Chapter Text
“Robert, uh, sir?”
The squeaky voice of one Waterboy came over Roberts cellphone as he stepped into the SDN building, steaming cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup clutched tightly in his work worn hands.
“Sup, herm?” he says, casual.
“I- do you have Blond Blazers number?”
“... you making a move on an older woman, bud?”
“Wha-? I- no! I didn't I wouldn't … do that.”
“Then yes, I have her number.”
“Okay.”
“What for?”
Waterboy's voice falls out, and he leaves in a somehow audibly squirmy silence. “I- i need to take a sick day.”
“All that deliberation for that?”
“Y- yes?”
Robert sighs out his nose, walking his way through the office to sit down at his chair. He pours a bit of kibble into Beefs bowl. He cups his ear to his phone, pressing it with the meat of his shoulder. “Alright then. She can get you a -form or whatever. You caught that cold that's been passing around?”
“Uh, no . Just… feeling really tired. Think I'm starting to catch a bug er- something.” He sputters.
Rob nods. “Alright. You rest easy, alright? Don't hurry back too fast.”
“Yes sir.”
Robert hits the large red hang up button with the pad of his thumb. He quickly forwards Mandy's number over to Herm and scoots his chair into his desk. He boots up the computer with an accompanying smack to the bottom left of the monitor to get it to kick on. He boots up the dispatching website. Something comforting oozes down his chest like hot molasses as he sees the names of his crew. He can hear the faint buzz of their lively talking on his monitor, chattering away. Friendly. Home.
“Hey gang, it's your dispatcher-” his regular spiel is interrupted by a tidal wave of chatter, coalescing into a drench running over his chest. “Bob bob!”
“Robbie boyy!”
“Hey Mr. Dispatcher!”
“Mornin’ laddie.”
“Sup.”
"Good morning Robert Robertson.”
They sound… excited to see him. It's refreshing. Like a cool drink of water-
“Hey crew.” He can't stop his voice from being fond. “Should be a fairly easy day today, not a lot of reports from the early bird crew. Waterboy is out sick though so we're going to stick to dispatches of 1 or 2. Clear?”
“Got it.” sonar shoots out quickly. “Takin it sleezy.”
Punch up sounds conflicted when he speaks. “I figured he’d be out sick today but that still isn't very much like him. Still- will be nice to get some missions in with coop.”
Robert can't help but raise a brow. “You figured?”
“Aye. We went bar hopping last night.”
“Are you suggesting Waterboys too hung over to come to work?”
“Nah. He was shaking like crazy half way thru the night- hadn’t hadda drop to drink yet either. Malevola walked im home.”
Robert hums softly. He unlocks his phone by punching in the code quietly under his desk as he clicks through the menus to mark waterboy absent. He shoots a quick text to waterboy, letting him know the others were missing him. He knew that was the type of thing to make waterboy happy. From there, he decides to get to work.
~~~
The shift isn't all too bad to be honest. Not a whole lot went on- just some quick things for everyone to do for the last five or so hours. After all is said and done, Robert stays on the line for a while. They talked for a while, and after a bit they came to a conclusion. Well- robert did anyway. He planned to go to waterboys house, bearing a gift of some kind from malevola and sonar. He didn't exactly pay attention to what it was when sonar threw the box on his desk, but he packed it into his duffle bag.
He caught a ride with Courtney after work, because she and Herman didn't work that far apart in LA. The woman drops him off in front of waterboys home. It wasn't a small house, but it wasn't quite large either. A modest two stories - quaint and gabled , with a porch swing and a painted mailbox. Robert wanders up to the door, stepping on the creaky spruce boards of the deck, running his hands on the unfinished rain warped wood of the stairs that bent down and seemed to smile up at him. He comes to the door and knocks on it with the brunt of his knuckles.
There's shuffling on the other side for a beat before the door opens. An elderly woman answers the door. Her hair is curly, white curls looping just below her chin. Her face is slouched in on itself, old but not mean, creased but not with lingered emotions. Just age, and not much more. She squints from behind turtle shelled glasses.
“Uh. Hi.” Robert addresses, shifting awkwardly side to side. “Is- Herman home? I'm a friend from work.”
Her lips turn up into a smile. “Hermie is awake,yes dear. What's your name?” Her voice is surprisingly strong, not an ounce feeble. “Uh- rob. Is fine.”
