With my Freeze Ray I will Stop: Chapter 2
Super-short one this time! In which the angst factor increases. I pulled out all the stops on this one, I really did.
Roxanne is stupid and I want to poke her in the eye and tell her to not be stupid. This Roxanne and Megamind are not half as communicative as Cold Fusion Roxanne and Megamind.
Chapter 2
When Roxanne opens her eyes, she’s in Metro Hospital and she aches all over. She blinks a few times, looks around as much as she can without moving. By the weirdly ambient half-light of a hospital at night, she can tell that her room is a nice size. Not quite bedroom-sized, not quite a closet. Nice.
Can she wiggle her toes? Yes? Good. How about her fingers? Also yes, and it doesn’t hurt, either, which is bonus points. Breathing is difficult, though; it feels as if there’s a weight on her chest. She lifts her head a little and glances down, then blinks; what skin she can see above the sheet is laced with an interesting reddish pattern like ferns or fractals. It’s almost pretty, but she knows what it is. I was struck by lightning?
She frowns, trying to remember, but she doesn’t recall anything like being caught in a storm. Holding her head up is difficult and makes her eyes hurt, so she puts it back down on her pillow and looks around the room.
The second bed is unoccupied, but she’s far from alone; there’s a dark silhouette in front of the window: thin, with an oversized head and narrow shoulders. His hands are clasped behind his back and he stands motionless, staring out the window into the night. She knows him like the pain of loss, like breathing, like her own right hand.
That’s right. Megamind. Something about a freeze ray.
As she watches, he slowly brings a hand around to push his fingertips against the glass, tips his head forward and rests his forehead on the windowpane. His shoulders begin to shake and the hand on the glass curls into a fist.
Damn him. She can’t deal with this, not with this and him crying over her. It’s too much.
She swallows. Her tongue feels thick and heavy in her mouth. “Don’t,” she rasps.
He whirls, staring at her with what looks like fear and joy and something she’d rather not name. “You-you’re awake.” His voice is lower than it usually is. A lot more wobbly, too.
“’Course I’m awake, why wouldn’t I be?”
He takes a few jerky steps in her direction, as though he wants to run to her but won’t let himself. “Th-the doctors weren’t sure if you…if you were going to…” He trails off, staring at her unhappily. “I’m so sorry.”
She wiggles her fingers again, wiggles her toes, twitches her feet. Other than generally feeling like she’s been run over by a bus-twice-there’s still no sudden pain or tingling that might indicate nerve damage. “Seems like I’m all here. What happened?”
“Well,” he says in a very small voice, “you froze. A lot.”
Good lord, getting a straight answer out of this man is like pulling teeth, and she can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of her tone this time. “Yes. I got that. Why am I not dead?”
Megamind takes a deep breath, licks his lips. “I was able to thaw you out. The doctors have no idea; I was disguised when I brought you here three days ago. I did everything I could, but I-I wasn’t sure if it would be enough. I’m not a doctor. I never focused on medicine.” Step. Step. He’s trembling, and Roxanne’s really not sure she can deal with him right now. Staying away from him had been an effort even when she had been feeling well, and what she badly wants right now is for him to lie down next to her and just stay. She’s in pain, and she’s confused and tired, and she just wants to know that Megamind is there.
But of course she can’t ask him to do that. What she wants wouldn’t work, it would only end with both of them hurt.
“Would I even understand the explanation?”
He shakes his head. By now his odd, halting steps have carried him over to the side of her bed, and holy moly. She’s seen him down, she’s seen him upset, she’s seen him shaken, but she’s never seen him look like this-thin and drawn and tired. He looks like he’s given up.
She smiles up at him without meaning to, because despite how badly she does not want to love him she’s ready to do just about anything to drive the haunting, hunted look out of his eyes, but even she can feel how weak her smile is. So instead, she turns her hand over-the one without a needle and an IV tube in the back-turns it over and waggles her fingers. Lips twitching, Megamind slips his hand into hers.
