Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yelena was exhausted down to her bones, and everything hurt. She envied the men and their super soldier serum.

The room wasn’t made up like a hotel would. It was more like a training camp, where they left folded sheets on a bare mattress for you to put on. Maybe she’d just sleep on the mattress.

The bathroom had a surprising soaking tub and a big fancy shower with a bunch of shower heads. The only bath products anywhere was a liquid soap dispenser on the sink. She contemplated the annoyance of that while she ran the tub. Over the water she could hear the sound of someone knocking on her door.

Ava was on the other side. She held out a gift bag with ‘Happy bar Mitzvah’ printed on the side. “Raided the CVS down at street level. I just grabbed a bunch, figured you could use the extras.”

Yelena took the bag and peered in it. Soap, shampoo, conditioner. A bath sponge, toothpaste and brush. Even lotion. "You are my current favorite person," she told Ava sincerely.

She shrugged. “I just had some extras.”

"Well, thank you. Have a good night.”

Ava nodded, and then vanished.

That was going to take some getting used to. Yelena closed the door and carried her bag back to the bathroom. The bath was almost full. She dumped a bunch of soap in before slowly peeling off her suit, wincing at sore muscles and new bruises before stepping into the hot water.

Ava had good taste in bath and body products, and she felt almost normal by the time the bath was done. She found sweatpants and a t-shirt among the folded bedding that were about eleven sizes too large. But they were clean.

Someone was knocking on her door again.

With a deep sigh, she went to answer it. The sweat pants fell off and she just tossed them onto the couch. The shirt more than covered everything she needed it to.

She pulled the door open. “Yeah?"

Alexei was standing there, holding a bottle of vodka. “We are going to be Avengers, I got us drink to celebrate.”

She smiled and held the door to let him in. "I know, it's very exciting.”

“This is what I have always wanted. I am so happy we are going to do it together.”

"Avenger and daughter?" she teased.

“You wanted to spend more time together, eh?”

"I did." She was probably going to regret that. But it was nice to have him nearby. "And the apartments are nice.”

“They are. There is soap, and toilet paper!”

"Ava brought me fancy soap." She was not going to ask if he'd been existing without toilet paper.

“There was soap. Right one the counter by the sink.”

She sighed. "I wasn't going to wash my hair with dish soap, Dad.”

“During the Soviet days, sometimes we did.”

"Yeah, but it's not Soviet days and my hair is nice.”

He had paper cups from the water dispenser in the lounge, and he filled them both with vodka. “Here you go. To the future. To being heroes.”

Yelena took the cup out of habit, but paused before drinking. She thought of the drunk, passed out version of herself she'd seen in the Void. The way she'd fought her, forced her to drink vodka. The pain and the burn.

"There's no death here. The pain just gets worse."

"Dad… I don't think drinking is good for me.”

“What do you mean? You are Russian. Alcohol is a whole food group.”

She smiled a little. "I know. But, I've been drinking when I'm sad for so long… I feel like the alcohol makes me sad.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, I don’t want you to be sad.”

"Thank you." She handed the cup back to him. "But I agree with your toast. To the future.”

“I’ll drink for you,” he said, taking her cup and slugging it’s contents back. “And then make your bed so you can sleep.”

"You don't have to do that," she protested, even though she really didn't want to do it herself.

“Ah, I’ve done it before. When you were a little girl once you threw up in the middle of the night and it was everywhere. Melina cleaned you, I cleaned the room.” He got up and shook out the sheets. “Plus I’m super soldier.”

She smiled. She didn't remember that at all, but she believed him. Deep cover operatives or not, he'd been a good dad when she was little. And as adults it was clear he did love her. However it was Alexei loved people.

He made the bed in record time, taut enough to make a soldier proud.

"Thanks, Dad," she said quietly as he fluffed her pillow.

“You need me to read you story?”

Chuckling, she shook her head. She did step forward to give him a hug. "I am not a super soldier. I will be passing out very quickly.”

He hugged her tightly. “Goodnight, Yelena.”

"Night, Alexei. See you in the morning.”

She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, and had strange, frightening dreams. She didn’t know how long she slept, but it was still dark when she was awoken by yet another door knock.

With a groan, she pulled herself out of bed and shuffled towards the door. “What?"

“I’m sorry, you were asleep. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” That sounded like Bob. “Never mind.”

She darted the last few steps and pulled the door open. "No, no. It's all right. I was having bad dreams anyway. Is something wrong?”

“I’m immortal,” he said, quiet horror in his voice. “Aren’t I?”

Yelena stared at him a moment. It was too early for existential crises. But wasn't that when it always happened? In the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep. She held the door open for him to come in. “Maybe?"

“Seriously, watch this.” He pulled out a big shard of glass from his pocket, stuck out his other arm and slashed down it before Yelena realized what he was doing. The glass slid over his arm like it was made out of plastic.

"Jesus!" She grabbed at his arm instinctively, even as she realized he wasn't hurt. "Warn me if you're going to—!" She blew out a breath, stared at his uninjured arm a moment, and wished she had Alexei's vodka. "Well. None of us were able to touch you when we fought so… makes sense.”

“They shot me up full of giant bullets from machine guns and it didn’t kill me. Neither did a fall from, like, low earth orbit. I just thought that was doing that, somehow. I was protecting myself. But it turns out even if I want to hurt myself, I can’t.”

That was scary. And depressing. And really more than she could handle and dark thirty in the morning. "You want to come sit?" she asked.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” he said quietly.

"I get it." She was still holding his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Come on. I'm not excited to get back to nightmare central.”

The sofa was surprisingly comfortable, and had an amazing view of the Manhattan skyline. “You were having nightmares?” he asked.

"Yeah. I have a lot of nightmares. Unless I drink myself to sleep." Which she wouldn't be doing anymore. So she'd better get used to staying up all night. Maybe she'd pick up a hobby.

He nodded. “Been there, done that. Heroin will make them worse, PSA. Meth’ll keep you up all night, which was often the winner for me.”

"Never tried any of the hard stuff," she admitted. "Vodka was available in every drug store and bodega so… why look for more.”

“Booze takes you where you are. If you’re depressed enough it only makes it worse.”

"Yeah." She picked at the hem of her shirt. "Alexei brought some by. Earlier. To toast our future. I turned it down.”

“And were rewarded with nightmares? The human brain is an asshole.”

"Right?! Try to do one good thing." She huffed out a breath and tilted her head back on the couch. "I blame the borscht.”

“No offense to you and Alexei, but I was not a fan of the borscht. The experiment did not take away my ability to feel heartburn.”

She snorted. "Well, that's rude. Who wants eternity with stomach problems?" She waved a hand. "Besides the best Russian food is medovik.”

“It fixed everything else.” He held out his arms. “Track marks are gone. And my teeth are perfect.”

She hadn't wanted to say it, but he didn't really look like a meth head. "Turned your hair back to brown, too.”

“That was I guess this round, the other fixes were the original experiment. I was trying to fix my brain, I didn’t pay attention to all the super soldier stuff. I mean, what the hell is this?” He pulled up his shirt to show her his washboard abs. “I haven’t done a sit up since 8th grade gym class.”

Yelena resisted the urge to poke his stomach, but she did indulge in a second look. "Wasn't Steve Rogers tiny and asthmatic? Were you shorter before?”

“An inch or two, yeah. But I was much scrawnier. My father withheld food as one of his many punishments, and the substance abuse started in middle school. I’m sure it fucked with how I grew.”

She tilted her head. "S'weird. Why it worked so well on you and not on anybody else they tried it on." Was it because of the mental shit somehow? None of the other super soldiers she knew about had issues like that. Well, there was something wrong with Alexei, but not, like, diagnosable.

“I didn’t get the full dose. They stopped. I don’t remember why.”

"Huh." She looked out at the view again. "Well, I'm glad you did.”

“You mean that,” he said, sounding almost surprised.

"Of course I do. I like you.”

“It’s a weird sensation. Not one I’m used to.”

She turned and looked at him. "Someone being glad you're around?”

“I can hear how ridiculous that sounds, but…yeah. Kinda.”

It didn't sound ridiculous. It just sounded sort of sad. "Get used to it," she told him. "I'm very stubborn.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever had a real friend,” he told her.

"I never have," she said. "Not a real one. I had a sister. Sort of. But she died. And we went twenty years without seeing each other. So she might not count.”

He looked over at her. “I’m sorry your sister died,” he said quietly.

Her mouth worked and she looked down at her hands. She really wanted a drink. But after a moment she nodded and managed to say, "Thank you.”

He reached over and squeezed one of her hands, not saying anything.

After a few minutes of silence, she took a breath and tried to think of something to say. "The first thing I bought when I got out of the Red Room was a vest. It had lots of pockets." That probably wasn't the right thing to say, but she had a point. "You should do something like that. Find something that's yours. For your new life.”

“I’d feel less like a lab experiment if I had some normal clothes.”

"You mean you don't like being labeled with a big OXE?" she asked, holding her hands out to show off her too-big shirt.

He chuckled. “No, no I do not. Not sure I’d want ‘Bob’ on it either, though.”

"I hear it's possible to have clothing with no names on it at all," she told him seriously.

“I will search high and low.”

"Surely somewhere in New York there is somewhere to buy clothes.”

“I just need to figure out how to get some money to buy them with.”

"That's a good point." She watched the city. The sky was lightening a little. Sunrise must be coming soon. "Hopefully Val will pay us?”

“That is generally how this sort of thing works.” He looked over at her. “Thank you for not leaving me behind in the incinerator. Even when I told you to.”

She leaned over to bump his shoulder with her own. "Anytime, Bob.”

*

The next day the contract squabbling started, taking enough time for those who lived in driving distance—everyone but him and Ava—to go get some of their belongings. Bob was still stuck in the OXE sweats, because with no contract there was no money.

At least until she knocked on his door and said, “I gotta buy a car and I need to take a dude with me. Come with me and I’ll buy you clothes that someone who could buy a Porsche would wear.”

He blinked at her. “Why do you need to a man to buy a car?”

“So I don’t have to stab a salesman in the neck for talking down to me. Are you coming?”

Well, sounded better than the sweats. “Let me find shoes,” he replied.

The old sneakers he'd been wearing when coming out of the Void were under the bed. He didn't have socks, but that would be solved by the whole shopping thing. He tied the sneakers on and went back out to the hallway to find Ava waiting for him. She headed for the elevator without a word and he followed along.

“What sort of clothes does a man who buys a Porsche wear?”

She glanced at him. "Not the kind of clothes a meth head does." Then, apparently deciding that was meaner than necessary, she added, "Jeans, nice shirts. Leather shoes.”