“Rob. That's a wonderful name. Hermie's upstairs resting. He isn't feeling too well.”
“Yeah, I heard. Poor guy didn't sound very good this morning.”
He follows the point of her finger up the stairs. He gives a small wave back and goes up the stairs. He glances at each of the three bedrooms on the upper floor. The one with the blue wave sign on the door seems like the key. He steps over a slightly wet newspaper to the door. He knocks once.
“Yo! Herman? You aren't naked are you?”
There's a pause. “A-ah- No?”
“Good. Then I'm coming in.” Robert pushes the door open with a wide arcing shove.
The room is interesting. The walls are long and wallpapered a faint peeling lilac with a thankfully high “popcorned” ceiling. The bed tucked away in the back left is a king, apt for his height, with waterproof bedsheets and thin ratty blankets that have definitely been stuck in the dryer far too many times. There's water covering on the floor as well, with a separate tarp under a myriad of plants and a few terrariums for some form of animal. There's a rather fat tabby asleep under one of the sun lamps, lazing with its stomach in the air and its tail making lazy curls. There's also a night stand and a large collection of posters and decor. Most of the wall decorations are plants and metal posters, with a few pinned album covers and collectable concert t-shirts, all a little bit waterwarped but handled with care and certainty. On the side table and shelves are a few books, a cardboard box stuffed with comics, and a few random super hero displays.
It's dorky. It's very waterboy.
The one other piece of furniture in the room is a full tub of water, with one normally peppy ginger placed in it. The younger man is situated with his knees tucked just under the point of his chin. His skin is pale, clammy and wet- with the only difference in hue being the shade under his eyes and a brush of pink across the bridge of his nose and on the apple of his cheeks. Fevered would be the simple way to describe it.
“Christ, “ He starts , looking down. “You look sick as a dog.”
Waterboy cracks a small smile. “I feel it.”
Robert settles a hand on the meat of his hip. “Why are you sitting in- a glorified kiddy pool?”
“That's- that is. Ha, one great question, it's uhm. It's stupid.”
“Cant be that stupid. You run around in a teal and yellow jump suit all day. Your ego will be fine.”
“I don't think I have an ego anymore. I think it- it shrunk.”
“Out of existence?"
“Yeah, something like that.”
Robert lets the silence sit for a moment, like standing water. “So… the pool?”
“R-right. I uhm, I get tired. When- when I'm sick or stressed. Water-water helps.”
“...huh. That isn't normal.”
“No. No it is not.”
He takes the conversation as a permission to approach Waterboy. He comes to the side of the plastic tub and sits down, putting a hand on the lip of it.
“So is it like- a mental pseudo science thing or- do you actually get something out of it?”
“Actually gain energy. I- i don't know how to explain it but it- it makes me better- i - i don't know.”
Roberts' eyes go a little bit wide. His mouth sputters against the words worming out, stopping and starting. “Waterboy. Question.”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever been to a doctor before?”
Waterboy squirms. “With my grandma, i- i guess? Oh! And when I was born! That too!”
“No- I mean like. For yourself. Because that- that is not normal.”
“But it's helpful! It's part of my power”
“Yes but it changes how your freaking body works.”
There's a long drawn out pause, as slow and lingering as the final notes of an aggressively southern country song.
“I don't really- have doctor money.”
Robert sighs long and hard out his mouth.
“Get dressed, we're going to the hospital.” It's time to figure this out.
~~~
Herman has hung out in the doctors office before. Usually it was for his grandma- waiting on her hand and foot when she needed something. Four years ago she had started to develop osteoarthritis , and now is unable to walk. So he was there. He was as reliable as any grandson should be- through all of the long winded procedures, tests and documentation. Because he loves his grandma, and it's what he’d want someone to do for him if he got sick.
And here Robert was, with him, just like he had been. With a furrow to his brow and a tight set to his jaw, a lingering sense of seriousness, of care.
That wasn't a thing he was very used to. Of course, he had his grandmother- and he cherished that. But care from anyone else? It wasn't exactly common. So to see it now was heart warming.
Still, that didn't make being poked and prodded by tons of doctors ideal. It had started as one- just trying to find the route of the illness that had left him w(h)ine and dining the bathroom floor for a day now. Simple as that. But then Robert mentioned his.. Super powered quirk- and suddenly there were two doctors in the room. And two became four became six. Interchanging and swivelling like props on the set of a musical, coming out one door and leaving through the next. With the amount of swishing white coats you could convince somebody stupid it was a mass haunting and that each doctor that passed through was a ghost.
