Chapter Text
By the time the SDN building was finally rebuilt, most of the Z-Team had lost all enthusiasm about actually returning to work. There was a lot of complaining about how they’d earned a proper break after everything that happened, or, according to Flambae, how they were technically celebrities now and should probably be treated accordingly. SDN management, unsurprisingly, did not give a single shit about any of that. Within a few weeks they were all dragged back into active duty whether they liked it or not.
That included Mecha-Man.
Not full-time, though. Chase and Mandy practically strong-armed Robert into seeing actual doctors instead of trying to “walk it off” like he usually did. Most of his injuries had healed badly or not at all, which led to a miserable series of scans, evaluations, and invasive testing that Robert hated with every fibre of his being. Mandy claimed it was all necessary “for SDN records.” Nobody believed that for a second. Robert came back angrier for it, brittle around the edges in a way that made even simple conversations feel exhausting. He snapped at dispatch calls, got overwhelmed faster than usual, and looked permanently exhausted no matter how much sleep he supposedly got. Some days Chad swore Robert looked worse now than he had immediately after the fight with Shroud. Still, despite all the complaints and simmering resentment, the atmosphere around SDN was… weirdly good. Lighter, somehow. The media coverage helped, SDN worked overtime controlling the narrative after the attack, polishing everything into something hopeful and marketable. Heroes overcoming tragedy. The city rebuilding stronger than ever. The Z-Team became local celebrities almost overnight. Flambae absolutely thrived in it, of course he did, he was charismatic, gorgeous, and objectively the most camera-friendly person on the team.
He pauses in front of the bathroom mirror again, adjusting his hair slightly before flashing himself a grin. Incredible. Amazing. Stunning, even. The day itself had been mostly shit escort missions, clean-up duty, property damage, civilians crying at them over insurance paperwork - but there had at least been one bright spot. During a downtown rescue operation, a woman had recognized him and asked for a picture. Naturally, he said yes. He’s a hero, after all.
By the time he's back at the office the break room only has Prism thankfully, he doesn’t need the smell of rat to ruin his lunch. “Hey bae, that old lady who runs the cattery was asking after you today.” Prism says, not looking up from her phone. She’s been pretty popular too, her music reaching viral sensations thanks to her hero work. “You mean Ms Kalinowski?” he replies, grabbing his lunch and heating it in his hand. “Yeah apparently she misses you”.
“Of course she does.” he scoffs, “I’m amazing”. They bitch about some social media influencer when Robert walks in to grab coffee, and he looks like shit. Not even the normal levels of shit, he looks exhausted, hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes, skin too pale, and he moves like every joint in his body is painful. Chad looks up from his lunch, eyes scanning Robert’s body before commenting. “Jesus bitch, you look like shit” Robert flips him off weakly, starting up the coffee machine, “looks like you’ve been exorcised” he adds with a smirk, making Prism snort. Robert turns to look at them, holding onto the counter as the machine behind him whirrs to life. “You know all this medical bullshit Blazer’s forcing on me is making me feel worse than I did before the traitorous wellness propaganda.” Chad glares slightly, “Bitch you functioned on caffeine and unresolved trauma”. Robert just smirks back, “Yeah and we still took down Shroud what’s your point?”
Chad rolls his eyes while Robert grabs his coffee and joins them at the table, “Might just give up on bettering myself” he jokes but it lands like he is genuinely thinking about it. Prism puts her phone down, “Is it particularly bad today babe? You kinda look like you’re one strong breeze away from folding like wet cardboard” Robert takes a sip and grimaces, “OK rude. It’s fine-” he always says it’s fine “-I just need the meds to kick in I guess” Chad doesn’t really like that answer but doesn’t push it, underneath all the sarcasm and deadpan looks Robert genuinely looks rough today.
“You need anything?” he asks sincerely, earning a look from both Robert and Prism, he chooses to ignore it. He can be nice when he wants to. Robert just takes another sip of coffee and shakes his head, “Nah I can feel a headache coming on though so I’m gonna take a quick break before I have to listen to you dipshits yelling in my ear again. I’m not feeling particularly charitable so don’t cause any issues for second shift” “Or what? You’ll glare at us from your desk?” Chad teases, “Oh so you want the calls about broken sewage pipes. Got it”
“Bitch?!”
