FIC: Fix You

[hypsidium]

Includes picture (warning for blood).

Title: Fix You (Chapter 1 of 10)
Author: Roki
Characters: Megamind, OC, Roxanne, mentions of Hal.
Summary: What it may have been like had Megamind actually showed injury during his first fight with Hal. It's...dark. And angsty. And bloody.

Thank you to Ianam and Lizkat for beta-ing for me! :)


The fall down the stairs to land hard on his side on filthy concrete was not the worst part of his day thus far. Really he had trouble putting his finger on what really counted as the worst part of it, but he was certain it involved the bitter twist in his chest and reaffirmation that he was indeed the most unlovable person on Earth. Maybe the Milky Way, of that he couldn't be sure. What Megamind was sure of was that he was hurt, and badly.

He grunted and sat up, immediately regretting it from the wave of nausea that hit him. Immediately he assessed the damages to his person; nausea meant he may have taken a more severe blow to the head than he had thought previously and the mild drowsiness that was setting in as adrenaline was coursing out of his system supported the theory.

Best to get a move on though, no telling if Titan would be following him or not. Maybe if he was lucky the monster he had created would not have the intellectual fortitude to realize he was hurt worse than he had first appeared. Megamind shoved the flitting thoughts to the back burner and focused his attention on his hands, counting his fingers to be sure his vision wasn't impaired. It was slightly fuzzy, but acceptable for his needs. Thus it became time to make sure he could still walk properly, he was quite sure his back had impacted with the hard edge of the long line of stairs more than once.

Getting his knees underneath himself took more effort than he thought required, giving him need to worry. After what felt like an eternity he had the balls of his feet planted on the ground ready for him to push up onto them. His back felt like it was simultaneously on fire and wet, which meant he must be bleeding profusely. He amended the earlier theory of a concussion with blood loss as a possibility.

"Are you alright, dear?" came a quavering voice to his right.

He squinted up to see an elderly woman focusing somewhere over his left shoulder. Honestly he had forgotten there were people still in the subway station, and that little shot of awareness made him glance out of the corner of his eye at the crowds backing away from him. Plastering themselves against walls. Shielding children. Something that remained in his heart broke into pieces.

He looked back up at the old woman in wonder. Why was she helping him?

"I..." he felt a sense of shock at the bubbly and nasally quality of his speech and looked down to see a steady drip of blood on the floor. Possible broken nose, bitten tongue, broken lip. He added to his checklist. "I..." he started again.

The woman furrowed her brow in concern and offered her hand to his knee. "I heard you fall down, what happened up there?"

Oh. It was obvious now. The only person who would help him had to be blind, of course. He took the hand and her help gladly though, no time to quibble about his pride. On his feet again he laid a shaking hand on her shoulder.

"Awful things," he managed, his speech much less articulate than it would have been otherwise. "You should go somewhere safe, s'not safe up there now. Go home."

The woman nodded and stroked his hand thoughtfully, her expression changing fractionally as she felt the leather. "You're bleeding son, I can smell the copper. Will you be alright to get home or do I need to call an ambulance for you?"

Megamind bit his lip and cast another glance around at the gathered crowd. They were all frozen in terror, not about to move against him. He opened his mouth to say he could make it back...But to where? Where was home now? The lair stood empty but for his brainbots and he could not make that distance on foot in his condition anyway. Nor did the subway go that far. He cast a blurry eyed look at the broken watch on his wrist, missing Minion more than ever in that moment. By his estimations he had about two hours and thirty-five minutes before his physical prowess failed him and he passed out.

"I just need to get to 1382 West Kestrel."

"Oh, what luck, my grandson lives not four blocks from there," the woman smiled. An honest smile that reached her half lidded eyes. She squeezed his hand very gently. "I'll ride with you, dear heart. We'll take the Brown Line, it's the quickest."

Megamind managed a querulous half smile in return and followed the woman obediently onto the train. Once aboard they found seats very easily, considering all the other passengers had sudden appointments on other train cars except for one kid listening to an iPod and engrossed in a comic book sitting in the corner.

