Megamind blasts into the Lair at top speed, already screaming as best he can for the brainbots as he races up to the battle deck with terror in his throat and tears in his eyes.

There is a small chance that Minion is still alive. He wasn't moving when Megamind was hauled away, and Megamind knows he saw blood but not a lot of blood, not yet. Assuming Minion didn't try to move—and Minion does know better than to move while he's hurt—he might not be dead yet. It's been almost four hours, but he might not be dead. Maybe.

The absolute last thing Megamind is expecting when he hits the battle deck is for Minion to be missing.

Panic grips him, a thousand horrible ideas flashing through his mind. Minion couldn't have—the brainbots wouldn't—if Minion died—

No. Metro Man must have taken him somewhere. Must have seen him when he came to take Roxanne home, must have taken Minion to—a veterinarian? Surely not to a hospital. An aquarium? As soon as they realize he's not a fish, they'll—

He whips around, shaking. "Minion," he says to the closest brainbot, his lips and fingers numb with fear. "Where. Where is Minion."

It bowgs and zips away with Megamind close on its figurative heels as it leads him back into the Lair, leading him to—

His bedroom door is open. Megamind does not leave his bedroom door open. Neither does he leave his light on.

He stops dead in the doorway, chest heaving, stars dancing and popping at the edges of his vision.

Minion. Is. In his recovery tank.

What.

The hell.

Megamind doesn't even realize he's stumbling forward until his knees hit the floor next to the little trolley. "Minion," he chokes, reaching with trembling hands to grip the flat panes of glass. "Minion? Are you…?"

Yes? Yes! Okay! He's alive and his color is good! Pale, but good! This is a miracle. This is better than Megamind could ever have hoped for. Maybe he didn't really see blood, then; maybe he only panicked and thought he saw blood? But no, wait, no; there are stitches along Minion's stomach. The brainbots can't do first aid on organics worth a damn, and these are uneven but still decent-looking, so who…?

He leans back on his heels, perplexed and trembling with relief, and starts to turn to address the brainbots, when—

Roxanne. Eyes closed. In his bed. In his bed, sleeping. Roxanne?

With scabbing abrasions all over her face and shoulders and an ugly-looking cut on her upper arm, and livid bruises all in between, and why isn't she in a hospital why is she still here why why why why?

He must make a noise, then, because her forehead creases and she opens her eyes. Megamind doesn't move. Speechless, for once in his life.

Roxanne blinks a couple times, then focuses on him. "Megamind," she says, sounding surprised. And then her face scrunches and her eyes fill with tears. "Megamind," she says again, and he wants to die, because at least before today she didn't start to cry as soon as he showed up. But then she says, "Is Minion…?"

Megamind still doesn't move. He's not sure he can move. She's in his bed, she's asking something about Minion; the brainbots couldn't have helped Minion in the state he was in so it must have been Roxanne, it must have been, but—but why would she—

She slowly shoves herself up onto one elbow, wincing, and looks up and around at Minion in his tank. "Is he okay?" She sounds almost fearful. Her voice is ragged, rusty. That's odd. She hadn't screamed earlier; there wasn't time.

Megamind finds his own voice, but it's raspy. "…He's asleep." He swallows painfully against his bruised throat. "He looks. Okay to me." How is he supposed to play this? What even is this? "Did…you…were you the one who…?"

"I had to," she whispers, and sits up the rest of the way. "I had to. There was glass in him, and the brainbots were too sharp, they…oh, god." There are tears in her voice now. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Megamind. I didn't know what else to do." She shrugs helplessly, her shoulders slumped and rounded, and rubs her eyes with the heel of one hand, sniffs hard. Gulps.

He shouldn't be talking, not with his throat like this, but that's seriously the least of his worries right now. "Why didn't you go to the hospital?" he says, scanning her, flicking his gaze from her hands to her neck to her face. "Why…why didn't…the, the blast threw you nearly thirty feet. Why…"

"Minion was hurt," she says.

"He—yes, obviously, but…didn't Metro Man take you to see a doctor?" Minion isn't the only one who was hurt, that much is clear. "Why aren't you in the hospital?"

Roxanne blinks. "Because he was hurt," she says again, honestly confused. Megamind doesn't typically repeat himself. "I had to do something. He could have died." Megamind is still staring at her, and it makes her stomach twist. Did she…did she misread the situation? Has she done something wrong? "He could have—and I was fine. Mostly. If, if I left him there and something happened to him, I'd…I couldn't." She shivers, then blinks again when Megamind visibly recoils.

