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Bob’s forearms buzzed.
Pick up the knife.
He dug his nails into his flesh. Distantly he heard clatter and talking.
It would be so easy, the voice in his head whispered.
“No,” he mumbled. His knuckles turned white. His arms burned.
You’re embarrassed? Too many people? Coward. Slip it into your pocket then. Not to use, just to have. In case.
A loud porcelain bang made him jump. A steaming omelet sat on the breakfast table in front of him.
John Walker wiped his hand on his apron. “Bacon, bell peppers, and cheese. Just the way you like it, Bobby.”
Bob looked up with a shaky smile. “Yeah, thanks.”
John clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to the stove. Bob wasn’t hungry. He picked up the knife, hesitated, and cut into his food. Steam came out. He pushed it around his plate.
“And then, his head exploded,” Ava crowed. Alexei banged his fist on the table as he laughed. Bob jumped again.
“Papa, quiet,” Yelena said, rolling her eyes. “It’s too early to be this loud.”
“I’m just laughing! Ava is a master at comedic timing.”
Ava puffed her chest out proudly.
Yelena said something back but Bob tuned them out. He put a bite of egg in his mouth. It had all his favorite ingredients but didn’t really taste like anything. Did Walker put any seasoning in this? He turned to John but his back was turned as he hunched over the stove. Bob slowly kept chewing; he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to ask.
He jolted as Yelena put her hand on his wrist. Her skin was too hot. She looked at him, concerned. “Are you ok, Bob?”
His heart skipped a beat. “Uh, yeah? Why?”
“You just look a little out of it. You’re doing Bucky’s hundred yard stare.”
“Hey.” Bucky scowled at her but she ignored him.
“You sleeping ok?” she continued.
“Yeah. I mean, no. I’ve, uh, been having these… weird dreams.” He kept his eyes glued to his plate.
John sat down, setting his own food down. “What kind of dreams? Nightmares?”
Bob fidgeted. All the attention was on him now. “Not exactly. Just like… really creepy and kinda sad.”
His friends nodded sympathetically. They were no strangers to bad dreams.
“Well, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help,” Ava said kindly.
“Thanks. It’s just… there’s this woman. In my dreams, I mean. She keeps showing up and– I don’t know.”
“Anybody you know?” Bucky asked seriously. “A friend? Sister? Girlfriend? Wife?”
“No, I’ve never seen her before,” Bob said.
Bucky thought, the wheels visibly turning in his head. “That’s weird. Normally recurring characters in dreams are people you know. Or for me at least.”
John nodded. “Yeah. Dreams are what? Your brain processing things, right? Memories and whatever.”
“I swear I’ve never seen her before. She wears all red with this weird pointy headband thing and– says things to me.” He stuffed his face before they could ask what she said.
“Ooh, sexy,” Alexei teased, elbowing him.
“Dad!” Yelena huffed. “But seriously, Bob, can we not talk about your wet dreams over breakfast?”
Bob turned bright red. “No, that’s not– They’re not– It’s not that kind of dream! I don’t like them. It doesn’t matter, it’s not a big deal, you guys. Can we talk about something else?”
Yelena looked skeptical but let it go. “Well, I had a dream last night that I was at the park with my dog Fanny but I lost her. I was calling her name and looking everywhere but–”
Bob stopped listening. He ate the rest of his tasteless omelet. He left the knife on the table when he cleared his plate.
—
Wanda pouted. “They’re getting worried, Bob.”
Bob ran his hands down his face. “Can you please let me sleep in peace? It’s been– A week?”
Honestly, he had lost track of the number of nights she had visited him in his sleep. He was so tired.
Wanda walked around him in a circle, tutting. “I’m disappointed in you.”
He pulled a face. “I don’t care.”
“I know you don’t care what I think. But you care what they think, don’t you?”
He heard laughter and turned to see his friends standing in a huddle, laughing at something on Bucky’s phone. He took a step forward but something like dread unfurled in his gut, stopping him in his tracks.
Wanda came behind him, gently brushing his hair behind his ear. She whispered, “They’re better off without you.”
A lump formed in Bob’s throat. “No, they’re not. They love me. Leave me alone.”
“Yes, they say that they do.” She took a step back and Bob finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “They went through The Void for you. They saw the worst parts of you and decided to save you anyway.”
