Chapter Text
Blonde Blazer meets them at the hospital.
Robert is fading in and out of consciousness, and his heart feels like it's trying to hammer out a drumbeat done by a 3 year-old, but he stays aware enough to see her as she's approaching their odd group.
"Visi wen't'the warehouse," he says before she can even ask what's happened. Her eyes widen. "Chase saved her." A bead of sweat drips into his eye, despite the fact all he'd done to get here was walk (limp) through a portal, half leaning into Sonar and Invisigal as Malevola carried Chase through. "Used his pow'rs."
"But what happened to you?!"
"Mal'v'la couldn' woun'transfer an' portal, so I tank'd it."
It was true. During those panicked moments when Sonar had pulled Invisigal off Chase's (still, too still, he shouldn't be this still) body and he'd replaced her on chest compressions, he'd asked Malevola to transfer his wound to herself and portal them to SDN's med-bay.
"Mate, I can't do that," she'd admitted. "If I wound transfer, it'll give me a boost but my accuracy and portal-making get shot. We could end up in the building, literally, or too far up in the air or down in the ground."
Robert's mind flashed as he worked out what they could do.
"Mal, transfer his condition to me, then portal us to the SDN hero hospital," Robert's orders leave no room for discussion. He's panicked, God, he's holding on by a fucking thread, but he wasn't going to let his panic stop him from trying to save Chase's life.
"Robert," Malevola hesitated, "mate, this could kill you."
"I don't care!"
Robert glared at her and tried to convey that he was so close — too close — to the fucking edge, to losing it and just going to Shroud and killing as many of his guys as he can. He knew what this was, it was the same as almost five months ago, when his suit had been blown up, and it had cost him time and his suit; and this time it would cost his life.
He wasn't stupid, he knew he'd try to kill Shroud, and he knew he'd fail. He just didn't care.
(He'd just started to want to live, this was such a major backslide for him, fuck, he wanted his brother. Chase would be so disappointed in him but he's hurt so Chase can just fucking suck it. He better survive this, if not Robert's not long for this world either.)
"I'm not losing someone I love to him, not again! So help me, Mal, do it or I swear to whatever higher power exists that I'm dragging that son of a bitch to hell with me!"
Malevola searched his eyes and whatever she saw in them, she steeled herself, held Robert's shoulder and took hold of Chase's limp hand.
Robert's chest immediately felt on fire, his heart rate skyrocketed as it tried to find a good rhythm. He felt like he'd just run a marathon, his heart hammered against his ribcage. His vision swam.
Things faded in and out as Malevola ripped open a portal and carried Chase through bridal-style.
♤♡◇♧
Back in the present, Blazer shook her head and motioned for Sonar to let Robert go as the medics swarmed their group. Chase had already been taken from Malevola's arms.
He's safe, his big brother is safe, he's not dead, not yet, please, not yet.
As an IV line was hooked into his arm and his clothes were cut off to get at his chest to attach those little electrical node things, Robert finally let himself sink into un-consciousness.
Please, don't take his brother from him.
♤♡◇♧
He came back to the sound of beeping. Constant, except for a little blip every once in a while.
His body hurt, which wasn't anything new ever since the explosion and even before then, but this new pain was fresh and localized to his chest.
Robert struggled to get himself into a sitting position, even if whatever surface he was on already had him half-seated anyway. He winced and gasped as his heart rate picked up.
"I don't recommend you sitting up, Robertson."
Pain clouded his vision, but while squinting he could make out the blurry figure of a person in a white lab coat.
"Easy," they assured. "I'm just your doctor. Name's Sansón. It's nice to meet you without you being completely unconscious like you normally tend to be when you get here."
A slow blink. Robert's mind slowly processed that this was apparently his primary care provider now. "Your name's. . . Sansón? So like, Dr. Sansón?"
His vision gradually sharpened as his doctor chuckled.
"Yeah, kind of a misnomer," he admitted. "In English, my surname is Samson, as in the biblical Samson."
Robert thought back to the few times he'd joined the Kid's Club as an after-school activity.
"The. . . Super strong guy?"
"So long as his hair remained uncut," Dr. Sansón confirmed. "My healing ability works through my hair as well."
Now that Robert paid attention and looked, he saw Doctor Sansón had rather long twisted locks of hair, reaching well past his shoulders. Although there was a quarter section that only reached his chin.
"So, how does that work?"
Dr. Sansón took a lock of hair in hand. "My family's line sacrifices our hair in exchange for power. The longer our hair, the more power we draw from it."