"But you…did he ask for help?" he says, looking baffled.

"I don't think he was conscious."

He jerks his head back, shakes it a little, brows arched high over his wide, confused eyes.

Roxanne stares back at him. "He…Megamind, he had a piece of glass sticking out of him! What else was I supposed to do?" She swallows hard when all he does is stare back. "Look, I…I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be here, I know I should have left after, but…if he woke up alone and all he had was the brainbots, I…that tank doesn't have a microphone in it! It doesn't have speakers! How is he going to talk to them?" Megamind's mouth falls open, his bewildered expression cracking into something like amazed shock. Roxanne swallows. "The fin-semaphore thing he does, if it pulls at his stitches—so I couldn't just leave him here, I couldn't leave him—oh, oh no—don't—" Two huge, fat tears have just welled up in Megamind's eyes and dumped down his grubby, scrunching-up face. Roxanne sits the rest of the way up and reaches for him before she even knows what she's doing. "Are you okay?" she asks, suddenly worried, running a shaking hand up over the side of his enormous head. "Hey—hey, you didn't—what about you, god, did you hit your head? You're okay, right? What happened to your neck?"

She lifts her other hand toward him too, but he jumps, almost twitches away. Roxanne jerks back, scared she's hurt him somehow. "Sorry," she blurts. "Okay, sorry, I won't—just, are you okay?"

(She knows how everyone generally reacts when she voices anything like concern for Megamind—he's a supervillain, Roxanne—and yes, he is a supervillain, but he's always been respectful of her space if not her time, and he always seems to genuinely enjoy responding in kind to her endless snark. And now he's on his knees and gaping up at her with tears in his eyes and exhaustion written in every line of his dirty, sooty face, and he's just a person, really, after all. Supervillain or not, he's just a person. And Roxanne has sort of known him for…years, now.)

"Megamind," Roxanne says again, "are you okay?"

Megamind pops to his feet, then staggers so badly he has to catch himself on the bedpost. But all he says is, "Let me do something about your arm."

Roxanne blinks up at him, confused all over again. "My what?" She looks down. "Oh! Oh, wow, I didn't even…oh, I probably bled all over your sheets, I'm so—"

He's already gone into the bathroom. Wait, so…is he angry? He seems really upset, but…

She gulps, then swings her legs down and stands up. The room is a lot less spinny than it was earlier; that's good.

She limps carefully to the bathroom. Her knee is stiff and painful, but she's not about to wait around worrying. "Hey," she says quietly, leaning against the doorframe. Megamind looks at her like he's spooked for a moment, but then he frowns and his bright green eyes flick down and then back up.

"Something happened to your knee," he rasps.

"Yeah, I think I twisted it. It's fine."

He lets out a short, angry laugh. "Fine," he echoes bitterly, his voice scratchy and quiet. "Ha. I believe that. You're concussed, you're limping, you're bleeding, but yes, of course: you're fine."

"What about you?" Roxanne asks, too tired to bite back the way she usually would. "You'll have a black eye tomorrow, I bet. And I don't even know what that's about," she adds, nodding at the horrible, bruising wound straight across the front of his throat as she approaches, "but I know it can't have been comfortable." It's uneven, with two deeper areas that look almost like puncture wounds in the middle. The skin around these is a mess of bruising pink and raw-meat red and dark purple.

Megamind snorts. "Nothing new," he replies, voice rough. "That's just what happens when the harness on my shoulder array doesn't catch and I get dragged off to jail by my collar."

...Okay! Well! That's several different kinds of awful. Roxanne blinks at him, trying to clear her head. "Can I help?"

Megamind squints at her like he missed the question, but he must have heard her; he's standing right there. He doesn't reply, though; all he does is turn and pick up the bandages and peroxide. "Give me your arm."

She starts to hold it out, then pauses. "Wash your hands?" she asks, and he blinks, then flushes and nods. He turns away again, steps to the sink.

Roxanne's fuzzy head sort of turns over a few thoughts, for a moment, about-about washing, and-wounds, and feeling better, and-what was Megamind doing? Oh, Roxanne was going to help with something, right, that's right.

She limps over to the rack in the corner that offers a small stack of clean, folded towels, and she pulls a washcloth off the top of the stack. She arrives back at the sink in time to stop Megamind from turning the water off, then hauls herself up to sit on the low counter—her knee isn't happy about that, but whatever, it's fine—and wordlessly soaks the cloth under the hot stream. Squeezes it out until it isn't dripping anymore.

