Robert Callaghan // ʏ๏кคเ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pushtheboundaries) wrote2014-11-19 09:36 am
pushtheboundaries) wrote2014-11-19 09:36 am
fic; a hundred thousand little pieces
He stands tall at his sentencing, unapologetic but not unrepentant. Despite his lawyer's attempts, he has only worked so much with him when it came to mitigating his punishment; the verdict was never in question, only the specifics thereof, and while Robert can admit that he erred in parts he cannot find it within him to admit he was fully in the wrong. His mental health is called in to question, the brief discussion of an insanity defense, but that in itself riles him up enough to ask if he needs a different lawyer.
He knows he's done wrong, vaguely, he's just unable to understand how it got to this. Worse; could it truly have been wrong when it achieved the impossible?
'Guilty', they settle upon, with a number of facts brought in to play; acknowledgement that intent was present but cannot excuse what occurred and so on and so forth. It's a legal dance that Robert gets lost in and stops caring about halfway through, and the next thing he's really aware of is the weight of handcuffs on his wrists.
He's led away, outside, and there are voices screaming at him and shouting but through it all he sees a single set of eyes that he can't help but meet- a familiar gaze, thought lost forever, but the look in them is heartbreaking. They are betrayed and horrified and sad, water welling up in them and he can't bear to see anything else there because those are emotions he never wanted to see there in the first place.
And that he is the cause...
Robert looks down, away, and allows himself to be further led.
---
He gets used to prison - or perhaps prison gets used to him - rather quickly. There's a hierarchy here that almost reminds him of the military, in the worst ways; there's some pushing and shoving and he ends up with a rank by virtue of knowing how to defend himself, and defend himself well. He doesn't seek any sort of power, and short of keeping an eye out for trouble, keeps his head down and generally just tries to endure the given sentence.
His cellmate is a younger man, in for grand theft auto; he reminds Robert of Gogo, in a way, if Gogo hadn't been able to find a better way to put her mind to use. They don't talk enough for Robert to learn whether he has a mind like her, and he's rather apathetic as to whether or not he does.
Days turn to weeks, and life finds a routine. Aside from the occasional nightmare, it's a monotony broken by few things.
---
The first visit is from Fred and Honey.
He's surprised at the request, and strongly considers refusing it; in the end, he's handcuffed and led to the visiting hall, and there is a somewhat awkward set of 'hello's before Fred bursts in to storytime about his father and as strange as the subject is, it works far too well as an icebreaker. Robert finds himself smiling for the first time in a long while, and after Honey joins in, he even laughs a little.
He manages to get her to talk about her current project, and manages a few sharp criticisms as well; she can't have as little an idea of where she's going with it as she's suggesting. She's a better student than that. He almost orders an update by the end of the week, and manages to halt himself just in time to make things awkward again.
Still, some part of him feels lighter when they part ways. He asks them to take care of themselves; Fred goes for a hug that Honey follows up, and he allows himself to lean in to them a bit before they break and go their separate ways.
That night, he suffers the worst headache he can remember in years, as though something's pulling his skull tighter while what's inside swells to twice its size; he only wraps his arms around his head to hide what few sounds escape him, and ignores the brief inquiry from his cellmate.
---
The others visit him, in time. Sometimes in groups, sometimes one per. The support is...unexpected, but not unwelcome, even if he tries to change the subject any time his recent actions are touched upon. Doing so is perhaps not the best path to take, but he's already being hounded by the prison staff to join a therapy group. Avoiding it has become an acquired skill, and he puts it to use here, neatly skirting around subjects he's uncomfortable with to find ones that bring him joy.
Their creations. Their studies. Their occasional scuffles cause him some worry, especially when he sees them on TV, but the most he admits on them is through the encouragement to find a better way to confront the problem. To treat their obstacles as stepping stones, the same sort of mindset he encouraged while he was their professor.
It feels good, to still be helping them. It's not enough and he dearly wishes he could do more, but he is in here and they are out there, and if this is the way it is this is the way it is. He is...growing increasingly disturbed by the thought of being released in to the open, and can, at this point, admit that imprisonment is the best thing for him at the moment. If only to himself.
His dreams are filled with machines, constantly shifting and remaking themselves until he understands that each is hundred thousand machines in itself, and that lucidity only brings horrific satisfaction of watching the microbots carry out his darkest desires.
