Chapter Text
“She took a bullet for Robert. Something I’d never do.”
Never say never.
“That fucking hurts, Bobert,” Flambae hissed through gritted teeth, his skin impossibly hot under Robert’s hands. He twisted the tweezer to the right, earning another pained groan from the other man. “Stop doing that!”
“Stop fucking complaining, then.” Robert rolled his eyes, growing increasingly frustrated. “No one asked you to step in front of me.”
The situation would have been insanely comical had it not resulted in someone getting injured. Robert had stepped into the parking lot of the SDN building the time that Flambae’s Pontiac Firebird slid in its usual spot, looking much better after having to undergo extensive repairs due to Phenomaman’s back pulverizing the thing after his breakup with Blonde Blazer. Beef had been left at home, as the little guy hadn’t been feeling well and Robert didn’t want to expose him to anything extra and run the risk of making him feel even worse. A man, clad in black, stepped directly in Robert’s path, standing about eight feet from him, and demanded his wallet. Robert would have laughed at the fact that he was unironically being mugged in the parking lot of a superhero agency at 7:30 in the morning had the mugger not been brandishing a firearm. Robert was more than happy to hand over his wallet. He wasn’t particularly interested in getting shot, so he was willing to comply, despite the fact that the mugger might shoot him anyway due to how little he was about to score. He must have not been moving fast enough, because the mugger shouted something he didn’t catch, the words being swallowed up by the sound of a gunshot. Robert squeezed his eyes shut.
The familiar pain of bullet piercing skin never came, much to his surprise, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Flambae standing slightly in front of him. The mugger paled, no doubt terrified at the flames leaping off of the hero in front of him. He attempted to flee the scene, but was swiftly caught by a security guard who had run out of the building upon hearing the gunshot. Robert, having caught on to the bullet having made its home in Flambae’s upper arm, dragged him inside the building by the collar of his incredibly tacky leotard.
They were sitting in the infirmary now, with Robert trying to dig the bullet out of Flambae’s arm. He’d done it before, playing operation on himself had given him loads of experience, but he was usually less gentle on himself than he was being with Flambae. He only intentionally hurt him when he pissed him off. Like just a second ago, for instance.
Robert’s other hand was gripping Flambae’s shoulder in an attempt to keep him steady as he worked, ignoring the blood on his hands and the urge to let his eyes wander over Flambae’s exposed chest. He had him pull the top half of the leotard off so he could work on getting the bullet out.
He didn’t like being this close to Flambae, it always made him feel uneasy. Not because of their unsavory past, but rather because he had forgiven him for it. Mostly. Loosely. He kept true to his word and made a point of punching Robert at the start of every month as a release of his hatred. Robert let it happen and bitched minimally. The bruises weren’t permanent. The damage Robert did to Flambae as Mecha Man was.
“Thank you,” he said as he finally managed to pull the bullet out of his arm. He pressed a clean cloth he had swiped from one of the medical cabinets against the wound. “For jumping in like that.”
“It’s what good heroes do, Bob Bob. You could learn a thing or two.” Flambae shot him a smug smile. Robert pressed the cloth harder into the wound and the smile turned tense but didn’t lose its teasing flare.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Robert said sarcastically. “I’ll patch this up and then let Blazer know. You probably shouldn’t be working injured.”
“I’m not bleeding out on the operating table, bitch, I can handle it,” he argued as Robert got up to wash his hands after carefully patching up the wound, his eyes flicking up to Flambae’s for a moment. Amber eyes reflected quiet appreciation he’d never voice lest his ego take a blow. Robert looked away as Flambae fixed his appearance.
The blood on his hands made him shake, just a little. It was because it wasn’t his. Blood on his hands that didn’t belong to him felt like a weight on his chest, “It doesn’t matter, Flambae. You don’t know what could happen out there.”
He ignored the sound of movement behind him as he scrubbed his hands. A large, warm hand fell on his head, “Quit your bitching, you’re just gonna give yourself a headache with worrying for no reason.”
“Who said I was worried?” Robert mumbled, applying more soap and scrubbing harder.
“Me, bitch. You think I’m stupid?” Flambae asked. Robert gave him a look and he scowled. “Don’t answer that.”
Silence stretched over them for a minute before Robert sighed, “Fine. Just don’t fuck up while you’re out there.”
Flambae flipped him off as he strode out of the infirmary, leaving Robert with the singular staff member that had to bear witness to the entire exchange. He felt something off about his body as he headed to the bullpen. A new pain coming from somewhere he wasn’t used to. He brushed it off. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being in pain so he had full confidence that anything new would soon blend in with the old and that would be that.
He slid into his seat at his desk, slipping the headset on and switched the button on so his team could hear him, “Good morning, Z-Team.”
[“Morning, bossman,”] Sonar said coolly.