“Yeah, they love me.” He took a step towards his teammates but Wanda grabbed his arm. Her fingers were icy and stained black.
“No, they need you,” she hissed. “You’re like me, Bob. Too powerful for your own good. A living weapon.”
“I’m not a weapon.” He yanked his arm out of her grasp.
“Maybe not as obviously as when you worked for Valentina but you are. Why do you think they leave you home on missions? It’s not because they care about your safety, it’s because you’re the ace up their sleeve. They can’t let anyone else have you.”
Bob scoffed, blowing the hair out of his face.
Wanda pressed on. “Why do they constantly ask you if you’re alright? Because they’re scared of setting the bomb off. They’ve carefully curated an environment where your emotions are in check and they know the slightest thing can set you off. They’re walking on eggshells. You’re a bomb.”
“I am not! They ask because they care!”
Wanda raised an eyebrow skeptically. He hated her stupid face. Taking one step back and then another, he turned and ran to join his friends. Wanda didn’t stop him. He hovered around the outside of their circle, trying to find an opening.
“Hey, guys. What are you laughing at? Can I see? Let me get in here.” Ava shifted and blocked him. He blinked. “Oop, that’s ok, I’ll just come around this side–” Alexei took a step, blocking his view of the phone. He pursed his lips. “Yelena. Hey, Yelena! What’s so funny?”
She gasped and tried to block his view but her frame was too small. On Bucky’s phone was an interview that said ‘Thunderbolts Spill All.’ He grabbed it.
The top had a photo of the five of them laughing and smiling in matching chairs. Bob wasn’t there. He studied it, brows furrowing. “You guys did an interview? That’s pretty cool–”
“Bob, don’t!” Yelena yelled. She tried to grab the phone from him but he pushed her away, scrolling down.
His eyes widened.
Interviewer: How does it feel to have saved New York from the biggest threat since Loki? Hell, if you guys didn’t step in when you did, it may have been the biggest threat the world has seen since Thanos.
Ava: You mean Bob? *scoff* Easy.
Yelena: It’s a funny story actually. We just told him that we liked him and he believed us! Can you imagine? He barely knows us! Imagine being so desperate for attention that you’d call a bunch of strangers your best friends?
Interviewer: He calls you his best friends? *laughing*
Alexei: Yeah, it’s pretty hilarious.
Bucky: He is desperate for attention though. I mean, I was tortured and abused for seventy years–longer than he’s been alive by more than double–and you don’t see me acting out like that. Threatening to kill everyone, blowing up buildings and all that. He’s so needy.
Interviewer: Where is he now? If he’s so greedy for attention, wouldn’t you have to bring him today?
John: No, we keep him home. We just lie and say it’s for his safety and we’re on a mission or whatever. I don’t know why he keeps believing us.
Yelena: Yeah, but it’s pretty useful. We go out and do lots of fun things without him and he’s none the wiser.
Ava: We even have a separate group chat without him.
*Everyone laughs*
Bob couldn’t read anymore. His vision was blurred with tears. He slowly turned around but the people he called his friends were gone. Wanda had her arms folded, dragging her nails up and down her skin. Her brows were furrowed and gaze distant.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Bob shook his head. “It’s not true. It’s not–”
Wanda sighed, seeming to come back to herself. “Still in denial. I’m trying to help you, Robert. Please, let me help you.”
The phone clattered to the ground. Bob was shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks. “You can’t call me– You’re lying. This is a trick. They love me.”
“And that’s what the Avengers said to me.” She walked towards him. “They said I belong, that I was helpful, that I was making a difference. But as soon as they started getting bad press, they locked me away in my room. They let me take the fall, take the blame, take the heat. They locked me up in The Raft; put me in a straight jacket and shock collar to stop me from using my powers. Now, tell me, Bob, does any of that sound familiar?”
Bob struggled to swallow, choking on his words. “I was locked up; put in super sleep and sent to die. Shot. Used. But– But– That wasn’t by them. They saved me.”
Wanda rolled her eyes. “Are you really that naive? They just saw how easy it was to control you and wanted to try their hand. People like us can’t have happy lives, Bob. Not with powers like ours.”
Bob felt the familiar heat of sparks dancing around his fingers as he balled his fist up. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head!”
