And we're back!

The update schedule on this won't be quite as rapid as it was in Part 1 – sorry, everybody, but as inspiring as it was to come back to amazing wonderful emails every day after class, I don't think I can keep that kind of pace up. The way things are going, I think this is going to be a little bit longer than Cold Fusion.

That being said, I've already more or less finished chapters one through five, so once again, fear not – this story is not totally complete, but I will not abandon it. I hope it's as much fun to read as it is to write! I'm still trying to decide whether the plot on this one is actually decent, so let me know what you think as the story progresses?

So…Here's part two of Cold Fusion: True North. The first chapter is really short. Critiques and constructive criticism are welcome! And I don't own Megamind or any of the characters.

Chapter 1

Megamind is tired.

More than tired, actually. It's barely a month since Titan and there haven't been any villains so far, and Megamind is exhausted.

His new, non-villainous life is actually going a lot more smoothly than he had thought it would. Thinking up ways to fix the city is devastatingly simple, and even though he's still trying to stay out of the way for the most part, executing his plans is easy with several thousand tireless hovering machines constantly waiting for direction.

His meetings with the city's zoning board leave him jittery and dry-mouthed and longing for the opportunity to pick up even a screwdriver, but Megamind hasn't been able to get his hands dirty in a while. He hasn't had time. He writes the plans, and other people see that they're completed. That feels weird. He and Minion have been a two-man show since day one, and relying on others to carry out his plans makes him very, very nervous indeed.

And he is more tired than he can ever remember being, but it makes no sense; he doesn't have to work half as hard as he used to. The people are beginning to accept him, although most of them are still wary (he doubts he will ever fully have their trust); he delegates to the brainbots; Minion takes care of him; Roxanne…

Roxanne.

He hasn't seen her for more than an hour at a stretch in nearly two weeks. She swings back and forth when they're out together – one minute, she will be laughing and leaning against him as they walk together, and the next she will make some hurried excuse about why she has to leave, if not right now then at least very soon. If she doesn't, she'll get short-tempered and tight-lipped, and those moods always make Megamind worry.

But he doesn't blame her, really. He broke her trust, and it's only natural that Bernard's face would remind her of that.

It's doubly difficult right now because Bernard turned up in the laundry last week, so Megamind can't impersonate him anymore, and right after that Roxanne had to go to Europe on business. She's working on a piece detailing the homelessness situations in various tourist hotspots – the last Megamind heard, she was in Amsterdam.

All things considered, however, and despite the rough spots, things between them are proceeding fairly well. Roxanne spends a lot of her free time at the lair – enough time that there's an extra toothbrush beside Megamind's bathroom sink. He is surprised at how comfortable she is around all his machinery and failed experiments and oddities. And she gets along famously with Minion.

So they have their ups and downs, but Roxanne seems happy enough, and Megamind knows he's happy – his heart leaps into his throat every time he sees her, and he thinks he might die when she smiles at him.

But happiness sets him on edge, and maybe that's why he's so tired. He's only really been happy a few times in his life, and it's always been just before something awful happens. Every time he feels himself grinning anymore he immediately starts to feel a little bit sick and panicky. And then the questions start running through his mind like they always do.

How long will it last? How long can he expect it to last? He has absolutely no point of reference, no way to even begin to answer either of those questions, and that is deeply unsettling. He's flying through fog without a compass. And even if he had one, there's no magnetic pole to tell the needle which way to point.

He's starting to wonder which would be more painful: to wait for Roxanne to tear this new happiness from him, or to turn his back on her now, before he becomes too attached?

He knows which one would be safer, but he really doesn't want to think about that.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Across the city, a young man with too many books and too little experience watches his flock of tiny particles gather and then disperse behind double-thick capillary shields. Like clockwork, he tends to his calculations and his quarks, and the fire of creation burns in his eyes.

Soon.