Part Four

Roxanne was definitely torn between worry and anger. The worried part she understood. After both she and Minion had tried for more than a day to waken him, Megamind remained soundly asleep — or in some state they couldn't identify that resembled it — and that was enough to scare any wife or friend out of their wits.

The anger was less easily defined. A part of it was anger at Megamind for trying this in the first place, a feeling that was immediately chastened with the knowledge that he was, after all, a hero, and had been attempting something not only heroic, but shockingly selfless. Some of the anger was at herself, for not insisting he research what he'd planned to do more thoroughly, not just the subjects that were needed to heal Mrs. Thurmer, but the entire matter of what could happen to a person who did what he'd just done, crammed so much intense instruction into his brain in such an impossibly brief time. And some of it was a completely unfocused anger, the kind of anger one feels when it is the only alternative they have to breaking down into a weeping puddle of hysteria. Not being hysterical by nature, that part of Roxanne chose to feel a kind of anger, but beneath that thin veneer, she knew it for what it truly was.

Minion was no less worried and Roxanne knew it, but he at least had been able to channel his feelings into something more constructive, literally. When twelve hours had passed and Megamind still showed no sign of stirring, the reporter had talked to the warden and gotten an extra day's time — they were, after all, so close to an answer, an extra day or so of waiting couldn't hurt and his children had agreed. But that had taken only a matter of minutes, after which she was left in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar state of helplessness. While she kept watch over her husband, Minion had gone to find the prototype of the neural activity scanner his boss had designed for the prison and connected it to the systems monitoring his condition, to give them a clearer idea of what might have happened and what was currently going on inside the unconscious hero's big head.

What it had told them had been somewhat reassuring, at least at first. The augmented system showed no signs of ordinary brain damage, but Megamind's brain was functioning at such a massively accelerated rate, the visual representation of it on the computer screen was glowing in one solid, brilliant mass of white light. In that state of activity, there was no reason that he shouldn't have been awake and bouncing off the walls, floor, and ceiling, but he remained utterly unwakeable. That concerned his wife and his best friend, as it occurred to both of them that perhaps this incredibly overdriven state would ultimately be like an engine pushed to operate beyond the limits of safety and kept there until it burned out and died.

Minion tried to offer what comfort he could, to both of them. "We aren't seeing any signs that this is adversely affecting him, no hint that it's causing other parts of his body to malfunction or become overstressed," the ichthyoid pointed out while he traded the spent hydration bag for a fresh one, now about thirty-six hours after Megamind should have wakened. "If his brain was deteriorating from all this, that's what we'd start seeing, but we're not. He's not dying, that's for sure, and I can't even see a hint of any other problem. He's just... not waking up."

As she listened to the fish's explanations — which she was willing to accept since Minion probably knew more about his ersatz brother's physiology and how he healed than anyone on the planet — Roxanne glanced at the inactive Teacher and frowned. That device was the root of this entire problem — and yet... "Is there any way one of us could use the Teacher to find out what did go wrong?" she wondered aloud. "Because this isn't right, Minion, he's never had any problems waking up after an instruction cycle was finished."

"And he never tinkered with it before using it before," Minion pointed out with a heavy sigh. "He told me everything he did, and he tried to make sure I understood all of it, but maybe I just didn't, because it seemed to me that nothing like this should have happened. I don't think it even should've been possible. But he hasn't transferred much of the information about the Teacher and how it works onto any of our computers. You and I have both been more interested in the cultural and historical stuff, so that's what he's focused on copying. The things that haven't been... well, you know, they're all locked so only Mykaal can access them. We couldn't get any data off of them if we tried."

Frustrated, Roxanne looked for something nearby to kick, but lacking anything she could clobber with impunity, settled for crumpling a paper cup and chucking it into a wastebasket across the room. She missed spectacularly, but didn't give a damn. "I figured as much," she grumbled. "Damn it all, why did any of this have to happen?" she demanded rhetorically. "And why the hell is he still smiling? I swear, his expression hasn't changed at all since he went under!"

