Work Text:
22 Years Ago
Unlike most kids his age, Robert dreaded going home after school. Going home meant seeing his father, if he wasn't out on patrol of course. And if he was home….
Today, Robbie Robertson greeted his son at the door. Training gear in hand, hard scowl etched across his face. He didn't need to say anything. Robert already understood— he accepted the pain today would bring, already coming up with reasons as to why he would be coming to school the next day covered in bruises.
Maybe his father had pulled some strings in order for the parents to look the other way. He was Mecha Man after all. The shinning symbol of L.A and leader of the Brave Brigade. Robert tried to remind himself of his father's heroic deeds as dread pooled low in his stomach.
They both had boxing gloves and headgear on, sparring in the basement where Robbie himself trained daily. Cold, cracked concrete lined the floor. Exercise equipment was scattered around the room haphazardly. The dry basement air made Roberts throat ache. Maybe that was intentional too. Mecha Man had to be able to fight in all conditions.
Robert got into a fighting stance opposite of his father. He willed his body to cease its tremors by tightening all the muscles in his body, a method he learned quickly.
Meanwhile, his father's form was loose, stare blank and distant. His eyes fell downward on his son, the little boy who barley reached his chest in hight.
Robert waited. He never made the first move. He knew he was outmatched. His best bet was to stay on defense until he became bigger and stronger like his father.
Robbie began to charge, feigning a punch to the stomach. Robert blocked low on instinct, only for his father to change course at the last second.
A quick jab to the face made Robert see stars. He staggered backwards, eyes watering against his will. His father seized the opportunity to plant an uppercut straight into his stomach.
Robert gagged, using all his willpower to keep his school lunch down. He succeeded in that thankfully. Not so much the fight. Then again, he never did win.
At this point, Robert was beginning to believe he wasn't supposed to win— that it was a lesson in pain tolerance.
The pain never got easier.
Robert curled up onto the floor, gasping for air. He couldn't breath. The dry air of the basement didn't help. It was suffocating, clogging his throat like smog. He wondered briefly if passing out would at least cut the training short.
"Get up."
His father's voice. That calculated, emotionless tone. Couldn't he help him? Can he not see Robert isn't breathing?
Didn't Mecha Man save people? Did that not apply to his own son?
All these things he tried to plead, to shout and wail to anyone who would listen. And yet all the came out were gasping breaths and hot wet tears.
Robert could feel a seething heat consume his body. Rage settled somewhere deep in his chest, building a home. Each failed breath, a brick being placed.
"I said get up."
Robbie raised his leg back and swung his foot straight into Roberts face. He made particularly sure not to hit the padding of the training helmet. He needed him to feel it.
Robert rolled across the room from the force. He wondered if his nose was broken as the taste of metal coated his mouth. Robbie knelt down, grabbing Robert by the shirt to forcibly sit him up against the wall.
"Focus on the pain son. Breath. The pain will ground you. Use it." His tone was almost pleading. He had never heard his fathers voice sound so….desperate. It was almost enough to knock Robert out of his self induced panic.
"When you're Mecha Man, pain can only make you stronger."
Maybe this was his father's way of saving him. It should be an honor to learn the secrets that the hero Mecha Man used to stay strong. So what if he'd see his own father comfort and hold scared children during mass casualties?
Robert was the son of Mecha Man.
He had to be better. Less afraid. Stronger, like his dad.
So, Robert closed his eyes and did as his father said. He could feel his swollen nose, the blood in his mouth. He felt the ache in his ribs— a familiar feeling of black and blue bruises that were sure to form. The pain was throbbing. It seared into his bones like a hot iron.
Robert hadn't realized his breathing had slowed until his father spoke.
"Good. Do you see? Pain makes us strong. Say it."
His father's gaze was cold as usual, but Robert could swear his eyes were glossy.
Robert swallowed down the mix of bile and blood pooling in his mouth. Worked his aching jaw.
"P-pain… Makes us strong."
Robbie let out a breath. The cold hard gaze of his father shifted. He looked…. Disappointed? Sad? His father was always difficult to read.
Did Robert do something wrong?
Robbie carefully removed his boxing gloves, throwing them haphazardly behind him. He stretched out his hands.
Robert flinched instinctively, but Robbie pushed forward to cup his face.
"One day, you'll understand why I do this. I know it's hard, but I need you to be ready, okay?"
Robert nodded, even though it made the throbbing in his head worse. As much as he hated the training and aches in his body, he understood. He was destined to become Mecha Man. It was an honor. A privilege. Grandpa had died in the suit and his father loved him so much— He didn't want Robert to die either.
