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There were three ways to get Robin's attention.
Bob knew two of them.
He was fairly sure the third involved a random act of violence, but he wasn't feeling particularly enthused about testing that theory right now.
He could hear the music well before he reached the Principle Office's maintenance bay. Robin liked her heavy metal music, and she liked it loud.
Turning it off was, therefore, a surefire way to earn her utmost, undivided attention - something most sprites would go out of their way to avoid.
He leaned in the doorway, and waited.
*Three... two... one - *
"Hey!" came the indignant yelp. "Who the frag - "
A ratchet clattered to the floor. A face appeared round the side of the raised CPU's hood. The expression was one of pure, unadulterated malevolence - until it registered who was standing just seven feet away.
He waved.
"Hey, Robin."
She returned the gesture vaguely, her expression changing to become a little more congenial. As she ducked out from under the hood of the car however, she frowned, sensing her brother's unusually sombre attitude. Granted, he'd been more than a little withdrawn lately; but today... he looked positively crashed. And... he was keeping his distance. Bob never did respect her personal space much - but seven feet? Even his lopsided smile seemed forced.
Robin reached for a rag, and wiped her hands slowly.
"Bob? Are you OK?"
He smiled tightly. "I'd be lying if I said I was."
Her expression softened somewhat as she met his troubled gaze. Tossing the rag aside, she blew out her cheeks, and steeled herself as he wandered into the maintenance bay.
"It's about the car, isn't it?" she said. "You don't like what I did to the car."
Bob looked confused for a moment.
"No - " he began, then saw her hurt face and realised, "Uh, I mean, yes! I'm sorry - I meant to say no, it's not about the car - not that I don't like it, I mean, I thought it would be smashed to smithereens by now, and - "
She rolled her brown eyes as he stumbled over his own words, and shook her head. *Dork*.
"Bob - "
"No, really! It looks fantastic - "
The overenthusiasm tack wouldn't wash with her.
"Bob!"
"Huh?"
"Never mind about the fragging car. It's obviously not what this is about."
He looked only mildly relieved.
"No. Look, Robin, I know you probably don't want to listen to me, but..."
She waved it off.
"No... no, it's ok. I don't mind, it's just that... well. I never know what to say."
She paused as she regarded him; noting once again the radical change in his appearance. Finally, the two of them looked somewhat different - but somehow, she felt like she'd lost something of him in that change. Some of the things that had made them different now made them even more the same. It was... disconcerting. She pursed her lips, and mentally ran down the list of things he could be here about... and stopped at number one.
"It's about Dot, isn't it?"
Bob grinned wryly. "How'd you guess."
She regarded him with a critical eye. "Nothing - or rather, nobody else makes you get that kicked puppy look."
Robin waited for the usual indignant response to her baiting. She didn't get one. He simply lowered his gaze to the floor, and sighed.
This... was not good. Oh boy.
"All right." She reached across and yanked the prop from under the CPU's hood, letting it fall shut with a satisfying *thunk*.
"I'm not asking you for advice, Robin."
"Well, that's just as well, seeing as I have none to give."
"I just need someone to talk to, is all. Everyone else is so busy wrapped up in each other... I don't want to put a damper on them. They worked so hard to save Mainframe - they deserve to be happy."
"Except you, that is. Look, what in the Net is wrong? I thought you and Dot finally worked out how much you wanted to be together... not that I can figure out what you see in her - "
That got him.
"Hey!"
She smirked. He realised she'd deliberately prodded him. "I swear..." he began, then shook his head. Chip off the old memory block. Sorta.
"You want some java?"
"Uh, no. I'm fine," he declined.
Robin shrugged. "Suit yourself." She plucked her mug from the atop the CPU's roof, and moved to the java machine in the corner. Bob used the opportunity to sit atop the CPU's bonnet, and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.
"Gee, Bob, don't look so happy to see me," his twin poked as she came back into his line of vision, her mug betraying the thin wisps of hot java.
Again, he failed to take the bait. She sipped the beverage, her concern deepening.
"Bob, you said you needed to talk. What happened? You guys were more than happy to disappear together during the party last night - "
He looked up. "You weren't at the party! How - "
"Hey. Just because I don't go to social gatherings does *not* mean I am not aware of what goes on at them - or should I say, what sneaks away from them?"
He blushed, his blue skin turning a deep purple. She grinned, momentarily enjoying his discomfort.
"So?" she prodded.
A nano's silence, broken only by the humming of the java machine and the overhead lighting.
"We..." he trailed off, unsure how to explain. He closed his eyes, remembering the moment all too well. "Dot... freaked out on me. Blamed me for everything that had happened. Everything. Trusting Megabyte, for getting shot into the Web, the system crash. She - she walked out on me, Robin. We'd just had the most wonderful second together, and she left..."
Robin stared at him.
"And you know what?" he continued, looking back up at her, a pained expression on his scarred face. "She's right."
"She left you? After all you've been through for her?"
Bob saw the anger burning in his sister's eyes, and raised a hand to quell her.
"Robin, she's *right*. Don't you understand? If I hadn't trusted Megabyte and Hexadecimal, none of this would have happened. Nobody would have been hurt - "
She looked at him incredulously. "You were doing your *job*! Mend and defend. You had no choice!"
He shook his head sadly. "There should have been another way."
"There wasn't. And Dot's got no business blaming you for it. She doesn't deserve you, Bob. You've never done anything less than your best for this system - or for her."
Bob buried his face in his hands.
"No, Robin. You don't understand. Mainframe... was an experiment. An experiment only I and Turbo knew about."
