Robert Callaghan // ʏ๏кคเ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pushtheboundaries) wrote2014-11-21 08:31 am
pushtheboundaries) wrote2014-11-21 08:31 am
fic; a hundred thousand little pieces p4 WIP
The world does not return.
He does not want it to return.
Instead, it is as though he stands at a great precipice, over a vast chasm of black; gaze in to the abyss and it will gaze in to you comes to mind, here, and he does not know how long he remains. Eternity, perhaps; it certainly feels like such. This has become his new reality; the fragmented shards of feeling and sound and noise but the dream.
It gets worse when Tadashi comes to visit. Because Tadashi stares at him with such mixed emotions he cannot help but avoid his gaze, closing his eyes against that weight and the weight of everything else.
Your death was a waste, he 'says' quietly. You could have done so much...
You set the fire.
He did. He set that fire and countless others, and who knows how many other Tadashis he's killed as they've gone back for others? And if he's right, his own grandchild as well.
Other grandchildren. Sons. Mothers. He was deluding himself, back with the Sins; they were doing the same exact thing he had been willing to do not long before that. But then, has he ever said his hands were clean? Not since the beginning, he doesn't think, and yet he's made no effort to stop himself from going further and further. This has gone far beyond his need for revenge upon Krei (when was the last time he even chose Krei as a target?); this has spiraled out of his control, and the only thing he has done is ride it down.
Tadashi stays with him, off and on; there's not much talking. Sometimes there's screaming, Robert ineffectually confessing his crimes, how he's chosen all of this, trying to make him leave in disgust. Sometimes it works...but Tadashi always comes back, in time.
Robert finally gets around to asking why he's even here. Tadashi doesn't respond immediately, furrowing his brow before finally answering with a simple statement.
I believe in you.
Damned optimistic kid. You shouldn't, Callaghan whispers, looking down over the edge. How easy it would be to jump-! Haven't I shown it to be a mistake?
I know, the young man - and doesn't he look just like he did, at that presentation, all young potential and enthusiasm but now, grim, looking down at him with such great and heavy disappointment and yet- and yet- But I'm still going to try.
---
Awareness is in bits and pieces.
He's secured, of course, in some sort of infirmary he can't make much sense of. There's a heavy pressure around his head, and every so often there's movement, but the chasm is less and less in his mind and more and more he's wondering why he's even still alive.
Oddly enough, even with all that's happened, his head feels the clearest it has in years. He just might be drugged; he probably is drugged, he corrects, before succumbing to that and if he can't find the abyss again, at least he can perhaps find unconsciousness.
Eventually, though, there's a time when he's awake and Baymax of all people is at the bedside, reading off some medical scans and other things Robert's a bit too dazed to follow. He was never really that kind of scientist; military science, yes, and then trying to push students to change the world while he stayed behind in his own...
He's been sedated, apparently, while they've treated his head trauma; now he's being taken off of them, at least so they can talk. Whom he'll be talking with is made clear a moment later as Baymax turns to address someone and Robert follows his gaze and-
-Tadashi?
No. Hiro, who grown to look so much like his brother it's uncanny, and wearing an old, faded hat that also looks so very familiar. But there's enough tells in his demeanor to break the illusion, if you look for them, and even in his state Robert can see them accumulate. Hiro's not armored - apparently they don't consider him a threat in this condition, and, well, that's fair enough - and Robert can also see some scars on him by now, perhaps not so many as to disfigure but enough to show proof of battle.
There's no doubt a large scar at his abdomen, too.
This talk...Callaghan is not sure what he expects. He asks if he's a prisoner; Hiro has another word for it, but the meaning is the same. He asks of the microbots; they've made a device that doesn't so much jam the signal as negate it, and he is (understandably) not told more than that. Finally, he finds the strength to ask of Abigail.
