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When she went quiet, it was like she ceased to exist.
There were missions that she spontaneously would drop out of. Meetings that she wouldn’t attend, meals that she’d skip, poker games one person down- it was like she became a ghost. That she’d never been there in the first place.
There was a time or two that Valentina herself ended up on the floor in front of the agent’s room- arms crossed, heel clicking impatiently at the locked door. And similarly, there was a time or two that Bob poked his head around the corner in curiosity, but when the woman almost caught him, it dissuaded any future attempts at spying.
When his friend would suddenly reappear, it was as if nothing had happened. They still took meals together, watched movies together. Even played damn Mancala- anything to keep him entertained. She’d knock shoulders with him and tease about his need for enrichment. They were close- which is why Bob picked up on the subtleties.
She wore more layers to hide the weight loss. More makeup to cover the bags under her eyes. More animated- but precise. Acting- coaching herself through interactions that came just a beat too late.
The first time it happened, he thought he had done something wrong.
Like always.
Then, sometimes, it seemed like she was pulsing with energy. would practically go on for days training, socializing- picking up whatever hobby she had put down before. Buzzing.
But the disappearances-
He had asked Yelena about it. The assassin, with a minute twitch of her lips, reassured him that she was sure the other agent was just figuring out some stuff and that it had nothing to do with him. To not worry, and that his book club, video game, and cooking buddy would be just fine.
He didn’t believe her, but he certainly pretended that he did.
It wasn’t until there was a long bout of this mysterious absence- over a month, at least- that he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He had ended up at her door, having given himself a pep talk (for 30 minutes) before knocking.
Silence- not that he was anticipating anything else.
He’s not special- he’d probably just mess everything up, really scare her away-
And like the knock itself manifested him, Walker turned the corner and walked past the hunched man.
“Don’t bother, she’s gone,” he threw at Bob casually. Continuing, either not noticing or not caring that the other man went stock still. “I heard they dragged her out of her room a few weeks ago.”
His stomach sank through the floor in a perverted mimicry of what Ava must feel every time she phased through a solid wall.
“Is she-“ Bob croaked before clearing his throat, “Is she coming back?” John kept walking.
“Not sure. Valentina said something about dead weight.” The ex-Captain shrugged. “She’s been MIA for a while. Not surprised they grabbed her. She can’t just sit around while we do all the hard work.” And with that, he disappeared, leaving a shattered man in his wake.
Bob didn’t sleep.
Or- he didn’t feel like he did. Sometimes he’d see flashes of his friend, almost lifeless on the floor of some room that looked awfully similar to the cage their employer had kept him in initially- like a minimalist hotel with walls that became want amounted to an electric fence. Sallow, the only indication of her being alive slow blinks and the slow rise and fall of her chest.
But nothing solid. Nothing concrete. Regardless- he felt like he hadn’t slept almost the entire time she had been gone. Felt a stirring in his chest from his Void, like a bloodhound sniffing for an exit. Testing the waters. Looking for cracks in the wall to seep through.
He truly, honestly, had no idea what had been happening until he was brought before Valentina herself, Mel at her side, in front of screens in a control room. They were dark at the moment, but he had a sinking feeling they wouldn’t stay like that for long.
“They- uh,” he cleared his throat and shifted in front of the sharp woman. “You wanted to- to talk?”
“Yes, Robert. You’ve been having some concerning patterns recently.” Her words just as thorny as her gaze. “I get that you want your little girlfriend back, but you’re scaring the staff.”
“She’s not my-“
“Don’t care,” she cut him off with a flick of her fingers to indicate to Mel to turn on the screens in front of them.
He realized, belatedly, that those dreams were not, in fact, dreams at all.
That room with low lights and sparse furniture made it easy to see the huddled form of his crush dear friend in the corner, misery plain on her face.
And an absence of light in the shape of a person- of him- next to her.
“Listen. You can get all mushy and kiss and make up or whatever later- but you gotta cut this shit out.”
Another recording, another film of the room with the Void and the agent. Her curled tightly in the bed, him sitting on the end.
Another. Her crumpled in the middle of the floor, the darkness floating the perimeter slowly.
Another. Her sitting in the small, uncomfortable chair in the corner, staring blankly at the wall. His outline, inundated with darkness, on the ground next to her.