"Here, let me," she says, and reaches toward his face—pauses when he rears back. "Please? You're a mess."

Megamind eyes her for a long, long moment before dropping his gaze, and then he steps forward and squeezes his eyes closed. He's still flinching when she lifts the washcloth to his forehead and her free hand to hold him under his chin.

Right. This feels right. The right thing to do, here. Her arm tugs as she moves it, and she remembers-oh, Megamind was going to put a bandage on it. But. That can wait, she can do this first.

Roxanne slowly cleans his face, removing soot and dirt and too many tear-tracks, rinsing the washcloth a couple times when it gets grubby. Not because she needs to, but because it makes her feel better, less like crying, when she wipes eyeliner or soot carefully out of the corner of Megamind's swelling eye and he parts his lips around a shuddering breath. Eventually he does open his eyes, and he's still just sort of staring at her—but he just looks tired, now, instead of upset. He looks about as dazed as Roxanne feels, honestly.

"Head back," she murmurs when she finishes with his face and what she can reach of his cranium; "chin up—" She takes extra care with his neck, because it really is badly bruised and Megamind's fists are clenched at his sides; she's extra-extra-careful around the recent wound, but he still almost jerks away when she gets close.

What she can see of his shoulders is scraped, but mostly clean; she touches the tab of the zipper on the front of his orange jumpsuit but he snaps a hand up to grip her wrist. A glance up shows her a dark kind of hesitation in his face—she suspects if she insisted, he would probably let her, but—

It isn't necessary, really, and she's not willing to push him on that. "Okay," she whispers, and drops the zipper, and then—feeling rather shaky all of a sudden, because it's finally hit her that Megamind just stood still for her and allowed her to wash his face—she leans forward, rests her forehead against the top of his sternum, and closes her eyes. "Okay. Sorry, I just…thanks. Thank you." Her sigh is shaky. "I know this is—so, so bizarre. For you. But…I…it's been a long day."

Megamind stands still as stone for a few seconds, and then he slowly relaxes his hold on her wrist. Even more slowly, moves his hand to rest lightly on the back of her head where she's pressed it to his chest. His other hand is still white-knuckled at his side.

When nothing happens and Roxanne doesn't move, he says—in a tone she's never heard from him before; he sounds almost small, almost scared—oh, but maybe that's just because his voice is so croaky and hoarse— "May I see your arm, now, please?"

She nods against his chest and sniffs, then sits back and turns to hold it out, and she watches silently as Megamind cleans and closes her cut with long, trembling fingers. She has no idea how she got cut all the way up there, no idea how she missed it earlier. It's quite long. But then, she was extremely out of it, earlier.

"Megamind," she says as he's putting the band-aids away, "I wanted to help him because—because he's my friend."

Megamind looks stunned for a moment, but then he nods and offers her something like a smile. "Oh," he agrees, "yes, Minion is…Minion is great."

"So are you."

The little smile vanishes. "I'm really not," he begins, but Roxanne isn't finished.

"So are you," she says, relentless and wanting to cry, "and god, Megamind, I know, I know I don't know you very well but at this point I do sort of feel like we're friends and if…if anything happened to you or Minion and I could help but I didn't…" She trails off, biting her lip and struggling. Megamind stands and says nothing, just stares at her with his mouth pinched shut and his eyebrows all twisty, until finally Roxanne blurts, "Look, I'm sorry. I know I probably shouldn't have done anything like that while I was so out of it—of course I take full responsibility if anything's wrong but I just—"

"Do you think I'm upset with you?"

She glances up. Megamind has his arms across his chest, but they aren't folded; he's holding onto his elbows like they're keeping him upright. Like she held herself upright, earlier, she realizes. And yes, he's sort of staring at her with big big eyes, and yes, his eyebrows are doing a thing—but he's not glaring, not scowling.

"…Aren't you?" Roxanne swallows. "I'm…having some trouble reading you, but…I thought…"

Megamind shakes his head hard, and this time it's clearly negation, not confusion. "No," he croaks, "no. No, I'm—far from upset! I'm—" He swallows, too, but it's more of a hiccup and it looks like it hurts, and his scratchy voice goes low and now she can hear the residual fear behind it. "Miss Ritchi, I expected to find him dead when I got in tonight." He's still shaking his head as he grimaces. "I…it didn't take long to break out of prison, but getting back to the Lair was an ordeal and a half. Four hours?" He hasn't taken his eyes off her. "No. There was a chance, but not a good one. I thought this was it. I thought, I thought—I'd—lost him." His voice wobbles. "You almost certainly saved his life."