---
His cellmate's name is Shin, and he is twenty-three years old. He's one of three brothers, with a younger sister as well; there's an unspoken understanding between them to not touch too much on each other's past and especially not the reason why there're here, but when he one day comes back in with a black eye, Robert studies him with a frown.
And then teaches him how to fight.
He's only done so much of it, even after his arrival here; he generally tries to avoid fighting, or outright antagonizing those who are in the mood for it. But he'll defend himself, and he teaches defense here, with Shin trading a few lessons in return when it comes to dirty combat, the sort you learn when you're constantly in a fights with and beside your siblings. A bit of gang knowledge, there, but Shin's alone here; Robert takes to watching his back, and using his own position to try and help.
It's not that there's anarchy here; far from it. There's an order here, but it's a prison order, and the guards can only do so much to retain it. The prison is largely run by the inmates and their creativity; some of it impresses even The Professor, as he's called. (Better that than Yokai, which the newspapers spoke of at first.) Robert may not understand it but he understands how to navigate it, and once he takes Shin under his proverbial wing he finds a few others attaching themselves to him.
Fine. So he's a professor even in prison. He tries to point them in a more positive direction, but with him still running from his ghosts, there's only much he can do.
The dreams go on. Not nightmares, not anymore, but unsettling on their own - and combined with the occasional pounding headache, when Shin next asks if he's all right, he admits that he may need something to help him sleep.
Shin introduces him to pruno. It doesn't help.
---
Hiro comes with Baymax, and were it not for the advance warning from his students, he would have immediately balked and denied such a visit. But it's Wasabi who finally has him agree, his earnestness finally piercing through Robert's sheer stubbornness and accepting the need for closure. If not for him, then the boy.
It goes...better than expected, but that doesn't say much.
There's no robot trying to take his head off, at least, but it seems they've only been talking for a few minutes before the subject of Tadashi comes up. Robert manages to avoid referring to his death as a 'mistake' and can even admit that even if it was not murder that he did set the fire - but it seems like there's only a few more words traded before he's clenching his fist and focused more on holding back his anger than helping the Hiro find anything.
His head pounds. Baymax says something about abnormal waves, and he irritably barks at the robot, Tadashi's final work, to shut up. Things go from there, and it's possibly a good thing he is still wearing handcuffs because he's on his feet, hands on the table to support him, eyes narrowed as he snarls something that he regrets saying even before the words leave his mouth.
Hiro's eyes widen, then narrow, and he sneers something back- and it's a very good thing the guard on duty is paying attention, because despite his all but model behavior before this he's consumed by the urge to shut him up, shut both of them up, you don't know a damned thing about it
He's hauled away, and he can't calm down, he's just along the current of his own rage and lashing out in blind fury until he exhausts himself in solitary.
Tonight he dreams of being lost, alone, and apart. He wakes up in a cold sweat, and spends a long time like that, shivering.
---
He does deny Abigail at first. Moreover; he ignores the request. He loses it, twice, and it breaks his heart every time the new one come but it's Shin of all people who 'finds' it and ever-so-helpfully reminds him that someone wants to see him.
It's only after a long look between them and the realization that Shin hasn't once had a visitation request that has him bow his head and take it back.
This one goes worse than expected.
For a long time, neither of them say anything, there's only a silence in which Robert can barely look at her and Abigail keeps clearing her throat as if to say something but nothing ever comes.
Finally, after what seems like hours, Robert manages to ask where she's living now; he balls his hands in to loose fists when he finds out that Krei, of all people, is helping her get set back up in the world. It's a small mercy that she hasn't taken up employment with him, laughing a little that she's taking some time off work, but the thought that he's responsible for her well-being is a little too toxic for its own good.
They find another subject. Then another, bouncing from one to another as though trying to outrace the clock and Robert's own disgrace, but the clock ticks anyway. Suddenly it's all too soon that they have to go, and she's wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight.
"I love you, Daddy."
