Chapter Text
Bard locked his bedroom door and sat down on his bed, with his hands on his face and eyes on the floor. His hair was coming out from the bun he made and his face – which he hadn’t shaved in two-days – looked tired and pale. His insides were twisting and turning, making Bard feel increasingly nausea's by the minute.
“I’m not saying this is your fault” – Dr. Michaels said to him, “but sending him off with your grandma certainly triggered this”
“But I was sick”, Bard replied defensively.
Dr. Michael’s nodded sympathetically, “I understand that, but then she should have stayed with you and not taken them away”
Bard shook his head angrily, “You’re basically saying this is my fault”
“No”, Dr. Michaels replied quickly, a hand help up in the air, “I’m not. The focus here, is on Bain, okay? And he is not coping very well. I think he should go back on medication”
Bard’s eyes quickly flashed to her, “He doesn’t want to”
“But he should”
“He doesn’t think he should, and I agree with my son. If medication can be prevented, then we should go with that”
“Bain is a young boy, he doesn’t know what he wants or needs”, Dr. Michael’s insisted.
“He is old enough to know that medication is not for him”
Dr. Michaels’s sigh resonated throughout the room. Bard looked out the window and saw his kids looking in the room with curiosity.
“You once told me”, Bard began, “that medication should be used as a last resort. You said it yourself that Bain is too young for medication. Let’s just try to avoid it for now”
The Doctor nodded. “Alright, but Bain needs to see me twice a week, and you need to be the one to bring him”
Bard tried a small smile, “Just tell me when and he’ll be here”
Bard gave a small smile when he left, but the moment he got out of the office, the smile dropped off his face and guilt and sadness washed over him. He felt like the biggest piece of shit to ever live.
Bard rubbed his eyes so hard that he saw spots. It was basically his fault that Bain was suffering. If he hadn’t been so tempted to get his kids out of the house, then this wouldn’t have happened. He was, without a doubt, the worst father. He was always too busy dealing with his own bullshit problems that he couldn’t even see when his son was suffering.
Without thinking, Bard grabbed the pillow off his bed and chucked it against the wall.
A woman with curly hair haunted his face every time he closed his eyes.
Bard grabbed the other pillows and threw them over his room, feeling no satisfaction at all. Instead, he grabbed his lamp and chucked it against the wall, leaving a small hole.
Anger and bitter sadness clouded his better judgement and without even thinking he grabbed the nearest thing he could find –his phone- and threw that too.
Bain lying in the hospitable bed.
Bard let out a strangled scream and started throwing everything and anything he could get his hands on.
His wife’s body was mangled and bloodied.
Bard ran into the bathroom and started throwing his shampoo and conditioner bottles. Threw his shaver across the room. He stormed back into his room and walked to the photo of his wife. The one where she was smiling brightly, holding a newborn Sigrid in her arms.
A strangled sob tore through his body and he grabbed it harshly – breaking the glass in his hands – before throwing it across the room.
The first week after the accident was one of the worst. Bain never left his room and Sigrid had glued herself to the couch, crying hysterically as she hugged her knee’s to her chest. Tilda knew that she wouldn’t see her mom for a long time…she didn’t really know what that meant and so, one day, she walked into Bard’s room.
With innocence, she asked, “when is mommy coming home?”
Bard had completely lost it at that and closed the door on his youngest daughter, falling to the ground in a crumpled heap as sadness overtook him.
Bard looked at his wedding room and bitterness filled him like no tomorrow. Why the fuck was his life fucked up? Why the fuck did this shit have to happen to his family? Why did Bain suffer from depression and panic attacks? A young kid…why!?!
Bard pulled back his fist and punched the wall. Then again. And again. And again. He punched it until he could no longer feel the pain in his fist. Then, when he was done putting holes in the room, he stopped. His eyes took in the damage that he had done and then, much like that horrible day when Tilda asked when her mommy was coming home, Bard’s legs failed him and fell to the ground in a heap. Just like that day, horrible sobs racked through his body and he cried. He cried like he never cried before. He was irreversibly sad.