He raised his fist, muscles flexing, vision tinting yellow and white.
The dream shattered with the sound of breaking glass.
With a mangled sound halfway between a gasp and a scream, Bob bolted upright in his bed. Slowly, as his chest heaved, he brought his fingers up to his cheeks. They were wet with tears.
—
“Earth to Bobby,” Walker teased. “I need you to sit up so I can put your food down on the table.”
Bob hated his voice. He never wanted to move. Everyone was staring at him. He hated their morning breakfast routine. He tried to say ‘no’ but it came out more like a growl.
“Uh, ok,” John said. “I’ll just put it over here.”
There was an awkward silence. He could imagine them all glancing at each other, silently judging him. Their defective, useless "teammate."
“Hey,” Yelena said gently. She put a hand on his arm. And it burned.
He jumped up, holding the skin where she had touched him, brows contouring in rage. “Don’t you dare do that.”
She blinked in surprise. “Ok. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I won’t do it again. Are you ok?”
Bob grit his teeth. “Do I look ok to you?”
The room shifted, the early morning shadows growing and stretching, making the whole room look like it was tilting on its side.
Yelena glanced at the others, eyes full of worry.
They know they’ve set the bomb off, the voice inside his head whispered. It sounded a lot like Wanda’s voice. Their little living weapon is growing consciousness.
“I’m not your weapon,” Bob choked out.
“What?” Yelena seemed taken aback. “Bob, I don’t underst–”
“Don’t lie to me. I know what you’re doing.”
“What? What am I doing?”
“Just leave me alone!”
Bucky stood, his chair making an awful scraping sound. Wordlessly, he went to the counter and shuffled through all the different color pill bottles that littered it. He held two out to Bob.
Bob thought about smacking them out of his hand but found himself gently taking them instead. His hand was shaking.
“We’ll give you space but you have to take these,” Bucky said. He sat back down, avoiding Bob’s eyes.
Bob sneered. How dare he treat him like a wounded animal they needed to save. He wasn’t fragile. But Bucky was right. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken any pills. He was so stupid. Why weren’t they holding him accountable?
He remembered when they all got back from the one psychiatrist appointment they were able to afford after stealing Valentina’s money. ‘We all need to hold each other accountable,’ Yelena had said holding the bags full of brightly colored pill bottles. Ava had sighed, tired of taking medication her whole life. John had grimaced, still in denial that something was wrong. But Bob had been excited; a drug that made him want to live. That wasn’t meth. He couldn’t believe it.
Reluctantly, he filled a glass of water and popped the lids off. His team watched him silently as he swallowed then padded out of the room into the dark hallway.
“What’s wrong with him?” Yelena hissed once she thought he was out of earshot. Bob stopped dead in his tracks. “Do we need to do something?”
“Hopefully the meds will help,” Bucky rumbled.
“Maybe I should go after him,” John said.
“He said he wants space,” Ava countered. “Let him have a few minutes.”
“Fine.” There was a creak as John sat back in his chair.
Bob could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He stumbled off to his bed.
—
Bob had been bedrotting for… He couldn’t remember how long. A while. He hadn’t changed his clothes in days. Hadn’t showered. Hadn’t brushed his teeth. And hadn’t slept, no matter how much his body screamed at him to let go.
Every time he closed his eyes, Wanda was waiting.
I told you, Robert, they’re just biding their time.
He was tired of arguing.
His room was so dark, shadows stretching up the wall, that he couldn’t even tell where the door was. He didn’t want to know either.
His bed dipped as Wanda sat gingerly on the edge. “I’m sorry, Bob. I'm sorry that the truth hurts so bad. I didn’t want to do this to you; I wanted to help you.”
If he had more energy, he would have rolled his eyes. Instead he kept them glued to the floor.
“I know what it’s like to feel nothing,” Wanda continued. She got a far away look. “Just wave after wave of sadness. Pinning you down. Knowing that you’re drowning and no one’s coming to save you. They’re all gone.”
Bob idly turned the orange pill bottle around in his hands. ‘Robert Reynolds,’ the label read. ‘Aripiprazole. 20 mg. Take one every 24 hours.’
He opened it and put one in his mouth, swallowing it whole. He didn’t remember if it had been twenty-four hours but he needed it.
