Chapter Text
– hour 1, day –
Robert didn't even notice when it happened. He'd just gotten himself a coffee from the break room and was staring down a report of damages and fines after the team's latest fiasco on his way to his desk, when someone bumped into him.
He looked up just long enough to notice that one of the other heroes had just brought in a villain and went back to the report.
– hour 19, night –
Robert stared up at the ceiling of his apartment from his position on the couch. The springs were digging into his back.
It was probably early morning by now, but sleep kept stubbornly evading him.
He should probably know by now what to do when the insomnia hit, but somehow he was at a loss. Should he count sheep? Had that ever helped anyone? He resigned himself to studying the cracks in his ceiling instead.
– hour 29, day –
He yawned again and blinked at the monitor, eyes burning. Just had to hold on until the next bout of adrenaline kicked in, then he'd be fine.
"Aww," Visi's voice crooned through the headset, "someone didn't get their beauty sleep."
"Too bad," Flambae added, "he could really use that beauty."
– hour 43, night –
Robert was getting tired of staring at his ceiling.
Maybe burning off some energy would help. Except going for a run this time of night was basically asking to get mugged. Which he wasn't in the mood for.
In the end he went to the gym at the SDN office. The night guard looked at him funny, but Robert just gave him a hopefully friendly wave.
The exercise made his mind go pleasantly numb for a bit. He spent some time lying on one of the benches afterwards, panting and drenched in sweat. He was exhausted enough that he wouldn't care if he fell asleep right here.
But nothing happened. In the end he went home, took a shower and got ready for work.
– hour 51, day –
"You look like shit," Chase said.
Robert tried his best to hide his startled flinch. He hadn't even noticed Chase entering the break room.
"Gee, thanks. You look great yourself, how are you."
"I mean it. Are you coming down with something? You gotta tell me if you are."
Robert rolled his eyes and watched the world spin lazily like it was trying to follow the movement a second too late.
"I'm fine, Chase. Just. Tired."
He gripped his coffee mug a little tighter to hide the shaking in his hands.
– hour 56, day –
“Robert. Robbo. Boberto. You finally gonna hack this door open or what?”
“Oh, shit. Yeah. Yeah, I’m on it.”
– hour 59, day –
His eyes stung so badly that even blinking was excruciating.
He was absolutely sure something was following him home. But whenever he looked behind himself nothing was there.
– hour 68, night –
Maybe the couch was the problem. Getting up seemed too big a hurdle, so he just crawled over to his trusty plastic chair and flopped down into it.
Within minutes he could feel his neck getting stiff. The walls laughed at him when he wasn't looking.
– hour 77, day –
"You good, bruddah?"
Robert scraped together all his cognitive abilities to form a coherent answer.
"Whuh?"
Royd's face was swimming above him. Oh, he was lying on the floor. "You kind of walked into a wall. Walked really funny before that, too. Ey, you're not drunk, are you? Cause there's no drinking in the workshop. That shit's dangerous."
"Okay," Robert said, "I'm not drunk."
He contemplated just staying on the floor. It was kind enough not to sway. But it was also cold and he was already shivering.
– hour... 77?, day –
"–ert! Robert!"
"Huh?"
"You been spaced out for like 10 minutes, just staring at the wall. Hey, no power tools for you today, yah? Maybe go home a little early."
– hour 89, night –
He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He hated this. He-
– hour 97, day –
Robert blinked at the ceiling. The ceiling blinked back. No wait, ceilings didn't blink.
His whole body was aching, old bone deep pain sinking heavily into his core.
What else was new, Robert thought blearily.
Except, usually he could ignore the discomfort of old wounds, scars that stubbornly stayed sensitive instead of fading with the years. It was like background noise. He didn't think his body knew how to move without it anymore.
Right now? The only thing he could do that wasn't cry was to focus on blinking. And even that seemed to hurt.
Maybe. He could actually take a sick day. Just the one. Blazer would understand.
But then he'd have to get up and find his phone. Even the thought of it made him feel nauseous. So he kept blinking. And breathing. His apartment was cold.
It was almost peaceful. At least until 35 pounds of chihuahua barrelled into him, licking at his face with all the adoration and enthusiasm only a hungry dog out for breakfast could muster this early in the morning.
"Beef. Off. G't off," Robert groaned. The small dog paws padding over his chest might as well have been knives for all they sent spikes of pain through his body.
Beef didn't understand of course. Just nuzzled against Robert's face with a soft whine, loyal and devoted in a way that made a bone-weary Robert want to cry again for a completely different reason.
