Chapter Text
It was a normal Wednesday at the GDA. Thankfully, there were no humanity-destroying threats occurring. Just the minor things, villains stealing from banks, stuff like that.
“Sir, may I speak to you in private?” Donald had asked.
Cecil turned to look at him. There wasn’t anything major happening in the world right now, he could spare some time for Donald. “Sure.”
They walked in silence to Cecil’s office. Cecil couldn’t help but feel as if something was wrong with the man, like there was something bothering him. He glanced at the other, yet his expression was the same as always. Cecil looked forward.
When they reached his office, Cecil sat down at his desk, Donald in one of the chairs in front of him. They stared at each other in tense silence for a moment. Just as Cecil was going to ask what this way about, Donald spoke.
“Do you care about me?”
“What?”
“Do you care about me?” Donald repeated. Cecil looked at him, dumbfounded. Whatever he was expecting, this was certainly not it. Donald had a stern expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Why are you asking me this?” Cecil retorted, his own expression turning firm. Donald’s hands on his knees clenched.
“Just answer the question, Cecil.” Donald demanded. The director was taken aback. He’s only heard Donald this upset a handful of times, and being called his first name also was rare.
“Yes, of course I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have spent billions of dollars on rebuilding your body so many times.” Cecil answered. “Now, why are you asking me this?”
Donald sighed, and pushed his glasses up right with his knuckle. “You only ever seem to care about me when I’m going to die. Whenever it’s somewhat normal around here, you don’t even treat me like a person— which, to be fair, I’m not, but I’d still like to be treated like one.” He explained.
“How do you want me to treat you? Like a fucking dog? Good job, you fetched me some paperwork. Want a treat?” Cecil replied sarcastically.
“Do I mean nothing to you? You say you care about me, yet you don’t even want to hear what I have to say! God, you’re so—“
Cecil leaned forward, staring at the man sitting in front of him. “I’m so what?” He asked, but more like demanded than anything.
“You’re so apathetic! You act like nothing ever affects you personally, like there’s no good in the world and nothing to be happy about. When’s the last time you told someone you’re proud of them? When’s the last time you genuinely laughed with someone? What about sadness? Are you always this stoic, cold faced man, even when you’re alone? Or do you go home at night and cry knowing about the millions of deaths every day that you have somewhat caused like the rest of us?
“I’m not human. The only thing human about me is my brain and my appearance. Everything else has been manufactured by you and your men. You care, I know you do. Would it kill you to show some emotion every once in a while? Maybe let others know that you are glad they’re here, alive?
“I care about you more than anything, Cecil. And if you felt at least a sliver of that way towards me, you don’t know how to show it.” Donald had finished ranting.
There was a brief moment of silence while Cecil took in everything that Donald said. He closed his eyes, and spun his chair around to face away from Donald. Cecil stood up, which confused Donald even more than he was already.
“I was taught not to let people see how things affect me,” Cecil began. Donald raised an eyebrow.
“Ever since I was young, showing your ‘true colors’ was a sign of weakness. I didn’t have a loving family. My mom abandoned me and my dad, and he was a raging alcoholic that was only sober around once a month. I spent more time alone, walking the streets, finding places to sleep out there, than I did in my own house. Because, let me tell you, my dad was a fucking dick when he was drunk.
“I didn’t have any friends. Maybe a few acquaintances, but nobody I hung out with outside of school. And once I graduated, my dad kicked me out, and I was homeless for a while. That was until Radcliffe found me fighting off these two dudes trying to mug me. He offered me a job and a place to live until I could afford my own place. He was like the dad I never had.” Cecil took a moment to breathe. He had been pacing behind his desk, not daring to look at Donald. He continued.
“Fast forward a few months, I go on the mission that gave me the scar on my face. Radcliffe rebuilt me in a way like you, except I’m not part machine. Anyways, he showed me that he cared, which was a weird feeling. Then, things happened, I went to prison for three years, and I couldn’t show any weakness. I had shit to take care of. People relied on me.
“Just like now. The entire planet relies on me. If I show signs of weakness, people lose hope. And if nobody has hope, then who’s going to even try living anymore? What’s the point in surviving when you believe we’re doomed to begin with? And… I’m sorry if it seems that I don’t care about you at all, or that I’m completely not affected by the things we see.” Cecil stopped talking. He turned to face Donald, who was standing up as well now.
“If that’s the case, why never talk to me about it?” Donald asked quietly. Cecil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m an honorable man. I’m not going to give you more problems to take care of than you already have to deal with. Plus, it’s not often we ever have enough time to talk about our feelings in depth.” Cecil answered.
“What’s stopping you from talking right now? Maybe I’m not a professional, but I can still try to provide some comfort.” Donald replied. Cecil’s face softened, before he shook his head.
“No. I’ve already said a lot. I don’t want to end up saying something I regret.” He said. Donald looked at him with a confused and worried expression.
“Say something you regret?” Donald repeated.
“That, for example. But yes.” Cecil responded. He adjusted his tie, unknowingly fidgeting with it. Donald’s concerned expression turned to a stern one again.
“Then why not just say how you feel right now? I won’t bring it up outside this room. You can’t just keep bottling up your emotions and function properly. Just speak and let the words flow out.” Donald said. Cecil’s heart throbbed for a moment.
“What’s it matter to you, Donald? I’m just your boss. If anything, you should resent me. Not try to make me feel better about myself.” Cecil crossed his arms.
“Am I just an employee to you, Cecil? Thirty nine deaths, and you don’t consider me at least a companion?” Donald asked, voice shaking. Cecil could feel his heart being ripped to shreds.
“No! God fucking dammit, Donald! You’re more than a companion. You’re everything I have!” Cecil shouted, grabbing his assistant by the shoulders and staring at him with wide, teary eyes.
“What do you mean?” Donald questioned. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before Cecil let go of Donald quickly, as if he burnt him.
“I’m a lonely man. Nobody wants anything to do with me. You’re the only one who cares enough to ask how I’m doing, or talk to me even when it’s not necessary, or try to make me talk about my feelings. I don’t have anyone, except you. And it’s been that way for twenty years.
“Can’t you get it through your thick, metal skull? I fucking love you, Donald. And that’s why I act the way I do. Because I never wanted you to know. But it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” Cecil laughed to himself, wiping tears with his sleeve. Donald just stood there in quiet shock.
Cecil turned to face the other way. He couldn’t stand to look at the man any longer. Unknowing to Cecil, Donald reached his arm out, before he pulled it back again and put it against his side.
“Cecil?”
“Don’t say anything. You’re in charge for the rest of the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The older man said, his voice quiet and cold. Before Donald could question him, Cecil had teleported to somewhere.
Donald tried to contact him through the earpiece, but wherever Cecil was wouldn’t allow the messages to go through. Now he just stood in his boss’ office. Alone.