Alfred, who was still on hand to help in any way he could, gave an odd little bowg that plainly disagreed. Minion backed him up. "It's changed," the piscine confirmed, "just not extremely, especially not when you're here. Some of the times when I was taking the watch alone, he did stop smiling, but never because he looked in pain or upset, just... more like the expression he gets when he's concentrating on something difficult and important. But whenever you come back, he smiles. He knows you're here, Mrs. Roxanne, and I think the fact that he reacts like this is the most encouraging sign of all."

She stared at the blue face, shocked. "You mean, he doesn't notice you, too?"

"Oh, no," was his easy assurance. "He reacts for me, too. If I'm changing the IV bag, he frowns a little — the nervous kind, you know how uneasy he is about needles, he probably has some reflex fear that I might accidentally pull out the catheter and need to replace it. And he smiles for me, too, but mostly, it's like he falls into the kind of comfortable manner he had back when we were younger and it was just the two of us working in cramped quarters. I don't mind it all, because it tells me beyond any doubt that he's not brain dead. He's just... stuck, somehow. I don't know why, and I don't know how to get him unstuck. But he's still in there."

"And trapped," the reporter said without much liking. She pondered all he'd said for a bit, then gave a small sigh. "Thanks for telling me this, Minion, it is encouraging, even if it doesn't give us a clue as to what to do next, other than wait and hope that he comes out of it on his own."

The ichthyoid nodded. "If he doesn't wake up by tomorrow morning, I'll add a nutrient drip to his IV. But I'm hoping that won't be necessary."

"So do I," Roxanne agreed, rather unhappily. "'Cause if he doesn't wake up by this evening, I have to call Warden Thurmer and explain what's really been going on. I have a sinking feeling that if he hears what's happened, he's going to want to let Emily pass on, and then all of this will have been for nothing."

Minion was quiet and thoughtful for a minute. "Let me call him," he suggested. "He and I have a long history of trying to keep Mykaal out of trouble and dealing with the consequences when things went wrong. I can understand why you might not want to do that now, you have a lot of your own worries to deal with, and I think I might be able to persuade him to wait a little longer before giving up."

Roxanne's smile was faint, but sincere. "I suppose you do have a better idea of which of his buttons to push. Until recently, he and I only had a professional relationship."

"Exactly. Besides, it seems like your boss likes to stick you with doing in-depth stories on some of the worst bad news. You shouldn't have to be the one always handling it now."

Touched by his concern, the reporter gave her quasi-brother-in-law the best hug she could manage. "Thanks, Minion, you really are a fantastic fish. When he wakes up and after he takes care of the more immediate business with Emily, I'm going to make sure Mykaal does some work on giving these robot bodies of yours better tactile sensitivity. It seems a shame that you can't really feel it when you're hugged."

He grinned back. "And I can't feel some other unpleasant things, either, so it's not always such a bad thing, but you're right, that would be nice. And that's the spirit! Not if, but when."

Her smile strengthened, if only a bit. "When," she agreed. "We're coming up on Christmas in a week or so, after all, and you know what they say about it, season of miracles and all that." Her blue eyes shifted back to her husband, who seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. "I just hope we won't need a miracle for him to wake up..."

Her voice cracked on the final words, so uncharacteristic for her, Minion didn't hesitate to return the hug she'd given him, letting the thick fake fur of his robot body muffle the sobs she couldn't keep silent.

When she'd let out as much as she could of the stress she'd been swallowing for the past eight days, Minion patted her back as gently as he could with his large metal hands. "Don't give up, Roxanne, please," he said, his rare use of her given name without any polite title startling her enough to draw her from her misery, if only a bit. "I mean, I'm worried, too, but I can remember plenty of times when Sir was much closer to dying, and somehow, he always managed to pull through. He gives whole new meanings to the word stubborn, and this time, he has so much more than just me and a misguided destiny as a villain to live for. I don't know how long it will take, but I'm sure he's going to pull out of this, and everything will be all right."

The fish's steadfast belief in a positive outcome helped pull Roxanne even further from her mire of fearful worry. She managed to give him a shaky smile in thanks for offering his support without making a fuss over it, allowing her to maintain some shreds of dignity. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, taking a deep breath to steady herself before speaking. "Those worse times you mentioned — what's the longest he ever took to recover from something serious?"