/
Bard didn’t even realise he had fallen asleep until he woke up, surrounded by broken fragments of items that he had destroyed. His face was covered in dry-tears and his hand was throbbing and bloodied.
Bard washed his face, put a bandage on his arm, changed his clothes and went downstairs. Sigrid and Bain looked up as he walked down the stairs and he smiled at them.
“Hey guys”, his voice came out croaky.
“Da”, Bain started, but Bard stopped him.
“What do you guys want for dinner? I’m thinking chicken with roasted veggies”.
Bard didn’t wait for their answer before he got started, humming and whistling along to the radio. Bain got up and started helping him, whistling as well. To outsiders it would have looked as though they were both happy, that they were just doing every day family things, but in reality, their hearts were shattering. It was like they lost her all over again.
“Your wife drove to her mother’s house, that night?”, Dr. Michael asked.
“Yes”
“How come?”
“She wanted to visit her mother?”
Bard frowned, “Yes”
“And what were you doing while she was gone?”
“Working”
Dr. Michael’s nodded and wrote on her note-pad. “Work was busy?”
“I am an accountant. It is always busy”
“Bain told me you and your wife had an argument a couple days before she left?”
Bard froze, “Yes”, he said through clenched teeth.
“How come?”
“She felt I wasn’t showing the family enough attention”
“And was she right?”
“No”, Bard replied, “we had a fight, big deal. Married couples have arguments all the time, especially when you have three kids”
“But she decided to go visit her mother after you both fought?”
Running a hand through his hair, Bard swore under his breath, “She had been meaning to go for quite some while”
“And why did she decide to take Bain with her?”
“Because Sigrid and Bain were arguing and we decided it would be best to separate them for a little while”
Dr. Michaels nodded and smiled politely before writing on her note-pad again. Bard hated her smile.
/
Bard got a few stares when he showed up to work the day after his breakdown. He didn’t fucking care. He didn’t give a shit about anything other than his work. Everyone could piss off, for all Bard cared.
Sitting down grumpily at his desk, Bard logged on and started catching up on the work he had missed out on. He had a few messages from Thorin, demanding that he hurry up and get back to him. He can go fuck himself, Bard thought as he read another email from Thorin stating that he had to hurry up.
Bard run a hand through his hair as anger rose up within him. Fucking Thorin was already getting on his goddamn nerves. Forcing himself to keep calm, Bard replied back to Thorin and forced politeness in his email:
Dear Thorin,
I am deeply sorry for the late reply. What seems to be the problem?
Kind Regards, Bard
Bard then started catching up on his work. He had done some work at home but not as much as he normally would. Under the circumstances, however, he decided to give himself a break and not dwell on it too much. If he did, he would just curl in a corner and stay there all day.
Bard worked solidly for a few hours before his stomach grumbled and he decided to go to the lunch room and see if there was anything good in there. Much to his displeasure there was only fruit, and so he grabbed a banana, made himself a strong cup of coffee and went back to his office.
He ate the banana. Drank his coffee. Checked his emails. Crunched some numbers. Told a newbie exactly how the business worked. Drank more coffee.
Everything was mechanical. His actions, the way he spoke, what he wrote in his email…people noticed his bad mood but didn’t say anything, to which Bard was grateful but also a little annoyed. He didn’t know why, either.
When five o’clock came, Bard rang up the Chinese restaurant and ordered dinner for the kids. He stayed at work.
Bard stayed at work until everyone in his department left. He stayed when the bosses left. He did some work. He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. He went back to work. Bard didn’t stop working until nine o’clock, when there was a faint knock at his door.
Seeing the blonde haired man, Bard couldn’t control his emotions and without even thinking or without even saying hello first, he started crying. And not the quiet crying either, but the terrible sobs like the night before; the sobs that tore through his body and left his ribs aching and his heart beating painfully fast in his chest.
When Thranduil rushed to his side and pulled him in an embrace, Bard kept crying. He couldn’t stop. They fell to the floor together in a heap, Bard sitting half in Thranduil’s lap and half on the floor, and gripping Thranduil’s shirt so tight that his knuckles went white and his injured hand started bleeding again. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but it was enough to stain Thranduil’s top.
