Robert Callaghan // ʏ๏кคเ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pushtheboundaries) wrote2014-11-21 08:32 am
pushtheboundaries) wrote2014-11-21 08:32 am
fic; a hundred thousand little pieces p5
He may stand at the trial, but it is decidedly different from the one so many years ago. As before, he rarely speaks, but he is at least more aware of it than he was before. The laws have evolved, since before- as times have changed and more and more incidents have come up, so there have been new adaptations and applications and interpretations. He is not the first so-called supervillain to be brought in to court, and he will not be the last, but a few glances between he and his lawyer suggest that this is a bit of a special case.
He's only so certain why. Even he can see that whatever motives he had burned out long ago, and that he's been riding on ashes ever since. The blocking band is tight around his head, filtering any threats away, and he's on a dose of stabilizers that have at least kept him thinking clearly. Despite, well...
Criminally insane, he hears them whisper, though they call it something else in court. That in itself gives him a headache until he surprises even himself by standing and asking, May I speak in my own defense?
It is not a defense, per se, but an admission of guilt and culpability. That he has done wrong and he understands this, even if he is still uncertain of how it got here but here they all are. That he had no reason to do these things and did it anyway, and that he is, understandably, unsafe.
But more than that, he's not unrepentant.
I'm not asking for freedom, he says, looking around as his lawyer watches him closely with an unreadable expression. I'm asking for a chance to at least try and do something about all this, and to take responsibility for my actions.
How could he do that? He's not sure. But being locked up for the rest of his life certainly doesn't seem like a way to do it, and yet...if they choose not to grant him this chance, he understands.
It was, after all, his mistake.
---
When the verdict is given, it is not surprising but he still feels a bit disappointed. Stomach in his throat, he simply bows his head and accepts it, accepts being lead off towards incarceration but before he steps in to the vehicle that is there to take him away, there is a sense of deja vu.
He looks up, and immediately meets a pair of eyes.
They have aged, like him, and there are new lines around them, but they look just the same as they did back when he hurt her - and then, those years even longer ago. There is still pain in them, but she holds his gaze, refusing to look away - and so does he, as long as he can.
Despite the distance between them, there is still a connection there.
I love you. I'm sorry.
I know, and I haven't forgiven you, but I do still love you.
And then he is alone.
---
The ward is not comfortable, and arguably he had better conditions when he was in the prison itself. In addition, it brings with it the stigma of crazy, which is...possibly one of the worst sort of punishments that could be given to a man who had always been proud of his mind. But the lawyer is still working on finding another place, and assures him that, given good behavior, this is only 'temporary'.
It's even more temporary when Envy comes to break him out.
She announces herself with the screams of chaos, but Robert barely only looks up from his book as half the wall explodes. He'd honestly expected this sort of thing sooner, but only adjusts his reading glasses before looking back down to turn the page.
(Reading, at least, gives him something to focus upon.)
For a few long moments there is only the sound of her heaving for breath - and then, the sound of a snarl. What are you WAITING for? she demands once recovered, moving over and grabbing hold of his wrist. He pulls it away with a look of distaste, frowning deeply.
I'm not leaving.
She is taken aback by that, then snarls again, furious, ranting about how she's spent her time for him and not realizing that he trusts her just only slightly more than he does Yama. But even so, he shakes his head and informs her she's made a mistake and should probably leave before someone comes to stop her.
She nearly berserks, then. And Robert is reduced to stalling, and then scrambling, and then that damned band is ripped off his head and he can't help but scream as for the first time in weeks he feels a connection and as though from miles away something awakens and tries to respond.
She's still on him, choking him even now, rage in her heart and murder in her eyes as he struggles vainly, and as what could save him is still too far away to arrive in time.
They're changing you, Envy hisses, Destroying your mind, reprogramming it to their own wants, and you're letting them!
Callaghan stares at her wildly, clutching at her hands, then manages to heave in some breath. Maybe, he gasps, but if I can't trust myself, I may as well trust them-!
Either trust, or start running again for who knows how long, and running only took him so far in the first place. So he suffers her toying with him, alternating between strangling him and tossing him about like a ragdoll, screaming all the while- but all the while, Robert desperately clings to the knowledge that they have so rarely let him down. He tries to flee further inside the facility but she does not let him, she is blind with rage, and though it seems like years, she is finally thrown off of him by something
Someone.
