The Man in the Iron Mask
by Demonaspet
published 6/27/2001; minor revisions 8/11/2010
Long after his resurrection, Murphy remembers what it was to be human.
The mask of iron gave way to a trickle of memory. They came sometimes, bittersweet, when he was not just alone but all had left for the night. His childhood was reduced to a jumble of vague impressions, like a series of faded negatives held to the sun. The Big Tree... he'd fallen from it and broken his arm, gone running to his mother... who'd held him until his tears abated, stroking his unruly hair... her Alex, her little man... running from the house, many years later, willful and arrogant, because he thought he no longer needed her but she didn't yet know it. Their had been an accident, driving home from the ER at four in the morning in silence... she could have told his father, but she hadn't... the last time he'd seen her, she was so proud... straight from graduation to the hospital where she died a few days later... just faint ghosts of memories... all he had left.
But usually the illusions were of her. Today she was distinct, real. All he missed most was restored. He was young again-human-full of vitality and passion, alive with sensation. It was the old days, before OCP...
Her arms wrapped around him, drawing his lips to hers in a hungry kiss, the sensation flowing through his entire being. They fell back to the couch, her body warm and inviting as she twined around him. But he pulled away and looked into her eyes... they were so beautiful and luminous. His expression changed to one of seriousness, almost worry. She cocked her head in return, eyebrows drawing together in question. Her wandering caresses trailed off as the concern deepened on her face, the rosy hue of passion fading from her cheeks.
"Don't... you want...?"
"Yes." He said in a hushed whisper. "But... Ellen... I love you. You know that, right?" She smiled in response, running her fingers through the tangle of his hair. "The last six months have been the best of my life."
Her expression said she didn't quite believe him... he realized what was wrong; all the men that had said such words before the height of passion, false promises of love and fidelity.
Alex slid off the couch. She look at him quizzically, rearranging her blouse which was slightly askew, and sat up. He knelled in front of her and took her delicate hands in his own larger, rougher ones. "Marry me, Ellen."
Neither had been expecting it. He didn't have a ring, or much of a plan, only love.
She's going to say no. He thought dejectedly, heart hammering in his chest. I should have waited. I should have gotten a nice ring. Maybe it's for the better anyway. Doesn't she deserve someone better than a cop? You could never-
"Yes," she whispered, almost reverently, eyes glistening. "Oh Alex, yes!"
She took his face in her hands, pulling his lips to her own, and they kissed...
The uneven sound of an ailing engine sputtering to a halt dissipated into the gentle rapping of lazy rain. For a long time the matte black cars only occupant didn't move, only stared unseeing at the sheet of water cascading down the windshield. Even trapped in this metal sarcophagus, he was somewhere far away...
An impossibly powerful grip dug into his arm. Alex winched but only uttered more encouragement. Ellen shrieked in pain and shuddered convulsively.
"You're almost there, Mrs. Murphy!" The doctor said enthusiastically.
She let out her pent up breath in an explosive sigh, her grip relaxing as her body slumped into the damp hospital bed. Blood trickled down his forearm where her nails had dug in.
Almost regretfully, he turned and exited into the light mist, gently shutting the door behind him, the sound of its closing so gentle it was lost all together. Murphy's armor glistened even in the gloom, water beading and rolling off. It didn't sparkle like when it was new all those years ago, just like the patrol car didn't run as well, but both still performed their function, if with less fanfare.
"It's a boy!" The doctor announced triumphantly.
Tears of joy ran down her cheeks as she cradled the squirming, breathing bundle that was their newborn son. A tiny hand reached out to her, stubby fingers barely articulate. Alex brushed a few damp clumps of hair from his wife's forehead and kissed her. He too was crying slightly. They rested their heads together and studied their new born in silent revelry.
Few had show up for the funeral, perhaps driven to shelter by the rain which served as an convenient excuse. He stared at the fresh dirt of the grave, almost afraid to approach. Motors whirred as he shifted his gaze from the muddy soil to the headstone, as new as the freshly turned dirt, not really seeing it at all.
The water shimmered in the golden hues of a dying sun, the gentle waves of the ocean stretching out beyond eternity. She rocked with him gently, stroking his forearms which were crossed over her slender middle, holding her close in his strong, protective embrace. Jimmy was safe in their new home an equal eternity behind them, tucked away for the weekend along with all the burdens of adult life, some a joy to shoulder.
One memory faded into another as the scene grew dim in his mind. They'd just found the perfect home but money was tight and they'd had to scrape to make the down payment. Although the benefits were great, the pay for police wasn't. He'd been throwing around the idea of transferring to a more dangerous precinct for the pay increase, but Ellen had force him to discard the idea.
"Man, you're so whipped!" His partner Cable had teased, to which his reply was a sock on the arm. But it was true and it didn't bother him. He would do anything for her.
"Alex, it's perfect!" Ellen marveled as they walked through the empty house. It was different from when they'd toured it with the agent; now it was theirs. They exchanged a knowing smile as they went through the master bedroom they'd used earlier unknown to the agent. Lovemaking would probably be more fun when they had furniture to do it on, though...
"Hello, Ellen." He said softly to the headstone bearing her name. The technician responsible for his maintenance would have thought it was the distortion of aging circuits that caused the strain in his voice. That a human being controlled those circuits wouldn't have crossed the uncaring OCPeon's mind.
"I'm... sorry... that I couldn't be there for you... for our son." He'd wanted to bring flowers but had no money. OCP didn't pay him for his years of service, nor did he have anyone to ask-Lewis had been so badly missed for so many years. The grave looked so bare, he thought sadly.