He understood.
But understanding didn't stop the frustration. It didn't stop the childish voice in his head screaming out about how it just wasn't fair. Understanding didn't stop the anguish of realizing he'd never get to experience childhood like the rest of his classmates.
Robbie rubbed tears away as they fell down his sons face. His thumbs tracing soothing circles. It wasn't often his father showed physical affection, so Robert leaned into it. His eyes closed. Training would be so much more bearable if his father held him like this after. But of course, it couldn't last.
Robbie took a deep breath. It was like a switch flipped as he pulled away. The warm loving father he remembers from years ago, replaced with the father who was training him to survive. His face returned to that hard, neutral state. Robert nearly cried again from the whiplash of it all.
Come back. Please.
"Robert."
He looked up at him.
"Mecha Man doesn't cry. Ever."
And with that, Robbie walked away. Probably to work on the Mech in the garage. Maybe to have a beer upstairs.
Robert focused on calming himself. No more crying. He couldn't be a "crying little bitch" like Chase said. Not anymore.
He wiped roughly at his face, bruises screaming in protest. But it helped. His father was right— focus on the pain.
It could have been minutes or hours, but eventually, the tears stopped. The burn in his throat from holding back sobs went away. Robert forced himself to stand, legs wobbly with pins and needles.
He thought back to the warm soothing touch of his father. Rough hands that Robert associated with pain, gentle as he wiped his sons tears.
In that moment, scared and crying, shivering against the basement wall, Robert made a decision. If the rage and terror he felt wanted to make a home in his heart, he would let it. Robert would use it to become stronger. To make his father proud. Brick after brick is placed within his heart. An impenetrable wall.
Maybe if he did good in his training, his father would hold him like that again. Maybe he would finally be proud. The thought filled him with warmth as his legs finally gave out, losing conciseness on the cold basement floor.
Present Day
A part of Robert knew this was a dream, that something was wrong. It was just undercut by the insurmountable terror of being back in what could have been the worst moment of his life.
He was on the roof of the SDN building, smoke burning his eyes from the flames around him. A piercing gun shot rang out. Courtney was there as he remembered, taking the blow. The hero he always knew she was.
But this time, the bullet didn't hit her shoulder.
When Robert approached there was already enough blood underneath her to coat her entire shirt. It pooled around her body, mixing with the grime and rain already collecting on the rooftops surface.
Courtney's body began to flicker in and out as her breathing grew faint. Robert could feel his heart plummet into his stomach.
"Visi! Visi, just stay with me okay? Just-" Robert used both of his hands to put pressure on the wound just below her heart.
Courtney's eyes shot open in pain and fear, mouth working to form words that only resulted in garbled noises as blood filled her mouth. She was trying desperately to move his hand away to relieve the pressure.
"Fuck!" Roberts voice cracked on the word. "Baby I know it hurts I know. J-just hang on okay." He could feel himself begin to hyperventilate, tears coating his face. He felt like the helpless little boy who laid bloody and bruised on the basement floor of his home.
"Somebody fucking help me! V-visi she-"
"Deserves someone better then you. A real hero."
Roberts body froze. That wasn't Shrouds voice. His body had learned to brace for impact when he heard it, and years later it seems things were no different.
"Dad…?"
His father stood over him, half of his face covered in shrouds mask. That disappointed expression that became so common place as a child stared back at him.
"I tried to get you ready for all of this. For the legacy. But it wasn't enough." Robbie Robertson looked up at the sky as if it held all the answers to his sons short comings. Rain trickled down his face as if the universe itself wept in contempt.
Failure.
"I'm so glad I didn't live long enough to see the disappointment you've become."
Roberts breath was near frantic now. His fists clenched so tight his hands bled.
He focused on the pain.
Robbie grinned, nodding to Invisigals now still corpse. "I'm glad she wont live to see it either."
Robert saw red. He couldn't remember how he moved so fast or when he was above his father, landing blow after blow on his face. Every hit took him back to a night of endless lessons and beatings. Every cracked knuckle a reminder of the scars still held from trainings that grew alongside him.
No matter how battered and bloody his face became, his father still held that infuriating, disappointed expression. Robert could only scream in fury. Lightning ripped open in the sky above.
He was so fucking tired of seeing that look.
"This is the family legacy Robert. This is what it means to be Mecha-Man."