Someone is by him, rolling him over as he gags and hacks and on a scale of one to ten...
---
The next facility is more secure, and of somewhat better quality. His lawyer wryly notes that she was able to work his refusal to cooperate with Envy in his favor; he can only shrug at that and rub at the healing burn-bruises still on his throat.
He has not forgotten what she said, about them 'reprogramming' him; it is something that keeps him awake at night, but not for himself. He wonders just what that woman has gone through, and feels an inkling of pity; but more than that, he wonders if he'll ever stop seeing himself in others, or at least the worst parts thereof.
Then, for the first time in a long while...he dreams of the microbots. And when he awakens, he aches for their familiarity and comfort so much he trembles. He holds the band at his head, knowing by now how best to disable and remove its locks, it would be so very easy to break free as he did before...
By the bed, there is a picture of Abigail and her child, both smiling despite the walking crutches that will no doubt be present for many more years. She sent it to him not long after the transfer, but he has not been able to pen a reply. In lieu of starting another aborted letter, he takes the photo, holds it close for the rest of the night, and clings to what little comfort it offers.
---
Shin writes to him but once.
There isn't much to say, but he does speak of cutting a plea bargain. Of witness protection, protective custody, and so on and so forth. The Six were able to find his family, even if Yama is still at large, and they are, at least as far as he knows, safe.
He writes that he probably won't see or speak with him again. That he isn't sure where things are going from here, but that his full cooperation seems to have given him some sort of advantage, and that he hopes that he can maybe help bring Yama down once and for all.
At the end, he writes thank you for everything.
Callaghan keeps it close, and will occasionally take it out to read it over to himself. He tries to find comfort in the thought that he did at least one good deed during all the dark. But it's in the dark, one night, that he reads the letter and then rereads it and then rereads it again, something in the writing catching his attention.
And then he realizes what Shin is really trying to tell him.
K R E I
---
He fills out the request form, and fully expects it 'lost'. So he fills out another request, this time to someone else, and it's to Hiro he expresses a need for closure and stresses the fact that there is nothing he can do to hurt him. Hiro is dubious, but finally says he'll see what they can do, on the condition that one of them is present for it.
Fine. More than fine, really. In fact, he has to hold back his satisfaction on the 'condition'.
Wasabi's the one who serves as Krei's escort, and god, he's grown. He's always been physically imposing, but he's hardened over the years, a practical brick, and yet there's a grace to him that he's never lost. With a meaningful look to Callaghan, he takes up position by the door with arms crossed. He's suited up, seeming to treat himself as a full-on guard, and all told?
Robert doesn't mind in the least.
Krei, too, has aged, and has a bit of white in his hair. He's still the same Krei that Robert remembers, however, all arrogant and laughing things off and not in the slightest understanding why Robert has called him here.
Until Robert mentions Yama.
And then mentions wondering just where Yama got his tech, in those weeks as his 'dog'.
Krei's laughter falters, and he insists he doesn't know what Callaghan is talking about; he's not a bad liar. But Robert has to believe that he himself isn't just seeing things, that he's not just looking for someone to blame, that there's something to this and to Shin's hidden message.
Forcing himself to stay calm pays off in the end. Because Krei is more and more nervous until he grips his fists and 'admits' that if he had been approached...
A bit more pressing and Krei balls his fists, stress permeating his features.
You backed me in to a corner! What the hell was I supposed to do!
There's a venom in his stomach, a great hatred for Krei once again not thinking things through - or not caring. But he knows what hate brings, and while he cannot bring himself to accept what little (not-)apology Krei offers he can at least bring himself to walk away.
You're spineless, he throws over his shoulder, and if I ever hear about you working with them again...!
It's an empty promise. Oh, he'd like to find another wormhole to throw him through, but that's long in the past and while he hasn't forgiven him for that, either, he's at least forced himself past such a thing. What matters here is the sheer alarm on Krei's face, and how selfishly satisfying it is to be taken seriously, even as a threat.
His eyes briefly meet Wasabi's - who has never altered his position from the door - and, briefly, he sees him nod.
I got you, it says. We got this.
The thing is, he was never going to be that threat.