“I’ll take meth head over lab experiment.”

“I was a lab experiment,” Ava said. “I don’t sling that around.”

He looked over at her. “Yeah, I guess there are a limited number of paths to superpowers, and few of them are good.”

"A lot of them seem to involve time in lab rat scrubs. Alexei is the only one who seems happy about it.”

“He did something with it he was proud of. Maybe that helps.”

"Maybe." She was quiet. "Guess we'll find out.”

They got into a cab and went to very fancy department store. She shopped for herself first, and his role was to follow her around and carry whatever she handed him. He didn’t really mind. Then they went to the mens section, and she started handing him things for himself. When he had a stack, she pointed him at the dressing room.

She had a good eye for sizes, and everything fit. It wasn’t really his style—but then his style had been haphazard and sloppy. He hadn’t cared what he looked like in a long time. Maybe he needed a new style.

“How is it?” she called from outside the dressing room, and he went out to show her.

“Do I look appropriately like a rich asshole?” he asked her.

She studied him, turned her head one way, than the other. "You approach it admirably." A pause. "Do you like them?”

“I think so? I don’t look like me, but I was a mess. I don’t want to look like a mess. This sweater is really soft.”

“It’s cashmere,” she told him. “You don’t look like a mess at all,” she added. “Honestly, you’re pretty hot. You could wear anything.”

That got a laugh out of him. Hot was not a word anyone had ever used to describe him. “I assure you, if that’s true it came out of a syringe.”

She shrugged. "So did Steve Rogers. Didn't stop people from having his poster up.”

“I don’t know that I want to be on that kind of poster,” he commented.

Ava snorted a little laugh. "Yeah. Me neither." She waved a hand to shoo him back into the dressing room. "You look good. We should get it.”

“Can I just wear it out?” He really didn’t want to put the OXE sweats back on.

“Take it off, I’ll pay for it, and then you can put it back on.”

She followed him to the dressing room, and he handed the clothes over the door. “I also need…other things.”

A pause. "Like what?”

“Socks. Underwear. Toiletries. A jacket. I have literally nothing.”

"This place will have the socks and stuff. There's a CVS under the Tower, we'll hit it when we get back.”

“I don’t currently have any money…”

“Money is a thing I have,” Ava replied. He decided not to ask where it came from because it was almost certainly illegal. “I’ll be back, and then we can get the rest.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

He waited around for her in the stupid OXE sweatpants. She was gone so long he decided to get up and go look for her. As he let himself out of the stall, a store employee was coming down the hall and the woman stopped cold to stare at him with her mouth open.

“I’m not stealing anything,” he said immediately, holding his hands up.

Ava appeared at the end of the hall with a bag. “No one thinks you’re stealing,” she said. As she passed the other woman, she turned and snapped, “He’s taken.”

“I am?” Bob asked as she reached him, shoving him and the bag back into the dressing room.

“Just get dressed,” she replied, closing the door in his face.

He dug through the bag and slipped on the jeans, t-shirt and sweater. Everything was really soft and felt good on his skin. It was oddly… soothing? He jammed the sweats into the bag, planning the throw it away as soon as possible.

Ava was tapping her foot when he came back out. "Hi. Sorry.”

“I also need more clothes and things,” she said. “How about we go get the car, and then do some serious shopping?”

"Whatever you say," he replied.

He spent the next two hours at car dealership in New Jersey, where his job was to repeat whatever Ava said to the salesman who only seemed to want to talk to him. She talked to the finance people, though, and did the actual purchase paperwork. It was clear everyone involved thought they were a couple.

They drove off the lot with a midnight blue Porsche 911, the nicest car he’d ever gotten to sit in. As they made their way back into Manhattan, he cleared his throat. “So that back there, and then in the dressing room you said I was taken. I have memory problems, we’re not…together, and I forgot, are we?”

Ava laughed. “Christ, no. That was just a shtick for the sexist sales guy. That lady was ogling you and it looked like it was making you uncomfortable and I wanted to shut her up.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “That said, you are hot, and in different circumstances, I’d probably fuck you. So don’t take it personal.”

This was a strange conversation. “Dare I ask what…?”

“Chicks before dicks, Bob,” was her reply, and then she reached to turn the radio up, effectively ending the conversation. And providing no useful information whatsoever. Maybe she preferred women? He really needed clothes and she’d offered to buy them for him, so he decided not to ask any more questions. Maybe Yelena could decipher it later.

They went to a mall before leaving New Jersey and he got everything he needed. The clothes weren't as fancy, but they were still nicer than the stuff he used to wear and he felt more comfortable in them. He also grabbed a couple packs of socks and underwear. The mall had a CVS so by the time they pulled into the Tower parking garage, he had everything he needed and probably owed Ava his life.

“I really appreciate this,” he told her as they parked several spots down from a U-haul Yelena and Alexei were unloading.

"Not a problem. You saved me from interrupting my car purchase with manslaughter." She glanced over and gave him a sincere smile before climbing out and kicking the seat forward to pull out their bags.

When then got out, Yelena asked about the car and Ava explained she’d gotten her money robbing banks, which Bucky had concerns about.

“I got jeans,” Bob said, holding up one of his bags when Yelena looked over at him.

She smiled, in that soft sincere way she had. "Good job, Bob," she said.

He grinned back, feeling proud of himself. Maybe just because he’d made her smile, more than the praise.

Alexei had packed a lot of stuff in that truck, plus the rest of them also showed up with their belongings. They worked together to get everything upstairs, and it was nice to have a team activity, however petty, where no one was shooting.

Then they went upstairs to find Valentina, and another woman that seemed familiar in an ominous way. That was the end of his good mood. He got to learn they’d installed a kill switch in his head, which Valentina had used. It had been what released the Void.

The woman asked him if he remembered her, and the thread of memory seemed to crack the wall in his head where is brain locked away the memories after he had an episode. Usually they came back in dreams, or flashes, but sometimes the containment collapsed and it was everything at once.

All the rooms. His rooms. Everyone else’s. A whole cities worth. So many horrible things people had done and seen and thought. Small boxes of misery as far as he could see. But if he looked at his own, it was like being there all over again. He couldn’t see is father anymore. He couldn’t.

Plates breaking. The whistle of a belt clearing belt loops. The blackness, tempting an malevolent, whispering like a siren.

The woman was a doctor. She’d been kind to him. Worried about him. Shouted into a phone about how unethical it was and ordered them to stop the shots. She’d been why the program stopped.

He hadn’t remember how he got out of the Void, either, until suddenly he did. They’d come after him. He’d sat alone in his childhood attic, trying to ignore the day his father beat his mother unconscious playing through the cracks in the floorboards. Yelena fought her way from her nightmares into his, put her arms around him and held on even when the Void tried to strangle them.

There’s no death here, the pain just gets worse. That was his physical reality now, too. For a moment he felt genuine panic, like a couldn’t breath.

The rest of them had come to the rescue, though. Yelena insisted walking through the worst rooms was the way out, and they’d walked with him. Walker punched Bob’s father in the face and he’d gone down like a sack of potatoes.

He was in the lab again and trying to overpower the Void, which he’d always been too weak to do. Like he had about anything his whole life. Then arms wrapped around him. All of them. To pull him back, a thing he could never do alone.

She’d been first. She’d always known.

When Doc’s calm, steady voice reached his ears, she demanded he look at three things and name them, forcing him to open his eyes and focus. The first thing they were willing to look at, to accept settling on so he could get a damn breath, was Yelena.

Doc kept talking, making him focus on the present, think about something other than the churning memories. Without his attention, the boxes started snapping shut and breathing got easier. When hid head finally got clear, he was able to look at her and say her name.

She asked how he was, the way she always had when she'd seen him at the lab. Treating him like a person and not just an experiment. For the first time he was able to tell her, honestly, that he was better. Because for the first time he thought maybe he was getting there.

Chapter Text

Yelena hadn't ever expected to actually meet The Doctor. In fact, if you'd asked her, she'd have said the woman was a myth. But apparently, she was real. And an actual doctor. And now, her landlord.

Watching her piss off Valentina had been pretty funny, though.

She was a lot nicer and more reasonable that most crime lords Yelena had met. She left them with the promise of expense accounts and new phones, apparently planning to move into the Tower with them. In a week of weird days, this was shaping up to be a pretty weird one.

“So if she’d only here because of Bob,” Walker said. “Does that mean he’s in charge?”

“Absolutely not,” Bob himself replied. Though that probably wasn’t entirely true. The was no avoiding just how much more powerful than the rest of them he was. He’d pretty casually—but very seriously—threatened to defenestrate Valentina if she did any of them wrong, then rattled a skyscraper to make his point.

"You're really stuck on whose in charge, aren't you?" Ava asked. "Lighten up.”

“A military unit needs a command structure.”

"We're not a military unit," Yelena said. "You heard her. We're contracting to the government, not working for them. Hell, half of us can't work for them. Including you.”

“Our missions are sure going to look like Special Ops. Doesn’t matter how it’s labeled.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Barnes said. “But it isn’t going to be you, John, and it’s not going to be Bob.”

“I do not ever want to be considered for that,” Bob emphasized.

Yelena shifted her foot to bump his. "Are you doing all right? That was intense for a minute there.”

He looked at her, and said, “I’m not sorry I remember.”

Something about the way he looked at her made her skin prickle pleasantly. "Good," she said, not sure what else to say. "I don't like the idea of you having those gaps.”

“I like knowing what happened. You were right about the worst being the way out.”

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that.”

He smiled. “Yeah, but I wasn’t alone.”

"Nope." She could feel herself smiling as well. She'd smiled more in the last few days than she had in the year before. "We're all stuck with each other now.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

It occurred to her then that the rest of them were watching this exchange with interest. "Well. John.”

“He punched my father, I feel tolerant.”

She actually laughed a little. Until John said, "I know a thing or two about shitty dads."

They really were a bunch of messes, weren't they?

Bob shifted in his seat, turning to look over at him. “Anybody who hurts any of you guys goes out the window. Not just Val.”

John shook his head but was smiling a little. "Back at you, man.”

“We’ve all got unpacking and laundry to do,” Bucky said. “At least, that’s what I’m going to go do.”

"Have you found the laundry?" John asked, looking relieved at the change of topic. "Or is it in the apartment somewhere I haven't found?”

“When Natasha lived here, there was a laundry service, you put it in a chute in the wall and a robot delivered clean clothes,” Yelena said.

There was a moment of silence, and then Bucky said, “This is New York City. There’s got to be a laundromat somewhere.”

"New Avengers do laundry," Ava said, heading for the elevator. "Can't wait to see the headlines.”