“...don't- they.. They say something about chefs for things like this, right?” he asks Robert with a hesitation to his voice. “Too many- too many cooks spoil the soup?”
Robert laughs, warmly, cheek bones raising and covering his eyes with its authenticity.
“Something like that. You're something of a soup yourself- meat and water and everything.”
Robert leans back onto the slightly textured yellow wall of the room. He raises a brow. “Does your water change temperature?”
“Yeah, but not on its own. Just in response to the environment. Though ive- ive found that it's uh- actually naturally a bit colder than lukewarm.”
“Huh. I guess we're learning a lot about you today, huh?”
“I guess so.”
“Punch up said that you had the shakes pretty badly last night. "And that malevola walked you home. Is that true?”
He nods slowly, careful not to stir his aching head too much. “Yeah. I was feeling really weak and dehydrated. And my stomach hurt- but it wasn't bad. Then, anyway”
“Alright.”
The room holds its empty state for a few more minutes before one of the many doctors that had passed by before comes back into the room.
“Herman Maris?”
Herm nods his head once quickly. His hand drifts to the patch over the series of injections he’d had done. Robert moves over to sit down in one of the visitors chairs, a sharp fold in his crossed arms and a nervous tap resonating from his spruce brown dress shoes. “We’ve got your blood results back as well as your CT scan results. You are- quite the interesting character ! Something of a - medical phenomenon."
His spacy brain turned back in at that- partially because he was curious to know what was up with his body- and partially because he thought for a moment she said Phenomaman.
“,,,so is it a cold?”
Her slight smile flickers off her face like a leaf in the wind before returning. “Well- yes- influenza type B- but that isn't the important part.”
“That was the part I came here for” He speaks quietly. Robert sighs. “Yeah- but we also want to know what's up with your odd-ball organs.”
The doctor doesn't seem to agree with the exact terminology Robert uses, but she does nod her head vaguely, pursing her lips. “Its important to know about your changed biology to be better prepared to give you medical care, Mr. Maris.”
He submits to that, nodding his head. “S- so what do i know- need- need to know about?”
“Well, there's a few findings we gathered in testing your body. We’ll start from the basic things and - get into the more serious questions as we go. Sounds good?”
“Sounds- good.”
“Now. Mr.maris. Do you tend to have- stomach irritation, or any symptoms in that wheelhouse?”
“Y- yeah, that's right.”
“Well that is succinct with our findings. You're quite underweight for a man of your age and stature- concerningly so- and your stomach isn't exactly… normal. Your CT scan showed us something akin to severe deformation in your stomach. Well- not so much a deformation- more like an abnormality.” She takes a breath. Herman tries to not let his anxiety get to him,but the look he knows Robert is giving him isn't helping a whole lot. The doctor removes a printed scan from out of a wafer-cookie- cream folder. She turns it to face Herman and Robert.
“This is an image of your stomach. A regular human stomach is used to create Chyme- a mixture of the liquids and solids you intake and push them into the large intestine. A very little amount of water is meant to be in the stomach- most of the water absorption happens in the large intestine. But your stomach doesn't seem to behave that way. In fact, your stomach doesn't even seem to be made of what is considered anatomically correct.” Her voice sounds slightly incredulous, even though she already knows everything she's saying. Robert sits up in his chair, voice a dart in the air, sharp and pointed.
“Woah- woah- not anatomically correct? That- that cant be-”
“I assure you, we've run thorough testing.”
“So- if it isn't the normal material then what the hell is it?”
She gives pause, waiting for Robert to simmer. Herman gestures a shaky hand to indicate to him to do that.
“You seem to have a- unique ability to - hypermetabolize. Somewhat at will. But the energy isn't going to your body- its- going into your water, Herman. Your large intestine isn't taking in a lot of water- because your stomach is. Not only is your stomach the organ taking in water- leading to irritation and pain- but the water isn't regular water, either. When nutrients, vitamins and minerals enter your system- primarily through your stomach- it isn't processed there into your intestines a good chunk of the time. Instead- your body breaks it down in a near instant and turns it into energized water. Able to be manipulated. And- your stomach and skin material has been changed- to a substantial degree. Your body is more water premiable than it should be naturally- allowing you to create and draw energy from and with water. Its- remarkable.”