---
Weeks turn to months. There is another transfer and a another 'jailbreak' which he deliberately ignores, especially as it was it was poorly planned in the first place. The Six, after some discussion, send him some updates on their hunt for Yama; he may have fled the country (if nothing else, the city) after a surplus of new information on his dealings.
Months themselves begin to bleed in to a year. Then two. In all truth, Callaghan tries not to think about it too much, because it is an all-too-painful reminder how much longer he has left. Or little, depending on the way one looks at things; he is growing old, and with the weight of his sentences (mitigated or not), could easily spend the rest of his life here.
It sickens him, and is more than enough to shake his composure. It would be so easy, so easy to escape...
Then Hiro approaches him for something completely unexpected. We need your help, he says, and once again Robert is reminded of how much he looks like Tadashi. He's older than Tadashi was, now, and his features aren't quite as narrow, but if Robert's not paying attention...
But he is. Because he couldn't much imagine Hiro, of all people, coming to him for help- but then, recent news stories have given him a healthy concern for the fate of the planet itself. Apparently he is not alone in that concern, especially not if the entirety of the Six have sought him out, and yet...and yet...
He admits concern regarding being under a leash again, and he uses those words, and sees Hiro's brow furrow; he elaborates that he will not just trade one master for another, playing a part and then just being tossed away when he's done.
Understanding then dawns. Hiro drums his fingers on the table, thinking for a long few moments, and then;
We'll handle that.
---
The microbots, apparently, have not suffered in the slightest for their long hiatus; in fact, others have tried to use them, control them, but once he is able to re-establish contact with them after so long...for a long while he just soaks in it all, soaks in what may not have been originally his but is now undeniably so, even now, it is like stepping in to an old pair of comfortable shoes, it is like shrugging on a familiar coat, it is a joy to see them sweep around him and it is power to wear them once again.
His mask is still a powerful red, but there are markings of blue, now, accenting the lines. They seem to know enough about his own state of mind, and his own memory of what he took the mask from, to understand that things have changed; they perhaps do not understand why they are taking these lines, but he can't help but laugh a little when he sees it, bitterly or not.
They are a phantom's lines. A spirit's. A ghost's. And maybe he is back from the dead in a way, but for better or for worse, he does not know.
He only knows enough to take the wary glances as they are, but to throw himself in to the battle as though it is the very last one he will ever fight, and with all that's at stake, perhaps that is true - and he can only laugh through it, cry through it, because he knows in his heart whatever happens this will be the last time he ever truly lives.
---
Afterwards, after the terrible weight of the battle that has not left any of them unscathed...afterwards, they use the microbots in the same way Robert once had, and that is to lead them back to their beginning.
There is a fight here, but it is not in Robert's control- the microbots seeming to realize what is at stake, and their own sense of self-preservation seems to come in to play, and even once he yells for the blocker because he can't control them they fight, they then seem to almost turn upon him
but then, together, he and the Six destroy the machines.
Then they only carry him back towards San Fransokyo, and it is a long and quiet trip back. Everyone is tired to the bone, past exhaustion, past what any could ask of any human being- or robot, in Baymax's case.
There comes a point where he's alone with Hiro, and while for a long time there's silence...somehow, the subject leads to Tadashi.
Somehow, he manages to tell him two words that he should have said all-too-long ago.
I'm sorry.
Hiro doesn't say anything at first, and at first Callaghan wonders if he's said the wrong thing yet again- but in the end, the boy (man) only lets out a heavy breath, and says in a strange little voice, I know. And the way he says it...
Robert can only stare at him for a few confused moments before understanding dawns - and he manages to look away before embarrassment clouds his features.
I'm still going to try, indeed.
---
Afterwards, Robert takes no steps to return to prison. For the first time in what seems like decades, no one takes steps to bring him there. The most that happens is that he is taken to a cafe, given a piece of paper and a phone, and allowed to stay there as a cup of coffee turns ice cold before him and he can only stare down at his hand while his other props him up by the chin.
His table in the corner is given a wide berth, but he doesn't notice. He hardly even notices when the waitress stops by to 'check up' on his coffee, and the morning light outside has long faded in to dusk by the time he begins to dial that number and bring the phone up to his ear.