She’d likely been joking, but it turned out to be true. The press was stalking the tower, and a group of them at a laundromat did make the news—as did Ava and Bob’s shopping trip, and Yelena renting the U-haul in Baltimore.

Laundry was strangely fun, though, and she was almost disappointed when a truck showed up the next day with washers and dryers for their units, and a plumber and electrician to install them.

"Do you even know how to run a washer and dryer?" she teased Alexei as she helped him unpack.

"Yelena. I am modern bachelor man. I can take care of myself."

She was absolutely going to end up doing his laundry. She unwrapped another picture of herself and Natasha from Ohio. "You managed to save a lot of these in the bug out," she commented.

"Melina gave me some of them," he admitted, taking the picture from her and setting it on a table proudly. "She had the album.”

“Have you talked to her lately?”

His face fell, which was answer enough. No subterfuge in Alexei. "Not lately, no. You know how she is. Busy. So busy. Always researching something.”

“I know,” she said, reaching to squeeze his hand.

"She would be proud of this, though. Of you. Of us. Maybe she'll call.”

Yelena looked over at the pictures. “Maybe she will.”

Losing Natasha had hurt Melina at least as much as it had Yelena. She had always been closer to Nat, while Yelena had been very much a daddy's girl. Yelena thought, sometimes, seeing them only hurt Melina. Reminded her of better times and the person who was missing.

"I'm glad you're here, Dad," she told him before heading back to her apartment. "For all of this.”

“I’m glad I’m going to get to see you every day again.”

She could probably do with slightly less than every day, but… "Me too. Let me know if you need help with the laundry.”

“I’m sure I will figure out all the buttons.”

"Okay, Dad." She kissed his cheek, then let herself out, walking down the hall to her room.

*

Bob had been doing a good job avoiding sleeping, managing to do it enough days in a row he started to wonder if maybe he could just…not. He had superpowers, maybe he didn’t real need sleep.

But eventually the tired got to him, and even he had to lay down. Sleep came easy, but REM was how the brain processed what it had absorbed during the waking hours and he’d been through a lot. Dreams twisted into nightmares that felt uncomfortably close to his memories of the Void.

It was still there. Somewhere.

The sky was still black when he woke, but that was quiet enough sleeping for one night. Thinking a change of scenery might ground him, he decided to go down the hall to the lounge. There had been a bookshelf in there, hadn’t there?

There was, in fact a shelf, with a lot of books he'd never heard of before. It was better than sleeping, so he picked one at random and found a seat.

He'd barely gotten ten pages in when he heard footsteps in the hallway and Yelena appeared in the lounge. He looked up at her and quietly asked, “Bad dreams?”

"Yeah," she said, a sigh in her voice. "Is this where the insomnia club meets?”

“Good a spot as any,” he replied. He gestured at the shelf. “I came for the books.”

She nodded, wandering over to peer at the spines as he had. "Someone bought a lot at an estate sale," she muttered after a moment.

“This one seems to be about a woman who hates her mother. Probably should have read the back before I pulled it out.”

"Does the mother deserve it?" she asked, glancing at the books again before walking over to the couch he sat on and tucking herself into the opposite corner.

“If she does, I probably shouldn’t read it.” He put the book down. “They say dreams are how the brain processes experiences.”

"That's what they say," she agreed. She watched him a moment. "Must look a lot like what we saw in the Void.”

In a manner of speaking. “Some of them. There are certainly rooms you haven’t been through, that even I manage to avoid. The Void wasn’t deep enough yet.”

She seemed to think a moment, turning her head to look out the windows. "I guess everyone has… layers to their darkness. There was definitely darker rooms of my own I could have seen.”

“I’m still half afraid if I touch people in the wrong mood, I’ll make them see it.”

"If you do we can get you gloves," she said. Slowly, she moved her foot across the couch to touch his. After a moment of her toes resting on the instep of his foot, she said, "No horrifying flashbacks so far.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “Not being about to touch anyone is a depressing thought.”

"Certainly wouldn't help with the isolation and loneliness.”

“It seemed to be the Void’s worst enemy.” Her toes were absolutely freezing, and he reached his hand to cover them.

Her mouth quirked a little, wiggling her toes under his palm. "Have you thought about what the Doctor said?" she asked after a moment. "About helping you?”

“I suppose it depends what kind of help. I don’t think I want it undone. But I also don’t think I’m magically better and am afraid of the Void coming back.”

"If she could give you a way to control it. Or use your powers without risking him coming back. Would you do that?”

“Of course. But I don’t think there’s going to be a magic switch. I think it’s going to be an undertaking.”

She made a sympathetic noise, nodding. "It'll be hard.”

He rubbed the top of her foot. “It’s really weird to have something to live for.”

"Tell me about it." She threw up her hands. " A week ago I hadn't talked to my dad in a year and my dog was dead. Now I have a guinea pig and a whole team of people to worry about.”

“Sorry about your dog,” he replied. Then felt compelled to add, “How are your toes this cold, do you have circulation problems?”

"I don't think so?" She started to pull her foot away, but he caught it and held her where she was. "You run hot, I run cold. I'm Russian. It's natural.”

“I think I run particularly hot. Something about my overpowered metabolism. John and Bucky seem to have it to.” He lifted his knee a little to tuck her foot between his calves, where it felt like a block of ice. She stared at him a moment, then stretched her legs out to add the other foot. He rested his hand on her ankle, not wanting to examine his reluctance to reduce their contact.

"Alexei sweats a lot," she said after getting comfortable. "So your theory seems sound." She shook her head. "Tch. Surrounded by super soldiers. It could give a lesser girl a complex.”

“You’re the only one with no powers,” he said. “And you held your own with them. With me. That’s really impressive. And possibly unwise. Though I did pull my punches.”

Yelena smiled fondly. "You did. I appreciate that.”

“I was pretty cranked up, and I don’t always have a whole lot of impulse control when I’m like that, but I remember not wanting to hurt you.”

She ducked her head a little. "I was trying to get them to stop." She jerked her head up, frowning. "Shit, I just realized… did the serum crap they gave you get rid of your addiction? Shouldn't you be craving… something?”

“Seems like it must have. Healed my brain’s dependencies. Or just raised my tolerance for discomfort. But I don’t crave anything.” Though that might not be entirely true. It just wasn’t a substance. He didn’t let that thought percolate any longer than a flash, though. That wasn’t something that led anywhere good. “I do find I don’t miss being high. Being out of it. I like being…present, right now.”

She looked relieved, then thoughtful. "That's good. I'm pretty sure withdrawal sucks." She picked at a loose thread on the cuff of her sweatshirt. "I don't miss being drunk. But I am sort of craving it.”

“Have you tried the meetings?”

The face she made was kind of adorable. "I don't want to be recognized.”

“I’ve been to meetings. They’re pretty respectful. There’s that whole anonymous thing.”

She shrugged. "Maybe. I guess. If it keeps going.”

“Most of what they do at those meetings is talk. We could do that.”

"That might be nice," she admitted. "That whole not feeling alone thing.”

“It helps with all kinds of things,” he said, lifting his hand off her ankle and holding it out to her.

He saw her throat work a little, but she reached out and tucked her hand into his. Her fingers were almost as cold as her toes. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Tell me about your sister,” he said quietly.

She smiled, soft and sweet, but sad. "Natasha. She was five years older than me. She liked spicy food and too much sugar in her tea and coffee. When we were little she taught me how to do a handstand and a somersault. We had a special whistle we would use to identify each other." She pursed her lips and demonstrated.

He tried to copy the whistle and failed miserable, but he made her laugh, which made him happy.

"We'll work on it," she assured him, patting his hand with her other one.

They found a blanket behind the couch, and put it over their legs so he could stretch his out next to hers. She still managed to get her cold toes wedged under his thigh, but he didn’t mind. She told him about the years in her early childhood she lived in Ohio with the only family she remembered. It was tinged with sadness, but they were good stories. From a time she’d been happy. He liked hearing about it. Picturing it.

He had no idea when they fell asleep, but when he woke the sun was shining.

Yelena was still asleep, tucked into the corner of the couch, her arm curled under her head where it rested awkwardly against the back of the couch. She looked… kind of young and innocent when she was sleeping. She was even snoring a little bit.

For a bit he just watched her, thinking about her finding him inside his own superpowered madness. He wondered if that was why he felt such a pull towards her. It was certainly why he trusted her. But he liked her company for all sorts of reasons that had nothing to do with all the drama. He liked talking to her because he liked the sound of her voice.

She took a deep breath and stirred, frowning as her eyes opened. For a moment she was tense, as if ready for a fight or blow, then relaxed, smiling when she saw him. She lifted her arms, stretching a little. "Hello Bob.”

“Good morning. How were your dreams?”

"Better," she said, frowning a little. "I think. I don't remember. Which is probably better than the other way.”

“Me too. It was peaceful.”

"Good," she said softly. "Peaceful is good.”

“You wanna get some breakfast or something?”

"That would be nice, yeah. I'd like some bacon.”

His stomach rumbled, and he laughed. “Clearly, so would I.”

She laughed with him, easing her feet away from him to swing them to the floor. "I'll get some shoes. I think there's a good diner down the block.”

“I’m going to change, I’m not going out in public in sweatpants ever again.”

"I respect that," she told him sincerely.

By the time he got back, others had gotten up and seemingly invited themselves to the diner with them, making the meal a little more boisterous than he was expecting, but it was what it was.

They didn’t say anything more about their night on the couch. But two nights later he fell asleep again, and had nightmares again. Deciding to to the last thing that worked, he got up and went to the lounge. He could try reading that book. Or maybe laying on the couch would have good associations and he’d sleep better.

And then there she was.

"Insomnia club," was all she said before sinking onto the couch with him.

“Company’s pretty good,” he replied, pulling out the blanket.

The third night they both showed up in the lounge at 1AM, he said, “I swear on the soul of the one grandmother I liked that I have no ulterior motives or intentions, but maybe we should move to one of our apartments if we’re going to keep doing this. If we get caught, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

She tilted her head. "You make a good argument. Which apartment?”

“You’re a girl, you probably have nicer stuff.”

"Oh, that is a wild assumption." Still, she gestured for him to come with her as she headed back down the hallway.

“If you have more than one pillow, you win.”

"Okay, I do have a lot of pillows. But it would be a bare mattress if not for Alexei.”

“Did he make your bed for you?” he asked, finding that adorable.

"The first night, yeah." She scowled and looked back at him as she opened her door. "I was tired and he's a super soldier.”

“It’s nice to have someone to take care of you.” He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had done something like that for him. Ava’s shopping trip, maybe. But she’d been irritated and needed him as a stand-in to buy a car. It wasn’t exactly just for kindness.