She closes her fingers around his palm and squeezes as hard as she can, which isn’t very hard. His face scrunches up, then crumples, and then he breaks down. Literally down; he has to go to his knees he’s crying so hard, and then he’s hiding his face in the over-starched sheet at her side, one arm thrown across her stomach and the other clenched around her hand.
Alarmed, Roxanne moves her free hand to touch the back of his head, then drops it back onto her chest. Holding her arm up like that is just too much effort, and it tugs at the needle. “Hey,” she whispers, because whispering is easier than talking. “Hey. Shh. It’s okay.”
“It is not okay,” he gasps, his voice muffled, “if you died-if I lost you-and it was my fault-”
“You’d find another kidnappee.”
His head comes up and he stares at her, aghast, his green eyes huge and wounded. “You think that’s why I’m upset?”
She lets go of his hand, lifts hers to touch the side of his face. “…I guess not. No. Not really.”
He grabs her hand in his so hard her bones creak, then presses her knuckles to his lips and exhales shakily. She squeezes his fingertips, rubs her thumb back and forth across the backs of his fingers. “Roxanne. I was so afraid. I thought I’d lost you. I thought you’d died and I was never going to be able to say how much I-”
“Don’t,” she cuts him off hoarsely, resentment and anger flooding back all in a rush and coloring her voice, “don’t you dare tell me you love me, I can’t deal with that right now-”
“Do I even need to say it?” He manages a short, harsh laugh. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious at this point, but if, if you died and I never told you…I told you it was fine, I told you I wanted to be just friends and that was fine, and you asked and asked if it was fine and I always said it was. And it was. Being just your friend, it’s, it’s all I ever wanted. But you-” He cuts himself off, closes his eyes. “You’re more than that. To me.”
Now, she thinks, gulping down the lump in her throat and hating herself more than just a little bit. Tell him now. It’s honestly now or never. She cannot, she fucking cannot deal with him being this torn up over the prospect of her death. Not him. He’s supposed to be laughing and bright and carefree, not…not ragged and thin like this. He looks as bad as she feels.
“Megamind. Listen. I can’t-do this anymore. You understand. I can’t be friends anymore.” The words cut her inside, but they cannot possibly hurt her as badly as they do him. She presses forward, grasping at the only reason that feels legitimate: "You killed me. I can't do this."
And he sits there and looks at her with perfect clarity and understanding in his eyes and tears just streaming down his face and says, “I know. I know, it’s all right. I understand.”
She wants to tell him no. She wants to tell him he doesn’t understand at all. She wants to tell him that she tried so fucking hard not to fall for him-she tried so hard to let it just be fun, afternoon delight, a kiss and a wave and then goodbye-but he makes it impossible. She wants to hug him, gather him in and put her arms around those thin shoulders and never let him go, tell him it’s okay, it’s all fine, yes I got hurt but you fixed it, don’t worry about it. Take a line from Austen and tell him he’s bewitched her, body and soul, and she loves, she loves, she loves him.
It’s too hard; she can’t even look at him. She turns her face to the wall. “If you want another good kidnappee, there’s a guy at the office named Bernard Browning. Young up-and-coming, has a lot of potential and an alliterative name, I know you’re into that.”
Megamind nods and drags himself to his feet. “Yes. Okay. Th-thank you.”
She closes her eyes as he backs towards the door. “Please don’t call me. I don’t want to hear from you.” It’s the worst kind of lie, but she manages to keep her voice cold as she finishes, “I don’t want to see you again. Ever.”
“Okay,” he whispers again, and then the door clicks closed behind him and he’s gone.
She tells herself she doesn’t care. She tells herself she’s glad he’s gone. She tells herself she can finally move on now that he can’t keep involuntarily sabotaging her efforts to find other guys. He’s evil. She isn’t. He’s a supervillain. She isn’t. She can’t change that, and she can’t ask him to change who he is just for her. It would never work. It would never work. It would never. Work.
She tells herself all this as though thinking it enough times will make it true, and lets the tears run unchecked into her ears.