A part of him breaks at those words (the very last ones she ever said to him, before) but he manages to keep himself together until they part. Then the tears threaten and when he gets back to his cell he just puts his head and his hands and stops trying to hold them back. This isn't a matter of weakness; this is a grief too heavy to bear, the understanding that Abigail is finding a new life out there without him and he can't even watch her have it, he can't be there, he won't be there when she finds someone and starts a family and finds her own everything and he'll be here, rotting away for years, he won't watch his students grow up except through a sparse few windows, he's trapped in here and
(Shin is here, he hears him come in, the young man has enough respect to go what he's going for and leave him alone after his hesitant 'Professor?' gets no response but a shake of the head)
he still can't see how he was wrong, he's hurt people but he got her back and Krei's still out there and his students are risking their lives and
h҉i̡s͝ ͟head ͞h̡ur͘t̴s
he's trembling, trying not to scream from the pounding of his head, no medication has helped no alcohol nor drug has helped and there are a hundred thousand little pieces of him screaming for release because he does not want to be here
and he d̕҉͡ro͜wņs̶̨̢ in it
howling in to his hands as he's carried away by his own pain and screaming for who knows how long and is ̢th҉is͏ w͝h҉a͏t ͏g͡oi͜nģ ̀mad̴ ͏f̴e͘e͜ĺs l̕ike because he has the outright insane thought that if he screams loudly enough it will all stop
but instead
iţ al҉l
s̸̢ta̧̨r҉͟t̷̨͠s̵ ҉o͏҉v͏e͜r̡͢͜
Ä̢̧̛͔̫̼̦͉̆̍ͯ̕͡G̩͔͔̙̙̹͙̙̲͉̫̗̿̊̇ͥ̀͟͞A̧̛̜̬͕̪͍̻̲̤̯̻̠̤̪̓̑ͩͤ̏ͨ̉̑̅̑ͤ̀̾͋Ȉ̢̧͕̦̝͔͓̜̳̠̬̊͊ͨ́ͅN̸̶͔͖̰̟̜̣̳̩͔̳̺̞ͥ̏ͭ͑̃ͬ͑ͦ̉̿̚
Robert Callaghan can't stop screaming, not his head is tearing itself open from the inside out, and it feels like his own body is being swallowed up by it all and he just wants it all to stop, please, he just wants to stop thinking for five minutes he wants this headache to stop he wants the nightmares to stop and
and
when he can finally see clearly through the s̢͠͡t͏a҉t͘ì͢c̢, he thinks he must have gone mad, but the pain is numb and his head is fogged and he just closes his eyes, puts his arms over his face
and lets the microbots cover him like a shroud as he lets exhaustion overwhelm him and unconsciousness take him away.
He knows he's done wrong, vaguely, he's just unable to understand how it got to this. Worse; could it truly have been wrong when it achieved the impossible?
'Guilty', they settle upon, with a number of facts brought in to play; acknowledgement that intent was present but cannot excuse what occurred and so on and so forth. It's a legal dance that Robert gets lost in and stops caring about halfway through, and the next thing he's really aware of is the weight of handcuffs on his wrists.
He's led away, outside, and there are voices screaming at him and shouting but through it all he sees a single set of eyes that he can't help but meet- a familiar gaze, thought lost forever, but the look in them is heartbreaking. They are betrayed and horrified and sad, water welling up in them and he can't bear to see anything else there because those are emotions he never wanted to see there in the first place.
And that he is the cause...
Robert looks down, away, and allows himself to be further led.
---
He gets used to prison - or perhaps prison gets used to him - rather quickly. There's a hierarchy here that almost reminds him of the military, in the worst ways; there's some pushing and shoving and he ends up with a rank by virtue of knowing how to defend himself, and defend himself well. He doesn't seek any sort of power, and short of keeping an eye out for trouble, keeps his head down and generally just tries to endure the given sentence.
His cellmate is a younger man, in for grand theft auto; he reminds Robert of Gogo, in a way, if Gogo hadn't been able to find a better way to put her mind to use. They don't talk enough for Robert to learn whether he has a mind like her, and he's rather apathetic as to whether or not he does.
Days turn to weeks, and life finds a routine. Aside from the occasional nightmare, it's a monotony broken by few things.
---
The first visit is from Fred and Honey.
He's surprised at the request, and strongly considers refusing it; in the end, he's handcuffed and led to the visiting hall, and there is a somewhat awkward set of 'hello's before Fred bursts in to storytime about his father and as strange as the subject is, it works far too well as an icebreaker. Robert finds himself smiling for the first time in a long while, and after Honey joins in, he even laughs a little.