"He does his best." She shooed him into the room. "His success rate is better than it used to be.”

“Proximity probably helps.”

"Yeah. We were both so fucked up after Natasha…" She sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "He thought I wouldn't want him with me. To comfort me. I should have told him earlier.”

“Few people have the ego to assume they are wanted. Ends up causing a lot of misery, I think.” He sat on the end of her bed. “We fear being a burden by asking for help, and also being a burden by offering it.”

She stopped and looked at him, standing just to the side of the bed. "That was really profound.”

He looked up at her, surprised. “Was it?”

"I thought so." She shrugged. "But it's one am, lots of things sound profound when the world is asleep." Bending, she pulled back the covers, which appeared to be a collection of various blankets probably intended for warming ones legs on a couch, not sleeping under. With some fussing, she got them smoothed out to cover the bed. Then she meticulously divvied up the pile of pillows that dominated the top of the bed.

When she was satisfied she looked at him and gestured to the bed grandly in invitation.

He smiled at her and got in the other side of the bed. “These are very nice mattresses, I’ll give them that.” He watched her get in and settle herself. She turned out the light, and in the darkness he said, “You can still use me to warm your toes.”

"You sure?" she asked, sounding a little skeptical.

“Yes. For all I know it’s an integral part to either of us sleeping. Like a sensory thing.”

"That's a good point. We shouldn't disrupt the routine." He heard shuffling and felt her move closer. Then her toes wedged themself between his calves. There was in fact something grounding about the difference in temperature, reminding him where he was even though it was black in the room.

Maybe it was bad that this woman had become a touchstone of safety for him. But also he had so little, it was foolish not to take what was given.

They were facing each other on their sides. He put his hand over hers where it lay on the sheet. “Just so you know, nothing you needed from me would ever be a burden.”

Her hand turned over and held his properly. "Same to you. Just so you know.”

That made him smile. Because she meant it, and he believed she meant it. “Goodnight, Yelena.”

Chapter Text

After getting free of the Red Room, Yelena had gone through a phase where she had a lot of sex, just because she thought she should. She hadn’t liked sleeping next to any of them, and convinced herself she just didn’t share a bed well. She liked her space, and couldn’t fall asleep with someone in it.

But here she was, sharing a bed with someone, falling asleep while touching him, and it was fine. It was nice.

The next night he just showed up a her door and she let him in without a word. The night after he didn’t knock. He’d told her he didn’t need to sleep every night, but to let him know if she needed him. She perseverated a while before going down to his room.

Bob had not been lying about only having one pillow, but he did for some reason have a down comforter in there. “Take the pillow,” he insisted. Why they didn’t just go back to her room, she didn’t know. It was the middle of the night, all faculties weren’t operational. But he was adamant she have the pillow.

She curled up on the side of the bed with the pillow. It smelled like him, some sort of woodsy "fresh" men's soap or shampoo. It was oddly soothing. She could feel tension relax all the down her spine, like dominoes in a row. With a sigh, she said, “Thanks."

He laid on the other side, using his arm as a pillow, though he did get under the duvet with her. They’d have a great bed if they just combined their stuff.

She burrowed under the covers, feet going to find his legs on instinct. He gamely lifted his top leg so she could tuck her toes in-between. "Feel free to do your own thing once I drift off.”

“I’ll probably nap,” he told her. “I’ll be here.”

"Okay." She closed her eyes, nuzzling into the pillow for another whiff of his scent. Yes. His blanket and her pillows. Perfect bed.

The mattress shifting and the covers moving woke her some time later. He’d sat up somewhat abruptly. She blinked at his back in the city lights coming in the window, and he reached a hand back to rub his neck like it hurt.

"Bob?" she mumbled, propping herself up on an elbow. "You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, sounding otherwise.

She considered, then sat up, running her hand through her hair. "Are you lying?”

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “Yes.”

Scooting closer to him, she put her arm around him. "Wanna talk?”

“Just bad dreams,” he replied, leaning into her a little. “It happens sometimes.”

"I believe that is why we founded insomnia club." She rubbed his back in big circles, resting her chin on his shoulder. It was a good shoulder, nice and solid. "Melina used to make me warm milk when I had nightmares as a little girl.”

“Did it help?”

"Yeah. Don't know if it was the milk or the ritual of getting out of bed and sitting in the kitchen with my favorite song playing. But I always fell back to sleep.”

He nodded, then said, “I’m lactose intolerant.”

Yelena chuckled and pressed her face into the back of his shoulder a second. "Well, that is a problem, Bob.”

It made him chuckle, too. Then he turned and put his arm around her shoulders, turning it into a real hug. He held her a moment then said, “We’ll get some oat milk for next time.”

"Good idea." She kept her arms around him, lifting her other hand to tuck his hair back off his face. After a moment, she started to sing quietly, "A long, long time ago/I can still remember how that music/Used to make me smile…”

He sighed, and his arms tightened. When she paused, he whispered, “Keep singing.”

"American Pie" was a long song, eight minutes if you knew all the verses, which Yelena did. So she did the whole thing, in her quiet, creaky singing voice, wondering if a song about a bunch of people dying was really the best choice for a guy who was depressed. But Bob kept leaning on her, and seemed to relax more the longer she sang. So she kept it up.

"I can also do it in an American accent," she offered when she was done, in said accent. "Or British," she added, switching again.

“I like your real voice,” he replied, sounding very sincere.

She smiled. "Thank you. Didn't know if hearing American Pie in a Russian accent was sacrilege.”

“Sounded like you.” He yawned, then whispered, “Thank you.”

"You're welcome." His shoulders were tight and she had to assume sleeping without a pillow wasn't helping that. She gave him a squeeze. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

He frowned a little, but let her go. She darted out of the room, across the hall to hers, and gathered up a few pillows. Then she returned to Bob's apartment and plopped the pillows on his bed. "There. Best of both worlds.”

“You are a brilliant woman.” They both settled back down in the bed, and then he said, “Toes?” expectantly.

They were chilly from the run across the hall. She scooted closer and buried her toes between his calves. He smiled, and then under the blankets he found her hand and laced their fingers together. Then he closed his eyes and said, “Thank you.”

Squeezing his hand, she closed her eyes. "Any time.”

In the morning sun she came awake to the smell of the woodsy soap again, though it wasn’t from the pillow. She in fact had her face smushed against the sleeve of his t-shirt. The’d both seemingly moved to the middle of the bed, not tangled up like lovers but still occupying a much smaller space. They were still holding hands, tucked down between them.

Nothing in her training had taught her how to extract herself from this particular situation. She wasn't horrified or anything, but she did have to pee and didn't want to wake him. He'd had a rough night. Plus she might want to get back into bed after said restroom trip and if he was awake that might be off the table. Cuddling in your seemed like the sort of thing men freaked out about.

Carefully, slowly, she untangled her fingers from his and started easing away from his body, towards the edge. He stirred but didn’t actually wake, though he shifted towards the space where she’d been.

Okay, that was adorable. She tiptoed to the bathroom and did her business, washing her hands and splashing water on her faces to clean off some of the sleep crusties, before going back to the bed.

Her getting back in did seem to wake him, somewhat, and he cracked an eye. “Morning,” he said.

"Hi," she said, cuddling up almost as close as she'd been before. "No more dreams?”

To her surprise, he lifted his arm to invite her to tuck up against his side. “Only good ones.”

She shuffled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't really remember dreams," she admitted. "Even the bad ones. They just have sort of a 'I didn't enjoy that' vibe.”

“I can’t decide if that’s better or worse,” he replied, rubbing her back.

"It sticks with me longer, the icky feeling. But at least there's no specific things haunting me.”

“If you know what it is, you can face it, though. Walk through the worse rooms. In theory anyway.”

"Maybe," she conceded. "Not like I can change how I dream, anyway.”

“Both have their pros and cons is what I’m saying.”

"I take it you remember yours?”

“Vividly. Not just the bad ones, though. Sometimes they’re just weird. Sometimes they’re embarrassing. Sometimes they’re even actually nice.”

"I wouldn't mind nice dreams." She was quiet. She could hear his heartbeat thumping under her ear. "I have trouble picturing things in my head. Like mental images? Maybe that's why my dreams don't stay.”

“Huh,” he said. “If I said to close your eyes and imagine a flower, how would that go?”

She considered him a moment. Then closed her eyes and did as he asked. "I see a shade of pink. I can feel petals between my fingers." She tilted her head, taking a deep breath. "Smells like… roses? Maybe? Some pink flower that grew near the house in Ohio.”

“You use all your other senses. I just have images and sounds. Desaturated, often. Like the…rooms of shame.”

"Natasha could picture them clearly. Like a painting. She said Steve Rogers had a perfect memory. In the War he saw a Hydra map for five seconds and remembered where all the bases were.”

“I don’t know that I’d like that. Blurry edges on some things are merciful.”

"They are." Most of her Red Room memories are like that. What she'd seen in his Shame Rooms had been far clearer than any memory she'd ever have. "I worry sometimes I won't remember Natasha's face.”

“You must have pictures, she was famous.”

"They are pictures of the Black Widow. Not my sister." She frowned. "Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, then shrugged. "Alexei has some. From the Ohio mission. Fake Christmases and Easters and birthdays. He likes them, says we look happy. They're nice but when I look at them, I eventually remember they weren't real.”

“Maybe what they were portraying wasn’t real, but your memory of them isn’t.” He paused. “I don’t know if that made sense.”

"No, no. It did." She picked at the seam of his duvet. "And, you know, a lot of memories are good and bad. Like, we got sent down into the vault to get killed, but I met you there. So it's both.”

He chuckled. “I have never been anyone’s upside in my entire life.”

She shrugged. "Not my fault other people are stupid.”

He hugged her a little tighter. “I think maybe it’s just you, but I’ll take it.”

After taking a moment to tuck into him, she patted his chest. “Bacon?"

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Bacon sounds amazing.”

"The ladies at the diner will know us by name," she said, stretching to get up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a regular someplace.”

Yelena grinned at him. "Me too! Where they know your name and they have your order waiting when they see you coming in. Like in the TV shows, you know?”

“Exactly!” He climbed off the bed. “It’s early we might be able to make it alone. I’m going to make an exception and embrace public pajamas.”

"It's good," she told him. "We'll match.”

He held out his hand. “Come on. We need to get our predictable pattern started.”

She slipped her hand into his, weaving their fingers as they headed for the door.

*

Bob had never slept well. His drug use swung between things that kept him awake and things that knocked him out, depending on what kind of high he was chasing. But being alone with his thoughts had never been all that acceptable.

Bad things in the middle of the night were one of his earliest memories. It made him a light sleeper even when he did sleep.