Minion didn't have to think hard to remember. "Conscious, almost three months, after his first serious battle with Metro Man, before Mykaal learned how to protect himself and before Wayne realized he needed to be more careful if he didn't want to kill him. Unconscious... almost seven days. It was about a year after he started kidnapping you, one of his schemes that literally blew up on him that he managed to escape from without getting caught. The brainbots got him out and brought him to me, unconscious; he'd been hit in the head by a piece of debris. No skull fractures, but a pretty bad concussion, and I knew from past experience that all I could do for him was to let his body heal itself. That usually took about three days, but that time, it was almost a week. I was scared out of my wits by the time he woke up, let me tell you, but when he did, he just sat up almost like nothing had happened and complained about being hungry and thirsty. He was, and was pretty exhausted because of it, but a few more days of rest and proper nutrition had him back on his feet again."

"It's already been more than a week," Roxanne pointed out, reluctantly.

The fish's entire body bobbed within his habitat dome. "Yes, but during most of it, he was under the influence of the Teacher. So if he's been hurt and he's healing, it might take another week for his body to recover enough for him to wake up again."

It was perfectly logical, and Roxanne couldn't argue with it. But her anxiety wasn't wholly appeased. "He was so sure it wouldn't hurt him. I — it's hard for me not to worry, Minion."

He sighed. "I'm not saying you shouldn't, it's hard for me, too. I've just had more experience with him, this way, and I have to believe he'll be all right. I just do."

She laid her hand on his arm, a gesture of mutual sympathy that she knew he'd understand, even if he couldn't directly feel it. "We both just have to hang in there, and do whatever we can. I wonder if—"

Whatever she'd been wondering was interrupted by the warbling of her cell phone, which was currently lying on the night stand on the side of the bed where she'd been sleeping. Being closer, Minion picked it up and checked the caller ID. "It's Warden Thurmer," he told her. "Do you want to take it or should I? I did promise I'd talk to him."

She nodded, running one hand through her short dark hair. "Go ahead. May as well get everything out in the open."

While the piscine took the call, Roxanne had to give him credit for his deft handling of things. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have had any trouble with it, given her years of experience as a reporter and interviewer, but today, her professional cool seemed too fragile to manage it. As she moved over to the bed and perched on the edge alongside the still unconscious Megamind, she knew why. During the years they'd been together as a couple, she'd never seen him go for more than a day or two, oblivious to the world. Usually it had been due to sheer exhaustion, and she'd known that when he'd had enough sleep, he'd wake up again, his normal energetic self. A few times, he'd been injured as well, but the injuries had been of a sort that was familiar, and the progress of healing easily followed and predictable.

This... This was a nightmare. There was no predictability, no known condition that could be monitored, no knowing if when he finally awakened, he would be at all the same person he had been before this situation had begun. Minion's attempts at reassurance gave her some reasons to hope for the best, but she was afraid to. Afraid that if she did, she might somehow jinx it, like praying for her Grandma Caldwell hadn't helped one bit. One minute she'd been happy and smiling and cheerful, watching ten year old Roxanne open her Christmas gifts, and the next, she'd fainted — from the heat in the room, Grandpa had said, but she didn't wake up, and the medics had come and attached tubes to her and taken her to the hospital, and Roxanne had prayed and prayed, but she didn't wake up, she stayed unmoving and silent, and when they took the tubes away, she was still smiling while she died...

Roxanne gasped raggedly as the memories from her childhood came flooding back, memories that she hadn't even realized how ruthlessly she'd been keeping pushed away. There was so much here that felt so similar to that massive, horrible aneurism that had taken her sweet grandmother from her so many Christmases ago. Megamind hadn't gone to sleep because of something like that, but when he didn't rouse as he should have two days ago, a part of Roxanne had filled with the fear that in pushing himself beyond the limits he knew were safe, her husband had caused something in his head to break or fail, bringing about the very condition he'd wanted to learn to heal.

The monitors and sensors could say "no" all they wanted, but the part of Roxanne that loved her husband even more deeply than she had her favorite grandmother couldn't let her believe that things would be well until they were. It was a stupid, foolish paradox and it went against everything her normally strong and confident self stood for — but there it was, the aching fear of the little girl who had learned a harsh, bitter, awful lesson about life and death and ruined hope on a long gone Christmas Eve.