Prism laughs as Robert walks off to try and take a 5 minute nap at his desk, “Damn you wouldn’t think Robbo could get more depressing” she looks back to her phone, glancing briefly towards Chad. “So you gonna ask him out or still just awkwardly flirting from a distance?” Chad chokes on his lunch, a grain of rice catching in this throat and making him cough relentlessly. “What the fuck?” He glares at her, the fucking audacity. He’s not flirting with Robert. She just eyes him incredulously, eyebrow peeking above her shades. “Bae it’s getting sad, never seen you fumble a man before” Chad hates the accusation, hates that she seems to find it funny, hates that she thinks he likes Robert-fucking-Robertson. The THIRD. “Bitch tell me you’re joking. I’m not fumbling anything he’s not even my-”
“-Type? Sure, except you know he totally is” she laughs as flames flicker across his shoulders, “A short king with daddy issues? You’re not fooling anyone” Chad’s suddenly lost his appetite and throws the rest of his lunch away ignoring the laughter from his supposed best friend. “I swear to God bitch don’t give those losers any more reason to harass me” He saunters out, orange eyes briefly locating the dispatcher who’s got his head on the desk before he storms out and downstairs to have a few minutes of peace before he’s inevitably called in for some bullshit job he’s too good for.
The second shift is pretty bad, Robert is the best dispatcher they’ve had but he’s making the wrong calls, mixes up their names, and barely manages to successfully hack anything. It’s extremely unlike him. Chad’s on break and decides to give the fucker a piece of his mind, they’re meant to be heroes, not fucking lapdogs screwing up basic bitch jobs. Robert’s not at his desk but alone in the break room - perfect, less witnesses. He opens his mouth to say something snarky when he watches Robert lean against the sink with a hand over his stomach like he’s about to puke. He’s breathing hard and his eyes are unfocused, Chad genuinely thinks he’s about to watch a man vomit and is torn between leaving him to it and helping. He’s not a complete bitch, it’s not Robert’s fault if he’s genuinely sick, and there’s something fluttering in Chad’s stomach at the sight of their normally oh-so-strong dispatcher looking like he’s one bad breath away from passing out.
“Bob-Bob, you good?” The words leave Chad’s mouth before his brain catches up to them, and immediately he wants to take them back. Stupid fucking question. Obviously Robert isn’t good. The dispatcher is hunched forward, one hand pressed hard against his abdomen like he’s trying to physically hold himself together. His breathing sounds shallow and uneven and there’s sweat beading along his hairline. His skin has gone this awful greyish colour under the fluorescent lights. “Hey, hey, come sit down,” Chad says quickly, forcing his voice softer, calmer than he feels. “I got you, man.” He moves closer, reaching out carefully, resting a hand against Robert’s shoulder. The second he touches him, Robert shudders. Not a normal shiver because his skin feels warm to the touch, and it’s not cold especially with Chad in here. His entire body jerks violently beneath Chad’s hand, muscles tightening all at once like wires snapping taut. A broken sound tears from Robert’s throat, somewhere between a groan and a gasp, and Chad feels the exact moment his legs stop holding him up.
“Whoa!” Robert drops. Chad barely catches him in time, arms wrapping around him instinctively as all the weight suddenly collapses backward into his chest. For one horrifying second Robert’s body is completely rigid. Hard. Locked up so tight it barely feels human anymore. “Oh fuck.” Chad’s heart slams painfully against his ribs. Robert’s head tips back sharply, jaw clenched so hard Chad hears his teeth click together. His arms draw stiff against his body, fingers curled tight and unnatural. Every muscle is seized solid beneath Chad’s grip. Then the convulsions start. Robert’s whole body jerks violently in Chad’s arms, strong enough to nearly throw them both sideways onto the floor. Chad drops to his knees hard, scrambling to keep hold of him. “Shit- shit. Come on Rob!” Some detached, useless part of his brain recognizes it immediately. A seizure. He’s seen this before but only on TV shows, movies, or shitty dramas, none of those prepared him for the reality of it. None of them captured how terrifying it is when it’s someone you know. Someone you care about. Robert’s body thrashes uncontrollably against the floor, heels hammering against the tile in sharp, awful bursts. His head jerks violently to the side and Chad throws a shaking hand behind it before it can crack against the ground. “I got you, I got you…” His voice is breaking but Robert doesn’t hear him. His eyes are half-open but unfocused, rolled somewhere upward where Chad can’t find anything recognizable in them. His breathing catches in horrible stuttering sounds that make panic claw viciously up Chad’s throat because it sounds like he can’t fucking breathe.