Yet here he was, having the best sleep he’d had in years, with a woman curled against him or flinging a limb over him or tucking cold extremities under him to warm. They weren’t lovers, a subject neither of them had brought up, and at this point he was afraid to mention lest it disrupt the fragile space they both seemed to enjoy.

Sex was a complicated, messy topic given the course of his life, and he expected the same for her on account of the Red Room. So it was honestly fine, like they were for now. But if they were going to sleep this tangled up, eventually physical reactions he couldn’t control were going to prompt awkward conversations.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up unless she did.

“You’re thinking about something,” Yelena mumbled, head tucked under his chin. “You got all tense.”

This didn’t count as bringing it up. And he had other topics. “The shrink will be here today,” he said instead. They’d slept in her room last night. She ordered more pillows and another duvet on the internet so they had the same bedding in either room.

"And that makes you nervous." She shifted, tipping her head back to look at him. "I'm going to talk to her.”

He frowned. “To threaten her?”

Yelena laughed. "No. No. About… stuff. The feeling alone and the void and probably Natasha and all that. I'm going to let her…" She waved a hand. "Psycho me.”

“That could be a good thing. Maybe she can help us. We’re all fucked up. Not everyone as bad as me, but…nobody’s normal.”

"We would not have been able to help you, in the Void, if we were. You have to have been in the hole to help pull someone else out.”

“Someone whose void is composed of the one time they pooped on the soccer field as a kid probably wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near me.”

She laughed again. He was really proud, every time he made her laugh. "Poor Mindy. I should have Doc track her down. See what became of her.”

“Brag that you’re an Avenger now?”

"Tch. An Avenger. That doesn't seem real." She lifted a fist. "Thunderbolt and proud.”

He chuckled, then ruffled her hair. “Okay, up, I need to go back to my room for a shower and change before Bacon and then the shrink.”

"Right. I will meet you in the hallway.”

The people at the diner were getting to know them, and had started bringing their drinks before they sat. Then, fortified by the food, they went back upstairs. A couple weeks ago, the building had an AI installed after Doc’s tech team arrived. It announced itself, accidentally, in the middle of the night in a creepy message that had made Bob very grateful Yelena was there to reassure him that she had heard it too and he was not now adding auditory hallucinations to his mental illness menu. It’s name was Baal, and his first thought had not been ‘helpful digital assistant’.

Why the tech lady named it that, he had no idea. But it did explain to him where the shrink’s office was, something he appreciated.

"Good luck," Yelena said, putting a hand on his shoulder and pressing her cheek against his to make a kiss sound near his ear. She'd started doing that as a greeting/goodbye and, other than her accent, was the most Russian thing ever. "Find me after if you need me.”

Lately, he’d had the strongest urge to kiss her for real.

“Thanks,” he said.

She patted his arm, made a little shooing motion towards the door, then headed down the hall.

After a fortifying breath, he opened the door to the psychologist's office. It was… cozy. Carpeted in a smooth beige with swirl patterns. The walls were painted a grey-blue, and all the furniture was dark wood with navy accents. The overhead lights were off and the room was lit with a few floor lamps with paper shades, and sunlight filtered through shades the same color as the carpet. There was a little fountain on a table near the window and the low coffee table near the seating area had a zen sand box thing on it.

Lani Yee, the shrink they'd been introduced to, was an Asian woman around Walker's age. She was in a wheelchair, smiled very sincerely, and had a weird, calming aura. She gave him one of those sincere smiles when he walked in. "Mr. Reynolds. You're right on time.”

“Hi,” he said, giving her a little wave. He sat in one of her armchairs. “No couch?”

"People are more comfortable in a good chair with back support," she said with a little gesture to her wheels. "Or so I'm told.”

He chuckled a little. “I just assumed, you know, like on TV.”

"No, I know. There's some stereotypes to overcome." She settled her hands in her lap. "Doc has told me broad strokes about what happened to you. The experimental treatment in Malaysia and the effect it seemed to have on your mental health. She also mentioned a history of addiction issues. I haven't read your file and won't unless you ask me to. For now, I'd just like to talk. About whatever you feel you want to talk about.”

“You should read my file,” he said. “It’s better than having to recount it all. Part of me is afraid if I tried, the Void will come back.”

She nodded. "I'll do that before our next session. The Void is the entity that caused the black out in September?”

“That’s an interesting way to describe it. But yeah, I sucked the whole city into some supernatural manifestation of depression. The team, they…they followed me in, pulled me out. That seemed to break it. The rest of them might think it’s gone, but I know it’s not. I do have times like this, where I’m okay. It just doesn’t last.”

"The depression, that pre-dates the experiment in Malaysia? Do you remember when it started? Do you remember a time without it?”

“Don’t remember a time without the darkness. But childhood was not the greatest. I’m sure it’s the file. I remember wild swings in the other direction starting when I was a teenager. Sometimes I’d feel like I was invincible. Like the center of the universe. If the Void is depression, Sentry is that. I honestly thought I was a god for a minute there.”

She nodded again. She kept her face very neutral. Not flat, or emotionless. But definitely no judgement or anything. "The drug use… you were trying to self medicate? Or the opposite? Sometimes people will use uppers like meth to try to prompt a high when they've been down.”

“I think I was trying to counterbalance. To be normal.”

"In medicine we call that self-medicating. People do it with a lot of things. Drugs, alcohol. Sometimes sex, or exercise. Anything that makes them feel better.”

He thought about Yelena and how much better he slept when she was next to him. “I guess I’m still doing that.”

At this, Lani lifted her brows. "May I ask how?”

“I have someone I spend time with. She makes me feel steadier and just…better, so I keep spending time with her. It isn’t a high, though, not like a hit of heroin or meth or anything else I’ve tried. It more of a normal kind of happy. Like the way the summer sun feels when you get out of a cold pool.” He winced. “Sorry, that was stupid. I don’t meant to sound like I’m quoting things.”

She smiled, still sincere, but wider, like she was actually amused or happy. "No, don't apologize. Metaphors are great ways to explain complicated subject. And I'm from California, I well know the feeling you're talking about. For what it's worth, that doesn't sound like self medicating, that just sounds like having a good friend or partner. That's healthy.”

“I don’t know how to do either of those things. I don’t really know what our relationship is. I figure anyway I have bigger problems.”

"There's wisdom in not overthinking something that's working." She paused a beat, and when he didn't say anything she asked, "Is there anything specific you'd like to work on first?”

“How to not hurt anyone,” he replied.

"Doc said you wanted to keep your powers," Lani said. "So you want to use them, without the risk of letting the Void out? Or the 'high' you felt as Sentry.”

“Exactly. I want to be part of the team, I want to help people, and if anything really bad happens they’ll need me. But it’s a little scary right now.”

"Got it." Another pause. This one felt like she was trying to think of how to phrase something. "Would it surprise you to learn the symptoms you describe sound like Bi-polar disorder?”

He tilted his head. “No, I suppose not. I think I’ve heard that tossed around during some of my law enforcement encounters.”

She smiled a little. "Not surprising. Bi-polar disorder is very treatable, with medication and talk therapy to help work through triggers. Due to your enhancements, finding a dosage for you will be difficult." Lani leaned forward a little. "I will never lie to you in these sessions. Finding a working medication regime for you will be hard. It may make some symptoms worse before it gets better. But if you work with us, I think we can get you stabilized. And from there, we can try to get your powers under control.”

He smiled a little. “I think my history makes it clear I’ve never been afraid of experimentation.”

That actually got a little laugh. "All right. I will have Doc get something ready for you. In the mean time, I recommend you come in at least once a week, more if there's something you really want to dig into, and we can hit it from both angles.”

“Here I thought you were going to make me talk about what was in the Void.”

"We're going to have to get to that eventually," she warned him. "But it doesn't have to be the first thing we talk about. Or the second, or third. We go at your pace.”

“I lived it, how does talking about it help?”

"What you live through effects you. If you don't want to discuss specifically what happened or what you saw, I can work with that. But talking about the experience and the after effects can be healing.”

Bob sighed, looking at her fountain a moment. “When I was stuck in the Void, I found the safest memory room thing to sit in. Not great, but the others were all worse. They came to get me, and Yelena was sure that the way out was to march right through the worst of them.”

"Taking a tour through your worst memories sounds very traumatic.”

“Probably, though it will need to get in line behind all the other traumatic things. I did get to see my father get punched in the face, which was…satisfying.”

"Well," she said with a gentle smile. "That's something.”

He smiled a little, too. “It’s a start.”

"It is. We take it one step at a time. Just like anything else."

Chapter Text

Yelena had lived in the US for years, but she still had trouble remembering some of the holidays. Mostly the ones where the date changed. Christmas was fine, it was always December 25th. Halloween was October 31st. Valentines day was February 14th, but the hearts went up in the stores in January, for some reason. The 15th was better anyway, the chocolate was half off.

Thanksgiving, a holiday the loyal Russian in her found odd to begin with, was a fucking mystery. So when her father woke her up at eight in the morning pounding on her bedroom door, she legitimately thought it was some sort of emergency.

Until she opened the door and found him holding a frozen turkey.

After several explanations, waking up the team that hadn't gone home for the week, and a conversation with Baal the building voice in the ceiling that involved her talking about her uterus again, she was able to back to bed, with Bob, while Alexei started cooking.

"There's going to be borscht," she muttered into the pillows. "I guarantee it.”

Then he went and said, “You know, I’ve never had a Thanksgiving dinner.”

Yelena lifted her head. “Never?"

“My father thought it was a waste of time, and there was good football on.”

With a groan, she flopped back onto the pillows. "Ugh. I was going to be all cynical and Russian about this, and now I have to make it best Thanksgiving ever.”

“You do not have to make me a fancy thanksgiving. We could go get some hotdogs and I’d be happy.”

She frowned at him, very seriously. "I will make you honey cake.”

He looked back at her, just as serious. “I don’t know what that is. But I will eat it.”

"It's my favorite food," she told him. "And possibly the only think I can bake competently.”

“Does it take a long time to cook?”

"A few hours. There's a lot of steps.”

“Okay,” he said. “No nap then. Bacon, grocery store, and then we bake.”

"Are we sure Bacon is open?”

“The sign said they’re even open on Christmas.”

"Good. Bacon it is." She kissed his forehead before rolling out of bed. He yawned before getting up himself. Dr. Yee had been trialing medication that was slowly ramping up in dosage. It made him tired, so he slept every night now. Which meant they were usually in her room, because that seemed to be the choice when they were both tired.

It really would be easier if he just kept clothes here.

