Chapter Text
With a firm grasp on his hand, Stephanie dragged Robbie away from the billboard and towards town. Logically, Robbie knew he was stronger than an 8 year old and could escape at any time. But something told him Stephanie would chase him down.
She had come to his hatch earlier and yelled for him to come up. When he did, out of surprise that anyone that small could sound so pissed off, she had accused him of ‘doing something’ to Sportaflop and demanded he fix it. He tried explaining that he had literally just woken up and couldn’t have possibly done anything, but she had just glared at him, with a justifiable lack of trust, grabbed his hand, and began pulling him into town.
Once they reached the park, Stephanie stopped. Sportacus was indeed there. He was leading the rest of the kids in jumping jacks.
“… 123! 124! 125!” He was chanting, oblivious to the groans behind him. The only one still standing was Trixie, probably because she was leaning against a wall.
Finally, Stephanie let Robbie go. He again considered bolting but the glare he received pushed the idea right out of his head.
“Fix what you did,” she all but growled. He watched her walk towards the tired kids and call, “Hey! Who wanted to play video games at Pixel’s house?!”
And the children were gone. Robbie Rotten, who had made a career out of being disgusted by physically activity, was impressed by how quickly they ran.
Sportacus stopped jumping, “Wait! We’re not done exercising!”
Robbie snorted, “Well clearly they are.”
Sportacus’ eyes snapped to Robbie as if only just noticing him, “Robbie!” he raced up to him, “Robbie! Want to see the new soccer trick I’ve been working on? Or maybe you’re here to try and kick me out of town? Either way, I’m ready!”
Alright, something was definitely up, “What is the matter with you?” Robbie asked.
“Nothing!”
“Don’t play dumb. The pink girl says you’ve been terrorizing the kids all day,” Robbie crossed his arms. “What has you so hyper?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. You know me! I’m always on the move!” He did a handstand as if to underscore this fact.
Robbie used his foot to tip Sportacus back and force the hero upright, “Look, Stephanie thinks I have done something to you. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re acting like this so I can fix it and she can leave me alone.”
Sportacus’ smile faltered for a moment, “There’s… nothing for you to fix, Robbie.” The smile came back twice as bright, “I’ll go tell her you’re innocent!”
“Wait!” Robbie grabbed the back of Sportacus’ vest before he could run off, “What can’t I fix?”
“It’s nothing. It’s fine! I’m fine!”
“You are not,” Robbie dragged Sportacus over to a bench and forced him to sit, “You aren’t fine and you can’t take it out on the brats.”
Sportacus winced, “I wasn’t ‘taking it out’ on them. I was just making sure they moved, like always.”
“Working them into the ground is not what you ‘always’ do.”
“Let me go, Robbie.”
“No.”
“Robbie, please.”
“Tell me what I can’t fix. Tell me what’s wrong!”
“You can’t fix death, Robbie!” Sportacus shouted. Robbie finally let him go, mostly out of shock. Sportacus jumped to his feet and turned to glare at Robbie, “You’re a genius, I know, but even YOU can’t bring someone back to life. Even YOU can’t take away guilt, can’t take me back in time so I could at least BE there when—” A sob cut him off. Sportacus lowered his head, furiously wiping his eyes.
Robbie stayed quiet for a moment, watching his enemy fall apart in front of him, with no idea what he could do. Stephanie had demanded he ‘fix’ Sportacus, but Robbie wasn’t sure he could.
When Sportacus had fallen silent, hands covering his face and clenched into fists, Robbie said quietly, “Who?”
“… My grandmother,” Sportacus replied in a hoarse voice.
“When?”
“Last night. I got the letter this morning. She was-” he drew in a shaky breath, “-she was very old…”
Robbie felt a pang in his chest, thinking of his own grandmother. He reached out and tugged on Sportacus’ wrist. Sportacus allowed Robbie to pull him back onto the bench. They sat in silence for a few moments before Robbie, at last, thought of how he could fix Sportacus.
“Tell me about her.” He said.
Sportacus looked up at him, eyes red, “What?”
“Tell me about your grandmother. What was she like?”
Sportacus gave a watery laugh, “Well, where to start…”
It took more tears, a few assurances, one or two almost genuine laughs, and a not-entirely awkward parting hug, but Robbie was able to walk to tech boy’s house confident that he could tell Stephanie:
“He’s not fixed, but he’s not broken anymore.”