“CHASE!” Chad screams, loud enough that his voice tears. “CHASE!” The convulsions grow harsher and Chad tries to hold Robert steady without pinning him down, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. His hands slip against Robert’s sweat-slick skin as he tries to cradle his head, trying desperately to stop him from hurting himself. Robert’s body is burning hot. Every muscle bucks violently beneath Chad’s grip. His breaths come in ragged choking noises between clenched teeth, and every sound shoots pure adrenaline through Chad’s bloodstream. “Come on, Bob,” Chad pleads helplessly. “Come on, man, stay with me-” Then Chase bursts into the room, the door slams open so hard it hits the wall. “What happened—” Chad chokes out immediately; “I think he’s having a fucking seizure!” Chase is beside them instantly, dropping hard to his knees on the floor. Unlike Chad, he moves with terrifying calm, though Chad can still see the alarm flash across his face when he takes in Robert’s condition. “Okay. Okay, we got him.” Robert convulses again, hard enough that Chad nearly loses hold of him. Chase reaches in immediately, helping steady him without restraining him. “Come on, kid,” Chase murmurs, voice low and steady in sharp contrast to the chaos of the room.
“We got you. You’re okay.” Chad latches onto that calmness desperately, even though his own hands are shaking so badly he can barely keep supporting Robert’s head. Together they maneuver him carefully across the floor, away from open sightlines and hard edges. Chad’s knees ache from dragging awkwardly across the tile, but he barely notices. All his attention is locked onto Robert. Robert’s body jerks violently every few seconds, less rhythmic now but somehow worse for it. Sweat dampens his hair completely. His chest heaves in ragged, uneven gasps between spasms. Chad can hear the wet sound of saliva in his breathing and it makes his stomach twist sickeningly. “How long has it been?” Chad asks, voice thin and panicked. “I don’t know.” Time feels slowed, like they’ve been here for hours. Chad has no idea if it’s been thirty seconds or ten minutes since Robert collapsed into his arms, his own pulse roars so loudly in his ears it drowns everything else out. Another violent jerk runs through Robert’s body before suddenly, terrifyingly, the tension starts fading.
The convulsions slow and then stop, Robert goes limp so fast it nearly knocks the breath out of Chad. For one awful second, Chad thinks robert fucking died but then he drags in a rough, ragged breath. Chad’s shoulder sag from relief, he lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Easy,” Chase says quietly, one hand braced against Robert’s knee, “Easy, kid, just breathe”.
Robert doesn’t respond, he stays lying half-curled in Chad’s lap, limp and drained, breathing wet and ragged as he comes back, letting out a weak groan, his face contorts and twists and slowly his eyelids flutter weakly against his cheeks. “Hey bitch,” he says, trying to get Robert to recognise him (ignoring the scoff from Chase), “you back with us?” Robert’s brow furrows like he can hear him, but he’s struggling to understand, his lips part but whatever he tries to say dissolves into another rough exhale. The room smells sharply of sweat, Chad can see how damp Robert’s shirt is, plastered against shaking muscles that twitch occasionally with aftershocks. His face is pale except for the fresh flush adorning his cheeks, there’s a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth where he must have bitten his tongue. Robert shifts weakly with a soft sound of discomfort, immediately Chase steadies him, “Don’t try to sit up yet, idiot”. It doesn’t stop Robert from trying anyway, awkwardly he attempts to push himself upright, arms trembling beneath him before giving up - letting out a frustrated, confused noise.
Chad holds his arms and hoists Robert up slightly so his back is fully leaning on top of Chad’s chest, letting the smaller man recline more comfortably. Sure they might both be embarrassed about the situation later but he’s not exactly concerned about that right now. “Welcome back motherfucker” Chase scoffs as Robert blinks at the old man slowly, recognition slowly filtering back in. He winces slightly, “Hurts”, he mumbles. “Yeah” Chase replies, standing and getting a chair to sit on properly. “Probably gonna hurt for a bit”
“What happened?”