Robert shifted and gasped as his heart fluttered under his skin.
"Agh — then why do I still feel like I went running across LA?"
"Ah, that would be because I can't sacrifice all of my hair on one patient," Dr. Sansón confessed apologetically. "I bring people back from the brink and then let their bodies heal naturally afterward."
"And," Dr. Sansón hesitated, looking a little unsure how to explain. "The full extent of your condition is actually a bit — complicated."
"Complicated? How so?"
"Malevola's abilities heal by transferring the wound from the injured party to herself, giving herself a mental wound instead of a physical one. It causes a spike in adrenaline, leading to an increase in strength but it costs her accuracy as she experiences pain with no physical wound."
Robert nodded as he followed along. "S'basically an empathy wound," he surmised.
"Yes," Doctor Sansón agreed. "Normally, Malevola simply transfers to herself and after about 6 hours the sensation of being wounded dissipates. However, she transferred Chase's cardiac arrest to you. We don't know yet if the sensation will leave you after a few hours like it does with Malevola, or if it'll take longer, or," Sansón hesitated, "or if it'll dissipate at all."
"Since I'm just a baseline human, and my luck is terrible, I'm guessing I'll probably be dealing with the last two options," Robert groaned as he massaged his face, dragging his fingertips to pull his lower eyelids down, like he did when he wanted to gross people out.
"It's not something we can't discount just yet," Doctor Sansón agreed. "Our hope, in the case that your brain refuses to believe that you're not having a heart attack, is to put you into a medical coma and let you sleep it off. You know, allow your brain the chance to reset itself."
"I can't do that," Robert shook his head. "My team needs their dispatcher, Chase'll have an actual —" he cut himself off, eyes wide.
"Oh my God, Chase! Is he all right?"
His heart-rate is elevated and rising, his breathing is short and fast, the stupid monitor beeped faster and faster as he struggled to stand. Get up.
"Woah! Robert — he's fine, he's fine!" Dr. Sansón's eyes narrowed as he raised his voice. "Robert Robertson, I will sedate you if you don't CALM. DOWN."
The threat of sedation finally got Robert to stop trying to rip his IV drip out.
"How is he?"
Doctor Sansón sighed. "He's stable," he said. "The use of his powers aged him about two hours. The issue was the strain running that fast put on his heart."
"You said he was fine," Robert accused.
"And he is," Sansón assured. "You took the cardiac arrest, so we just have him resting. There was a lot of lactic acid built up in his muscles, so to avoid being sore all over, we've got him in a minor medical coma to let him recuperate without feeling it. He'll wake in a few days." He frowned. "Frankly, right now, I'm more worried about you. And your distinct lack of care for your own well-being."
"C'mon, Doc, you know what us heroes are like," Robert huffed, a sardonic smile painted across his face. "Even retired, that mindset doesn't leave us easy."
"Just because you're not wrong doesn't mean you've got the right attitude," Doctor Sansón rebutted, eyes sharp. "Anyway, right now we're monitoring you more. Currently you've got a minor arrhythmia and we want to be sure if it's going to dissipate like Malevola's wound transfers usually do, or if it's going to become a chronic thing. Any treatment going forward is going to depend on how your body reacts to this empathy wound."
Robert nodded, like he knew what Sansón was talking about. He technically knew what an arrhythmia was, but his knowledge boiled down to 'heart skips a beat, literally' and that was it. Judging by Sansón's expression, it was more serious than just a skipping heart beat as if he had a teenage crush.
"Give it to me straight, Doc," Robert's hands stayed limply at his sides, and he desperately wished he could hug his dog. Beef's rotund little body was the perfect size for cuddling, and Robert suspected he'd appreciate the attention. "How badly did I possibly fuck up my heart?"
Dr. Sansón looked him in the eyes before taking his wireframe glasses off. He pulled a little cleaning cloth out of a pocket in his lab coat and spoke:
"At Chase's last physical, his heart was experiencing symptoms of something known as Sick Sinus Syndrome," he answered truthfully.
"Which is?"
"Essentially: his heart's natural pacemaker couldn't keep a proper heart rate," Sansón explained. "Sometimes his heart rate would be too fast or too slow. For the most part, he was asymptomatic, so he wasn't on any medications, nor did he need an artifical pacemaker. If he hadn't used his powers and you'd had his heart condition transferred, you likely would have been asymptomatic as well. But since he did use his powers, the additional strain weakened his heart and would have pushed him into showing these symptoms much more obviously."
"This was a result of his accelerated aging, then?" Robert frowned as Dr. Sansón nodded.