Bard was aware of Thranduil’s arms around him, one hand was rubbing his back soothingly and the other was on his waist, holding him tight. They were so close that their breath became one, and their hair mingled together. Thranduil didn’t move away, and neither did Bard. Bard just held on to Thranduil as if he was an anchor that was keeping him stable.
He had no-idea how long they stayed like that, but when Bard finally stopped shaking, he moved away. His cheeks were red and puffy. Thranduil’s top was wet and Bard was much too exhausted to feel embarrassed about it.
“Are you alright?”, Thranduil asked as he reached out and wiped away a few dried tears.
Bard sighed and contemplated saying yes, I’m fine. Instead, he shook his head and said “no, I’m not”. His voice, like the night before, sounded croaky. But this time, Bard was more exhausted, like he had run a marathon and a half. Much to his displeasure, his body was still trembling a little bit and his eyes were bloodshot from crying.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Bard shook his head, “I will…just tomorrow, I…I don’t want to go through it right now”
Thranduil nodded his head, “fair enough. Come on”, Thranduil stood up and held out his hand for Bard, “let’s do something completely disgusting and get McDonalds”
With a small smile, he replied, “sounds good”. Bard took the offered hand and got up, surprisingly feeling a little better than he had all day.
/
Bard woke up the next day feeling slightly embarrassed. Last night’s events kept playing through his mind, and he felt himself blushing at how he had acted in front of Thranduil. It was embarrassing. After Bard had completely broken down in front of the man, they went to McDonalds and stuffed their faces. Bard smiled contently as he remembered how Thranduil had sauce at the corner of his mouth.
After they had eaten, Thranduil had driven Bard home. His car was still at the car park, but as Thranduil had so kindly put it, Bard was in no condition to drive. Bard was inclined to agree with him. His eyes were sore from all the crying he had done.
Stretching his legs, Bard got up and looked at the wall he had punched. Honestly, he didn’t feel too bad about punching the wall. He wanted to re-paint his room anyway, so truly, it wasn’t that big of deal.
Bard decided he was going to be late to work and didn’t feel guilty about that, either. The urge to make pancakes was too strong and he couldn’t control that and so, without regret, he spent a good part of an hour making pancakes. He tried and failed miserably to make batman shaped pancakes. He laughed at himself as he turned the volume on the radio up higher, trying to sing his problems away. For a while, it worked and he felt like the man who could handle anything in the world, regardless of all the shitty things that went wrong.
“Where the fuck were you last night?”, was the first Sigrid said to him as she came down the stairs.
“I worked over time”, Bard replied casually and put some pancakes on a plate for her. “Hence why I’ve not gone back in yet”
“Eleven o’clock is a bit ridiculous. Maybe next time you should get here a bit earlier”
“Relax, Sigrid”
“Fuck off”, she replied back casually.
“No swearing”, Bard said sternly and poured more batter in the pan.
“You swear all the time”
“I’m an adult”
“Same here”
“You’re only sixteen”, Bard replied back.
“I’m pretty fucking mature”
“I told you to stop fucking swearing”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck”
Bard didn’t have the heart to tell her off anymore and so, like the good father he was, he started laughing instead.
Eventually all the kids made their way downstairs and ate. With everyone sitting at the table, eating and talking enthusiastically about the next Marvel movies, Bard could almost believe that they were a proper, happy family.
When he finally left for work, Bard felt so light, so happy that he had a genuine smile on his face, despite the fact that he had to catch at taxi to work. Because of his good mood, Bard gave the man an extra tip- because hey! Why the hell not?!
His good mood, however, was shattered when he walked into his office to find Thranduil and Thorin in there. Both sitting opposite each other and looking angry as well as uncomfortable.
“Bard”, Thranduil said so professionally that Bard barely recognised the man from the night before, “We have a problem”.
Fuck, was all Bard thought to himself before he sat down at his desk and listened to Thorin talk. Fuck his goddamn life.