Herman squirms a bit, face going red. This is certainly news to him- but the praise gets to him before the shock and confusion does.
“I- so im..?”
“In function- you're something similar to that of a motorized waterwheel. The motor- energy you intake from eating and sleeping- can be turned into energized water. And then through the absorption and expression of that water you create your own form of water energy cycle Via your powers.”
Herman nods slowly. THat- it makes sense to him how that works.
Robert pipes up after a long moment of shocked silence. “But- water- herm. He isn't recycling his water. He's just- dispensing, and getting worn out. If he's some- human water wheel- what's that about?”
She draws her lips in. “It was noted upon entry that you suffer from anxiety, Mr.Maris?"
“Y- yeah- thats. That's right. GAD.”
“Then perhaps that's your issue. Your powers and body are built to split the energy you intake. Some for your actual body and some for your powers. Because less actual energy goes to your water your body would then be forced to recycle and use as much of it as you can. But because you get nervous- your body naturally wants you to calm down- lose some energy- and additionally, perspire. So adding the natural take away your body needs for its powers- and take more for persperating- other liquid draining- and your bodies desire to lose energy when facing too much stimulation- you expel more water. And thus- you expel more-”
“Energy.” Herm gulps softly. “I- i use energy expelling-”
“You lose energy expelling water. Whether it be from sweating, crying , urinating or using your powers.” She clarifies.
“S-so i tire out after using so much of my powers because im- taking away energy from- myself?”
She nods sagely. “Yes. This serves as a logical explanation for why you're so thin. Did you struggle with this anxiety in youth?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“That explains your unique growth pattern, then. You must be so tall because you weren't actively using your powers in youth- so you were just metabolizing more effectively and strongly. You were more able to grow because- at that point you had an excess of energy.”
Waterboy rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I was a sort of rambunctious little kid.”
The room settles in a pause- a shush coming over it like in a premiere night movie theatre.
Robert sits up in his chair with a creak. Herm isn't exactly sure if it's the man or the chair, but it doesn't seem like it matters.
“So- powers be damned- how do we protect his health? I mean- is it- dangerous- whats what?”
The doctor smiles a bit, looking meaningfully at Herman. She's clearly having the same thought he is about the sweet nature of Robert's words. “Health wise- it's a concern. The drop in weight seems to have been- gradual if that wasn't an identified symptom from the patient- but it is worrying. In an ideal world- there's three courses of action we’d like to take.”
“The best thing for him now would be anxiety management to help prevent- the … leaking. But me and my colleagues are in agreement that that is- easier said than done,” She laughs softly. “So besides that there's two things we recommend. One medical and the other a lifestyle change. A priority for him is to stay hydrated. He's been proven to work best drawing energy in from water as well as creating it bodily- so hydrating farther and being around bodies of water can help to manage symptoms as they come and go.”
“The third and final thing we will- strongly suggest is a PEG tube. It may seem limiting as a hero but there are- alterations and changes we can make to ease this transition and make it manageable. It's important that you have a method to get more nutrition into your system because of your massive energy output. It will not only be beneficial to your mind and body getting back from malnutrition but also enhance your ability to put on muscle mass and be more effective at what you do. You would still be able to eat and drink as normal- it would just be a - safety net for when you're in a bad physical condition and need to intake more. We've got projections for the amount of calories you would need to sustain your current lifestyle and they-re incredibly high. Using a PEG tube would help you meet those qualifications much faster.”
Waterboy fidgets with the zip of his jacket. He moves it up and down, searching the speckles in the now wet sanitary paper on the bed under him.
“I- im not sure.”
“Well you can take the time to think about it. We’ll get you ready for discharge now- we’ll have a pamphlet ready for you when you're all ready to go.”
Robert gives a comforting pat to his shoulder. Waterboy nods. “Yeah… okay.”
~~~
The car ride back from the pharmacy is quiet. Robert watches the steady blue drenched roads of the night, careening under him with the film reel flicker of lights as he moves down the surprisingly quiet roads. He casts his vision over to waterboy at the next stretch of straight and empty. The younger man is hunched low, a bag of supplements and antibiotics resting against his lap. He's quietly reading the pamphlet he got at the doctor, eyes trained and focused. He's still dripping.
“You okay, bud? Those flu meds doing their magic?”
Waterboy blinks his eyes shut.