Hello? comes the familiar voice, and his heart stops because what if this is a lost cause, what if she's not ready, what if he's not ready-
The waitress - with grey in her own hair - gives him a meaningful look, and he swallows and finds his voice.
So I'm on parole, he manages to say, somehow able to keep his voice a semblance of steadiness, and I was wondering if you wanted to maybe spend some time catching up...
He's only so certain why. Even he can see that whatever motives he had burned out long ago, and that he's been riding on ashes ever since. The blocking band is tight around his head, filtering any threats away, and he's on a dose of stabilizers that have at least kept him thinking clearly. Despite, well...
Criminally insane, he hears them whisper, though they call it something else in court. That in itself gives him a headache until he surprises even himself by standing and asking, May I speak in my own defense?
It is not a defense, per se, but an admission of guilt and culpability. That he has done wrong and he understands this, even if he is still uncertain of how it got here but here they all are. That he had no reason to do these things and did it anyway, and that he is, understandably, unsafe.
But more than that, he's not unrepentant.
I'm not asking for freedom, he says, looking around as his lawyer watches him closely with an unreadable expression. I'm asking for a chance to at least try and do something about all this, and to take responsibility for my actions.
How could he do that? He's not sure. But being locked up for the rest of his life certainly doesn't seem like a way to do it, and yet...if they choose not to grant him this chance, he understands.
It was, after all, his mistake.
---
When the verdict is given, it is not surprising but he still feels a bit disappointed. Stomach in his throat, he simply bows his head and accepts it, accepts being lead off towards incarceration but before he steps in to the vehicle that is there to take him away, there is a sense of deja vu.
He looks up, and immediately meets a pair of eyes.
They have aged, like him, and there are new lines around them, but they look just the same as they did back when he hurt her - and then, those years even longer ago. There is still pain in them, but she holds his gaze, refusing to look away - and so does he, as long as he can.
Despite the distance between them, there is still a connection there.
I love you. I'm sorry.
I know, and I haven't forgiven you, but I do still love you.
And then he is alone.
---
The ward is not comfortable, and arguably he had better conditions when he was in the prison itself. In addition, it brings with it the stigma of crazy, which is...possibly one of the worst sort of punishments that could be given to a man who had always been proud of his mind. But the lawyer is still working on finding another place, and assures him that, given good behavior, this is only 'temporary'.
It's even more temporary when Envy comes to break him out.
She announces herself with the screams of chaos, but Robert barely only looks up from his book as half the wall explodes. He'd honestly expected this sort of thing sooner, but only adjusts his reading glasses before looking back down to turn the page.
(Reading, at least, gives him something to focus upon.)
For a few long moments there is only the sound of her heaving for breath - and then, the sound of a snarl. What are you WAITING for? she demands once recovered, moving over and grabbing hold of his wrist. He pulls it away with a look of distaste, frowning deeply.
I'm not leaving.
She is taken aback by that, then snarls again, furious, ranting about how she's spent her time for him and not realizing that he trusts her just only slightly more than he does Yama. But even so, he shakes his head and informs her she's made a mistake and should probably leave before someone comes to stop her.
She nearly berserks, then. And Robert is reduced to stalling, and then scrambling, and then that damned band is ripped off his head and he can't help but scream as for the first time in weeks he feels a connection and as though from miles away something awakens and tries to respond.
She's still on him, choking him even now, rage in her heart and murder in her eyes as he struggles vainly, and as what could save him is still too far away to arrive in time.
They're changing you, Envy hisses, Destroying your mind, reprogramming it to their own wants, and you're letting them!
Callaghan stares at her wildly, clutching at her hands, then manages to heave in some breath. Maybe, he gasps, but if I can't trust myself, I may as well trust them-!
Either trust, or start running again for who knows how long, and running only took him so far in the first place. So he suffers her toying with him, alternating between strangling him and tossing him about like a ragdoll, screaming all the while- but all the while, Robert desperately clings to the knowledge that they have so rarely let him down. He tries to flee further inside the facility but she does not let him, she is blind with rage, and though it seems like years, she is finally thrown off of him by something
Someone.
Someone is by him, rolling him over as he gags and hacks and on a scale of one to ten...
---
The next facility is more secure, and of somewhat better quality. His lawyer wryly notes that she was able to work his refusal to cooperate with Envy in his favor; he can only shrug at that and rub at the healing burn-bruises still on his throat.