She lofted an eyebrow.
"You know about my theories on viruses, right?"
She nodded slowly, not liking where this was heading.
"When the Twin City was destroyed, Hexadecimal and Megabyte were created. I... persuaded Turbo to let me stay in Mainframe to test that theory for real. That viruses could be reprogrammed, or contained, instead of deleted." He sighed. "I was arrogant enough to think I could do it," he said, bitterly.
"And Dot found out."
It was less a question and more a statement of fact. Robin looked skywards. Oh, boy. When it came to her brother, it never rained, but it poured.
"How could I have been so selfish, so arrogant?"
"Such a dork?"
"Such a - " He blinked; then - "Robin!"
She grinned as she perched on the CPU's bonnet beside him, resting her heels on the bumper. "Sorry, bro'. But *I'm* the one who beats herself up around here. You're stealing my baudrate."
"Robin, come on..." He looked exasperated. "Be serious. I basically turned Mainframe into my own personal playground. Dot has every right to be angry with me."
She sighed.
"And she can't get over herself enough to realise that everything turned out OK anyway?"
"It was sheer luck, Robin. I made a gamble - a huge gamble - and I was right."
She rested her head in one hand, and handed him the mug she was holding in the other.
"Here."
Bob pulled himself out of his misery long enough to register the mug of java under his nose. He took it from her hesitantly, not looking up, and cupped his hands around it, feeling the warmth seeping through into his fingers.
"Thanks."
Robin leaned back on the bonnet, and gazed up at the ceiling.
"Bob... you can't seriously think that you're the sole reason everything happened the way it did."
"I set it into motion. That's just as bad."
She sat bolt upright again.
"For the love of the User, Bob! Are you trying to tell me that Mainframe was just some kind of lab rat and everything that happened here was just 'an experiment'? There had to be a point where that all changed! When you stopped playing at being just the all-powerful Guardian and actually started caring about the people here! Tell me - when you dragged me out of the Tor, half-deleted and screaming at you to let me die - did you save me because I was essential to your fragging experiment?"
Bob swivelled to meet his twin's glare, his frustration evident.
"No! I did it because I cared about you!"
She didn't stop.
"And when you got shot into the Web - what kept you going? What made you certain that no matter what, you'd get home? Your experiment?"
His eyes dropped.
"Dot..."
She let him have his moment of reflection before continuing.
"If she's got any sense, Bob... she'll figure it out. I did. And I'm technically younger than Enzo. It's not portal science. Look; I hate to see you like this. It... reminds me of me too much. Y'know?"
Bob managed a smile. "Just - I don't know. If she's got her processor together she'll come around in a couple seconds. She's got no idea of what you went through out there in the Web..."
Pain flickered in his dark eyes for just a split-nano; fragments of all-too-recent memories dancing at the very edges of his recall.
Robin knew. She knew, because she'd been there. Seen in her nightmares - what she'd *thought* were nightmares - what she now knew was fact.
The two sat in silence for a few nanos. It was a mutual silence; there was no awkwardness, just the quiet moment of being in each other's company. The circumstances were irrelevant.
When Robin spoke again, her tone was unusually soft.
"Bob."
"Hmm?" He glanced back at her from staring into his java.
"It'll be OK. She - and you - need to quit file on the past and get on with your future."
Bob raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you had no advice to give."
Her all-too-rare moment was gone. She narrowed her eyes, then found the oily rag she'd used earlier with one hand and flung it at him. He flinched, raised his hand to catch the flying fabric; unable to stifle a grin as he placed the mug on the bonnet.
"Geez. You may have had a change of outfit, but you're still a dork."
"Takes one to know one," he quipped, hopping off the car before she could reach over and punch him in the arm. She gave him a predatory look from her perch. The Guardian smirked, then reached a hand out to assist her in getting off the CPU. She refused, sliding easily off the vehicle.
He surprised her as she stood up by enveloping her in a bear hug.
"Gah!"
Robin hated being hugged - hated physical contact of most kinds. What Bob was doing amounted to assault, as far as she was concerned.
"Getoffme!" she growled at him, her efforts to free herself in vain as he'd managed to pin her arms to her sides. It was hard to do, seeing as she shared not only his athletic build, but his height as well; but he'd managed it. He knew better than to sustain it for very long, however, and after less than a split-nano let the squirming, protesting sprite go. She wrestled away from him, annoyance emanating from her in almost tangible waves. He looked only slightly apologetic as she glared at him.
"What was that for?" she scowled.
"For being you," he offered. "I needed it."
She looked at him reproachfully, adjusting her Guardian uniform.
"A simple 'thanks' would have sufficed."
"I won't do it again. I promise."
"Better not," she muttered, turning back to the CPU.
"Robin, I mean it. Thank you."
She made a minor sound of acknowledgment. He shook his head. Robin was not one for intimacy. She didn't seem to know how to handle it, shying away at the slightest hint of affection. It frustrated the heck out of him; but it was what made her different - and she was clinging on to any part of herself that made her that way.
WARNING - INCOMING GAME. WARNING - INCOMING GAME.
Both sprites glanced up at the sound, then at each other.
"Go on," she said, gesturing with a nod to the door.
"Not going to join me?" he teased.
She gave him a withering look.
"Get out of here, you dork," she sighed, a long-suffering expression on her face.
"Yes, sir!" he mock-saluted, and ducked out of the maintenance bay before she could throw something else at him. As he closed the door, he heard the dull *thud* of a spanner as it hit - and the music started up again.
Things were far from perfect, he mused, but sometimes, perfection was highly over-rated.