With one final roar, Robert raised both fists high above his head, ready to land the final blow. To finally finish this, to end it all—
Robert woke with a scream. Chocked and raw like it fought and climbed its way from his body. Sweat clung to his shirt and pants.
"Robert?" He knew that voice. At least he thought. It sounded like Courtney and his fathers voices merged together. But who was who? Where was he at? Nausea turned his stomach as he began to spiral.
"Robert. I need you to breath." The voice felt clearer now, more present. Courtney's voice. "Can you open your eyes for me?"
He wasn't sure when he'd closed them, but he did as she said. Slowly, the room came into focus. He sat on a king sized bed, blankets thrown off of him. Gripping at his own arms to center himself. Courtney sat in front of him, face crinkled in worry. Her black night shirt hung off her left shoulder. Her hair was flattened on one side from rest. She even sported the hickey Robert gave her yesterday after dinner.
There was no blood coating her body. She wasn't struggling to breath as she barley clinged to life.
She was here. She was safe.
"C-court-" Robert wheezed out through rapid breaths. He could feel his eyes begin to water. Courtney reached out her hands, slowly. Like she was calming a wild animal.
"Can I touch you?"
Robert gave a jerky nod. He didn't trust himself to speak. He felt Courtney's soft hands envelope his, moving it to bring up to her chest.
"Match my breathing Rob."
He could feel her heart beat, steady unlike the jackhammer in his chest. She exaggerated her breathing for him.
"In…..and out."
He followed her instructions like a lifeline, breaths hitching and stuttering until they began to slow. Roberts vision became clear as he blinked away the wetness that had pooled in his eyes.
Courtney stared up at him, brown eyes laced with worry, but also a deep understanding. She knew what it was like to have a past that haunted you. Most times it was her who woke up in the middle of the night, screaming, reliving every sinful thing she had done before joining SDN. Robert would hold her, whispering gentle words into her ear until the sound of her snores filled the room.
Robert, on the other hand, always dismissed his own nightmares. His body would jerk awake, causing Courtney to stir, to ask what was wrong. But Robert would brush it off. It was just a bad dream, Court. I'm okay. Go back to sleep. In a way, it hurt. Courtney was willing to spill her guts out and be vulnerable for the first time in…well ever, and Robert still had so many walls up.
Did he still not trust her?
She knew how hard it was to open up. Deep down, she understood his hesitance as nothing personal, just a survival skill people in their line of work learn quickly.
But deep down her own self doubts grew more and more each time it happened. Now, here Robert was, gasping for air, looking more terrified then Courtney had ever seen him as he clung to her hands like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning.
Courtney made a vow, looking deep into his honey brown eyes, that she'd bring him back to shore.
Flight or fight response controlled, Roberts dream and current situation came rushing back. Seeing the love of his life die in front of him, his fathers face beyond the grave, and his now girlfriend helping him through a nightmare like he was some child.
He was Mecha Man for fucks sake.
He could feel a sob building in his throat, burning and aching as he kept it down. The brick wall that he built as a child cracked at the edges. He needed to get his feeling back under control.
Robert quickly drew his hand back to grasp tightly at his arms, bloody crescents forming.
Pain makes us strong son.
Robert bit down on his lip.
Mecha Man never cries.
"I'm okay Court. Sorry I woke you up. You can go back to sleep." Robert cringed at his own voice, rough and shaken. She didn't need to worry about him. After all, there were no actual threats present. Nightmares were nothing compared to the battles he'd fought while piloting the suit. Yet here he was, shaken and holding back tears from some imaginary scenario his traitorous brain conjured up in his sleep.
What would his father think?
Weak.
Soothing hands rubbed at his shoulders, pulling him away from that voice—attempting to squeeze out the tension there.
"Robert, I need you to look at me." Courtney's words were firm, but not unkind. He did as she asked.
Courtney's eyes were watery. They held a resoluteness that demanded to be obeyed.
"I don't know what happened in your dream, and I don't know what's going on in your head right now, but it's just you and me here okay?"
Despite his current state, Robert was present enough to feel the tremor in Courtney's hands as she grasped him. She bit at her lip, eyes shifting with uncertainty.
Even after a year together, she still worried about saying the wrong thing. And yet here she was, trying, no longer running away when things got too real. Opening up to him in ways he never could have imagined when they first met.
He was so fucking proud of her.
"Do you wanna tell me? About the dream?"
The image of his father, bloodied and beaten flashed in his mind. Courtney's blood soaking his hands.
Robert shook his head vehemently. He could feel his breath start to pick up again.