Right. It wasn't Beef's fault that he was a wreck. All Beef wanted was for Robert to scratch his fat belly, give him some food and take a walk with him. And Robert would be damned if he couldn't even give him that.
"Okay, buddy. I'm coming," he promised and scratched behind Beef's floppy ears. He took a breath, then another to steel himself, mumbling more to himself than the dog. "Get up. C'mon, get up."
Robert didn't know how he managed to make his way to work.
Literally, actually. He had no recollection of it.
All he knew was that he was standing by his cubicle, blinking into the harsh office lighting. Damn, the SDN office was cold, too. Was everyone trying to save on heating costs or something?
Maybe he needed a coffee. Sure, that'd help.
The way to the kitchen was as excruciating as it was unrewarding. Some asshole had taken the last cup of coffee from the machine and instead of refilling it just left the dirty used filter behind.
Robert debated whether it was worth the pain to set up a new pot of coffee, decided that it wasn't and turned to leave.
Only to almost run into a wall.
"Ey," the wall said, "get outa my way, Mecha Bitch."
Robert blinked at the wall. No, that didn't seem right. But he couldn't concentrate. Not when the wall was radiating so much heat and the office was so freezing cold.
Maybe he could just... lean against it for a minute. Look casual, no one had to know how much he needed the support to stay upright. He pitched forward. Oh. Ooh, this was nice.
Except the wall disagreed, apparently. Robert was yanked back, the movement jarring his bones. He bit back a pained grunt, but some kind of noise escaped anyway.
"Hey, bitch," the wall said again, "The fuck is wrong with you? You sick or something? Shoulda stayed home, I don't wanna catch your bitch-cooties."
"Gotta. Sit down," Robert warned. When he blinked, he was suddenly sprawled on the floor, his back pressed to the kitchen cabinets. Huh. He had to squint a little for the world to stop doing somersaults and for the figure in front of him to take on something resembling a shape. Oh no. He knew that black and orange v-neck. No, this was the last person he needed to see right now.
"The fuck's wrong with him?" A second voice asked, "He looks like shit. And I mean that literally."
Flambae made an I-don't-know noise. And then a warm hand pressed against Robert's forehead and he moaned at the sheer relief of it. Holy shit, that felt so nice. He could take everything else as long as that hand stayed there.
Which was of course why it vanished the next moment. Robert almost sobbed. Fuck, he was doing his best to deal with this shit. Just let him catch a break for five minutes. Just five.
There was some more noise around him, voices. But he couldn't follow them.
Didn't care to, when the hand returned, this time cupping his cheek. He leaned into it. The hand had other ideas, grabbing his chin and turning his head to the side. Robert made a protesting noise. But at least the hand didn't leave.
Something pressed against his mouth. When he didn't open up, the hand did it for him. He let it. Something small and round landed on his tongue. And then water. Except not the cool and soothing kind. This one was the exact temperature of lukewarm that was absolutely disgusting. Robert scrunched up his face and tried to turn his head away.
A feminine voice laughed. Something patted his head.
"There, there. That's a good boy, taking your medicine."
Robert was sure he had some biting comeback to that. But it fled his brain before he could think to grasp it.
– hour 98, day –
He floated for a bit in that state of not quite wakefulness. It was nice almost, sorta like sleep, except not really. Especially when the hand shifted from his cheek to press against his chest and radiated a warmth that he hadn't known his body could feel anymore.
Awareness returned in stages. Some part of Robert realized that the pain was slowly ebbing away. Not gone, but faded into the background enough that he could form coherent thoughts again. Next he noticed that he wasn't alone. He could feel people nearby, hear multiple voices, even if following what they were saying seemed like too much effort. Third came the nauseating mortification of realizing what exactly had happened.
Holy shit. He was pretty sure he didn't remember all of it and thank fuck for that. But he did remember smooshing his face into Flambae's chest.
Christ on a stick. There was no way to walk away from that one with his pride intact.
He took a minute to indulge in the fantasy of returning to that almost unconscious state. But if there was one thing Robert definitely wasn't, it was a coward.
So he peeled his eyelids apart and took in the scene around him.
The Z-Team was here. At least some of them, he didn't know how many exactly without turning his head, which was not happening yet.
Flambae was sitting to his left and his hand proved to be the source of warmth radiating outwards from Robert's chest. Again, mortifying.
At least Flambae wasn't looking at him. His attention was on Prism's phone, where she was showing him some obnoxious sounding videos.
Malevola was sitting to Robert's right, her legs using his thighs as a couch. He didn't yet know how to feel about that. But at least she felt warm, too. Next to her legs Beef was snuggled in Robert's lap, snoring his little dog snores.