Hiro doesn't respond immediately. But when he does, and admit they're both alive, Robert closes his eyes and suppresses to urge to cry. Hiro goes on to describe that his grandchild is going through physical therapy after spinal damage and that just makes the urge overwhelming and he's grimacing because he can't, he can't show weakness
It is all right to cry, offers Baymax. Crying is a natural response to pain.
he can't but it hurts so much and he's drowning in it like he has he anger; he's not really aware of anything but the pain and the ache in his head, a dull overwhelming throb, and perhaps he is weeping; the only ever time he's ever felt remotely like this was when (he thought) he'd lost Abigail.
He isn't sure he hasn't, again. He'd avoided seeing her, or even trying to think of her; he hadn't known she'd (presumably) found someone, he hadn't known she'd had a child, or if there was more than one, he hadn't known he was a grandfather. He'd avoided knowing because he'd been afraid what she would think of him- and well, what could she possibly think of him now?
Auntie! he remembers the child scream, and he does cry. He gives voice to the pain and agony and everything else he's gone through these past few years, and when he is aware again he is alone.
---
After his 'escape', Abigail had made friends with his students.
She had not been close to any in particular, but they had been worried he would somehow fixate on her. What had begun as keeping an eye on her for her own safety soon became a camaraderie. Even as she found a new life, they kept their ties, with occasional babysitting involved as well. The fact that she'd managed to achieve some normalcy while he was embroiled in insanity makes him feel even further so, and threatens to bring another bought of hysteria in his addled state.
Abigail does not come to see him. He is glad for this. He thinks he's lost his mind, that he's in the process of losing it, and it would be just so damned easy to hide away in that and never face the weight of himself again-!
While others do see him, these are not the sort of visits that were as the jail- they do not let him hide, and they do not let him avoid the subjects. Even as he snarls poison to turn them away, they do not. He hurts them, that much is obvious, but it's with Gogo of all people that he exhausts himself and ends up looking away with a weary grimace.
He admits, then, that he is absolutely sick of himself and what he's done.
For a period of time, there is only silence, punctuated by the slow chew and pop of bubblegum. A habit she has never lost, despite growing in to a formidable woman; they've all aged, and can no longer be considered 'kids' but for the difference of years between them and him. Gogo has cut her hair, the colored streak long gone, and she bears her own battlescars that yet only further sharpen her features.
Finally...
Woman up, she hisses, voice dripping poison as she gets to her feet, and do something about it.
---
His first 'woman up' action involves getting the headpiece off. It takes no small amount of effort and planning and waiting, but it's like before- there is an opportunity to sabotage its connection and he seizes it, microbots suddenly pouring from the vent as though just waiting for him to call them 'home'. He moves swiftly, from there, taking advantage of the single slim breach of security-
-and then he is gone.
Then he goes for Shin.
It is not long before he finds him, but he spends just as long toying with him. Feeding upon his fear. It is a game of cat and mouse and by the time he finally reveals himself in full, Shin is staring at him at wide eyes, flat on his back, pale as though seeing his own death. And Yokai is a reaper in his own right, his steps to amend his sins cleaning up after another's, and at least the anger he feels now is back to being justified and focus and he raises his hands to slowly squeeze the life of his former protege after demanding Yama's location and
he has my family
he pauses.
He does not falter; he only pauses, staring at Shin, realization creeping in with those four words just what has gone on for who knows how many years. Because that? That he understands, he understands the lengths one will go for blood because he has lived through them himself, and in this Shin suddenly becomes not his protege, not a surrogate student, not even the warped sort of mirror of Tadashi that Robert once thought he was
but a reflection of Callaghan himself.
And just like that, he drops him to the floor. But Shin is barely managing to get to his hands and knees before Yokai is before him, physically grabbing him with a hand and hauling him up to his feet.
Turn yourself in, he orders. Tell them everything you know. And when Shin protests that Yama will kill his family, Yokai only repeats the order, and adds that he will deal with Yama.
Just like he planned to from the start.
