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He kept it together until he was safely behind closed doors.
He kept it together until he was alone.
It had gone… well, not well, exactly, but at least not too badly. He'd gotten away, at least. He hadn't managed to do what he'd wanted to do, but at least he was still safe and free.
It had gone horribly. Not on paper, perhaps - they'd won - but it had still been awful. And they hadn't managed to stop him or capture him, so it would happen again.
But if it had gone so well, then why was he shaking?
He wasn't surprised that he couldn't stop shaking.
He thought he'd been prepared. He thought he'd steeled himself enough. He'd known what he was getting into, and he'd thought he was ready for it.
He hadn't been prepared. He hadn't known it was coming, he'd been blindsided, and he hadn't been ready for it. He wasn't sure if he would have ever been ready for it.
He'd thought he was ready, but he hadn't been, and Ambrosius had looked…
Ballister had looked…
Horrified.
So, so angry.
He told himself that was what he'd wanted. Ambrosius looked horrified to see him, and that had been his intention. He'd wanted to horrify him, so he should have been pleased to see it painted across his face.
Ballister had every reason to be angry with him, of course, even if he wouldn't admit even to himself the full reason why. It didn't mean that he liked to see it.
He sank down onto the threadbare couch and stared blankly at the wall. He told himself that it had gone well, that it had been a success, and that meant he should stop shaking and should calm down.
He sank down onto the floor and buried his face in his folded arms. He told himself that it was alright, that at least they were both still alive and no less whole than they'd been before, and that meant he should stop shaking and should calm down.
He'd have to do this again. He wasn't going to just give up and disappear, as much as the Institution may have wanted him to, so he'd have to do this again, so he had to get it together. He had to figure out how to handle this.
He'd have to do this again. He was sure Ballister wouldn't stop - he was always so stubborn when he'd set his mind to something, especially if that something was out of spite - so this would happen again, so he had to get it together. He had to figure out how to handle this.
If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could figure out a way to handle this.
He had no idea how to handle this, and no idea where to even start figuring it out.
He wondered if would be easier to handle if he wasn't alone. If there was someone else, would they be able to help? Was there anyone out there who would help him anymore, now that he was a villain?
He was pretty sure it would be easier to handle if he could be alone. If he could just get some time without having to look over his shoulder, would that help? Was it even possible, when every eye in the Institution seemed fixed on him?
This had never been what he wanted.
He'd thought this was what he wanted.
He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them, even though his prosthetic arm was awkward and uncomfortable. The one benefit of being alone was that he could break down without anyone there to see him, so he might as well take advantage of it.
He pushed himself to his feet and took a deep breath, even though his ribs felt too tight for it to be comfortable. He wasn't alone, was never alone anymore, so he couldn't break down. Someone could see him, and he couldn't let them have that advantage.
Ballister leaned forward, and he let himself cry.
Ambrosius straightened his spine, and he did not let himself cry.