Back to Chapter 1
Forward to Chapter 3
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Roxanne is stupid and I want to poke her in the eye and tell her to not be stupid. This Roxanne and Megamind are not half as communicative as Cold Fusion Roxanne and Megamind.
Chapter 2
When Roxanne opens her eyes, she’s in Metro Hospital and she aches all over. She blinks a few times, looks around as much as she can without moving. By the weirdly ambient half-light of a hospital at night, she can tell that her room is a nice size. Not quite bedroom-sized, not quite a closet. Nice.
Can she wiggle her toes? Yes? Good. How about her fingers? Also yes, and it doesn’t hurt, either, which is bonus points. Breathing is difficult, though; it feels as if there’s a weight on her chest. She lifts her head a little and glances down, then blinks; what skin she can see above the sheet is laced with an interesting reddish pattern like ferns or fractals. It’s almost pretty, but she knows what it is. I was struck by lightning?
She frowns, trying to remember, but she doesn’t recall anything like being caught in a storm. Holding her head up is difficult and makes her eyes hurt, so she puts it back down on her pillow and looks around the room.
The second bed is unoccupied, but she’s far from alone; there’s a dark silhouette in front of the window: thin, with an oversized head and narrow shoulders. His hands are clasped behind his back and he stands motionless, staring out the window into the night. She knows him like the pain of loss, like breathing, like her own right hand.
That’s right. Megamind. Something about a freeze ray.
As she watches, he slowly brings a hand around to push his fingertips against the glass, tips his head forward and rests his forehead on the windowpane. His shoulders begin to shake and the hand on the glass curls into a fist.
Damn him. She can’t deal with this, not with this and him crying over her. It’s too much.
She swallows. Her tongue feels thick and heavy in her mouth. “Don’t,” she rasps.
He whirls, staring at her with what looks like fear and joy and something she’d rather not name. “You-you’re awake.” His voice is lower than it usually is. A lot more wobbly, too.
“’Course I’m awake, why wouldn’t I be?”
He takes a few jerky steps in her direction, as though he wants to run to her but won’t let himself. “Th-the doctors weren’t sure if you…if you were going to…” He trails off, staring at her unhappily. “I’m so sorry.”
She wiggles her fingers again, wiggles her toes, twitches her feet. Other than generally feeling like she’s been run over by a bus-twice-there’s still no sudden pain or tingling that might indicate nerve damage. “Seems like I’m all here. What happened?”
“Well,” he says in a very small voice, “you froze. A lot.”
Good lord, getting a straight answer out of this man is like pulling teeth, and she can’t quite keep the sarcasm out of her tone this time. “Yes. I got that. Why am I not dead?”
Megamind takes a deep breath, licks his lips. “I was able to thaw you out. The doctors have no idea; I was disguised when I brought you here three days ago. I did everything I could, but I-I wasn’t sure if it would be enough. I’m not a doctor. I never focused on medicine.” Step. Step. He’s trembling, and Roxanne’s really not sure she can deal with him right now. Staying away from him had been an effort even when she had been feeling well, and what she badly wants right now is for him to lie down next to her and just stay. She’s in pain, and she’s confused and tired, and she just wants to know that Megamind is there.
But of course she can’t ask him to do that. What she wants wouldn’t work, it would only end with both of them hurt.
“Would I even understand the explanation?”
He shakes his head. By now his odd, halting steps have carried him over to the side of her bed, and holy moly. She’s seen him down, she’s seen him upset, she’s seen him shaken, but she’s never seen him look like this-thin and drawn and tired. He looks like he’s given up.
She smiles up at him without meaning to, because despite how badly she does not want to love him she’s ready to do just about anything to drive the haunting, hunted look out of his eyes, but even she can feel how weak her smile is. So instead, she turns her hand over-the one without a needle and an IV tube in the back-turns it over and waggles her fingers. Lips twitching, Megamind slips his hand into hers.