[“Hello,”] Coupé, now back on the Z-Team after her “leave of absence”, said in that quiet, intense tone of hers. Robert was happy to have her back, honestly. He hadn’t wanted to cut anyone back then, but his hands were tied. He was more than happy to take her back when the opportunity arose.
“There was a bit of an incident in the parking lot this morning, so you’re running with an injured Flambae today. It shouldn’t be too much trouble, though,” Robert explained.
[“You’re fuckin’ right it won’t be any trouble, because I’m basically fine, Bobert,”] Flambae scoffed.
[“What the fuck happened?”] Prism asked, sounding more curious than concerned for her friend.
[“Gunshot,”] Flambae replied easily. [“Bobert played nurse. Got to be useful for a change”]
[“Everyone here is too chill about physical injuries, I can’t heal all of you fuckers,”] Malevola chimed in. It was followed up by noises of agreement from Invisigal and Golem.
[“Oi, if ya ain’t okay with gettin’ hurt, you’re in the wrong line of work,”] Punch Up said, oddly enough being the voice of reason in all this.
“Alright, if we could cut the small talk and get to work,” Robert said, though he was unable to keep the smile off his face and out of his voice. “Let’s have an incident free day so your favorite dispatcher can go home on time.”
[“You’re our only dispatcher,”] Prism said. It was followed by the snickers of the rest of the team, and Robert knew that he would not be getting his wish.
✾✾✾
Surprisingly, the work day went on without incident. However, he was not absolved from doing paperwork, because Blazer had him fill out an incident report about what had happened that morning. It didn’t take super long, and he was on his way home before he knew it. Her face had been a bit grim as he handed her the report, and he couldn’t blame her. Things in Torrance had calmed down significantly since its almost destruction and the cleanup that followed. The city felt like a much more stable place without Shroud. That said, though, the more commonplace criminals were becoming more bold and were taking significantly more risks. Such as attempting an armed mugging in the parking lot of SDN Torrance.
A shudder ripped through his body and he swallowed back an uneasy feeling as he scrambled to think about anything else.
Unfortunately, anything else manifested itself into the second worst thing he could think of; Flambae.
His relationship with Flambae was complicated at the least. They hadn’t exactly talked out what had happened in the past, and things weren’t wrapped up nicely. They worked well together, they talked, they laughed, they bantered. It was hard for Robert’s eyes not to trail after him. He tampered down the urge often, much more often than he’d ever admit to anyone. Since the day he’d come back after taking off due to Robert exposing his identity to the Z-Team up until now, he had defended Robert. He helped fight the Red Ring alongside Robert in the Mecha Man suit despite the feelings that could’ve come up when seeing the suit again. He literally took a bullet for Robert. How was Robert supposed to feel after that?
A pain rippled through his torso, sharp enough to bring him to a stop. He coughed heavily, trying to suck in a breath. After a minute, the pain stopped and he felt normal again, though he did feel a bit uneasy. He entertained the thought of seeing a doctor before dismissing it. He hated doctors and he was confident that he was perfectly fine. These things just happen sometimes.
He unlocked his apartment, immediately greeted by a very ecstatic Beef who looked much better than he had that morning. It wasn’t extremely late and, as much as Robert wanted to collapse into bed, he knew he had to take Beef for a walk. So, he leashed him up and took him to a nearby park. It was a quiet evening, a slight breeze rustling every tree and bush. It was both relaxing and unnerving, as the breeze felt really nice against his face, yet years of hero work had made him slightly paranoid. Thus, the rustling made it impossible for him not to overthink. It could be anything making that noise, blaming it on the wind was simply something that comforted him enough to not interrupt Beef’s thorough investigation of a light pole and book it home.
So, he tampered down the discomfort and spent twenty-ish minutes out, cleaning up after Beef before heading back. Beef walked close to him, smelling the air every so often. Every time Robert brought Beef outside, he always acted like it was his very first time outside. He still thoroughly sniffed the grass before ever stepping on it. Robert made a point to reassure him that the grass was, in fact, very safe and that he’d be okay.
Robert sat on a barely used couch after refreshing Beef’s food and water bowls upon returning home. His home looked significantly more lived in than it used to, the hominess going beyond just the couch that Blazer and Chase had brought for him. Every single lamp the Z-Team brought him was carefully placed somewhere in the house. Naturally, no one needed that many lamps, but they had all been gifts and Robert felt bad for even entertaining the idea of throwing them out. So, he didn't. They were all placed somewhere in his home, somewhere where they all served a purpose.
He got up and went to the bathroom, showering quickly before heading to his bedroom, flopping unceremoniously onto the bed. His back ached and creaked as much as the boxsprings did. He shifted his gaze to the right, to the nightstand, where the green gooseneck lamp Flambae had given him sat, a crack in it from when he had thrown it after punching Robert in the face. He didn’t know why he put it in here, honestly. The thought of having something that was given to him by Flambae, even if it was likely picked out in haste and without effort, put him at ease. He smiled and brushed his fingers against it.
