Archive of Our Own ^beta

Softly, his breath shutters on it’s own for the first time in over a month. The fresh inhale of the crisp ocean air hits him; and god, does it hit hard. It fills his lungs and flourishes into the rest of his body to allow a short burst of energy spark into his brain. 

He’s still tired, incredibly so. His body has been in a “stasis” for what feels like years but he’s sure wasn't devastatingly long. His arm, legs, and parts of his face feel completely numb while the rest of his body feels hot and sweaty yet as cold as ice. His head pounds with the sound of his heart beat, and memories flash by quickly in his still waking brain. 

All he remembers at the moment is fire; and the metal digging into his arm.

His arm. 

Charles’ eyes suddenly open, and the light immediately is alien to him; burning his eyes and letting sight overcome the darkness he had been in for so long. The first thing he notices are the tubes attached to him, the IV in his veins, nestled uncomfortably in his left arm. He’s still laid down, dazed and unsure of where he was, so he doesn’t notice it at first. It being the reason his body was so numb. His right arm, right side of his face, both legs—It was all metal, prosthetics, robotics. 

The fact comes to him in a sudden cry. “ MY ARM !” Charles screams, frantically yanking his organic arm from the bloodied IV and to his new robotic addition. He runs his fingers over the cold metal, eyes wide as bolts and plates graze his fingertips rather than skin and hair. 

Then he looks at his legs, and his blood runs cold at that moment. Where his knees had been was an artificial joint composed of a few screws and a large plate, and it terrified the ever living hell out of Charles. It was new, it wasn’t what it should be--it was change that Charles had never been good at handling.

“Ah. You’re awake.” A warm voice—womanly too, says softly to Charles. At the man's sudden jump, she stepped forward with her hands out in a peaceful manner. “Hey—Hey... успокойся, милая. Calm down, I am not here to hurt you,” The blonde woman steps closer slowly, carefully noting the twitches in Charles’ machinery that sparked as he grew more nervous. “Do you hear me? Know who you are?” The woman asked calmly and sweetly. Her voice was thick with a Russian accent, and so, so motherly. Charles relaxed easily, nodding cautiously as he leaned back onto the woolen bed. 

“Good, good. That means the machines are doing it’s thing. How many fingers am I holding up?” The woman whose name Charles still didn’t know raises her hand, a clear-as-day 4. 

"Four." Charles says, straining his eye...eye? In dread, his hand touches his cheek softly and is met with the coldness of titanium. His face was gone, and that was something to scream about, but… Charles found himself far too tired for any more distress, so slowly, he looks up to the woman and lazily slurs, “Who are you? Why…” His words fail him, the initial adrenaline of finding out you were 50% robotics now leaving his body. Strange how he had slept for so long, yet was so tired. He idly played with the thought of his death while the doctor struggled to answer in a way his sluggish mindscape could comprehend. 

What if he died? Did people think he was dead? Galeforce? Hen--wait, How did this woman find his corpse? If anything, he should be blown into bits. Magnificent, bloody bits floating in the coldness of space. There should have been nothing to salvage from his body, but apparently there must have been, because here he is, alive and mostly intact. 

“Ah…” The blonde puts her hands together with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “My name is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien.” She notices the confusion on Charles’ face, and finally breaks a small smile. “People in this country have a tendency to mispronounce my name, it’s okay. Call me Vin or Vinny, I really don’t care.” She shrugs nonchalantly, before grabbing a clipboard from the table next to her. 

“Ah, yeah. Much better on my tongue… I couldn’t even begin to pronounce that, let alone spell it.” He says sheepishly, sitting up to make his posture easier on his back. The doctor grins to herself, because hearing a patient being loopy on anesthesia was the best part of this job. 

“I get that a lot.” Vin scans over the paper on the board, and checks something before responding to Charles’ other questions. “Your friend paid me quite a pretty penny to find anything of yours. An arm, a leg, your face, your headset--” Charles instinctively reaches for his headphones, they weren’t on his head, but they were on the night table next to him. He puts them on his head, and instantly he feels more complete. “-- anything that could have survived that explosion. Quite a tale, he told me.” Dr. Vinschpilsilstien wrote something down on the paper, and while Charles was too busy looking confused to give any sort of question, Vin continued her explanation, hoping for some clarity on Charles’ confused head. 

“Toppat Satellite. Core detonation; Any of that ring a bell? I wouldn’t blame you if it didn’t. You were torn to bits, poor thing... That heart,” She pointed at Charles’ chest. “Isn’t even yours.” The pilot reaches to his chest, eerily silent for such a usually out-spoken man. This was a lot to take in, so Vinschpilsilstien understood the silence well. Most of her patients were still in shock for weeks after their operations. She could only hope that she’d never be at the end of  her own handiwork. Not because the job would be “botched” (Vin was quite confident in her abilities... at times,) but because of the trauma that every single one of her patients were prone to experience. Some never lived the same, some cried until their last days, and some chose to end their lives, unable to cope with their new enhancements. It’s a depressing cycle of uncertainty; and Vin sure as hell doesn’t know what she’d do if she woke up one day missing most of her body. Bloody terrifying it must be; Vil just hoped that one day she could make it easier on them. 