Along the way the woman kept him awake by regaling him with tales of her children, grandchildren, her two cats (James and Andy), and her life before she became old. Truth be told he wasn't sure how interested he was but he listened patiently and made the appropriate noises back at her. Her name was Iris Thomas, had gone blind in her late thirties, had three children, and had been a nurse in World War Two. She talked endlessly of her grandson, Mike, who she was sure would be home, and assured him that she could make it to his apartment on her own once he was dropped off at the appropriate building.

For his part Megamind tried not to volunteer much information, which suited Iris fine as she could continue lauding her family. Megamind grimaced, wishing he had this sort of woman as a grandmother in his own life. A pang of jealously stabbed his heart again, as it had so many times before. It wasn't fair.

The rest of the trip was less eventful, aside from quickly dehydrating Roxanne's doorman before he could shout a warning at Iris. He then turned and very gently placed a blood smear kiss on the woman's cheek. "Thank you, Iris. I will repay you one day."

She reached up and patted his cheek with a soft smile. "Just fix things, Megamind. That's all I want."

He drew back, stiffening. "What...How?"

"Old women are cleverer than they look," she winked. "And I'm only legally blind, I can still see that you're blue and red all over. Just fix things. Make the city live again. Please," the last was spoken softly, a plaintive request. "I've been around longer than you have, I know what this city was like before you, though I won't know it after you. You can set things right again, if you choose to do the right thing."

With that she turned and walked out the door, leaving him stunned and dripping in the lobby for a few moments to contemplate her request before he turned and made the arduous journey up the stairs to Roxanne's apartment.

----

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong!

Roxanne growled, putting down her little tub of Ben and Jerry's before stalking to the door. She was greeted with a green eye staring into the peephole and rolled her eyes, cracking the door but not taking the chain off. "What are you doing here?"

His face was mushed up against her door. "Titan's gone evil," he slurred, his voice strangely nasally.

"Congratulations! Another of your brilliant plans gone wrong!" Roxanne exclaimed, infuriated that he just had to come all the way over and tell her this oh-so-astonishing news. "And why did my doorman let you up?"

A cube was offered to her in a bloodstained hand. She couldn't help it, she snatched the cube fearfully. "Carlos!" she gasped, her hands shaking. Carlos had a wife and kids. She tried to shut the door and was surprised at the strength the alien exhibited against her force.

"No, no! I need your help," he sounded pathetic for a man who may have just killed someone with his bare hands. She shivered.

"And why is that?" she ventured, looking about for a convenient weapon. There was nothing in reach, and she was afraid he might break the chain if she moved from the door.

"Because you're the smartest person I know..." The hand curled around the door was shaking. She cautiously peered around the door, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

He looked awful. Blood trailed after him through the hall, spatters and drops, no puddles thankfully. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, there was a worrisome bruise on the bridge of his nose that might have been indicative of a break, and more slices in his suit than she could count in one glance. Wordlessly she gestured him back from the door and unlatched the chain to usher him inside.

"You need an ambulance," she stated, aghast.

"No ambulances, hospital wouldn't know what to do with me," he replied firmly, walking across her carpet towards her couch, then looking after himself with a frown and thinking better of it. "Sorry 'bout the carpet," he muttered, sitting down promptly on her hardwood floor.

"Don't worry about it...Just...Stay there," she hurried to her bathroom and tore it apart, grabbing what gauze, bandages, and various medical supplies she had on hand.

"Shit..." she wished she had renewed her first aid training after all those years ago when she had taken it at the end of high school. Finding her supplies woefully inefficient for something of this scale insufficient she gathered up some clean towels too and dragged the lot back to her living room where Megamind sat exactly where she had left him, eyes closed and chin on his knees.

Fearfully she touched his shoulder, concern and latent affection mixing with the rage she still felt against him. Despite his having tricked her, the feelings she had for him as Bernard were still lingering and she hated herself a little for it.

His good eye opened and he just looked at her sideways, saying nothing. They stayed like that for a moment before she withdrew and made a gesture at his body.