He has not forgotten what she said, about them 'reprogramming' him; it is something that keeps him awake at night, but not for himself. He wonders just what that woman has gone through, and feels an inkling of pity; but more than that, he wonders if he'll ever stop seeing himself in others, or at least the worst parts thereof.
Then, for the first time in a long while...he dreams of the microbots. And when he awakens, he aches for their familiarity and comfort so much he trembles. He holds the band at his head, knowing by now how best to disable and remove its locks, it would be so very easy to break free as he did before...
By the bed, there is a picture of Abigail and her child, both smiling despite the walking crutches that will no doubt be present for many more years. She sent it to him not long after the transfer, but he has not been able to pen a reply. In lieu of starting another aborted letter, he takes the photo, holds it close for the rest of the night, and clings to what little comfort it offers.
---
Shin writes to him but once.
There isn't much to say, but he does speak of cutting a plea bargain. Of witness protection, protective custody, and so on and so forth. The Six were able to find his family, even if Yama is still at large, and they are, at least as far as he knows, safe.
He writes that he probably won't see or speak with him again. That he isn't sure where things are going from here, but that his full cooperation seems to have given him some sort of advantage, and that he hopes that he can maybe help bring Yama down once and for all.
At the end, he writes thank you for everything.
Callaghan keeps it close, and will occasionally take it out to read it over to himself. He tries to find comfort in the thought that he did at least one good deed during all the dark. But it's in the dark, one night, that he reads the letter and then rereads it and then rereads it again, something in the writing catching his attention.
And then he realizes what Shin is really trying to tell him.
K R E I
---
He fills out the request form, and fully expects it 'lost'. So he fills out another request, this time to someone else, and it's to Hiro he expresses a need for closure and stresses the fact that there is nothing he can do to hurt him. Hiro is dubious, but finally says he'll see what they can do, on the condition that one of them is present for it.
Fine. More than fine, really. In fact, he has to hold back his satisfaction on the 'condition'.
Wasabi's the one who serves as Krei's escort, and god, he's grown. He's always been physically imposing, but he's hardened over the years, a practical brick, and yet there's a grace to him that he's never lost. With a meaningful look to Callaghan, he takes up position by the door with arms crossed. He's suited up, seeming to treat himself as a full-on guard, and all told?
Robert doesn't mind in the least.
Krei, too, has aged, and has a bit of white in his hair. He's still the same Krei that Robert remembers, however, all arrogant and laughing things off and not in the slightest understanding why Robert has called him here.
Until Robert mentions Yama.
And then mentions wondering just where Yama got his tech, in those weeks as his 'dog'.
Krei's laughter falters, and he insists he doesn't know what Callaghan is talking about; he's not a bad liar. But Robert has to believe that he himself isn't just seeing things, that he's not just looking for someone to blame, that there's something to this and to Shin's hidden message.
Forcing himself to stay calm pays off in the end. Because Krei is more and more nervous until he grips his fists and 'admits' that if he had been approached...
A bit more pressing and Krei balls his fists, stress permeating his features.
You backed me in to a corner! What the hell was I supposed to do!
There's a venom in his stomach, a great hatred for Krei once again not thinking things through - or not caring. But he knows what hate brings, and while he cannot bring himself to accept what little (not-)apology Krei offers he can at least bring himself to walk away.
You're spineless, he throws over his shoulder, and if I ever hear about you working with them again...!
It's an empty promise. Oh, he'd like to find another wormhole to throw him through, but that's long in the past and while he hasn't forgiven him for that, either, he's at least forced himself past such a thing. What matters here is the sheer alarm on Krei's face, and how selfishly satisfying it is to be taken seriously, even as a threat.
His eyes briefly meet Wasabi's - who has never altered his position from the door - and, briefly, he sees him nod.
I got you, it says. We got this.
The thing is, he was never going to be that threat.
---
Weeks turn to months. There is another transfer and a another 'jailbreak' which he deliberately ignores, especially as it was it was poorly planned in the first place. The Six, after some discussion, send him some updates on their hunt for Yama; he may have fled the country (if nothing else, the city) after a surplus of new information on his dealings.