He could just about make out Visi and Coop sitting at the table, scrolling on their phones. Golem was blocking the door, his back to the rest of them like he was some kind of kitchen bouncer. Or standing guard.
The whole scene was surprisingly sweet. It also made an ugly feeling curl in his gut at the realization that they'd all seen.
"Okay," he croaked and, wow. His voice sounded like shit, "I know for a fact all your asses should be out there working right now. You know. The thing you get paid for."
"Sure we are working, duh," Prism said and clicked on another tiktok video, "we're holding an emergency meeting."
Before Robert had a chance to dissect that, Flambae took his hand away to flick his forehead instead. Rude. And also, ow.
"Yeah, bitch. This is the 'what to do if your dispatcher collapses in the break room and starts whimpering in pain like a little bitch' meeting. We've been waiting for your input, but you've been snoozing away the whole time."
"Not true," Robert shot back, "I haven't slept in days."
And okay, maybe that wasn't the clever comeback he'd intended it to be.
With the way his brain to mouth filter wasn't working right now, he should probably just shut up. Or the next words out of his mouth would probably be to ask if he'd really been whimpering. He wasn't sure his pride could take the answer right now.
Another voice drifted in from outside and Robert didn't have to guess at whose it was. The tone of Blonde Blazer's anger was pretty unmistakable.
"Alright, he's clearly awake now, I can hear him talking. So let us in already."
Golem threw a look over his shoulder and Visi's voice answered from somewhere off to the side.
"Fiiine. Let them in."
And then Blazer and Chase were there, crowding into his space. It was all getting a bit much.
Blazer's eyes were full of concern when she looked him over.
"Robert? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"
"I'm fine," he said, automatic like a knee-jerk reaction. He honestly just wanted to be left alone right now, go back to work, forget all this had ever happened.
"Bullshit," Chase shot back to multiple noises of agreement.
And then Flambae was in his face again.
"Ey. What did you mean with 'haven't slept in days'?"
Robert tried to wave a hand dismissively, watched it flop around with all the grace of a dead fish instead. "Just some trouble falling asleep. You mind not breathing in my face? I'd like to get up now."
"Robert." Blazer's voice again, quiet but stern with an underlying command that made it clear refusal was not an option. "Answer the question. When was the last time you slept?"
Robert groaned and pushed the balls of his hands into his eyesockets. He'd just wanted to get through the fucking day. Was that too much to ask?
"Dunno. Uh, four-no, five days ago? I've been doing okay so far, just today, you know. Bad pain day."
He should really shut up now. Maybe find some duct tape and put that over his mouth, how about that, brain?
He kept his hands pressed to his eyes. He didn't feel like seeing their pity or whatever must be passing over their faces right now. So maybe Robert Robertson could be a bit of a coward sometimes. Whatever.
He didn't need to see to know the bony hand settling on his shoulder belonged to Chase. His friend's voice was quiet, but still enough to fill the small room.
"What about your meds? Did you run out? You should've said something if you ran out."
Sudden, hot anger washed over Robert with an intensity he couldn't explain. What the fuck was Chase thinking, just casually letting everyone know private details of Robert's life? It wasn't like he was some cripple who couldn't get to work if he didn't swallow his pills every day. He was doing just fine most of the time, thank you very much.
"Gee, thanks. Wanna share some more of my secrets while you're at it?" He grit out.
"Just trying to help, kid."
Just as suddenly as the anger had come, it ebbed away again, leaving a hollow, shameful feeling behind. "Sorry. I know. It's just. Fuck, I can't even remember if I took them. Don't remember much of anything before getting here."
He could hear Visi snort at that. "Hey, don't sweat it. Apparently mood swings are, like, super normal with insomnia. So is fatigue, irritability, difficulty paying attention, excessive sleepiness, aggression, behavioral issues and loss of appetite. Dude, that explains, like, so much about you."
Was she reading from a list? It sounded like she was. Oh great, she was probably googling that shit right now. And of course it went on.
"It gets worse, by the way. Like severe insomnia can cause confusion, hallucinations, paranoia, problems with short-term memory, plus it can worsen pre-existing conditions like depression, suicidal thoughts and chronic pain and oh, yeah. You can totally die from it."
"Not true," Robert mumbled, "You don't die from insomnia. You can die from the health complications caused by severe sleep deprivation though."
"Great, you can die from the fucking health complications then for all I care! This shit's serious, Robert! And not normal!"
"I agree," Blazer added and then her hand was on his shoulder, too. Lots of touching going on. It was weird. But not... bad. "It is serious. And we have to make sure it doesn't get worse. So I'm admitting you to medical.”
“Okay,” Robert said, because he didn't know what else to say.