"I wish that you... that we..." His thoughts were cut off by the rumble of an engine. He turned slowly and looked at the white sports car now idling quietly behind his own. The driver got out slowly, scanning the graveyard. He was dressed in a black suit, his short brown hair perfectly arranged. On the seat next to him was an arrangement of flowers.
Suddenly he slammed his fists on the roof of the car. "Damn it!" He wailed in a wavering voice. "I missed it! I missed the funeral!"
"It is only a ceremony. It doesn't change what she meant to you." He glanced at the grave again. "Nothing can."
The young man turned slowly and peered at him, studying the cyborg whose mourning he'd unknowingly interrupted. "Yeah," he sighed, "I guess you're right."
"I know it's important for you to be alone. I will leave you in peace."
The man in the smart suit retrieved the flowers from his car and walked to the grave.
"Wait, I remember you from Media Break-back when you were new... Robocop, right? But I don't understand... why did you come? Did you know her?"
"I..." He looked at the grave and in doing so saw his own beside it, worn in comparison to the shiny rose marble headstone. He sighed inaudibly, shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch. "No... I did not know her. I'm just showing the departments respects."
"I see." The man said in a slightly defeated tone. "Well, send my thanks officer."
"And you are?"
Instinctively, the younger held out a hand. "Murphy. James Murphy."
Alex staggered back a half step, his mouth falling open slightly in disbelief. "James." He echoed in a hushed whisper. James...
"God damn it, James! Why don't you pay attention to what you're doing? Don't you learn anything!"
Jimmy looked up at his father with large, tearful eyes. "I'm sorry!" He pleaded in a quivering voice.
"Honey, he didn't mean to do it." Ellen soothed.
"It's my first day at the new precinct and now I'm going to be late because he spilled a whole damn mug of coffee on me! That's just the first impression I wanted to make!"
"I'm sorry, daddy!"
"It's alright, James." Ellen... his Ellen... kneeling beside her son and glaring at him. "He's just upset. He doesn't mean it."
"The hell I don't!"
"Go catch the bus, alright dear? I'll see you..." Out the door... the green backpack with the laser gun patch on the side...
Ellen angrily stormed in on her husband in the midst of changing out of his dampened uniform. She opened her mouth to let lose an angry tirade but was cut off.
"Jesus, Ellen, thanks for making me out to be the bad guy! What the hell was all that about anyway?"
She looked at him, incredulous and angry. "I could ask you the same! How dare you-"
"How dare you question my authority in front of our son!" Alex shouted back explosively. "Have a little spine! He's never going to grow up if-"
"Grow up? He's seven, Alex!" Her eyes glistened. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? You're what's wrong, Ellen!" Before he could shout a list of grievances she spun and ran out. Tie dangling between his unbuttoned shirt, he ran into the hall after her. "Just run off, Ellen, go ahead! Take your holier-than-art-thou attitude and shove it!"
He felt vaguely triumphant as watched her flee downstairs and out of the house, but the feeling was quickly displaced by guilt. He'd taken out his ire about work and OCP on his family, the two people that loved him most. Before he'd felt somehow justified in his outburst. Hearing the door slam as his sobbing wife fled the house-fled him-made him-made him realize how badly he'd acted.
"You can be a real asshole, you know that?" He'd asked his reflection. Outside he heard the ruble of the Ford as she drove away, off to work. The clock told him he might just make it on time if he hurried, but rather than rush out he began writing a note.
Ellen, he wrote, then changed it to Dearest Ellen:
I'm sorry about what happened. I acted like a total dick. With the transfer, the whole OCP thing, and everything else that's been going on, I've been under a lot of stress lately. I blew up at you guys for no reason and I'm really really sorry.
Love, you've made me the happiest man on earth, and that's more than just a cliché. I've always known you deserve better-more than just a cop.
I'll understand if I have to sleep on the couch tonight (even if it does aggravate my back-not that I want you to feel guilty or anything). I promise I'll make this up somehow.
Forever yours with love,
Alex
He'd drawn a lopsided heart, folded the note and taped it to the cupboard. The image of his young son and wife in tears smoldered in the back of his mind all during the drive to work, guilt eating away at him. It was going to be difficult to face them when he returned. He ran through his mind what he would say to Jimmy, who would have a more difficult time than his mother understanding.
If he had made it home that night he would have crouched to his son's height, placing a hand on his shoulder and said sincerely; "James, I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Alex registered the adult voice with a surprised start. "Sorry for what?"
The visage of Jimmy was replaced suddenly by the face of his adult son. The memory of his parting words was so strong-and so sudden-that it had been reality. For a long moment, Alex stared at his grown son, unsure what to say. For years he'd regretted that his last words to had been so harsh, but now he finally had a chance to make amends.
But as he opened his mouth to do so, words failed him. Wasn't it better this way? Why dredge up all the pain associated with his own death so many years ago? James had closure-his father was dead. Learning the truth would be painful, and for what good? Would it make either happy? Could he-trapped inside all this machinery and armor-be anything like a father to his son? Would James understand that he'd thought it would be easier this way?
James didn't know what to make of the tearful tone in the cyborg's voice as he continued. "I'm... sorry for your loss."
"Oh... well, thank-" He trailed off as Robocop turned away abruptly. The wheels of the car belched dirty and gravel as Murphy speed away from the grave... away from the life that had been stolen from him... and the death that had only been the beginning of his suffering.
The End
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated =) ~Demonaspet