---
If Shin is a reflection of his dedication to his own blood, then Yama is a mirror as well; he is a complete and total disregard for others and what damage may occur in the process. Though dealing with him, Callaghan is not seeking atonement, but confronting himself and what he has grown to hate.
He does not win.
Though measures have been taken to filter out interference, Yama's goons and resources and tools overwhelm Callaghan, and he falls to the ground in an unwelcome kneel, trying vainly to push himself up even as he pants for breath and the microbots tremble ineffectually and Yama sneers about how this is only the beginning, how he will find everything that Callaghan has ever cared for and destroy it before him, and everyone around him echoes his disgusting laughter-
And then they stop, and then they shout, and then there are Six beside him.
From here, the 'fight' is a rout. He may not have been able to defeat Yama but he had at least weakened him and his enough, it seems, that by the time he's able to stand on his own the place is eerily silent and he is very much aware of all the attention upon him. The scrutiny is overwhelming, and there is the urge to run and the microbots creep forwards to once again speed him away-
-he asks if they brought the blocking device.
---
The lawyer is well-versed in superhero legalities, though he is the first 'villain' she has agreed to defend. She's a superhero herself, and apparently fought against him those years ago when he tried to destroy the coastline, a story which brings a rueful little expression to his face and the admission he doesn't know what he was really thinking.
She hones in on that, and despite what may be a grudge, is at least good at what she does. The you just said you couldn't stop yourself point is hammered home again and again, and even as Robert shouts that he knows exactly what he was doing, she shouts right back at him how little that means in the court of law.
This isn't a matter of guilty or innocent, she insists, but the need for him to get help, unless he wants to go back in prison and they all know how little good that'd do. He is stopped from protesting further by the harsh reminder of his final fight against Yama, and perhaps sullenly sits back down. He then tries to block it all out, but he is both coaxed and forced in to playing a part in his own 'defense'.
What do you want? they ask him, and he has no answer. He doesn't know anymore, he doesn't know what he's been chasing all these years, he doesn't know what's fueled him other than his hate and what good is that? Then they ask him what he doesn't want, and that comes at least more easily, and what it boils down to is simple;
I don't want to be alone.
He does not want it to return.
Instead, it is as though he stands at a great precipice, over a vast chasm of black; gaze in to the abyss and it will gaze in to you comes to mind, here, and he does not know how long he remains. Eternity, perhaps; it certainly feels like such. This has become his new reality; the fragmented shards of feeling and sound and noise but the dream.
It gets worse when Tadashi comes to visit. Because Tadashi stares at him with such mixed emotions he cannot help but avoid his gaze, closing his eyes against that weight and the weight of everything else.
Your death was a waste, he 'says' quietly. You could have done so much...
You set the fire.
He did. He set that fire and countless others, and who knows how many other Tadashis he's killed as they've gone back for others? And if he's right, his own grandchild as well.
Other grandchildren. Sons. Mothers. He was deluding himself, back with the Sins; they were doing the same exact thing he had been willing to do not long before that. But then, has he ever said his hands were clean? Not since the beginning, he doesn't think, and yet he's made no effort to stop himself from going further and further. This has gone far beyond his need for revenge upon Krei (when was the last time he even chose Krei as a target?); this has spiraled out of his control, and the only thing he has done is ride it down.
Tadashi stays with him, off and on; there's not much talking. Sometimes there's screaming, Robert ineffectually confessing his crimes, how he's chosen all of this, trying to make him leave in disgust. Sometimes it works...but Tadashi always comes back, in time.
Robert finally gets around to asking why he's even here. Tadashi doesn't respond immediately, furrowing his brow before finally answering with a simple statement.
I believe in you.
Damned optimistic kid. You shouldn't, Callaghan whispers, looking down over the edge. How easy it would be to jump-! Haven't I shown it to be a mistake?
I know, the young man - and doesn't he look just like he did, at that presentation, all young potential and enthusiasm but now, grim, looking down at him with such great and heavy disappointment and yet- and yet- But I'm still going to try.