But if he kept clothes here. Or a tooth brush, or whatever, then they were living together. And that seemed like a Thing. And you had to discuss Things. You had to put names on them and figure out what they were. And neither of them seemed really eager to do that.

They didn’t seem to be anything that had a proper label. And maybe if they tried, something would break. They’d feel the need to try to be something they weren’t. She didn’t think either of them thought it was just about sleeping, but she didn’t know what is was about.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head sharply and smiled at him. "Got lost in thought. I'm good.”

“I’ll just go change,” he said, and ducked out.

She watched the door swing shut behind him, then went to her dresser to get leaving the house clothes on.

The ladies at the diner were as happy to see them as always. From there, they walked down to the local corner store so she could get what she needed for her honey cake. She circled the store five times and checked two internet recipes to make sure she had everything she needed. Then they returned to the Tower and she started baking.

“You know that store had fresh turkeys,” he commented quietly.

"I'm trying not to think about the disaster happening next door.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

She seriously doubted that, but she was, in fact, trying to ignore it. She had plenty to worry about making her batter and frosting.

“Can you give me a task here?” Bob asked. “I know nothing about baking but I can follow instructions.”

Yelena considered a minute. "So, we have to make little thin cakes and put them in the oven. They bake seven eight minutes. Then you put in the next. I bought two baking sheets so we can rotate. She we can set up a little assembly line.”

“I can do that.”

She showed him approximately how big of a circle to pour the batter in and they put the first one in to bake. Bob poured the second and Yelena got to work on the frosting.

A couple hours later, Bob was putting in the last cake round when the fire alarm started to go off. He looked over at the door. “I’ll go check, I can’t burn.”

"Also, you're less likely to punch him.”

He chuckled. “That too.”

He left and Yelena went and found shoes to put on. She didn't know what the procedure was for a fire in a building like this, but she figured there was a non zero chance she was going outside in the near future.

“The fire department has been notified,” Baal said from the ceiling. “Please proceed down to the 60th floor and await further instructions.”

Well, it wasn't the street. She double checked her oven was off, put the frosting in the fridge and went out to the hallway.

“There was plastic inside the turkey we were supposed to take out,” Alexei said, sounding very put out.

"Baal said to remove the plastic," Yelena pointed out.

"There was second plastic!"

She shooed him to the staircase and they walked down to the 60th floor, the rest of the team slowly joining them.

Eventually Doc came downstairs, dressed more casually than Yelena had ever seen her, and invited them to come back up to her penthouse for Chinese food.

It was actually… really fun? It involved an old TV show, Legos, duck, and a Christmas movie. Bob went down and rescued the cake, so they were able to serve it after dinner. It came out better than expected and the number of compliments both pleased and embarrassed her.

“This was a good, proper, American Thanksgiving,” Alexei proclaimed. “Even without the turkey.”

"It was really good," Yelena agreed. "Thanks, Doc."

She lifted her bourbon as if in toast. "I think the burnt turkey is probably pretty classic in it's own right.”

“Maybe we get a fresh one next year,” Bob said.

"That's probably a good idea," Doc agreed. "If I'm still here, I'll have it catered.”

“Look, I know this is probably sacrilegious, but I’m not American,” Ava said. “Duck tastes better than Turkey.”

V looked at Doc. "Can we have a turducken next time?"

"I'll think about it.”

“What is turducken?” Alexei asked. His face while V explained it was priceless. Then he said, “America is truly the land of wonders.”

"And with that proclamation," Doc said. "May I encourage you all to end the evening?”

“Get out of her apartment, is what she means,” V said, standing up.

Bob stood and held a hand out to Yelena to help her up. "Thank you for dinner," Yelena said again.

Doc waved it away. "Everyone enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

They all crowded in the elevator, and Alexei kept giving her and Bob looks. She was going to have to deal with that, but not tonight.

She hugged him goodnight and thanked him for making the dinner happen. Bob went into her room and started cleaning up the baking detritus. They’d done pretty good with the skimpy studio kitchen.

“It was, in fact, the best Thanksgiving ever,” Bob said.

"Yeah?" She went to help load to little dishwasher. "It was a lot of fun.”

“Yeah. The kinda thing I used to imagine normal families had, when I was kid. The holiday you have when your family likes each other.”

"I guess our family likes each other." The baking trays weren't going to fit so she started hand washing them in the sink. "I should go help Alexei clean up tomorrow.”

“Since you were surprised by Thanksgiving, I feel I should give you plenty of notice that I am already working on your Christmas gift, so we should probably get a tree.”

"I like Christmas, I remember when it is." She paused. "Well. I like the idea of Christmas.”

“Have you ever had a real one?”

"We sort of did it in Ohio. But I only remember the last one. I was too young for the others. The Christmas before the Blip, when Natasha was on the run, we met up in Peru and traded gifts. But it was warm and there was no tree.”

“I’m from Florida, it was always warm at Christmas. But here it does snow.”

"It gets all slushy in the streets," she said. "You think my toes are cold now.”

“Maybe I’ll learn how to knit and make you socks.”

She laughed a little. "I wouldn't mind." She leaned the baking tray in the dish rack. "What do you want for Christmas?”

He started to say something, then clearly thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut. “I-I don’t know.”

Yelena tilted her head, confused and curious at what he'd first thought. "Well, if you think of something, let me know.”

“I promise,” he relied. “I will give it some thought.”

"Good." She dried her hands. "Ready for bed? Or is it too early?”

“Yeah. Let me go get my pajamas and my night dose and then I will be ready to crash.”

"I'll change while you're gone." They did that. He changed in his room, she changed in here, or in the bathroom. Despite the fact she didn't have a lot of body shyness and he certainly didn't have anything she hadn't seen. It was just one of their unspoken rules. Some ephemeral line neither of them dared cross.

When he came back and they got into bed, they curled up together, limbs entangled, and she wondered why this wasn’t over a line. Not too long ago, it would have been.

Bob made her feel safe. And… steady. The way very few people did. She wasn't as bad as she was a few months ago, but she wasn't all better, either. She was sad and lonely sometimes. She still wondered what the point of anything was. But Bob made her smile. Made her laugh. And made her want to wake up in the morning and get bacon. Her personal void felt far away when she was tucked into bed with him.

*

Thanksgiving seemed to bring how much time Bob and Yelena spent together to Alexei’s attention. For a few days he gave Bob side-eye, and then when they both happened to be down in the tech lab for uniform fitting, he decided to go Full Dad while they were trapped standing there.

“People have told me you’ve been sleeping in Yelena’s apartment.”

Bob glanced over at Alexei, then down at the seamstress V had hired, who was pinning a seam on his leg. V had talked to her in German and her English seemed limited. She probably couldn’t eavesdrop. “I have, yes,” Bob said evenly.

"And this has been going on long time."

“Couple months,” he replied.

"So I must assume you have… intentions towards my daughter."

Bob cleared his throat. “Is this the shovel talk?”

He frowned. "Shovel talk? No, no. I do not know what this is. I simply want you to know that if you make my mishka cry I will find a way to hurt you if it takes the rest of my life."

Alexei sounded very serious about that, and for a moment, Bob almost forgot that he was stronger. “That’s the shovel talk,” he said. “There’s a joke about a Dad who corners his daughter’s boyfriend and says something like ‘I own a shovel and have no problem going back to prison.’”

"Ah!" He sounded delighted. "Then yes. Is shovel talk. You understand.”

“I do,” he said. “But…we’re not like that.”

He frowned. "But you share room. And bed.”

“We just sleep better that way. It started by accident and got to be a habit. But there is nothing even…PG rated going on.”

The frown deepened. "My Yelena is beautiful woman. Is there something wrong with her?" His brow lifted. "There is something wrong with you?"

“There is nothing wrong with her. She is gorgeous.”

"Then why is there no PG?”

“It’s not—Look, it’s complicated.”

Alexei studied him a moment. "In my experience, sleeping next to a beautiful woman you care for is very complicated. But I can see you tell the truth. So I hope you keep Yelena happy. Even with no PG."

“I hope I do, too. I think she’s…perfect. If there’s anything wrong with anyone, it’s me.”

"There is something wrong with all of us," Alexei said. "That is how we became team."

That made Bob smile. “Thanks, Alexei.”

He nodded sagely, then lapsed back into a rare silence.

The weather turned particularly wintery in early December. The team did some cleanup work related to the storms, but it was decided—by whomever decided—that taking Bob was too risky. But he had his Christmas project to work on, and he and Lani had started talking about more uncomfortable topics now that his medication dose was stable. He was plenty busy.

Still, he didn’t like not being of use. After tossing it around in his head for a few days, he went to find Doc. “You said you thought you could help turn my powers down a few notches.”

"I did." He'd found her down in her basement lab, with the snakes and, for some reason, a head in a jar. "I think with some work I can find a treatment that will counter act the serum you received. Not enough to completely neutralize is, that's not possible. But enough to turn down the volume." She leaned back in her chair, away from the notes she'd been taking. "There's a limit to what the human mind and body can do. How much input or output it can handle. I think your powers are putting the needle into the red. So we need to pull it back.”

“Before it kills me,” he said quietly.

"I think you have a long time before that's a risk," she assured him. "But it is a risk.”

“This might be the first time in my life I don’t want that.”

"Well, that's probably a good thing." She smiled a little. "We can start with a blood draw and a couple of non invasive tests. I happen to have samples of almost every known serum here in the building. I'll figure out something.”

“How can you draw blood, I’m indestructible.”

“Not exactly. That’s actually the telekinesis. You know how you can stop and flatten bullets in the air? You seem to have instinctively made a thin…force field, I suppose is the name, over your skin. If you consciously allow the needle, I’ll be able to take blood.”

“Huh,” Bob said, filing that away. He took a breath. “Sounds good.”

"We can start whenever you want. But it might be good to have Lani with us? Or maybe… Yelena?”

“Yelena’s probably the most likely to get me back if anything happens. But Lani would be good to. She’s wanted to see how it happens.”

"Then we'll do with both. I'm a fan of redundancy.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

"You're welcome. I'll talk to Lani and we'll put something on the schedule for the next day or so.”

He talked to Yelena about it that night, and she had some concerns, but he was more certain than ever. “I want to be useful.”

"Your job as my person toe warmer is no longer fulfilling?" she teased him, in a deadly serious Russian way. "I see, how it is.”

“I’m concerned I can’t keep up with winter and you’ll leave me for one of Ava’s hot water bottles. She has enough to build a fort.”

"I didn't know that, I should start stealing them from her.”

“I’m told it’s a British thing.”

"Weird." She rubbed his back. "I understand wanting to feel useful.”

“Doc suggested you come with me. Just in case anything goes wrong.”

"Of course. If you need me, I am there.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the back. “Thank you.”