Wanda glanced at him. “You don’t want those. They’re keeping you numb.”
“They’re keeping me alive,” Bob mumbled.
Wanda turned to face him. “You are stubborn. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to end the pain?”
“Yeah,” Bob admitted.
“Then why don’t you?” She smiled sadly. She took his hand. “I’ll tell your friends what happened.”
Bob shook his head. “Can’t.”
The image of Yelena’s tear stained face was so clear in his mind. She couldn’t lose any more. He couldn’t do that to her.
“How about this?” Wanda brushed his hair. His heart lurched at the gentle touch. “Close your eyes and I’ll make it painless. Just slip into the gentle dark.”
Bob took a deep breath. Arms shaking, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“What?” Wanda shifted. “Whwere are you going?”
Bob slung his feet on the floor. “Out.”
Wanda barked out a humorless laugh. “Oh, darling, you don’t want to go out now.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he whispered, staggering forward. He felt along the wall, trying to find the doorknob.
Wanda crossed her arms. “What are you even going to do out there? Subject your ‘friends’ to your tears? They’re better off without you. Stay inside.”
“Gotta get out.” He scrabbled along, heart starting to race.
He eventually found the doorknob and pulled. Nothing happened. Red wisps circled the brass.
Wanda pouted. “Stay in here with me.”
He pulled on it frantically, shaking the door on the hinges. “Let me out. Let me out! Help!”
Wanda lazily looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. “It’s 4 AM. Even the poor insomniacs and drunks you cling to have gone to bed.”
Bob whipped around. “Don’t call them that! Let me out right now.”
Wanda tilted her head. “And what if I don’t? Victor and I have big plans for the future, Robert, and they don’t involve you. We need you out of our way.”
The dark was split by a blinding crack of yellow. Everything lit up in a garishly bright light as if a lightning bolt had struck the middle of the room. Bob felt his feet leave the ground.
“You let me out right now!” he commanded.
Wanda stood, a ball of red energy appearing in her hand and hair whipping in the wind.
With an ugly crack, the door ripped out of the frame behind him. With a thud, Bob landed and ran. The hallway was dark and cool compared to his stuffy room. Red light seeped out behind him, stretching his shadow.
Panting, he stuffed his sneakers on, not bothering to tie them, grabbed a random pair of keys from the bowl by the door, and raced down the stairs.
He vaguely remembered the YouTube video they watched after Valentina changed her banking password and they were cut off from seeing any more professionals. ‘How to Stop a Panic Attack’ was the name of the video. It listed ten ways to stop yourself or others from having a panic attack; holding ice cubes, breathing exercises, going outside, distracting yourself, exercising. They had watched it after a particularly rough night. The anniversary of something. John’s divorce or Natasha’s death or something of the like. He couldn’t remember. But he clung to the memory as he slammed into the revolving door of Stark tower, spilling out into the street.
New York is called “the city that never sleeps” for a reason; there were quite a few cars driving by and even a handful of people on the sidewalk going to work or the airport or wherever. Bob’s feet carried him on autopilot; he mentally cursed all the people pretending not to stare as he rushed past them.
Really? You look ridiculous. In your pajamas that you haven’t changed out of in over a week and a crazed look in your eye. You stink too. They all know you’ve given up on showering. Probably think you’re a crackhead. Not that you’re not.
Bob put his hands over his ears.
Say, that’s an idea. Duck down a back alley or go to the park. Find someone selling something, anything, and take as much as you can. An overdose is a fitting and explainable death. Your so-called friends would be free from any guilt; it would be no one’s fault but your own.
Against his better judgement, Bob turned north towards Central Park. The rush he would get would certainly set him straight. Clear his mind. Silence the voices. Give him the will to live.
After running a few miles, he slinked into the park, hands in his pockets and breath shallow. He finally dared to look behind him. No one was following him. The sky was starting to turn from a black to a deep blue.
He wandered around. A few people slept on benches. Where were all the dealers when you needed them? He was too late; it was too early in the morning.
“Raaaah!” he screamed, tearing at his hair. He kicked a rock. “Fuck!”
He collapsed on a bench. He sucked down gulps of chill morning air. Against his will, he felt his heart start to slow. Somewhere a bird sang. A breeze cut through his pajama pants but he found he didn’t mind. It made him shiver.