---
Awareness is in bits and pieces.
He's secured, of course, in some sort of infirmary he can't make much sense of. There's a heavy pressure around his head, and every so often there's movement, but the chasm is less and less in his mind and more and more he's wondering why he's even still alive.
Oddly enough, even with all that's happened, his head feels the clearest it has in years. He just might be drugged; he probably is drugged, he corrects, before succumbing to that and if he can't find the abyss again, at least he can perhaps find unconsciousness.
Eventually, though, there's a time when he's awake and Baymax of all people is at the bedside, reading off some medical scans and other things Robert's a bit too dazed to follow. He was never really that kind of scientist; military science, yes, and then trying to push students to change the world while he stayed behind in his own...
He's been sedated, apparently, while they've treated his head trauma; now he's being taken off of them, at least so they can talk. Whom he'll be talking with is made clear a moment later as Baymax turns to address someone and Robert follows his gaze and-
-Tadashi?
No. Hiro, who grown to look so much like his brother it's uncanny, and wearing an old, faded hat that also looks so very familiar. But there's enough tells in his demeanor to break the illusion, if you look for them, and even in his state Robert can see them accumulate. Hiro's not armored - apparently they don't consider him a threat in this condition, and, well, that's fair enough - and Robert can also see some scars on him by now, perhaps not so many as to disfigure but enough to show proof of battle.
There's no doubt a large scar at his abdomen, too.
This talk...Callaghan is not sure what he expects. He asks if he's a prisoner; Hiro has another word for it, but the meaning is the same. He asks of the microbots; they've made a device that doesn't so much jam the signal as negate it, and he is (understandably) not told more than that. Finally, he finds the strength to ask of Abigail.
Hiro doesn't respond immediately. But when he does, and admit they're both alive, Robert closes his eyes and suppresses to urge to cry. Hiro goes on to describe that his grandchild is going through physical therapy after spinal damage and that just makes the urge overwhelming and he's grimacing because he can't, he can't show weakness
It is all right to cry, offers Baymax. Crying is a natural response to pain.
he can't but it hurts so much and he's drowning in it like he has he anger; he's not really aware of anything but the pain and the ache in his head, a dull overwhelming throb, and perhaps he is weeping; the only ever time he's ever felt remotely like this was when (he thought) he'd lost Abigail.
He isn't sure he hasn't, again. He'd avoided seeing her, or even trying to think of her; he hadn't known she'd (presumably) found someone, he hadn't known she'd had a child, or if there was more than one, he hadn't known he was a grandfather. He'd avoided knowing because he'd been afraid what she would think of him- and well, what could she possibly think of him now?
Auntie! he remembers the child scream, and he does cry. He gives voice to the pain and agony and everything else he's gone through these past few years, and when he is aware again he is alone.
---
After his 'escape', Abigail had made friends with his students.
She had not been close to any in particular, but they had been worried he would somehow fixate on her. What had begun as keeping an eye on her for her own safety soon became a camaraderie. Even as she found a new life, they kept their ties, with occasional babysitting involved as well. The fact that she'd managed to achieve some normalcy while he was embroiled in insanity makes him feel even further so, and threatens to bring another bought of hysteria in his addled state.
Abigail does not come to see him. He is glad for this. He thinks he's lost his mind, that he's in the process of losing it, and it would be just so damned easy to hide away in that and never face the weight of himself again-!
While others do see him, these are not the sort of visits that were as the jail- they do not let him hide, and they do not let him avoid the subjects. Even as he snarls poison to turn them away, they do not. He hurts them, that much is obvious, but it's with Gogo of all people that he exhausts himself and ends up looking away with a weary grimace.
He admits, then, that he is absolutely sick of himself and what he's done.
For a period of time, there is only silence, punctuated by the slow chew and pop of bubblegum. A habit she has never lost, despite growing in to a formidable woman; they've all aged, and can no longer be considered 'kids' but for the difference of years between them and him. Gogo has cut her hair, the colored streak long gone, and she bears her own battlescars that yet only further sharpen her features.