Another. Darkness pressing the corners and door closed and sealed, the wood at the entrance bending with forceful bangs. Keeping her in, or keeping them out- he couldn’t tell.
They stopped after the twelfth recording. Pinpricks of light always locked onto her hunched form. Always in her orbit.
“You need to cut this out, Robert. You’re not helping her.”
His chest seized up. She pushed on.
“Stopping her from getting treatment is a detriment. She needs to be functional- needs to earn her keep.”
The words sounded like they were underwater, his glossy gaze caught on the frozen frame behind Valentina.
The Void’s hand resting on his friend’s head.
Affectionately.
Was she trapped in there with him, or was the manifestation of his deepest, most dour thoughts protecting her from the outside? What were these treatments? Was he stopping her from getting better?
Was he hurting her?
“I want to see her,” he finally croaked, cutting off the woman in front of him mid-dialogue. “I need to see her.”
“Woah there- have you not been listening to a word I’ve said? You’re hurting her, why would I-?”
His gaze, snapping to meet hers, burned gold.
“You will take me to her. Now.”
When the door closed behind Bob- and locked- his gaze had already rested on her lying next to the bed, the thin blanket laid under her like a picnic blanket. On her back, he could almost imagine her star gazing like they had done so many times before. He approached slowly in a shuffle, her eyes catching his. Lips pressed together for a fleeting moment before relaxing back to a neutral position. Dull eyes turned back to the ceiling.
“Is it okay if I, uh- can I come in?”
“Yes please.”
Her voice was quiet, raspy, and flat. He felt like he was gut punched.
How badly had he been-
“Thanks. For-“ she went quiet for a moment. “Just. Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean t- why are you thanking me?” He moved closer and ended up sitting near her, positioned between her and the door unconsciously. “I should be apologizing to you. I didn’t know that it was- that I was- you shouldn't be thanking me, I’ve just been messing things up more. Messing you up more. Hurting you.”
“Is that you or Valentina.” It was a question, but her voice was devoid from its usual inflection.
“Huh?”
“Are you saying that, or did Valentina tell you that?” she asked again. He went still and quiet, then deflated.
“Me, I’m saying it. I’m- she- god, I’m just sorry. I’m always messing everything up.”
“I’m already messed up, Bobby. It’s not your fault we’re kindred spirits.” She blinked slowly at the ceiling. “You’ve been the only one I’ve been able to talk to some days. A lot of days.” She sounded exhausted and miserable at the same time.
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
That we talked. That you were experiencing this. That I had been next to you the whole time.
That we were the same.
It was quiet for a little bit after that, Bob fiddling with his sleeves.
“D’you want to sit with me for a little? Before they drag you out.” The humor was flat, and though it made something twist in his gut in a way that screamed Sentry, he let out a weak laugh. “You can join my empire of dirt.”
“Did you really just quote Nine Inch Nails?”
“You’re the one who got the reference.”
He settled on the blanket next to her on his back, staring at the ceiling with a flick of a lopsided smile.
“Yeah. You got me.”
It was quiet for a bit after until their fingers brushed. He hissed sharply, pulling away frantically- concerned that she would be living through her worst moments in this fragile state- because of him- but was stopped by the light pressure of her hand on his knee. Grounding him.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
He could have choked on his heart. Why was she reassuring him? Why was she being so nice?
“It doesn’t happen anymore. Not accidentally at least.” The breath Bob let out was shaky. “Can you please lie down with me again?” Slowly, carefully, he followed her request.
“I have really bad emotional swings. Really high highs, really low lows. I have for a long time, and even though the medications really help, along with burying myself in work and distractions and- friends, people I care about, like you- sometimes I can’t escape it. It’s like-“ she stopped herself short. His eyes hadn’t left her.
“Like what?” he whispered. Like he didn’t already know what she was describing. Like he hadn’t experienced it throughout his entire life. She was quiet for another minute, the air stale as she brought forth whatever energy she had.
“It’s like drowning, all the time. Like every ounce of strength I have goes towards just breathing. Food tastes like nothing. Eventually there’s this- it’s like there’s this wall between my emotions and me. I know they’re there, and I know they’re mine, but they’re also- not.”
“Like you’re not yourself.” She nodded a bit, her fingers brushing his again. He brushed hers back.