Robert shifted in place. Damn, this hospital bed kind of sucked ass. His lawn chair might have been more comfortable.
"So, let me recap: basically, I had Malevola transfer a heart condition that affects older people," Robert counted on one hand. "Now my heart thinks it's 80 years old and has this Sick Sinus Syndrome. Good so far?"
He eyed Dr. Sansón. Sansón nodded and motioned for Robert to continue.
"And now we have to wait and see if I end up keeping this heart condition or if my brain decides to be nice to me and remembers it's not actually 80 years old."
"Pretty much," Dr. Sansón confirmed. "If you were an active hero, I'd say you'd be benched for the foreseeable future. High-stress situations would increase your odds of experiencing an actual cardiac episode. Dispatching is, in theory, a safer alternative. Still helping people, but not being on the front-line."
"Unless you're me," Robert said flatly. His first day had ended with him flat on his ass, face aching and nose bleeding. He'd gotten shards of glass shot into his chest once, courtesy of one post break-up depressed Phenomaman.
He'd gotten exploded, again, just a few days ago.
Actually, Robert wasn't sure how long he'd been here. It must not have been long, though, his body wasn't nearly as well-rested as it would have been if he'd been knocked out here 15 hours or so.
"Unless you're you," Dr. Sansón agreed, humor a twinkle in his eyes. The twinkle died almost as soon as it appeared.
He pursed his lips. Robert didn't like that look on Sansón's face. Looks like his usually meant bad news for Robert.
A punch to the face. Almost getting torched. A burning, bleeding ear. Get up. A collapsed brother. Keep up.
"Look, Robert, we don't know for sure, yet, but if this becomes chronic? If we can't get rid of this heart condition, or it becomes worse? Even if Royd can rebuild your suit, I wouldn't clear you for hero work out in the field."
"What? But —" Robert started to protest.
"Don't think I don't know what happens to you even while in an armoured tank," Dr. Sansón said sharply. "Getting exploded, we all saw on the news. I know you don't remember because of the coma, but the news outlets talked about the damage your suit had. Acid, dents and tears — even before the explosion, that suit had enough damage on it that at least some of it had to have hit you. Not to mention all the scars on your own body. You've got electrical burns, literal burns, road rash, claw marks — the works!"
"Doc, c'mon —"
Sansón wasn't done. In fact, it looked like he was just getting started.
"Do you know what keeps your heart pumping? Electrical signals from the brain. You've got electrical burns, distinct burns from different electric events. Which means you've been electrocuted at least twice. With a condition like Sick Sinus? You're looking at a guaranteed heart attack! You'd need an artificial pacemaker after you get electrocuted again, which means you'd need to stay away from anything that could fry it. Which would force you to retire anyway. So, yes, Robert, if this doesn't clear up on it's own, I wouldn't clear you for field work."
Robert stayed quiet. For a guy who's surname represented being strong physically, he'd never met a man more clearly meant for the medical field. Dr. Sansón clearly cared for his patients.
The last time Robert'd been to a doctor while being Mecha Man, they'd essentially just patched him up and told him to be more careful, because the world needed Mecha Man.
Silence stretched for a heart beat. Two. Three. The monitor beeped.
"Time will tell," Robert said simply, a small shrug just about the only thing he could do in this situation.
Dr. Sansón watched him for a moment. The beeping monitor was the only sound Robert could hear beyond a low thrum of electricity.
Finally, he sighed.
"Time will tell," he agreed quietly. He moved to leave. "I'll tell the others you've woken up."
"Hey, Doc?" A pause at the door, the automatic doors sliding open. "Thanks, for caring."
A tired smile.
"If I didn't care, Robert, I'd be a pretty sorry excuse for a doctor," he replied. "Caring for others is just about the hardest, scariest thing a person can do."
Robert felt a little offended at those last words. Was his doctor telling him he needed to care about others? Of course he did! It was part of why he'd taken on being Mecha Man after his father's passing! If he didn't care about his dad, he wouldn't have been trying to track down Shroud. If he didn't care, he wouldn't be trying so hard for the Z-Team — all of the team — to improve. If he didn't care about the people who needed saving, he wouldn't be working with SDN to repair his suit.
Being Mecha Man again was the whole reason he'd agreed to this job.
If he didn't care, he wouldn't be trying to get back in the suit.
Right?
"Clearly doesn't know everything," Robert muttered as he tried to get comfortable and brace himself for the onslaught his team was about to unleash on him. "Caring for others is the easiest thing to do."