Finally...
Woman up, she hisses, voice dripping poison as she gets to her feet, and do something about it.
---
His first 'woman up' action involves getting the headpiece off. It takes no small amount of effort and planning and waiting, but it's like before- there is an opportunity to sabotage its connection and he seizes it, microbots suddenly pouring from the vent as though just waiting for him to call them 'home'. He moves swiftly, from there, taking advantage of the single slim breach of security-
-and then he is gone.
Then he goes for Shin.
It is not long before he finds him, but he spends just as long toying with him. Feeding upon his fear. It is a game of cat and mouse and by the time he finally reveals himself in full, Shin is staring at him at wide eyes, flat on his back, pale as though seeing his own death. And Yokai is a reaper in his own right, his steps to amend his sins cleaning up after another's, and at least the anger he feels now is back to being justified and focus and he raises his hands to slowly squeeze the life of his former protege after demanding Yama's location and
he has my family
he pauses.
He does not falter; he only pauses, staring at Shin, realization creeping in with those four words just what has gone on for who knows how many years. Because that? That he understands, he understands the lengths one will go for blood because he has lived through them himself, and in this Shin suddenly becomes not his protege, not a surrogate student, not even the warped sort of mirror of Tadashi that Robert once thought he was
but a reflection of Callaghan himself.
And just like that, he drops him to the floor. But Shin is barely managing to get to his hands and knees before Yokai is before him, physically grabbing him with a hand and hauling him up to his feet.
Turn yourself in, he orders. Tell them everything you know. And when Shin protests that Yama will kill his family, Yokai only repeats the order, and adds that he will deal with Yama.
Just like he planned to from the start.
---
If Shin is a reflection of his dedication to his own blood, then Yama is a mirror as well; he is a complete and total disregard for others and what damage may occur in the process. Though dealing with him, Callaghan is not seeking atonement, but confronting himself and what he has grown to hate.
He does not win.
Though measures have been taken to filter out interference, Yama's goons and resources and tools overwhelm Callaghan, and he falls to the ground in an unwelcome kneel, trying vainly to push himself up even as he pants for breath and the microbots tremble ineffectually and Yama sneers about how this is only the beginning, how he will find everything that Callaghan has ever cared for and destroy it before him, and everyone around him echoes his disgusting laughter-
And then they stop, and then they shout, and then there are Six beside him.
From here, the 'fight' is a rout. He may not have been able to defeat Yama but he had at least weakened him and his enough, it seems, that by the time he's able to stand on his own the place is eerily silent and he is very much aware of all the attention upon him. The scrutiny is overwhelming, and there is the urge to run and the microbots creep forwards to once again speed him away-
-he asks if they brought the blocking device.
---
The lawyer is well-versed in superhero legalities, though he is the first 'villain' she has agreed to defend. She's a superhero herself, and apparently fought against him those years ago when he tried to destroy the coastline, a story which brings a rueful little expression to his face and the admission he doesn't know what he was really thinking.
She hones in on that, and despite what may be a grudge, is at least good at what she does. The you just said you couldn't stop yourself point is hammered home again and again, and even as Robert shouts that he knows exactly what he was doing, she shouts right back at him how little that means in the court of law.
This isn't a matter of guilty or innocent, she insists, but the need for him to get help, unless he wants to go back in prison and they all know how little good that'd do. He is stopped from protesting further by the harsh reminder of his final fight against Yama, and perhaps sullenly sits back down. He then tries to block it all out, but he is both coaxed and forced in to playing a part in his own 'defense'.
What do you want? they ask him, and he has no answer. He doesn't know anymore, he doesn't know what he's been chasing all these years, he doesn't know what's fueled him other than his hate and what good is that? Then they ask him what he doesn't want, and that comes at least more easily, and what it boils down to is simple;
I don't want to be alone.