He manages to get her to talk about her current project, and manages a few sharp criticisms as well; she can't have as little an idea of where she's going with it as she's suggesting. She's a better student than that. He almost orders an update by the end of the week, and manages to halt himself just in time to make things awkward again.
Still, some part of him feels lighter when they part ways. He asks them to take care of themselves; Fred goes for a hug that Honey follows up, and he allows himself to lean in to them a bit before they break and go their separate ways.
That night, he suffers the worst headache he can remember in years, as though something's pulling his skull tighter while what's inside swells to twice its size; he only wraps his arms around his head to hide what few sounds escape him, and ignores the brief inquiry from his cellmate.
---
The others visit him, in time. Sometimes in groups, sometimes one per. The support is...unexpected, but not unwelcome, even if he tries to change the subject any time his recent actions are touched upon. Doing so is perhaps not the best path to take, but he's already being hounded by the prison staff to join a therapy group. Avoiding it has become an acquired skill, and he puts it to use here, neatly skirting around subjects he's uncomfortable with to find ones that bring him joy.
Their creations. Their studies. Their occasional scuffles cause him some worry, especially when he sees them on TV, but the most he admits on them is through the encouragement to find a better way to confront the problem. To treat their obstacles as stepping stones, the same sort of mindset he encouraged while he was their professor.
It feels good, to still be helping them. It's not enough and he dearly wishes he could do more, but he is in here and they are out there, and if this is the way it is this is the way it is. He is...growing increasingly disturbed by the thought of being released in to the open, and can, at this point, admit that imprisonment is the best thing for him at the moment. If only to himself.
His dreams are filled with machines, constantly shifting and remaking themselves until he understands that each is hundred thousand machines in itself, and that lucidity only brings horrific satisfaction of watching the microbots carry out his darkest desires.
---
His cellmate's name is Shin, and he is twenty-three years old. He's one of three brothers, with a younger sister as well; there's an unspoken understanding between them to not touch too much on each other's past and especially not the reason why there're here, but when he one day comes back in with a black eye, Robert studies him with a frown.
And then teaches him how to fight.
He's only done so much of it, even after his arrival here; he generally tries to avoid fighting, or outright antagonizing those who are in the mood for it. But he'll defend himself, and he teaches defense here, with Shin trading a few lessons in return when it comes to dirty combat, the sort you learn when you're constantly in a fights with and beside your siblings. A bit of gang knowledge, there, but Shin's alone here; Robert takes to watching his back, and using his own position to try and help.
It's not that there's anarchy here; far from it. There's an order here, but it's a prison order, and the guards can only do so much to retain it. The prison is largely run by the inmates and their creativity; some of it impresses even The Professor, as he's called. (Better that than Yokai, which the newspapers spoke of at first.) Robert may not understand it but he understands how to navigate it, and once he takes Shin under his proverbial wing he finds a few others attaching themselves to him.
Fine. So he's a professor even in prison. He tries to point them in a more positive direction, but with him still running from his ghosts, there's only much he can do.
The dreams go on. Not nightmares, not anymore, but unsettling on their own - and combined with the occasional pounding headache, when Shin next asks if he's all right, he admits that he may need something to help him sleep.
Shin introduces him to pruno. It doesn't help.
---
Hiro comes with Baymax, and were it not for the advance warning from his students, he would have immediately balked and denied such a visit. But it's Wasabi who finally has him agree, his earnestness finally piercing through Robert's sheer stubbornness and accepting the need for closure. If not for him, then the boy.
It goes...better than expected, but that doesn't say much.
There's no robot trying to take his head off, at least, but it seems they've only been talking for a few minutes before the subject of Tadashi comes up. Robert manages to avoid referring to his death as a 'mistake' and can even admit that even if it was not murder that he did set the fire - but it seems like there's only a few more words traded before he's clenching his fist and focused more on holding back his anger than helping the Hiro find anything.
His head pounds. Baymax says something about abnormal waves, and he irritably barks at the robot, Tadashi's final work, to shut up. Things go from there, and it's possibly a good thing he is still wearing handcuffs because he's on his feet, hands on the table to support him, eyes narrowed as he snarls something that he regrets saying even before the words leave his mouth.
