Robbie Remembered

3:14

Sportacus climbed down the chute into Robbie's lair. The winding tube still smelled of apples until he reached the bottom. Down here the sharp scents of grease and machinery were strongest, along with the faint whisper of flowers.

"So you just let yourself in now, do you?" Robbie's voice asked off to one side. Sportacus turned towards the catwalk where the villain's control center was situated. The man in the striped suit had his back to the room, his head bowed over the electric keyboard. He pushed a couple keys, playing a snatch of a song. Beside him the periscope was still pulled down at eye level, casting a small yellow light on the side of his face. The earlier rage had dissipated leaving his expression flat. "At least you had the sense to send them away before they could use up the paint."

"They wouldn't do that," Sportacus said. Robbie snorted.

"And yet they did."

Sportacus couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't bother apologizing for them," Robbie said. "I doubt they're sorry for anything they've done."

"I'm not," Sportacus said. "I'm sorry for what I've done."

Robbie dropped his hand from the keyboard and turned enough to glance over his shoulder at Sportacus. "What are you going on about now?"

Sportacus shuffled his feet around, trying not to knock over any of the piles of scrap metal all over the floor. Robbie had been busy down here since he'd last visited. The room was almost impassable with more prototypes and half-formed machines strewn about than ever. The work bench was buried under a great hulking thing covered with a heavy tarp, like a sleeping dragon tucked into bed.

"All I wanted was for everyone to get along," Sportacus said, "but maybe I tried to force it too much, on all of us. It's been... difficult, trying to do all the things I'm supposed to be doing, and see to it that everyone's happy."

"You mean running around, helping and playing with everyone, and keeping those kids entertained," Robbie said.

"That's right," Sportacus said.

"Because you're spending time with me," Robbie said. Sportacus stumbled over a stack of crates and sent them clattering to the floor. He caught himself and shot a meek look at Robbie. The man had turned completely on the catwalk to look down at him.

"I don't see how—"

"If you can't see that those spoiled brats are jealous then you must be blind," Robbie said. "They don't want to share their hero with anyone, least of all me."

"Jealous?" Sportacus drew a blank and it showed on his face. Robbie's expression twitched, his mouth quirking into a grin.

"Really, Sporta-dunce, do I have to spell it out for you? The kids don't like that you like me because they don't like me. But I don't like them either, so it hardly makes a difference."

"You really don't like each other," Sportacus said, his voice laden with defeat. He frowned at the floor and nudged some toppled over contraptions out of his way. "Have I just been making trouble for everyone all this time?"

"Hardly," Robbie said. He pushed the periscope up out of the way and descended the catwalk. "I knew it wasn't worth trying too hard to make nice with the brats. They just can't resist reminding me of every not-so-nice thing I've ever done. They only ever remember me as their villain." He met Sportacus' eyes. "And what kind of villain would be friends with their hero? Only one who's up to no good."

"That's not true," Sportacus said. He picked his way carefully across the floor so as not to trip on anything else. He held out his hand. "Let's go back up and talk to them, together. We can make them understand. You don't have to forgive them, but we can put an end to this— this bad behavior."

Robbie scoffed. "I never forgave them for how they treated me the first time when my memory was lost."

"But you forgave me."

"Yes," Robbie said, his grin subsiding. He looked at Sportacus' hand, still reaching out to him. "I've been trying to make it up to you ever since."

Sportacus wrinkled his brow. "What do you mean?"

Robbie shook his head. He rubbed his nose and pulled a smile onto his lips. He stepped over discarded gears, scattered nails and corrugated sheet metal, and took Sportacus' hand.

"I'll show you."

He pulled Sportacus across the room. The elf hopped and skipped over obstacles where Robbie waded directly through the heaps of junk, scattering papers and pieces of various machines with impunity. He forged the path up to the work bench and pulled the heavy canvas off of the bulky object hidden underneath.

The metal frame took up the entire surface of the work table and beyond. Sportacus recognized the oddly embellished archway from one of his earliest visits to Robbie's abode. It had been big before, wide enough to hinge double doors on it. Now it looked larger than life and greatly encumbered with a wild assortment of bulbs and wires, pronged antennas and knobs. It could be the doorway into another dimension.

"This is... for me?" Sportacus looked at Robbie. The other man's eyes were riveted on his invention, a disquieting energy animating his face. When he did look away he startled Sportacus with a crooked smile, almost leering.

"It's for everyone," he said. "I'll have it ready at the festival tomorrow."

Sportacus' eyebrows raised of their own accord. "You're still coming? I figured after everything that's happened today you wouldn't want to."

"Oh, I want to go more than ever," Robbie said. "After all I did agree to build the stage."

"If you're sure..."

Robbie put a hand on Sportacus' shoulder and met his eyes with calm resolve. Sportacus noticed the heavy shadows under his eyes and realized they had always been there, brought on by many sleepless nights. "I haven't gone through all of this nonsense for the kids, you know. I never thanked you for being my friend."

"You don't have to thank me," Sportacus said. All the same Robbie gave him a rueful grin that only made him look more tired than ever.

"Consider this my apology."