It had been far too long since he'd seen Roxanne. A whole day, even. That wasn't right.

He'd been surprised when she called to check on him. Called, not come around. Her tone had been evasive, but she promised she'd be over today after work. Firmly, warmly, she told him to take care of himself. He had made some joke, or tried to, and she'd cut him off, "I'm serious, Megamind. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," and hung up.

He'd felt giddy. They'd been taking things slow - after all, the first few months of their, well, "courtship", he hadn't exactly been honest with her. So they'd started again. And it was different now. While Bernard and Roxanne had always been out, at the park or a café, she and Megamind tended to stay in. They got to know each other, talking about his species, what he remembered about his planet and his parents. She talked about hers for the first time, how her mother lived in Seattle and her father in Vienna, and how they'd raised her from different sides of the globe to love books and music and to never let go when she wanted something. She'd brought in some of her favourite records, bands he didn't know, and he'd dragged her out onto a clear spot in the Lair to dance to them.

It was slow, but it was good. He valued every second he spent with her, aware that in more ways than one he could have lost her. So he surprised himself with how deeply disappointed he had been when she did not come over to spend the night as she had done the night before - albeit curled up in a chair. But her comment over the phone had been laced with feeling, and he rolled it around in his mind, delighting in it. Yes, it made up for not seeing her. She cared. And she would be over tonight.

Megamind toyed with his pencil. He was sketching his own hand - or his hand as it should be. He had, he would modestly admit, a spectacular memory, and could reproduce it in stunning detail. The inside of it, the tendons and bones, he had never seen, but with a photograph of a dissected human hand, some of Leonardo da Vinci's sketches, and his own right hand flexing before him, he made some educated guesses.

Some of the small bones in his hand had been damaged, he knew. The extent of that damage he could not yet tell. They could be fixed, or even replaced, but he would be unable to do the operation himself. A human hospital was out of the question; if they even had any idea how to treat him, he didn't trust them not to turn an alien over to certain authorities. Hippocratic oath or no hippocratic oath.

But he was Megamind. He could solve this problem. He could solve any problem.

So. First a CT scan, once he'd built the scanner. That in itself would be no easy task with one hand. Then - and he was quite proud of this idea - a surgical robot, into which he could, based on the CT scan, program every move that would need to be made to perform the surgery. Minion would be there to ensure all went well, and administer the sedatives. Perfect.

For now, he'd just have to deal with a hand that wasn't as functional as he'd like. Or at all, frankly. He looked mournfully at the mass of bandages. He hadn't even seen it yet. He didn't want to. Roxanne's reaction hadn't been reassuring, and Minion had been evasive when he'd asked. No matter. It'd look better when the swelling had gone down, anyway.

No, it was time to start planning what he was going to do to those thugs who had knocked him down and driven that club hammer down onto that hand, over and over. All to keep his nose out of something or other - although what exactly he had been involved in that had set them off he had no idea. He'd have to find out. And then... find them.

Dehydration was too good for them. But he was a good guy now, so it, or something like it, would have to do. They would go to prison.

And then, said the quiet voice at the back of his mind, his old prison uncles would deal with them.

It was probably wrong of him to chuckle quietly to himself at the thought. He'd seen prison justice meted out many times. It was something his uncles had always hidden from him while he was growing up, strangely protective as they were in their way. It had take some time to realise what was going on, and why. That sort of thing... it had never appealed to him. This time, hero or no, he'd take a certain satisfaction in it.

Megamind set down his pencil and rubbed his long fingers along his jaw. It was stiff, achey, though he didn't remember taking a punch to it. It was his neck they had gone for, one jumping up behind him to grab him in a lock while others kicked behind his knees to get him to the ground. That made sense, really; slender as it was, his neck was an obvious weak point. And hell, had it bruised. But why the jaw?

Rubbing it with his fingertips and moving it from side to side, loosening stiff muscles, Megamind realised he'd been clenching his teeth against pain for the better part of a day and a half.

Minion sat on the other side of the room, watching his boss at work. He still didn't feel comfortable enough leaving the man alone for too long, and anyway, he enjoyed watching Sir work. The passion that stirred him up, the enthusiasm - if he was working, he was OK.

Megamind was perched in front of a drafting board, reference images held aloft by several brain-bots. He sat down his pencil, held out his hand in front of him, a frown drawing his dark eyebrows together. Then he would be sketching again, biting his lip, his green eyes lit up.

Occasionally a brain-bot would bring something over to him, and, all absent-minded, he would reach up with the wrong hand. His hand wouldn't grasp, the change in altitude and blood flow would make it throb, and he'd remember again, shooting an irritated look at the little machine before reaching with his right hand to take whatever it had brought him. Each time he grew more and more frustrated with himself, and what had started as a little amusing was starting to worry Minion.

"Sir, why don't you take a break?"

He ducked as Megamind threw his pencil at him. He was not good at ducking, and the pencil bounced harmlessly off his globe to break in two on the floor.

"Sir - "

"All I did yesterday was have a break! I am done with breaks!"

"You can't be done with breaks, sir. You haven't finished healing yet." Minion held his giant gorilla hands out in front of him, trying to soothe his frustrated boss as he stepped toward him. "It's going to take some time."

"I know that, Minion!"

The fish laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Megamind pouted up at him, then sighed. "Ah, Minion. I'm just so frustrated. I hate not being able to work."

"I know, sir. It won't be for too long. And Ms Ritchie will be around this evening. That'll cheer you up."

A mention of Ms Ritchie never failed to bring a smile to Megamind's lips.

"That's true. Do you think she'd like to watch a movie? I just torrented the director's cut of Aliens."

"I'm not sure heroes are meant to torrent, sir. It's stealing."

"Oh, Minion. Honestly. Don't be such a pill."