“When you visit- the Void- it hurts. It hurts a lot.” She cleared her throat, tears starting to streak down the sides of her face as she kept staring up at the ceiling. “But it’s grounding. It brings me back to myself. Even though it hurts. Keeps me here.” She sniffled loudly when her throat got tight. “I don’t know- I don’t think it makes sense. I’m just- sorry. Sorry.”
“I understand,” he confessed. "Or at least I think I do?" Her eyes slid over to his as his mind fought to recall a hazy memory of sitting in an attic, memories of his childhood manifested under the floorboards as he picked his cuticles raw. Their fingers intertwined and tugged him back to the present. They just looked at each other for another minute, drawn out by painful affection. Acknowledgement. Knowing.
“I think you’re lonely like that too- when you visit. You talk a lot.” He flushed.
“Really? I, shit, I really just-“
“Thank you.”
“You keep thanking me and I keep- I’m confused. You’re thanking me for the Void?”
“I don’t know. I am, but I can’t really explain it. I can’t explain a lot right now. But just know that he’s- you’ve- been so. So-“ she choked on her words again and shut her eyes tightly as another wave of tears slid free. “I don’t know if I’d be here without you.”
That was another punch to the gut. And the heart. And the face. No one had ever said that before. He didn’t even believe it, if he was being honest.
“Please don’t lie to make me feel better.” She let out a hiccup, eyes shut tighter. “Hey- look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I can’t really control him- me- and you’re already feeling so bad-“
“Why can’t you believe me?”
“Because I just mess things up. I can’t- the Void just hurts. He doesn’t- I don’t help.” She turned back to her back to stare at the ceiling again. Eyes duller and body limp.
“I’m not explaining this right. I don’t think I can. I’m sorry if I made you feel worse by telling you. But I- please don’t-“ she bit down on her bottom lip hard, swallowing a sob. Tears poured. He said her name softly, heartbroken.
“I understand if you don’t come back. I’m not great company and I feel like I’ll make you feel worse about it all.” She pressed her lips together and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. It was somehow worse than the dull look she had on before. “Thanks for visiting. I’ll be fine. Back in no time.”
He kept dreaming of her in these snippets, so he must have kept going back, assumingly to Valentina’s chagrin.
Not for long, though.
About a week and a half after his visit, he dreamt in vibrant color. Bright blues and golds, body buzzing and limitless. Addicting.
He felt weight in his arms that smelled very much like her and pulled her closer, taking a deep breath. Felt the pressure of her face against his neck, the press of skin against skin intoxicating. Elating.
He thinks he kissed her.
That dream went on for a while. He saw himself high in the sky, on the edge of one of the skyscrapers, arms like a vice. Words floating around him, intangible and unintelligible for the most part.
The sun was in a different position- bright and blinding- and the weather had shifted. He didn’t know how long it had been, or if any of it was even real.
“Why won’t you just let me go?”
“Because you don’t go until I say.” Fingers dipped harshly into skin and fat. “Your life is mine. Your death is mine. You don’t go unless I permit it.” Her breath caught on the wind whipping through his hair. “Say you understand. Say it.”
“I- I don’t-“
Her face fit neatly in his large hand, chin tilted up towards him.
“I won’t ask again.” He felt her swallow under his hand.
“I understand,” she croaked. “I’m not allowed to die until you say so.”
“Look at you, learning new tricks. Pretty thing. You get us, don’t you? You understand.” He nodded her head for her, staring down into her half-lidded gaze. “Yes, you do. And when you start feeling powerful again, that power is mine. That joy is mine. I deserve it, and I own it.” He leaned down, brushing noses, touching foreheads. “You are mine. And you will stay. With me.”
“Okay,” she conceded softly, leaning into his hand. Going weak in his arms with the assumption that he would keep her from falling off the towering structure. “I won’t go.”
“No. You won’t.”
He woke up in his bed, curled tightly around her. He was exhausted, sore, and his head was spinning. But his arms held something soft close, breathing quietly into the dark of the room. He wasn’t sure what was real right now- though the feeling of a chest rising and falling against him was grounding. And her hand clutching his, desperate to keep him close.
He was probably in trouble. A lot of trouble. But his soul felt settled, his shoulders no longer up at his ears. The brush of his thumb against her skin centered him, eyes fluttering shut once more. They could deal with it tomorrow.
He wasn’t planning on letting her go any time soon.