This flood of realization brought the tears back to Roxanne's eyes as she studied Megamind's peaceful face. She touched his cheek with a trembling hand, shuddering faintly when he seemed to smile just a bit more at her caress. It was encouraging, but...

"Don't leave me, Mykaal," she whispered, not caring if her voice was broken and unsteady. "I know, I've been saying I'm mad at you for rushing into this, but I'm not, really I'm not. I just need you to be okay and wake up so I can tell you how proud I am of you for even wanting to try. Just don't leave us like this, please."

As she heard Minion wrapping up his talk with the warden, on silly impulse, she leaned forward and softly kissed her husband on his smiling lips. She felt foolish for the pang of disappointment she felt when he didn't waken like all the princesses in the fairy tales, but then, he was no princess.

"Mrs. Roxanne?" At the sound of Minion's question, she turned toward him and saw him holding the phone as one would to muffle their conversation from those on the other end. "I've told Warden Thurmer everything we know about what's happened, and I think he understands. He and his family would be willing to wait a little longer, but they want to have everything over and done with by Christmas if — if Mrs. Thurmer can't be helped. He wants to know if it would be okay if he and his children came over. He knows they can't do anything to help, but he thinks that if they can all see exactly what's going on here, it might make it easier for them to make a decision, whether or not to wait much longer. I don't think Sir would object, but I wanted to make sure you're okay with it before I say yes."

The reporter swallowed thickly as she considered the request. On one hand, there didn't seem to be any harm in it; on the other, there didn't seem to be any point to it, either. Her protective side wanted to say no, wanted to keep these gawking strangers from seeing poor Mykaal so vulnerable, but her rational, caring side reminded her that these people were grieving, too, living in a limbo of fear that could only end in death unless the blue genius woke up, safe and sound and armed with the knowledge of how to heal what current medical technology said could not be healed. If seeing him somehow helped them come to terms with what they felt they needed to do, she couldn't deny them.

She nodded. "Tonight, or tomorrow," she told him. "I want to at least not look like a wreck when they come."

He passed on her conditions as to the time, received a reply, settled the matter, then said goodbye. "Tomorrow," he told Roxanne when the call was ended. "I think the Warden's hoping Megamind's just being stubborn and will wake up after he's given us a good scare. He did pull stunts like that when he was younger, usually just to annoy the prison guards. And I think it's better that way, we could both do with some rest. I know I've hardly slept a wink since the Teacher shut down and he didn't wake up like he usually does."

"Same here," the brunette admitted. "I feel like I could do with a few hours in the whirlpool, and another hour in the shower. Do you think Alfred can keep an eye out here for a while, alone?"

The ichthyoid considered that. "He could, but giving him some help wouldn't hurt. If you don't need Pinky to help you clean up, she'd be a good choice, and Splinter. He used to help me take care of Sir when he was hurt, before you moved in and helped instead. He'll be happy to have a chance to do that again."

Roxanne agreed with these arrangements, and so they were made. When the three brainbots had been given explicit instructions as to what they were expected to watch and what they should report, they were left to man their posts while Minion and Mommy went to take care of themselves. Alfred took up his position nearest to Daddy, keeping a careful eye on him, as he was Daddy's special personal assistant. Pinky kept an eye on the IV and other sensor attachments, just in case one should come loose or the IV need replenishing. Splinter — who had been doing work watching the Lair's security monitors and checking them for malfunctions when he hadn't helped Minion as a medic's assistant — was left to keep his eye on the various readouts for Daddy's condition.

Splinter knew all about medical monitors, of course, starting in the days long before Mommy had come to live in the Lair, when he'd helped Uncle Minion take care of Daddy when he was sick or hurt. He knew lots of things about what these readings meant, just as he now knew lots of things about what the diagnostics for computers and even brainbots meant, when they were working properly or when they were sick. And as he diligently watched and studied all the information, the new and very interesting data being shown by this neural activity monitor made him think of one particular status term, something very familiar to him that was especially fascinating, just because he'd never seen anything that made it seem to apply to a wholly organic person before.

Compiling. . .

To be continued...