"I...Need your help. I can't make it to the lair like this. Can you drive me?" He paused, lips working over the word a few times before adding, "please?"

Roxanne considered it for only a short time. "Sure. But first we ought to stop the bleeding."

He submitted with so little protest it worried her. He should be talking about how she should have seen the other guy, or how this was just a ruse to lure her into a false sense of comfort, something besides the resigned way he dropped his head to her will.

She raised a hand to start wiping away the blood then though better of it. "You know, let's do this in the kitchen. Her bathroom was too small and she had already gotten all her supplies out there anyway. A few feet wouldn't kill him any more than the trip from wherever he had been to here would - she hoped.

Again, without protest, he nodded and struggled to his feet to shuffle into her kitchen and sit in one of her chairs with an air of being all too familiar with her apartment. The same chair he had sat in and drank tea as Bernard when they had been trying to figure out the notes still hanging from her ceiling. There would be time to contemplate the implications of all that later however, right now him not dying was a priority. She picked up her supplies and moved them to her table, turning on the sink to the hottest setting and dampening the corner of a towel. She turned back to him and sighed, giving him a once over with her eyes.

"I need that shirt off to get anything done."

He still had the presence of mind to flush, his cheeks and ears coloring lilac. He sputtered at her, blood flecking onto her floor. She held up a hand. "Purely professional."

He winced and cast his eyes down, removing the mantle of his cape and letting it fall to the floor. How a thirty-something year old man could be so embarrassed about being shirtless she would never know. What she did know was that she would have to cut his shirt off. There was a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his back, just below his shoulder. It was small enough that she had not noticed it at first, but now with the remains of the cape gone she could see it glittering in the light from her windows.

She retrieved her scissors from the drawer beside her sink. He shrank back a little as she approached him, eyes unsure.

"Easy, I'm going to have to ruin your shirt to get it off you," she held her hands up, scissors loose in her right palm.

"Did you not realize there was a zipper in the back?" he stared at her blankly.

"Did you not realize you have some kind of metal stabbed into your shoulder?" she countered.

"Oh...I suppose not," he knitted his brow. "It's ruined anyway, I guess, so it won't hurt to have it in pieces..." he sighed sadly.

She took that as permission and moved to his back, finding the zipper and zipping it down as far as she dared to loosen it from his skin. It came away with a sticky, wet sound that sickened her. From there she slipped the scissors into the gap and cut sideways to avoid the piece of copper driven into his skin as best as she could. Thankfully she found the fabric relatively easy to cut with her well sharpened scissors and was able to slice clear down to his hips without much incident. She peeled more fabric from his body, noting that it was some kind of spandex and below that was another layer of spandex she had to cut similarly. The process seemed to take forever and his head was tilting forward dangerously.

"Stay with me here," she finally said, breaking the silence and catching his attention from perilously leaning forward.

"Always," he whispered under his breath. She chose to pretend she hadn't heard. "Er. Yes."

"Why do you wear so many layers?" she gritted her teeth in frustration, cutting her way very carefully towards the wound on his back and trying not to disturb it too much before she could get a proper look at it.

"S'cold out there. Aren't you cold?" he sounded honestly confused.

"No, it's June. It's hot out," she held her breath as she snipped through the final layer and began to peel around the shrapnel.

"You humans, you walk around in your...your spag-hatti strap tank tops. Why are they called tank tops anyway? They look nothing like tank tops, tank tops are made of metal..." he continued to ramble and she let him, it kept him awake and let her know he was still aware.

She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything, but he heard the worried noise she made in her throat at the sight of his back. It was half raw down one side, and right beneath his shoulder blade the jagged piece of copper jutted upwards. He was very lucky it hadn't punctured his lung.

"Is it bad?" he asked quietly.

She nodded wordlessly at his back, which made him look over his shoulder at her with something akin to sympathy. It was a little ironic. He shrugged the sleeves of the shirt off and began to wind it into a thick cord. She could see the tips of his ears purpling again. "Can you do this if I give you directions?"

She took a breath and nodded again. "Yes, just...give me a minute."