She smiled brightly and squeezed his hand. "Of course.”

Two days later they went into Doc’s infirmary/lab/whatever it was so he could have blood drawn.

It was perfectly nice, but it was very strange deja-vu at the same time.

Yelena hovered at his side. "You good?" she asked for the fifth time.

He focused his eyes on her, because she was here and she was part of the present. “I’m okay.”

She smiled and nodded, parking herself near him as Doc and Lani came in. "Ready?" Doc asked.

“I’m ready,” he said, holding out his arm. It would be fine. He could stop it at any time, just by thinking so.

Doc was calm and gentle, like she'd been in the study. She had to put a tourniquet on his arm to get enough blood. "We'll start with the hard one and go from there," she said, clearly trying to keep the mood light.

He remembered the voice. The cadence. She’d said something just like that, in the soothing doctor voice they used before doing something that would be ‘some discomfort’.

The shots. They’d burned so bad. And he kept having more and more. He should have stopped. But no, he wanted them to fix him. Look what happened?

Now he was sitting again on the attic floor, listening to his parents scream below him.

No. Not this again. Not here again. “Yelena?” he asked, hoping she’d pop out of the walls like last time. But he could only hear the yelling.

The wall, though, was still broken. As if they had just broken through it today. He took a deep breath and walked through it. It was the same rooms, again, as before. In one, his father lay unconscious on the floor with a bleeding nose. John had punched him as they went through. Bob stood over his father a moment, and then spit on him. Because why the fuck not.

The lab was still trashed, and he had to climb over the wreckage, hoping once he got to the end it would let him out. If he paid attention to the the fear, some instinct told him he’d get stuck.

There was no Void on the other end. No blacked-out version of himself trying to convince him to stay. Just a door to the exam room, no longer stained with black shadows. He pushed the door open and was briefly blinded by white light.

He was back in the Infirmary, a very worried looking Yelena directly in front of him. He grinned at her. “I did it! I got myself out!”

She smiled, though it didn't entirely meet her eyes. "Good job, Bob. I'm really proud of you.”

Then he could see the black shadow on the floor in his peripheral vision, and turned to look at it. “What…?”

Yelena swallowed. "When you… got upset. Doc went to the Void.”

“Oh god,” he breathed. “How do we- I mean what- what do we do?” He looked over at Lani feeling panicked. “What do we do?”

"I was hoping you'd have an idea," she admitted. "She wasn't there where you were?”

“No, I was alone. In the rooms we went through. I just walked out.”

"And you're very clearly not the Void," Yelena said. She looked over at Lani. "Doc has never been in the rooms. She won't know how to get out. Someone has to find her.”

“Who? How?”

“Baal,” Lani said calmly. “Can you get Barnes up here?”

"That's a good idea," Yelena said. She turned to Bob and rubbed his arm. "It'll be okay.”

“I’m a danger to others,” he said with a sigh. “Apparently.”

"It was a mistake," she said, still touching his arm.

"This is a process, Bob," Lani said gently. "We have to figure out triggers and responses. It's a really, really good sign you could get yourself out on your own.”

“Not if I sucked someone else in in exchange!”

"But that's not a new symptom," she pointed out. "The only change is an improvement.”

He put his hands over his eyes a moment, feeling miserable. “Okay.”

Yelena stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him to hug him.

A couple minutes later, the infirmary door opened as Barnes, Walker, an Alexei filed in. Barnes noticed the shadow immediately and Lani and Yelena explained what had happened as best they could.

Barnes looked Bob dead in the eye. “Okay. Can you get her back?”

He was a scary man to be glaring at you. Bob took a breath. “I…I’m not in the Void. I’m here, not Void, not Sentry. This isn’t…mine.”

"Yelena suggested someone could try to go after her," Lani said. "If we can get Bob to recreate it."

"Like I—we did for Bob," Yelena explained.

“These days I’d bet anything you could do it alone,” Bob said to her. He’d probably follow her right into the gates of hell if she asked him to. Certainly he’d follow her out. He looked up at Barnes. “You could do it.”

He looked skeptical. “How?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. "The way you guys did for me. Find her, get her through the worse rooms. Like I said, this isn't me. It's not my Void. I think… it's hers?”

“How do I get in there?”

"I—I don't know."

Lani explained then how he’d been triggered, and that someone would need to do it again, to open the Void again. Bob would probably also have to go back, but he really could get out now, so he didn’t care. He just wasn’t sure Barnes could trigger him. He didn’t have any baggage about the dude, and Bob was, as previously discussed, indestructible.

But then, all of them had trauma, and they all understood how that really worked. “Not all hurt is physical,” Barnes said. He looked at Yelena. “Tell him you hate him.”

She looked utterly horrified and refused, and Bob realized he wouldn’t buy it even if she had. He knew her sister had been trained to be a master manipulator, and she was good at it, and could convince anyone of anything. Yelena worked differently, fought differently, and her version of control was flat neutrality. Any noticeable emotion that came out of her was genuine.

It was actually remarkable. All his life he’d been pretty certain every person he knew didn’t care about him and really want him around. Some of that was depression, some just being a magnet for a certain type of person. But he was so sure that she liked him and liked his company—with the same kind of obvious certainty he believed in gravity—that he wouldn’t believe her even if she said it to his face.

Which was good, he thought, as some sort of counterbalance to John Walker’s uncanny ability to channel Bob’s father. "Good job, Bobby," he sneered, the ghost of a Georgia accent a dead ringer for the one Dad had gotten from redneck northern Florida. ”Fucked up again, didn't you? You're always making things worse. Someone tries to help you out and you still screw them over.”

The funny thing was, Bob didn’t even believe him. That is was true, or even that Walker meant it. Not any more than he’d believed Doc was going to hurt him. But that had nothing to do with it’s ability to press on something in his psyche that made the Void angry.

He wasn’t in the attic this time. He was in the room with his father on the floor. He’d been unconscious before, but now he opened his eyes. “That guy broke my nose.”

“He’s a super soldier, he probably pulled that punch,” Bob replied.

“He’s not here now, though, is he?” He got to his feet. “And you’re still weak and useless.”

Bob waited for him to straighten fully, to loom as always had, before realizing that, no, Bob was just taller than him now.

Bob wanted to punch him. Fling him into the ceiling. Snap him in half. But that was just another version of punching the Void, wasn’t it?

He took a breath. “I’m going to leave now,” he said firmly. “Before Yelena has to come get me and you get your ass kicked by a peanut sized Russian woman.”

"Always someone to defend you. When are you going to fight your own battles, Bobby?”

“Why would I need to?” He had people now. Nothing good came from being alone. He could see his father’s phone sitting on the table his mother and kid-him were cowering behind. He picked it up, hit the thing to call 911, and handed it to his mother. “Call some guys with guns.”

Then he turned and walked through the kitchen door into the light.

Before the light had even cleared, he heard Yelena say, "He's back."

"I am so sorry, man," Walker said. "I swear to god it was just to get you pissed off.”

Yelena hugged Bob, and he looked at Walker over her shoulder. “I know. Probably wasn’t easy to do.” He looked down at the now two black shadows. It had worked. “Thank you.”

“Why was that hard?” Alexei asked. “Walker can sound like asshole in his sleep.”

Walker looked down at the floor.

But it was Lani who answered, "It's very hard to hear your abusive parent's voice come out of your mouth.”

“He’s a different kind of asshole,” Yelena said, in the voice she used to explain things. “More…our kind. Like Ava’s a bitch but we like her.”

Walker made a face. "Thanks?"

She sighed and stepped over to give him a hug. It wasn't like the hugs she gave Bob, it was sort of a guy hug, with back slapping. But Walker smiled a little and squeezed her quick. "Thanks," he said again, more sincerely.

Just then, in the speed of a blink, Barnes and Doc reappeared.

Doc turned and looked at Bob with murder in her eyes, and he tried not to flinch. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t know I’d—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could practically see Yelena’s hackles go up.

"I'm going to kill Valentina for doing that to you,” was what Doc said.

He blinked in surprise, and then repeated, “I’m so sorry,” because what else could he say.

"It's not your fault.” She put her hands on Bob's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Listen to me. It isn't your fault. Okay? Next time we have to do any tests we'll talk it out a lot more and go slow. You don't get to pick your triggers and you deserve to have them accommodated.”

There was a lump in his throat he had to swallow. “Okay.”

From his corner, Walker said, “And I really, genuinely, did not mean a single word I said.”

Amanda gave Bob's shoulders a little squeeze and stepped away. He could see her hands shaking as she stood there a moment and seemed to focus on breathing. "I'm… going to go home. We can figure out when to try again later.”

He nodded, not wanting to say he was sorry again, but not sure what to say. No matter what she told him, she was clearly distressed, and he was sorry about that.

She left then, with Barnes on her tail, leaving the rest of them lurking.

"I'm gonna go… punch things," Walker said, before leaving himself.

"Do you want to talk?" Lani asked Bob quietly. "Or do you want some space.”

He looked over at her. “I got myself out,” he told her. “Twice.”

"You did," she said gently. "Good job, Bob.”

“I seem to be…changing the rooms? I interact with them in ways that are different from my memory. One of them, anyway.”

Lani considered that a moment. "The way you describe it sounds a bit like a therapy technique. Going through traumatic memories and imagining how you wished you'd handle it. Or how the current version of you would handle it. If you continue, I imagine there are rooms you'll stop seeing.”

“Like I defeat them?”

"If you want it in superhero terms, yes." She considered a moment. "Would it be possible for me to go in with you?”

“You’d go to your rooms, not mine.”

"But people have found you in yours.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Doing so seemed to be a fight. Like it was…physically strenuous.”

"Bob," Yelena said. "I don't think the psychologist has a lot of physically strenuous regrets.”

His first thought was that people didn’t usually get paralyzed while napping on their couch. He was pretty sure it took something strenuous to break a spine. But that felt rude to say. “So I’d come to you?” he asked Lani instead.

"We might need to do that, and then we can go to yours." She smiled. "Or maybe my rooms will be wheelchair accessible.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll try it.”

"Do I need to get Walker back here?" Yelena asked.

"We don't have to do it now," Lani told her with a laugh.

Bob shook his head. “We have to find some other way of triggering it. It’s not fair to him.”

"That's also true," Lani said. "Ruining Walker's mental health doesn't help anyone.”

“Maybe I can talk my way into it,” Bob said. “When it’s not an emergency and no one is panicking.”

"Talking about the memories can be a trigger on its own. Especially since you're getting more control of everything.”

“We’ll try it then,” he said. “Maybe next week.”

"Sounds like a good plan," she told him. "You two go on and do something relaxing.”

