, he also saw it as proof of where Chad came from and how much progress he made since then.
"It's complicated," Robert answered after the silence hung in the air a little too long.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" He was equal parts intrigued and offended.
"Do I feel bad that your hand is maimed? Yes. Do I think it was a necessary evil? Also yes." He stirred the rice mixture around, unsure what sort of reaction to expect. "For what it's worth, I am sorry about your fingers."
When Chad didn't respond, Robert looked up at him to see he was frowning, but not angry.
"I hate it when you're right," he muttered. "I would've killed you."
Robert resisted the smug smile that threatened to cross his face. For Chad to admit that Robert was right about anything meant that they had come a long way since they first met, and he wasn't going to risk any of that by gloating. Although, that didn’t stop him from being earnest.
"You would've killed us both. That building was seconds away from collapsing when I hauled your ass out in cuffs." He could still feel the intensity of that heat. That deadly wrath had been directed at him twice now. Robert tried not to think about it too hard. He couldn't just live in fear of incineration, especially considering Chad was all bark and no bite most of the time.
Sensing that Chad was beginning to brood over the past just as he was, Robert added, "But you turned your life around, and that's something to be proud of."
"Spare me the motivational shit." He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "We're not even at work."
"Heroes never clock out."
"That was fucking corny and untrue. Everyone needs time to rest. Here." Chad held his phone between them, and Robert leaned in close.
Though they weren't quite touching, the heat of the other man’s skin was enough to make Robert's heart hammer in his chest. He forced himself to focus on the reality show Chad picked.
Occasionally, they made commentary about whatever stupid shit the people were doing. Robert didn't typically engage with that sort of media, but he was familiar enough with it to know the idiocy was part of the appeal. It was cathartic to mock rich people for their often self-imposed problems and horrible solutions.
Eventually, Robert's neck began to ache from the angle he held it at, and his body was reminding him that he was still injured. He cautiously leaned against Chad, resisting the urge to melt at the comfortable warmth, like a heating pad that breathed. Chad glanced at him, but remained silent, only adjusting a bit so they could both be more comfortable.
Robert was still somewhat suspicious of why Chad was being kind to him, but was quickly losing the wherewithal to care. Pointing it out would only ruin the moment anyways.
It wasn't long before Robert's eyelids grew heavy. He had been sleeping a lot lately, which probably meant he needed it, but he did still feel guilty about it. His struggle to stay awake proved to be futile as he nodded off in the middle of an episode.
Robert stood over Shroud's corpse, exhausted but victorious. He looked down at his friends rounding up the rest of the Red Ring and immediately noticed the lack of fire.
The Z-Team had things handled, so he turned away from the fight to see if he could find Flambae from his higher viewpoint.
He spotted the familiar gaudy spandex, but Flambae wasn't moving. Robert's heart sank. Without hesitation, he began descending from the rubble, sprinting as fast as he could on shaking legs.
As he got closer, he noticed the long piece of gnarled rebar impaling him. Robert skid to a stop on his knees next to him, hands cradling his face. He was so cold. Flambae was never cold. He didn't have a pulse.
"No!" Robert's voice was hoarse as he bolted upright. Agony ripped through him, stealing what little breath he had. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own thundering heartbeat.
The lights were dimmed, but he could see Chad rushing toward him, still in that god awful costume that Robert simultaneously loved and hated.
Oh, fuck. As he caught his breath and grounded himself, his panic quickly became mortification.
"I'm okay," Robert managed. "Just a bad dream."
Chad had his hands raised, like he was going to try to comfort Robert, but then dropped them and knelt by his side. "Fuck, you weren't even out that long. Maybe thirty minutes? I just got up to turn off the lights."
"You let me sleep on you for thirty minutes?" Robert gave a coy smile, attempting to direct attention away from himself.
"I wanted to finish the episode." The expression on Chad’s face was unreadable, an emotion he had never seen on him, but his gaze could probably burn a hole right through Robert. Though his response was somewhat defensive, he didn’t even take the bait like he usually would, seemingly unbothered by his teasing.
Robert rubbed his eyes then dragged his hands down his face, both a stress response and an effort to avoid eye contact.
"You headed home?"
He heard the rustle of clothing, likely a shrug. "Unless you want me to stay?" Robert couldn't tell if it was sincere or a joke - maybe somewhere in between - but he was still too embarrassed to look Chad in the eyes.
"This couch isn't big enough for the two of us." Robert chuckled, though it was weak and half-hearted. It was followed by a deep sigh. "Help me save some face and just go home, please."
There was a long pause before Chad stood without another word.
"Um, thanks again for dinner," Robert added as Chad headed to the door. He felt awkward for kicking him out in spite of the fact that he seemed to be leaving already.
He kept talking to fill the growing space between them. "Just...don't tell anyone about this." The last thing he needed was for anyone on the Z-Team to think he was weak, or that he regretted his actions. He still needed them to respect him as a leader.
He turned to Robert, something indecipherable still there. Maybe pity, maybe concern, but Robert couldn't fathom why it would be directed at him after all the strife between them. Their truce was tentative at best, so why did it seem like Chad actually cared?
"I won't." And with that, he slipped out the door.
Alone, Robert cursed himself for ever developing his stupid crush on Chad. It was now impossible to ignore the way his heart skipped beats when they were in close proximity. He craved to see more of this softer side of Flambae, and he hated himself for it. He had enough to worry about without adding unrequited feelings into the mix.
Pushing Chad away made his heart ache, and he didn't know why. He had always dealt with his problems alone, so why should now be any different? He also wasn't entirely sure that being vulnerable wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass later. Something had changed between them, that much was obvious, but he wasn't going to hold out hope that Chad would stop trying to make his life harder than it already was.
Robert looked down at Beef, who had settled into his lap shortly after he woke. "What the fuck am I gonna do?"
Beef tilted his head, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Not a thought behind those eyes.
Robert scratched behind his ears, letting out a small, self-pitying laugh. "Yeah, I'm screwed.”