"I have time," he tried to smile, but it looked grisly with his bloodied mouth. She went to the sink and got the towel so she could mop some of the blood away and see better. She also scrubbed her hands at the sink, cursing herself for not doing so earlier.

When she turned back to him he still seemed embarrassed, but a little more composed. She found it surprising how thin and frail he looked, though she ought to have known seeing as his suits were skin tight.

"I need you to pull it out the same way it went in. It is going to hurt me no matter what, so don't worry about being too gentle. Then I need you to immediately put as much pressure on it as you can. Can you do that for me, Ms Ritchie?" He watched her intently.

She swallowed at his reversion to her formal title. "Yes."

He studied her with one eye for a moment, allowing the other to close. Then he got to his feet shakily and turned the chair so he could lean against it, resting his chin on the back and clamping his jaws around the cord. His hands gripped the sides loosely, trying to relax the muscles in his back to make the pulling out easier.

Roxanne bit her lip and used the towel to get a good grip on the slick metal surface. "Alright, on three...Three," she pulled it back and downwards, trying to ignore his muffled scream of agony. As soon as it was free she dropped it and pressed the towel tight to his heaving back. She swore she could see a tear roll down the side of his face, cutting a clean path through the mess. She again chose not to mention it.

She let him recover, waiting until his breathing had slowed to normal before daring to look under her hand and see if the wound had scabbed at all. It was still bleeding, but sluggishly, so she chanced to reach for the gauze and just tie the towel in place. It wouldn't do to pull it away now that it was doing some good.

For a long moment he said nothing, just breathed into her oak furniture with his eyes closed. Then he broke the silence. "Well that was...exciting."

She let out a nervous giggle that sounded a little wet to her ears. "Are you sure I can't call an ambulance?"

"Yes, I am. I need to get back to my lair. All my medical tools are there," he looked over his shoulder at her and snorted. "No one knows my physiology better than me, after all. What kind of genius would I be if I didn't have nanomachines for this, I ask you?"

"Not any kind of Boy Scout genius at least," she replied, slipping back into the comfortable routine of back and forth even if that was an awkward start.

"I'm no Boy Scout, period," he sounded offended. "What does that have to do with anything anyway? Never mind," he interrupted himself. "Time to go. I have about thirty-eight minutes before I pass out, give or take a few."

She didn't bother to question him, but made a quick stop into her room to grab her baggiest sleeping shirt from her drawer and helping him put it on. He cast an approving expression at the koi fish swimming down the right side and trailed her to the news van parked on the street.

The ride to the lair was unbearably quiet. Megamind tucked his arms into the shirt and shivered so pitifully that she actually turned on the heat, then the radio just to fill the silence. They drove to the sounds of news reports coming from across the city, which was not as comforting as music but better than nothing.

Once there he made a motion for her to just drive right inside, which unnerved her seeing as they were driving right into a brick wall. She held her breath and let it out in a rush when they didn't crash and burn.

He gracelessly slid out of the van and greeted his brainbots, sending them off to do various tasks while he himself went to his chair. Several of them hovered around him, attaching wires and sensors to his skin. Roxanne wasn't sure what to do and hovered near the van.

She was startled by a nudge at her elbow and looked down to see a brainbot - vaguely familiar out of the sea of them - pressing a wrench into her hand. It hovered backwards, bobbing up and down expectantly while she looked at the object in her hand in confusion.

"He wants to play fetch with you," Megamind volunteered, drawing her eyes to him again. "Little traitor." Even battered and bloody his eyes still glittered with humor at the idea. He took an offered cylinder from one of his brainbots and gave it an affectionate pat on the dome.

"This can take up to an hour. I don't really recommend you go home either, Titan may be looking for you next," he warned, before plunging the cylinder to his thigh and sucking in his breath as it depressed with a click. Roxanne winced and looked away. An epipen. When she looked back Megamind was passed out.

With a sigh she looked back at the wrench and gave it a half-hearted toss, knowing he was right about Titan.



Next chapter: I went to the desert, I was searching for the truth.