Months themselves begin to bleed in to a year. Then two. In all truth, Callaghan tries not to think about it too much, because it is an all-too-painful reminder how much longer he has left. Or little, depending on the way one looks at things; he is growing old, and with the weight of his sentences (mitigated or not), could easily spend the rest of his life here.
It sickens him, and is more than enough to shake his composure. It would be so easy, so easy to escape...
Then Hiro approaches him for something completely unexpected. We need your help, he says, and once again Robert is reminded of how much he looks like Tadashi. He's older than Tadashi was, now, and his features aren't quite as narrow, but if Robert's not paying attention...
But he is. Because he couldn't much imagine Hiro, of all people, coming to him for help- but then, recent news stories have given him a healthy concern for the fate of the planet itself. Apparently he is not alone in that concern, especially not if the entirety of the Six have sought him out, and yet...and yet...
He admits concern regarding being under a leash again, and he uses those words, and sees Hiro's brow furrow; he elaborates that he will not just trade one master for another, playing a part and then just being tossed away when he's done.
Understanding then dawns. Hiro drums his fingers on the table, thinking for a long few moments, and then;
We'll handle that.
---
The microbots, apparently, have not suffered in the slightest for their long hiatus; in fact, others have tried to use them, control them, but once he is able to re-establish contact with them after so long...for a long while he just soaks in it all, soaks in what may not have been originally his but is now undeniably so, even now, it is like stepping in to an old pair of comfortable shoes, it is like shrugging on a familiar coat, it is a joy to see them sweep around him and it is power to wear them once again.
His mask is still a powerful red, but there are markings of blue, now, accenting the lines. They seem to know enough about his own state of mind, and his own memory of what he took the mask from, to understand that things have changed; they perhaps do not understand why they are taking these lines, but he can't help but laugh a little when he sees it, bitterly or not.
They are a phantom's lines. A spirit's. A ghost's. And maybe he is back from the dead in a way, but for better or for worse, he does not know.
He only knows enough to take the wary glances as they are, but to throw himself in to the battle as though it is the very last one he will ever fight, and with all that's at stake, perhaps that is true - and he can only laugh through it, cry through it, because he knows in his heart whatever happens this will be the last time he ever truly lives.
---
Afterwards, after the terrible weight of the battle that has not left any of them unscathed...afterwards, they use the microbots in the same way Robert once had, and that is to lead them back to their beginning.
There is a fight here, but it is not in Robert's control- the microbots seeming to realize what is at stake, and their own sense of self-preservation seems to come in to play, and even once he yells for the blocker because he can't control them they fight, they then seem to almost turn upon him
but then, together, he and the Six destroy the machines.
Then they only carry him back towards San Fransokyo, and it is a long and quiet trip back. Everyone is tired to the bone, past exhaustion, past what any could ask of any human being- or robot, in Baymax's case.
There comes a point where he's alone with Hiro, and while for a long time there's silence...somehow, the subject leads to Tadashi.
Somehow, he manages to tell him two words that he should have said all-too-long ago.
I'm sorry.
Hiro doesn't say anything at first, and at first Callaghan wonders if he's said the wrong thing yet again- but in the end, the boy (man) only lets out a heavy breath, and says in a strange little voice, I know. And the way he says it...
Robert can only stare at him for a few confused moments before understanding dawns - and he manages to look away before embarrassment clouds his features.
I'm still going to try, indeed.
---
Afterwards, Robert takes no steps to return to prison. For the first time in what seems like decades, no one takes steps to bring him there. The most that happens is that he is taken to a cafe, given a piece of paper and a phone, and allowed to stay there as a cup of coffee turns ice cold before him and he can only stare down at his hand while his other props him up by the chin.
His table in the corner is given a wide berth, but he doesn't notice. He hardly even notices when the waitress stops by to 'check up' on his coffee, and the morning light outside has long faded in to dusk by the time he begins to dial that number and bring the phone up to his ear.
Hello? comes the familiar voice, and his heart stops because what if this is a lost cause, what if she's not ready, what if he's not ready-
The waitress - with grey in her own hair - gives him a meaningful look, and he swallows and finds his voice.
So I'm on parole, he manages to say, somehow able to keep his voice a semblance of steadiness, and I was wondering if you wanted to maybe spend some time catching up...