“Oh, man…” Charles traced the stitches that lay just over his heart, feeling every bump and groove. “Uh, yeah. I remember it, I guess. Fighting with that guy… he did me in, I think.” Charles laughed sleepily, but was determined to stay awake. He needed answers, like… Who was that person? That person who had been there with him through the whole of it? There was someone by his side, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Was that person the one who paid so much money to get him alive and well again, after what seemed to be a gruesome death? It frustrated Charles to no end; why couldn’t he remember? Every face he conjured up to be his mystery savior felt wrong; didn’t feel right. He wished that he could remember; he’d thank whoever it was and hug them until they choked and he was cloaked in their scent. 

“Obviously.” The doctor says, with a hint of amusement in her tone as she sets the clipboard down in favor of her phone. She looked like she was texting somebody.  “I’ll make sure to notify your friend of your reawakening. He’s been messaging me everyday about your progress. Doubt he’s been sleeping much with how many spelling errors are in his texts.” Vin sighs fondly, and finishes typing her message.

“Uh, ‘doc?” Charles stares at his lap. 

“ Да? What is it?” Dr. Vinschpinsilstien shoves her phone into her lab coat pocket, and gives her full attention back to the pilot. 

“Who, uh… er, who paid for this? For me, I mean. It seems pretty expensive.” Charles waves his robotic arm in front of his face, taking in the appendage and it’s slick metal. There was a small, green button on the inside of his wrist. Despite the overwhelming urge to press it, he admires it for now. 

“You don’t remember him?” The doctor sounds sad almost, and Charles can feel guilt crawl up his spine. Must’ve been somebody important, huh? How shitty of a friend does he have to be to forget someone like that? 

“No… No, I don’t. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m surprised. The way he talked about you made me assume you were fond of each other--”  Her phone pings, and she knows exactly what the message says and who it’s from. “--he’s on his way now.” She readjusts her gloves and pulls an office chair by her desk next to Charles’ bed. 

“Oh boy... What’s his name?” He leans back in his bed, shuffling his shoulders to lean back in the fluffy pillow. It was an odd thing, to not feel half of your head snuggle into a pillow. He’d get used to it. Hey, maybe this mystery guy would help him get adjusted to his new life as a cyborg! After all, they seemed to be pretty close friends from what the doctor had said. 

“You really don’t remember.” She mutters in awe to herself. It’s a disappointed awe, when you’re proud of something you’ve made, though the mistakes in the product are countless. She wonders vaguely if she misplaced a connector from Charles’ robotic brain to his organic one, but nods it off. She almost never made mistakes when it came to her practice; she couldn’t afford too. Especially this one, She couldn’t and better not have rewired him wrong. Vinschpilsilstien had been paid a fortune to make this man as perfect as he used to be, though she was beginning to suspect that this work wasn't worth the fortune. He was functioning at least.

“Hey, uhm…” Charles waves a hand in front of Vin’s face, and she jolts upright.

 “A-Ah! Forgive me. I was thinking.” The doctor says sheepishly, and Charles' sweet smile right then could rival the sun. “W-What did you ask, again?” Vin puts a nervous, shaking finger to her mouth as if she were in deeper thought than before. She totally messed something up. 

“Uh… What’s the dudes name? Y’know, the one who I’m apparently friends with.” Charles feels a bead of sweat drip down the side of his organic forehead. Why was he so nervous to hear a simple name? Silly Charles. 

“Henry Stickmin.” Dr. Vinschpilsilstien crosses her arms over her chest, finding a bit of solace at the knowing look she got from the cyborg in front of her. He looked like he was having a eureka moment, yet intense confusion drowned his eye out. “You know him?” 

“Yes? No. I dunno. His name sounds so familiar but I can’t… Argh, Why is it so hard to remember? I remember my dad, Galeforce… I remember Rupert, who could forget that guy? I remember his shy lil’ husband and even those Bukowski guys! I can’t…” Charles looks down, anger replacing the confusion. Not anger at those he named, nor Henry, but at himself. This Henry character seemed so foreign yet so close to his heart; and it was such a tug at the brain. 

“Hey, calm down.” Vin murmured, though her own nerves were jolting through her. “You’re going to overheat something.” She gazes at Charles’ green prosthetic eye. It’s glowing warmly, and the darker green graphic is flipped to a question mark, one of the few pictures that Vinschpilsilstien programmed into the eye. 

“Sorry, sorry… I just… ah, never mind. While we wait for him uh, you mind telling me some about the cyborg stuff? Like, how do I walk if I can’t feel my legs?” Charles questioned, which invoked a sigh from Vin. That was always one of the first questions.

“It’s not that hard. First, you need to get up from the bed. Obviously. To do that…” 

And so began a 40 minute lesson on learning how to walk again.