“You had a fucking seizure” Chase replies honestly, he sags in his chair. He looks just as rough as Chad feels. “Oh” Robert replies, finally looking around and Chad watches as he gets bearings, his head lolls slightly down looking at the large, thick arms holding him up against Chad’s chest. He twists in Chad’s hold to look up at him before embarrassment flashes across Robert’s face, cheeks flushing pink. “Sorry” he says, clearly trying to wiggle free but too exhausted to actually manage to move. “No worries Bobert, you owe me one for saving your life”. Chad would laugh if he could but watching the energy drain out of Robert makes him feel exhausted too.
For a while nobody speaks, Chase is muttering under his breath and shooting daggers Chad’s way but for the most part they just make sure Robert comes back safely. The dispatcher lets out a long sigh, clearly unhappy but too weak to protest, he gets his strength back in parts, shifting his legs and hips to sit more comfortably, he swallows thickly before asking for a tissue, Chase grabs him one, and he spits blood into it. There’s a gentle knock at the door that Chase goes to answer and Blonde Blazer walks in with a soft smile on her face. “Hey, how are you feeling Robert?” she asks in that gentle, corporate voice. “Been better” he replies, the deadpan stare and sarcasm already filtering back in.
Chad leans him forward, and slowly helps him get to a chair and Chase grabs some water from the fridge. Blazer walks over and rubs a hand over his forehead, “You should go to medical to figure out what caused this, but for now I think it’s best you take a few days off” Robert groans, but at least it’s from displeasure, not pain. Chad can’t help but roll his eyes. “He can stay at mine” he says before he manages to filter out the inappropriateness of it. He gets stared at by all three of them and heat crawls up his spine. Blazer looks at him awkwardly, “R-right. I mean if that works for everyone I don’t see why not?” Chase scoffs, “Fuck off he’s not staying with you he can stay with me”
Before an argument breaks out, because for some reason Chad feels pissed off that Chase doesn’t think Robert should stay with him, Blazer interrupts; “Well Robert the choice is yours. I’m sure everyone would offer you a place” Robert groans, he still looks exhausted. “I really don’t care, look I can just go home-”
“Fuck off”- “No the fuck you’re not” Both Chase and Chad say at the same time. Robert resigns, laying his head on his arms across the table, “Whatever, fight it out, let me grab my stuff” he relents, leaning slightly into the way Blazer runs her fingers through his hair before she helps him stand and go tell the team what’s been going on. Chad doesn’t appreciate the look Chase gives him, the kind adults give teenagers when they’re being stupid. “You don’t know what to do if it happens again,” Chase says quietly. “And you do?” That immediate answer shuts Chase up for half a second before a fury takes over his features, “Fuck off hotshot, he’s my fucking brother and he’s staying with me”
Chad scrubs both hands down his face hard. Exhaustion and leftover adrenaline are making everything worse. His thoughts still feel jagged around the edges from watching Robert seize in his arms. He can still feel it if he thinks about it too long; the violent jerking, the choking sounds, the horrible helplessness. It makes Chad’s stomach twist uncomfortably, especially if it happens again and he’s not there to help. “Look I’m stronger than you are without the amulet, and I’ve got space. Plus I think I deserve a few days off after this too”. He feels that warmth spread across his neck as Chase searches his face, something in his voice must have betrayed him because Chase’s expression changes from anger to amusement.
“Oh,” he says with the tiniest smirk, “That’s what this is.” Chad balks, “No. It’s not anything, bitch”. Chase lets out a sharp laugh, “You wanna play Florence fucking Nightingale go ahead. But you’re having me on speed dial.” He lets out a huff and crosses his arms over his chest, he looks Chad up and down, scrutinisingly. It makes Chad feel small. He’s never been remotely ashamed of anything before now, but Chase’s gaze is piercing and accusing, there’s a fear that flashes across Chad’s face as he considers the fact that Chase will tell Robert something even he hasn’t quite figured out yet.
“I wont fucking tell him, Jesus” Didn’t know the old fucker could read minds. “Good cause there’s nothing to tell”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dick. I’ll take Beefy boy and expect updates every few hours”. With that Chase heads back out to the bullpen, leaving a bewildered and exhausted Chad to think about what the fuck just happened. He looks at his phone and realises it’s only been an hour, that and the missed texts from Prism make him groan, she’s gonna be so fucking smug.