Pain radiated through his chest, searing and sharp, like thousands of needles stabbing his insides. He gasped in agony, holding himself as if that would make it stop. He began to cough violently, a thick metallic taste in his mouth along with…
Wait.
What in hell was that?
He hurriedly grabbed a shirt off the floor, not even caring that it was a lighter color, and spat into it. Unsurprisingly, there was blood there. The taste was foul. However, in addition to that blood, there was something else. He flicked on the lamp and investigated it. Was that a fucking flower petal?
✾✾✾
“Well,” Dr. Cryer said quietly. “Isn’t that something…?”
Despite the incident the night before, Robert decided to wait until the morning to go see his doctor. She looked pleasantly surprised to see him, though it faded quickly when he told her exactly what happened.
“What the hell is it?” Robert asked, his body completely tense.
“An extremely rare disease. We call it hanahaki,” she explained, writing something down on a document. “It’s difficult, to say the least.”
“Okay,” Robert said. She didn’t elaborate, so he spoke again, “So how do you treat it? What even caused it?”
“Unrequited love,” she replied matter-of-factly, as if it made perfect sense.
“How the fuck—”
“Look, Mr. Robertson.” She held up her hand, silencing him immediately. “When I said ‘extremely rare’, I meant that there are only five total documented cases of it. That happened to be the common denominator, so we assumed that was the cause.”
Well, that was a lot to unpack. He exhaled out of his nose, “So, is there a cure?”
“No. And, as far as we’re aware, it’s terminal.” She gave him a sympathetic look.
“It’s terminal?” Robert said, his voice raising in volume. “I’m going to die?”
“Maybe. I said as far as we’re aware. It might be treatable,” the doctor said quickly, trying to calm him. “I’ll have to do regular checkups on you and of course we’ll run tests. We’ll do everything in our power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“How long do I have?” he murmured quietly.
She hesitated before she said, her voice just as low, “The longest someone has lived after a diagnosis was three months.”
His throat went dry, and when he tried to swallow it felt like someone had shoved sand down his esophagus. He had a disease with no cure that might kill him in a few months because he was in love with someone that didn’t love him back? He couldn’t even wrap his mind around it.
Why couldn’t the pain he felt when he thought about Flambae just have been nothing serious like the rest of his bodily pains?
Oh God.
He was in love with Flambae.
This was the cruelest possible way to realize feelings for someone.
“Do you think you’d be able to find a cure?” Robert asked, looking into the doctor’s sympathetic brown eyes. Despite how dryly she had given him the news, she seemed concerned.
“I think, if you gave the consent to study you, I could certainly try,” she said firmly.
Robert hesitated for a minute before nodding, “Yeah, okay. Sure. Let’s do it.”
“Okay.” Dr. Cryer nodded. “And Robert?”
Robert paused by the door and looked back at her. She wore a grim expression, “Get your affairs in order. Just in case.”
“Just in case,” he echoed, his voice hollow. “Got it.”
He left the office feeling numb. He had to call into work because of the appointment, Blazer approving the request in a heartbeat when he informed her it was for a medical reason. Chase had texted him while he was in the doctor’s office, asking him for an update. Should he tell Chase? He figured he’d need to. And Blazer, too. They both needed to know, because very soon they’d have to find his replacement.
The disease itself didn’t even make sense, how in hell could they find an actual cure for the damn thing? There was no way in hell he’d come out of this just fine. He could feel the pain more prominently than his other pains, writhing beneath his skin like some kind of parasite. It felt like tiny needles pricking at every nerve in him while something else choked him, like something was blocking how much air he could fill his lungs with. He felt disgusted, trying to force the bile down while simultaneously trying to prevent himself from crying like a bitch in the middle of the sidewalk.
What would happen to Beef if he died? He’d honestly never thought of it before, even when he was active as Mecha Man Blue. The concept of death was always there, each and every time he entered the suit, but he’d never really considered it. Now, death was something he was being forced to walk towards with no chance of turning around or taking a different path. In three months, maybe less, Beef wouldn’t have anyone to care for him. Robert shook the thought off as quickly as it had come. Chase would take care of Beef. He’d be just fine. Much unlike Robert.
Robert was looking forward to wallowing in self pity the moment he entered his apartment. Except he had to nip that thought in the bud when he saw a Pontiac Firebird parked in his complex’s lot, a red Toyota Prius parked right next to it. Fabulous, that meant at least Flambae and Malevola were in his apartment, and unfortunately they were likely accompanied by Sonar and Prism.
He thought about changing his locks so the Z-Team would stop breaking into his house, but he realized quickly that that wouldn’t really matter, because none of them had keys to begin with and they just used Malevola’s portals to enter. He scrubbed a hand over his face, not in the mood to entertain guests, especially not that flaming idiot that made him cough up a tiger lily.