~~
“You lose energy expelling water. Whether it be from sweating, crying , urinating or using your powers.” the doctor's words swirl in his mind.
~~
“Yeah- yeah. Sorry. I - I zoned out.”
Robert takes the chance a stop sign gives him and plucks the pamphlet out of waterboy's hands.
“Enough reading.” he says as Herman's gaze lingers.
~~
“Whether it be from sweating, crying , urinating or-” the words continue to swim behind his eyes.
~~
“Youve had a long day. You can think about it tomorrow when your heads are right. You look like you might-”
~~
“-be from sweating crying uri-”
~~
“I'm fine. Just… tired.”
~~
Crying. Crying. Crying.
~~
“I bet so. You can sleep- if you want. There's twenty minutes left on the drive.”
Waterboy breathes in. He feels suddenly waterlogged.
“Yeah.” he croaks. “I might.”
~~
…
~~
“Hey waterboy?” Robert asks quietly.
“Yes?” He asks from out of his haze, voice hardly audible.
“How did you first- realize your powers anyway?”
~~
There are sirens downtown in LA. Loud and wooshing over the choppy weather. It's a storm outside- heavy heavy rain. Herman's favourite type of weather.
Normally.
Drowning hurts. Badly. His lungs sting- the water trapped in them with every gasp and harsh contortion of his body under the pressure of the booming water hurts like an electric shock. It stings in his chest, and up his throat and through his nose. The open cuts on his limbs hurt worse than anything. Every time he dares to open his salt-stung eyes he sees plooms of purpley red coming off of him in the dark choppy water. He tries to force his head to the surface, but he can't seem to manage.
He's going to die like this. He's sure of that. He's going to die in the place he loved.
He’d enjoyed a lot of family vacations to the beach. He enjoyed watching the way his mothers ginger curls embraced the sand when she laid down. Her skin was as clear as a sand dollar. His father would stand with him , ankle deep in the water, watching the ebb and flow of the breeze and the water kissing away at the sky line.
He loved going to the beach with them. It almost seemed fitting that a beach and his parents would be his undoing.
As suddenly as the wind had blown - as suddenly as the windshield wipers hesitated- as suddenly as the crash and the glass and the fall happened- Herman began to breathe.
He felt the water come into his body, settle in him like the warmth of a hot dessert or a glance from a pretty girl in his grade- and then fuzz out. Dissipate and leave him. In microscopic shoots of water.
He was breathing under water. Or maybe he was already long gone.
…
The question went away when a strong coldness wrapped around his chest. Solid. At once the feeling of certainty in his chest- the feeling of the tide within him came to a crashing halt. His body was roused out of the cold choppy water and he was moved suddenly and swiftly away from the deep.
He forced his reddened eyes to open. It was a dull fuzz for quite some time. He didn't realize he was coughing and throwing up until he felt an encouraging hand on his pack - and heard a small voice. Or maybe it was loud- and the tide and the storm was just more pleasant for him to hear. He looked up and finally made his eyes meet reality. He saw a rescuer then- police or fire or someone glancing down at him with patient worried eyes. Furrowed brow and thick facial hair doused in wet. He almost looked like that super hero guy- mecha man.
He's dragged out into the sand. He watches the swarming sick green sky as his body is moved like a flopping trout- touched and prodded by people. The moment he stops, he sits up in the sand.
THe family car is upside-down- buried under silt- half logged in water. Glass shimmers in the dull light picking its way through harsh grey clouds.
Here he sees his mothers hair tangled in the sand. But this time it's wet with grime. Her skin is no longer beautiful and unmarred. From what he can see from under the tarp - it's stained with mud and red.
The sea line doesn't seem to kiss the sky anymore. It looks more like a harsh cut. And when he looks ahead of himself to see his father, standing proud he doesn't see him. Well he does- but face down in the water isn't something he’d call proud.
His eyes start to well. But not from a missing toy or a little amount of lunch- something different. Something new.
He starts to cry.
No . he starts to sob.
And the tears don't roll-
They shoot.
Herman is wet, cold and miserable. And he doesn't think there will ever be a day he isn't.
~~
“Herman?” Robert risks another peek over at waterboy as his question goes unanswered. The other man is leaned against the window- head slumped. His face is tight with some sort of sleepy concentration. Cute.
Robert turns his gaze back to the drizzly road in front of him- just cusping on a storm.
“Nevermind. I’ll ask you later”