Roxanne is sitting up in bed and drinking a glass of juice, feeling more like herself, the next time she sees him, lucid enough to know that he's real.
(she has only only vague memories of everything after she passed out wearing the collar, the distant sense of—Megamind having been there, but not really having been there, and of holding something made of blue light in her hand.)
"Well, well, well," Roxanne says, looking him up and down and arching an eyebrow. He's wearing street clothes; that's interesting—nice ones, too, black jeans and a charcoal-colored button up shirt. Did he stop here on his way to a date? "Aren't you all dressed up and looking pretty. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Metro City's resident superhero, Megamind?"
There's a tiny beat of silence before he responds, so small that Roxanne thinks maybe she imagined it. Then he smiles at her, raises his eyebrows.
"Just checking in on Metrocity's resident supervillain, Temptress," he says.
"Metrocity," Roxanne repeats thoughtfully. She leans back against her pillows. "I like that. I think I'll rename it that when I'm evil queen."
Megamind's expression does something complicated, like he's flattered but thinks he shouldn't be.
"Yes, well," he says dryly, "I don't believe you're going to be ruling anything from that hospital bed."
Roxanne narrows her eyes at him.
"I could," she says, a little sharply. "You couldn't stop me. No one can stop me."
"—please don't break out of here before your stitches heal," he says, and then grimaces as if he didn't mean to actually say that.
Roxanne's stomach does an unpleasant dropping thing. Is he—? Are her powers finally working on him? He sounds as if he's actually worried about her.
"Why, Megamind," she says, making her lips curve into a smile, and letting out a tentative curl of her pheromones, "I didn't know you cared."
"Stop that," he says, scrunching his face up in an expression that is very much not the blind adoration of someone feeling the effects of her powers.
"—it really doesn't work on you," Roxanne says, letting the power dissipate. "Does it? Of all the people! It had to be you."
"Maybe it's destiny," he says.
Roxanne's breath catches.
Megamind gives her a sharp, sudden smile, tilts his head.
"You're the only reason they promoted me to full Defender, you know," he says. "Before you, I was very much second string."
Roxanne scowls at him.
"You are such a—a—an unnecessary complication," she says crossly.
Megamind laughs.
"Oh, but wouldn't absolute power be terribly boring?" he asks, smiling in an unexpectedly disarming way.
Roxanne fixes him with a glare, then lets her expression go smooth and imperious. She takes as regal a sip as one can from a paper cup of juice.
"I'll tell you after I've tried it, sweetheart," she says dryly.
Megamind flushes and Roxanne blinks in surprise. Really? Overt flirtation and pheromone powers don't do it, but sweetheart does? She hadn't even bothered to sound seductive when she'd said it.
"—really, though," Megamind says, blush fading, "wait until the stitches are healed, Roxanne? Please? Minion says if you promise not to whammy him, he'll come by with cookies tomorrow," he adds enticingly.
Roxanne snorts, rolls her eyes, and waves a hand at him dismissively. At that moment, the prison doctor opens his office door and calls to Megamind, who goes into his office and shuts the door.
It's not until after Megamind has left the infirmary entirely that Roxanne realizes that he used her first name.
Like he had—when she'd—hallucinated him being there—
Had he really—?
Oh, but surely none of that had been real—
Roxanne frowns, hand going to her throat. No collar.
"—ever put it on her again, I will break her out of here myself—" she thinks she remembers Megamind's voice saying, which—
No. That couldn't be real. It can't be real.
—especially since she'd asked him about the blueprints of the de-gun and essentially told him the location of her secret hideout above the library apartment; fuck—
He would have said something; surely he would have said something if it had actually—
Roxanne clutches the rails of her hospital bed and tries to remember how to breathe.
She breaks out of the infirmary in a panic five minutes later.
She's expecting—she doesn't know what she's expecting, when she gets back home. A trap—all her things gone—Megamind there to arrest her—
But it's—nothing's been moved. Nothing's been changed. Her bed, her clothes, her plants; everything is where she left it. She drags herself around the room three times, checking minutely, just to be sure.
By the third time, she's too dizzy really to see straight, darkness at the edge of her vision, curling black clouds that billow like ink in water.
Roxanne barely makes it to her bed before losing consciousness.
When she wakes up, she has a raging fever, the wound in her side feels hot and itchy, and she is completely and utterly certain that she needs to water her plants.
—water—the—they need her; they'll die without her; they're—she has to get to them—
She crawls out of bed to the pitcher of water she keeps in the corner.
(she's desperately thirsty, but—the plants—can't—they need the water—)
She's never quite certain, afterwards, how long it takes her to drag herself, and the pitcher of water, across the room to the window. Roxanne remembers bits and pieces of the journey, but only bits and pieces. Finally she's there, lying on her good side, wound throbbing, looking at her plants.
Her hands fumble, weak and clumsy, with the pitcher; she doesn't quite have the strength to lift it.
The pitcher falls, spilling water onto the floor, soaking Roxanne's clothes, her hair, the side of her face, and she feels a sudden pulse of dismay and self-hatred and—
The darkness comes rolling in again.
"—plants—" Roxanne says.
She's no longer on the floor. Her legs are curled up a bit, her cheek leaning against something slightly more yielding than the floor, and her body bouncing in a way that's—
"Hush, Miss Ritchi; we're going to the hospital."
The meaning of the words filters into her brain—the—no—
She struggles weakly, trying to free herself.
"No—no—I have—I have to water—I have to water my plants—"
A noise of frustration above her.
"—plants—die without me—" she says, still twisting.
"I'll water your plants for you while you're in the hospital, Roxanne," Megamind says, voice gentle. "The plants will be fine."
He'll—
Roxanne relaxes into his arms.
Megamind.
Megamind will water the plants.
She gives a sigh of relief and closes her eyes.
When she's finally recovered enough to break out of the hospital and get back to her attic, Roxanne finds her plants green and well-watered and healthy.
There's a handmade sun lamp beside them, shining down on them.
Nothing else in the attic has been touched.
...to be continued.
Day 20 of my Birthday Fic Month-I hope you are all still enjoying it! Thank you so much for continuing to read and review.