She blinks. Oh—oh, she was crying? There were tears in her eyes and now there aren't. "So," she quavers, and hates herself a little bit for quavering anything, "so, I did okay?"

One of the really wonderful things about Megamind is how, when he nods, there's never any question about it. "Yes," he says immediately, "yes, absolutely. You did great. And—oh, and thank you, I don't think I've said, yet. Thank you. So much. I am—so, so deeply grateful."

Roxanne bites her lip. Okay. Okay, good. Good, that's a relief. Way more of a relief than she was expecting, to know she made the right decision; it leaves her feeling shaky and oddly empty. "Could I have a hug," she says, reaching a hand towards him. "Can—sorry, would you—"

His eyes get big for a second, but he nods again and takes a halting step towards her, and Roxanne finally wraps her arms around him and pulls him close, puts her ear against his thin chest. After a moment, Megamind's arms settle around her shoulders. "Thanks," she manages. "Thank you. Sorry."

"Don't," he says, after a surprised couple of seconds. "Don't apologize. I can't think of why you would be sorry and I'd rather you weren't. In general. Please."

She chuckles weakly. "Okay," she agrees, and tightens her fingers in the back of his orange jumpsuit. "Okay. Thank you."

"—You're welcome," he whispers after another stunned little pause. And he's—here, and so solid, and Roxanne is so absurdly grateful to him for coming home when he did even though she knows he came back for Minion and not for her. That doesn't matter. The world is a hazy fog, messed-up and upside-down, but Megamind is solid.

Eventually, he clears his throat. "I'm wondering how to get you home," he murmurs, "but I find…I'm having some difficulty thinking clearly. Any ideas?"

She shivers a sigh. "I'd like to stay," she says. "If it's all right."

Megamind hesitates, but he doesn't say 'no,' the way she was expecting him to—instead, he asks, "Why?" in the same oddly small voice as before.

"I don't know," she sighs. "I've been worried sick. And. I'm too tired and sore to go anywhere right now." She swallows and closes her eyes. "I won't do anything, I won't leave the room, I won't touch anything, I just…I just want to go back to sleep. I don't want to go anywhere; I just want to sleep. Please."

After another long pause, Megamind nods. "Okay," he says. "Okay. But, um. I don't have another bed, and…and I don't…if you're sure about…"

"I don't care about sharing if you don't," Roxanne mumbles. "I just want to sleep."

He gulps again; she feels his throat working near the top of her head. Then he steps back. "Okay," he says again, very quietly, and holds out his hands to help her down from the counter. "Wait," he says, then, "wait, your knee," and he goes and pulls an extra-large Ace bandage out of a drawer.

"Oh," says Roxanne, when he drops back into a crouch and puts his cold hands on her leg. "Thanks." He's done this before. She can tell. Not on anyone else, probably, but he clearly knows what he's doing.

That's a shame, she thinks, and reaches out without really thinking about it, stroking a gentle hand over the top of his enormous head.

Megamind startles back and looks up at her with big eyes. Roxanne isn't sure what the expression he's wearing means, but she keeps her hand out, blinking down at him. She raises her eyebrows, wondering if he's going to say something, but all he does is stare up at her for a long moment and then—slowly—drop his gaze and move his head forward into her palm again.

And it must be okay, because he isn't crouching anymore; he has to go to his knees on the bathroom floor in order for Roxanne to reach him properly. He didn't have to do that. So, he must want her there.

He finishes wrapping her knee and pauses, there on the floor with Roxanne's hand on his head, and—

—and oh goddammit this is like the face-washing thing from earlier, what is she doing. Well, it's too late now; she's already gone and done it.

She lifts her hands away. Megamind looks up at her again, then sort of winces and pushes himself up to his feet, and Roxanne reaches to catch his elbows, steady him. He still doesn't actually say anything, though; he just…looks at her, hard and careful, for a moment.

Then he sighs, and offers her his arm.

"So, are you okay?" Roxanne says, leaning on him as he escorts her back to bed. "I don't remember where you were before the blast, but if it threw me as far as you said it did…"

He very generously allows her to stay on the Minion side of the bed. Very gently helps her get her legs back up under the covers.