"Okay, that's okay baby. Just breath. Come back to me," Courtney soothed. Robert could hear the underlying panic she was fighting to keep out of her voice. She continued to rub at his shoulders, hoping to ground him.
In… and out.
Robert could feel heat burn behind his eyes. Maybe from the reminder of his dream. Maybe from frustration that his father still haunts him beyond the grave.
Or perhaps it was shame. Shame in the fact that maybe his father was right. He was too weak, too much of a disappointment to uphold his family legacy. Every Robertson dies in the suit, after all. If Robert was still here, breathing air longer then anyone else who flew the suit, what does that say about him?
Courtney's hands slid down to his own, where a small trickle of blood flowed down his palms, staining the sheets. Another thing he needed to apologize for later.
Despite his throat feeling as if it was made of barbed wire, Robert was able to choke out the words drilled into his head since childhood.
"Mecha Man doesn't cry."
Courtney just scoffed, exasperated and fond and pleading all at once.
"You're not Mecha Man right now. I don't see a suit in here, do you?"
She leaned her forehead against his, eyes falling shut. "Right now, your Robert. And Roberts get to cry."
Courtney could feel the man against her start to shake. What she assumed was the beginnings of a sob, broke into a tired broken string of laughter.
"I'm… Court, I'm afraid if I let myself feel it all, it'll never end." His voice broke on the last words.
Courtney placed a gentle kiss on his lips, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes. "Then I'll be here, and I will hold you for as long as you need me."
He looked into the eyes of the women he loved. Despite everything, she was still here, with him. Even when he woke up a complete mess.
It was like a dam had broken. As if all he needed was the permission. The tears felt like they were making up for lost time as Robert curled in on himself. Courtney just held him close to her chest, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Every fresh sob that tore from his throat seemed to shatter a piece of Courtney's heart.
Robert whispered watery, broken apologies into her chest. Most were unintelligible until she heard him wail, "I-I don't know how to make it stop Court."
He clung to her harder, hands making tight fists into the back of her shirt. "What if it doesn't stop?"
"This will pass Rob, and I'll be right here the whole time. You could cry hard enough to fill a fucking river and I'd still be here, holding you." Her own voice sounded almost as wrecked as his.
Robert made a sound between a wail and a laugh. Courtney just held on. Whispered reassurance. Gave kisses to the top of his head until eventually she laid them down, still clinging to one another.
Small sniffles filled the quiet space of their bedroom. Robert felt a weight he hadn't realized was there disappear from his body. The room no longer felt like it was closing in on him, and his mind no longer screamed at him with his father's words.
Courtney was still here. Rubbing his back in soothing motions.
Robert opened his mouth to speak. The words were too cracked. He cleared his throat, voice muffled against Courtney's chest.
"S-sorry…. I got snot on your shirt."
Robert could feel the rumble of her laugh. Robert was still here, still the man she loved.
"It's okay, I know this was all just an excuse for you to put your face in my tits."
Robert huffed out a breath, unable to stop the small smirk that was forming.
"Thought we were at the point in our relationship where I didn't need an excuse?" Roberts voice was getting stronger the more he talked. Less wobbley and cracked.
"Wow, Rob. And here I thought you were different," She let out an exaggerated sigh. "I guess men really are all the same."
Robert merely hummed in agreement, the whirlwind of emotions he'd experienced calming enough to leave behind a tiredness that pulled at his eyelids. Robert was nearly asleep until he heard the sound of Courtney's voice.
"I'm so proud of you, Robert."
Robert couldn't help the light scoff that left him. "Proud of what? Me sobbing a new stain into your shirt?"
Courtney gently pried Robert away from her chest to look him in his eyes.
"You opened up, Robert. You let me help you, for once. You trusted me."
A single tear slid down her cheek. Robert gently wiped it away.
"Court…."
She kissed him, lips meeting in a comforting embrace. There was no lust or desperation in it. Just a calming warmth as they both exchanged feelings they couldn't put into words.
Even after the kiss broke, they lingered close, breaths mingling together as one until sleep started to overcome them. In that moment, with the warmth of Courtney pressed against him, and the trace of her love on his lips, Robert wondered if this is what strength truly was. Letting someone in through your walls. Allowing them to see all the messy parts of you, and having faith they'll sit there with you in the rubble.
Robert had another dream that night, but not of his father, or his fears. He wore the Mecha Man suit and stood next to a younger version of himself, alone in a brick house. The young boy was sobbing until he saw him, hope flashing across his face. Robert smiled, and took the young boys hand.
They began to take the house apart together.
One brick at a time.