He looked up. The Reservoir glistened with the early morning light. Without thinking, he stood and drifted towards it. His hands curled around the cool metal of the railing. Graffiti had been scratched into the black paint.
The sun was rising. It pierced through the trees and the buildings. Pink and orange dappled the clear sky. It was reflected in the glassy water, still except for the ripples made by ducks as they slid effortlessly through it.
Bob looked at his reflection. It looked tired and messy. Drained and broken. But hopeful. Alive.
He had made it.
He was outside. He had goosebumps from the breeze. The chipped railing paint was poking his palms. The sun was shining in his eyes.
He choked on a sob as he turned his gaze to the sky. It was so beautiful. Endless. Limitless. He gripped the railing until his knuckles were white. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
His stomach rumbled. The sky was light blue. It was probably around seven. John would be getting in the shower after his morning workout. Alexei would be trying to coax Yelena out of bed for breakfast–it always took over an hour. Ava would be doing her stretches and Bucky would be refilling the automatic cat feeder. Oh, how he missed them.
His friends.
Who loved him.
He ripped his hands off the metal and started back to the tower. He picked at the pieces of black paint that stuck to his sweaty palms.
He left the park. The subway rumbled up through the grates. Parents with bags rushed kids with backpacks to school. A dog sniffed his sneaker; its owner apologized. Runners passed him. People on bikes. Honking cars. He pressed through the revolving door.
The elevator dinged as it went up each floor. He had never noticed that. He wove his way through the living room into the kitchen. John was stirring a mixing bowl and the stove was on. Yelena was fiddling with the coffee machine, eyes still closed. Ava was tying her hair up. Bucky was nodding along as Alexei explained something at the table.
He nervously raised his hand. “Hey, guys.”
They all looked up, faces splitting into wide smiles. The sun streamed in from the window.
“There you are,” Yelena slurred, voice still thick with sleep. “We were wondering.”
“You were wondering?” He sat down in his chair.
“Yeah. You didn’t come out when Walker called us to breakfast.”
“I wasn’t worried,” John said nonchalantly. “You didn’t come out either.”
“I was up late. Also he’s lying, Bob. He stood outside your door for ten minutes.”
Ava turned to face him. “Were you outside? Why are your shoes on?”
Bob looked down. “Uh, yeah. I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. To clear my head.”
“Nightmares?” Bucky grimaced.
“Something like that,” he mumbled. “But I think it’s going to be better now.”
“How many miles did you do?” Alexei asked.
Bob thought. “Five? Maybe a little more?”
They all made sounds of encouragement.
“Pancakes are ready,” John said.
—
Bob opened the door to his room. It was a mess. Crumpled clothes were strewn about and there were a few piles of dirty dishes. He stepped over them and opened the curtains. It was nice to let in the light.
“I see you came back,” Wanda said.
Bob turned. “Yeah. I'm ok. Like really. I feel really good.”
Wanda frowned. “They’re lying to you.”
Bob sighed. “Don’t start this again. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what your evil plans are or why you’re haunting me but I don’t ever want to see you again. Understand?”
Wanda shook her head. “I’m trying to save you.”
“By not letting me be happy?” He crossed his arms.
“There is happiness in death. Release. No more pain.”
Bob took a step forward and put a hand on her arm. “Hey. Are you ok?”
Wanda blinked. “What? Yes. I’m fine. See?”
She plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Bob slightly shook his head.
“No, you’re not,” he said softly. “I don’t know what you’re going through but it’s going to be ok. You have to believe me. Please.”
She pressed her lips together. Her eyes glassed over, tears threatening to fall. Barely audible, she whispered, “No, it’s not. I have no one left. I have tried and tried and tried.”
Bob took her shoulders, looking at her straight on. “And you will try again. You have to.”
Silently, a tear fell down her cheek. She stilled the trembling of her bottom lip before she asked, voice breaking, “What’s it like to be happy?”
Bob thought. “It’s hard to describe. It’s… an uneventful thing. It’s going outside and hearing the birds and petting a dog and peeling an orange and smelling a rose and putting one foot in front of the other.”
Her face crumpled. Bob pulled her in, wrapping her in a bone crushing hug.
“It’ll be ok.”