"Close your eyes," he says, low, as he shoos Needles and Flash up against the headboard, where they nestle into the pile of pillows. "Go to sleep."

"Megamind," she says, but he shushes her again and turns out the light. She hears him rustling around for a minute or so, and then he disappears into the bathroom. The shower kicks on a few seconds later.

It's dark. It's dark, and Megamind's bed is warm and soft and smells like a safe place, and she has Mars, and Minion's bubbler makes nice soft sounds. But Roxanne doesn't sleep. She's so tired, but she's so worried. Minion will be okay and Megamind isn't even limping, but she's still so, so worried. That wound on his neck looks seriously nasty. What if it gets infected? What if—

When the mattress moves under his weight, she snaps back to being wide awake. "Megamind," she says again. "Megamind are you okay."

He sighs. Bounces a little, wiggles a little, tugs at the blankets. Eventually, he says, "I'm…resilient."

"Resilient doesn't mean uninjured," Roxanne says. "Those cuts on your throat, they're from the top of your insignia?"

The covers pull and shift around. "You're sure you're okay with this," he says, sounding doubtful.

"How is your windpipe not completely crushed?" she whispers. She's on her back and can't easily roll over, and it's not like they have the kind of relationship that includes holding one another. Still, she pats around under the covers until she finds the supervillain's skinny arm, his spindly hand. His fingers. After a moment, he slowly wraps those spindle-fingers around hers, and she squeezes.

"It's…bruised," he finally admits. His voice is still rough and scratchy, even moreso than it was earlier. "And you were right about my eye. I'm not unhurt. But it's nothing that won't heal. I'm just—" He breaks off.

"What?"

There's a pause, and then his fingers tighten a little. "I'm just glad you're okay," he says. Quietly, and very quickly. "You could have been killed. I never dreamed he would cut into the core of that thing, I should have—I should have been more careful. Should have planned for that." He lets out a low scoffing noise. "Six contingency plans and not one of them took that into account. Stupid."

"You're not stupid," she begins, but he growls and rolls onto his side to glare at her. She might not be able to see very well in the low light, but she knows he's glaring.

"You could have been killed," he says again, "and it would have been my fault."

"Oh, come on. It would have been Metro Man's fault," she says flatly. "You don't get to put this on yourself. He knows not to cut through your things like that; he was careless with his laser vision again. Again."

"And I failed to adequately anticipate his carelessness," he argues, "despite, as you've noted, his numerous demonstrations."

She sighs. This is entirely too much to deal with at this hour. "You can't prepare for everything." She shifts a little, winces when it jars her knee.

"Can too," he mumbles, ornery as always.

"No," she sighs, and squeezes his hand again. "No. All you can do is your best."

He's scowling, now; she can tell by his tone. "My best isn't good enough."

"Your best is amazing. You're always ama-ay-azing." She yawns hugely, and completely misses Megamind's startled silence. "'S not your fault Metro Man is a useless meathead."

After a while, Megamind mutters, "Can't believe he didn't take you to a hospital."

She stirs. "He wanted to. I wouldn't let him."

"Still, he—I am sorry, but he should have done it anyway," Megamind tells her. "You're seriously hurt. Did you throw up, at all?"

"After my shower."

"And how do lights look, to you?"

"Better now than they did earlier," she replies. "Why?"

"Because you are heavily concussed," Megamind says, "and possibly also in shock, and I would feel a lot more comfortable knowing you were being looked after by a medical professional instead of just me."

"Hm," says Roxanne. "I wouldn't. But don't blame Metro Man too much for that one," she adds, before Megamind can spend too much time being stunned by the revelation that she feels comfortable with him taking care of her while she's injured. "He was very insistent. I threatened him."

Megamind snorts. "With what?"

Roxanne hesitates. "Oh, you know," she says vaguely. "Stuff. Grievous bodily harm."

He laughs, sounding startled. "Okay," he says, and pulls his hand away—so he can arrange his pillows more favorably, it sounds like. "Fair enough. If you say so. Thank you," he adds. "Again. Thank you. You don't know what you…you have no idea how much I…"

Roxanne hears him swallow, a painful-sounding gulp in the quiet room.

"...Minion is all I have," he whispers, finally. "If I lost him, I…I don't know what I would do."

She sweeps her hand around until she finds him again, his arm this time, and she squeezes.