She closes her fingers around his palm and squeezes as hard as she can, which isn’t very hard. His face scrunches up, then crumples, and then he breaks down. Literally down; he has to go to his knees he’s crying so hard, and then he’s hiding his face in the over-starched sheet at her side, one arm thrown across her stomach and the other clenched around her hand.
Alarmed, Roxanne moves her free hand to touch the back of his head, then drops it back onto her chest. Holding her arm up like that is just too much effort, and it tugs at the needle. “Hey,” she whispers, because whispering is easier than talking. “Hey. Shh. It’s okay.”
“It is not okay,” he gasps, his voice muffled, “if you died-if I lost you-and it was my fault-”
“You’d find another kidnappee.”
His head comes up and he stares at her, aghast, his green eyes huge and wounded. “You think that’s why I’m upset?”
She lets go of his hand, lifts hers to touch the side of his face. “…I guess not. No. Not really.”
He grabs her hand in his so hard her bones creak, then presses her knuckles to his lips and exhales shakily. She squeezes his fingertips, rubs her thumb back and forth across the backs of his fingers. “Roxanne. I was so afraid. I thought I’d lost you. I thought you’d died and I was never going to be able to say how much I-”
“Don’t,” she cuts him off hoarsely, resentment and anger flooding back all in a rush and coloring her voice, “don’t you dare tell me you love me, I can’t deal with that right now-”
“Do I even need to say it?” He manages a short, harsh laugh. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious at this point, but if, if you died and I never told you…I told you it was fine, I told you I wanted to be just friends and that was fine, and you asked and asked if it was fine and I always said it was. And it was. Being just your friend, it’s, it’s all I ever wanted. But you-” He cuts himself off, closes his eyes. “You’re more than that. To me.”
Now, she thinks, gulping down the lump in her throat and hating herself more than just a little bit. Tell him now. It’s honestly now or never. She cannot, she fucking cannot deal with him being this torn up over the prospect of her death. Not him. He’s supposed to be laughing and bright and carefree, not…not ragged and thin like this. He looks as bad as she feels.
“Megamind. Listen. I can’t-do this anymore. You understand. I can’t be friends anymore.” The words cut her inside, but they cannot possibly hurt her as badly as they do him. She presses forward, grasping at the only reason that feels legitimate: "You killed me. I can't do this."
And he sits there and looks at her with perfect clarity and understanding in his eyes and tears just streaming down his face and says, “I know. I know, it’s all right. I understand.”
She wants to tell him no. She wants to tell him he doesn’t understand at all. She wants to tell him that she tried so fucking hard not to fall for him-she tried so hard to let it just be fun, afternoon delight, a kiss and a wave and then goodbye-but he makes it impossible. She wants to hug him, gather him in and put her arms around those thin shoulders and never let him go, tell him it’s okay, it’s all fine, yes I got hurt but you fixed it, don’t worry about it. Take a line from Austen and tell him he’s bewitched her, body and soul, and she loves, she loves, she loves him.
It’s too hard; she can’t even look at him. She turns her face to the wall. “If you want another good kidnappee, there’s a guy at the office named Bernard Browning. Young up-and-coming, has a lot of potential and an alliterative name, I know you’re into that.”
Megamind nods and drags himself to his feet. “Yes. Okay. Th-thank you.”
She closes her eyes as he backs towards the door. “Please don’t call me. I don’t want to hear from you.” It’s the worst kind of lie, but she manages to keep her voice cold as she finishes, “I don’t want to see you again. Ever.”
“Okay,” he whispers again, and then the door clicks closed behind him and he’s gone.
She tells herself she doesn’t care. She tells herself she’s glad he’s gone. She tells herself she can finally move on now that he can’t keep involuntarily sabotaging her efforts to find other guys. He’s evil. She isn’t. He’s a supervillain. She isn’t. She can’t change that, and she can’t ask him to change who he is just for her. It would never work. It would never work. It would never. Work.
She tells herself all this as though thinking it enough times will make it true, and lets the tears run unchecked into her ears.
Back to Chapter 1
Forward to Chapter 3
Top of the page
Return to Master List