Hiro's eyes widen, then narrow, and he sneers something back- and it's a very good thing the guard on duty is paying attention, because despite his all but model behavior before this he's consumed by the urge to shut him up, shut both of them up, you don't know a damned thing about it
He's hauled away, and he can't calm down, he's just along the current of his own rage and lashing out in blind fury until he exhausts himself in solitary.
Tonight he dreams of being lost, alone, and apart. He wakes up in a cold sweat, and spends a long time like that, shivering.
---
He does deny Abigail at first. Moreover; he ignores the request. He loses it, twice, and it breaks his heart every time the new one come but it's Shin of all people who 'finds' it and ever-so-helpfully reminds him that someone wants to see him.
It's only after a long look between them and the realization that Shin hasn't once had a visitation request that has him bow his head and take it back.
This one goes worse than expected.
For a long time, neither of them say anything, there's only a silence in which Robert can barely look at her and Abigail keeps clearing her throat as if to say something but nothing ever comes.
Finally, after what seems like hours, Robert manages to ask where she's living now; he balls his hands in to loose fists when he finds out that Krei, of all people, is helping her get set back up in the world. It's a small mercy that she hasn't taken up employment with him, laughing a little that she's taking some time off work, but the thought that he's responsible for her well-being is a little too toxic for its own good.
They find another subject. Then another, bouncing from one to another as though trying to outrace the clock and Robert's own disgrace, but the clock ticks anyway. Suddenly it's all too soon that they have to go, and she's wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight.
"I love you, Daddy."
A part of him breaks at those words (the very last ones she ever said to him, before) but he manages to keep himself together until they part. Then the tears threaten and when he gets back to his cell he just puts his head and his hands and stops trying to hold them back. This isn't a matter of weakness; this is a grief too heavy to bear, the understanding that Abigail is finding a new life out there without him and he can't even watch her have it, he can't be there, he won't be there when she finds someone and starts a family and finds her own everything and he'll be here, rotting away for years, he won't watch his students grow up except through a sparse few windows, he's trapped in here and
(Shin is here, he hears him come in, the young man has enough respect to go what he's going for and leave him alone after his hesitant 'Professor?' gets no response but a shake of the head)
he still can't see how he was wrong, he's hurt people but he got her back and Krei's still out there and his students are risking their lives and
h҉i̡s͝ ͟head ͞h̡ur͘t̴s
he's trembling, trying not to scream from the pounding of his head, no medication has helped no alcohol nor drug has helped and there are a hundred thousand little pieces of him screaming for release because he does not want to be here
and he d̕҉͡ro͜wņs̶̨̢ in it
howling in to his hands as he's carried away by his own pain and screaming for who knows how long and is ̢th҉is͏ w͝h҉a͏t ͏g͡oi͜nģ ̀mad̴ ͏f̴e͘e͜ĺs l̕ike because he has the outright insane thought that if he screams loudly enough it will all stop
but instead
iţ al҉l
s̸̢ta̧̨r҉͟t̷̨͠s̵ ҉o͏҉v͏e͜r̡͢͜
Ä̢̧̛͔̫̼̦͉̆̍ͯ̕͡G̩͔͔̙̙̹͙̙̲͉̫̗̿̊̇ͥ̀͟͞A̧̛̜̬͕̪͍̻̲̤̯̻̠̤̪̓̑ͩͤ̏ͨ̉̑̅̑ͤ̀̾͋Ȉ̢̧͕̦̝͔͓̜̳̠̬̊͊ͨ́ͅN̸̶͔͖̰̟̜̣̳̩͔̳̺̞ͥ̏ͭ͑̃ͬ͑ͦ̉̿̚
Robert Callaghan can't stop screaming, not his head is tearing itself open from the inside out, and it feels like his own body is being swallowed up by it all and he just wants it all to stop, please, he just wants to stop thinking for five minutes he wants this headache to stop he wants the nightmares to stop and
and
when he can finally see clearly through the s̢͠͡t͏a҉t͘ì͢c̢, he thinks he must have gone mad, but the pain is numb and his head is fogged and he just closes his eyes, puts his arms over his face
and lets the microbots cover him like a shroud as he lets exhaustion overwhelm him and unconsciousness take him away.