He sighed. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Yelena held her hand out to help him off the table. "What do you want to do to relax?”

“I don’t know,” he said, tangling their fingers. “Anywhere you are, I’m happy.”

Chapter Text

Yelena was not entirely surprised that Doc decided to hold a Christmas dinner, party… thing. Given the whole Thanksgiving thing. And, because she was Doc, it was kind of over the top. The tree in the penthouse brushed the ceiling and had been professionally decorated, all in white, silver, and gold. Even breakfast was catered, super fancy, and very delicious. Yelena would have been intimidated, except Doc had made sure everyone knew it was Christmas and the dress code was pajamas.

Last week they’d had pretty hilarious team party in the lounge called a White Elephant where everyone bought random funny gifts and they traded and fought over them. Yelena had never heard of it before, but all the Americans said it was common for groups to do. She ended up going home with a ceramic head you could grow plants out of that Joaquin had brought to the party.

Like Thanksgiving, those with families had gone home for the holiday itself. Since they were going up to Doc’s for breakfast and she had the big tree, Yelena had suggested that those who were going to exchange gifts do it in the morning there. The Christmas Morning Tree was a thing they’d all missed as children.

She was, admittedly, a little surprised to get up the the penthouse with her and Bob's pile of presents to discover the tree already had a bunch of presents under it with all their names.

"Who brought these?" she asked, setting hers down.

"Santa," Doc told her, sipping he tea on the couch, looking like every tired mom in a Christmas movie ever.

“John’s kid thought Alexei was Santa,” Bucky commented. “It was pretty funny.”

"Of course Santa is Russian," Alexei said. "Lives in the cold, has loyal work force."

"Did you get us presents?" Ava asked Doc.

She shrugged, looking awkward. "You're my team."

"Wow. Getting some is good for you.”

“Ramin is having an existential crisis about her truly unseemly level of smiling,” V commented.

"You're all fired," Doc muttered, drinking her tea and putting a hand on Bucky's leg.

“Hey, I like the smiling,” V said. “I’m just commentating.”

"Well, I can't fire Ramin, I need him.”

“So when do we open the presents?” Alexei asked.

"In my family," Doc said reluctantly. "We did it before breakfast.”

“You’re the only one here’s whose ever had a normal Christmas,” Bucky commented. “You totally could have lied.”

"I know, but they're just gonna keep asking until we let them.”

“And then probably start shaking them. Anything fragile will be toast.”

"Go," she waved at the pile. "Keep the squealing to a minimum."

Yelena sat cross legged on the floor near the presents with her name on them. For a second, she flashed back to the photo shoot with Natasha and the empty cardboard boxes. In the interest of erasing that particular demon, she grabbed the first package with her name on it and opened it.

It proved to be a pair of hand knit socks from doc, in white and pale blue. She grinned and held them up to Bob. "Warm toes!”

“I’ve been demoted,” he said, but she could tell by his voice he was teasing.

"It's only one pair." She looked over her shoulder. "Thank you Doc!"

She lifted her tea. "Merry Christmas.”

Across from her Ava had what looked like a cashmere trench coat that was actually woven with a composite that would help her phase safely, like her suit. “That’s doing nothing to discourage the shoplifting,” Bob commented.

“Shut up, it’s pretty,” Ava replied.

"I have no problem with the shoplifting," Doc said. "I have people killed."

"Ha!" Alexei yelled loud enough behind her Yelena jumped. "Caviar in vodka! Doctor you are truly a magician!”

“That sounds like a crime against man and God,” Ava said.

“She got me illegal Legos,” V said. “So crime really is the theme.”

"Technically, they're contraband Legos."

Yelena opened her next present and found a set of earrings with diamonds, along with matching rings and necklace. "Holy shit.”

“Wow, those are real,” Bob said.

"I like your earrings," Doc told her. "You should have a formal set."

Yelena climbed to her feet and went over to hug her. She was honestly shocked when Doc handed her tea to Bucky and hugged her bag. "Merry Christmas, Doc."

She took a deep breath. "Amanda. You can call me Amanda.”

“That is a very pretty name,” Alexei said.

"Thank you, Alexei." She patted Yelena's back and leaned back. Yelena returned to her seat next to Bob.

“I have a present for you,” he said. “Don’t know that I can beat diamonds, though.”

"All presents are equal in my eyes," she assured him.

He looked skeptical, but he leaned over and picked up a flat rectangular package wrapped in red and green paper with little reindeer on it, and gave it to her. Wiggling in her seat, she unwrapped it, to discover a leather bound photo album. She looked up at him, a little confused, then opened it.

They were…pictures of Natasha. Not the famous Black Widow pictures. But regular ones. Including some from Ohio she’s never seen before. Casual photos of her doing regular things, like they’d been taken by friends. Photos of her sister.

“It was kind of a group effort,” Bob was saying, sounding nervous. “I asked Sam because I know he knew the OG Avengers. He had some, and then he put me in touch with Clint Barton’s wife who had a ton. V had bots crawling the internet and then Doc pulled some strings with who knows where. It kind of snowballed.”

She traced Natasha's face, turning the pages to look at other pictures. Then she shifted the album off her lap and hugged him. "It's perfect, thank you.”

“You said you were afraid you were going to forget her,” he said. “And didn’t have any real pictures.”

"And now I do. You're amazing.”

“I want to make you happy. You know?”

"You make me happy too," she told him. She leaned back and kissed his cheek, then picked up the album again. They’d had surprisingly similar ideas about gifts, though he hadn’t opened hers yet.

He opened Doc's first, which was socks—everyone had gotten socks, even Bucky—and a lamp that apparently mimicked the sun, that was supposed to help with seasonal depression. Then he picked up her gift. He shook it and then took off the wrapping, brow knitting at the plain cardboard box. Inside was a small robotic dinosaur. On night a month or so ago he’d told her a story about winning one in a school contest as a kid, and it had been the ‘it’ toy that year and it was the one nice thing that every happened to him. His father had smashed it as punishment for something Bob didn’t even remember.

"Is it the right one?" she asked when he continued to stare at it. "The internet seemed pretty confident, based on year. But I guess there could be other robot dinosaurs…”

“It’s the one,” he said quietly, a little catch in his voice. “How did you…?”

"You told me about it happening and about how old you were, so I did research on the the most popular toys for those years, then V built me a script to buy any that showed up on Ebay until I found the right one.”

“I knew everyone’s secrets,” V said from across the room.

“Thank you. I…” He cleared his throat, looking at Yelena. “Thank you.”

She smiled, reaching across their laps to hold his hand. "You're welcome.”

“Merry Christmas, Yelena,” he told her.

The smile grew into a grin. She was warm and safe and surrounded by people she cared about. It was probably the best Christmas of her life. "Merry Christmas, Bob.”

She had a small tree in her room, which is where they slept most of the time, and they turned the twinkly lights on when they went to bed that night. “I think this is the nicest holiday I’ve ever had.”

"It's definitely the nicest I've had." She rested her head on his shoulder, his arm tucked around her body. "Thank you for my pictures.”

“If I’m honest, I am very proud of myself.”

"You did a good job," she said sincerely. "And you got everyone in on it. Your first secret mission.”

“I even talked to it out with Lani.”

"Really? Were you worried it would upset me?”

“I guess I was afraid it would be, I don’t know, too much? Too personal? Maybe it would make you uncomfortable.”

She considered that. "Natasha might have reacted like that," she admitted. "She's get flustered someone knew her that well, had seen parts of her past. But I don't mind. I know you know me.”

“You are my favorite person.”

Her cheeks warmed and something foreign but not unwelcome fluttered in her chest. "And you're mine.”

He smiled back and pulled her a little closer as they finally drifted off to sleep.

The day after Christmas seemed like a weird limbo day. No one seemed to do much of anything. Yelena and Bob hung around her room watching movies and snacking on Christmas cookies. Yelena dozed on his shoulder on and off, joking it was a Pavlovian response to him at this point. He was like teddy bear or something, her body instinctively knew she was safe when he was there.

The next day, the men decided it was time to get back to training and exercise. Bob tagged along, as he was learning some hand-to-hand fighting to feel more useful.

Yelena used her alone time to go to Ava's apartment and knock.

“Hello,” Ava said, waving her in. “V told me Baal will notify her if shirts come off downstairs.”

Her cheeks heated. "Good to know. And kind of why I came by.”

“Ogling men?”

"Mostly just... men. And relationships with them. Do you know anything about them?”

Ava gestured in the direction of her couch. “You and Bob having trouble?”

"Not exactly." She sat carefully. "I know this is going to sound strange, give what everyone assumes, but I don't know if we're together.”

“Is he doing that ‘I can’t be tied down’ bullshit? I’ll punch him, I don’t care about my hand.”

"No. No. I mean…" She frowned, trying to figure out how to explain it. "We literally just sleep next to each other and spend time together. We haven't kissed or had sex. I've never seen him naked, or even topless. It started because neither of us could sleep and we kept running into each other in the lounge. Then we decided to move it to our rooms for privacy and avoid teasing. And it just… kept going. We don't talk about it, or our feelings. But it's like we have all these unspoken rules. To keep it from getting complicated.”

Ava frowned. “You just sleep next to each other?”

"Yes. We hold hands. Sometimes I put my head on his shoulder and he puts an arm around me. We drape over each other on the couch. Touching isn't a problem. None of it is a problem. But… he gave me that photo album for Christmas. Got everyone to help, even Doc. He's my favorite person in the world. I think I want to be with him. But I've never done that and I don't know how. I thought, maybe, you might?”

“You’ve never had sex with anyone?”

She waved a hand. "When I was freed from the Red Room I had a little phase. Slept with a bunch of men. A few women. I was young and free, I thought it was what I was supposed to do. It was fine, but I haven't gone out of my way to find more.”

“Ah. But you’ve never had a relationship before. And now you’re in this weird situation where skipped the sex, but are catching feelings?”

Yelena considered that a moment. "That sounds accurate, yes.”

“Do you want the sex?”

Wasn't that the million dollar question. "I don't feel I'm missing anything without it. But part of me is curious to try it with someone I actually like.”

“It’s nice when you like them. Though you might be further along than ‘like’. Sex or not, you don’t sound very…platonic.”

"Probably not." She fiddled with the cuff of her shirt. "He's a man. I guess I just kiss him?”

“But you’re afraid to?” Ava asked gently.

"If I do, it will change everything.”

“Will it really?”

"Yes. No?" She threw up her hands. "Maybe! It feels like it will. Like it puts a name on it and then we have to figure things out and define them. Or something.”

“It might help to figure out what he is to you, before you ask him what you are to him.”

Yelena looked at her a moment, then repeated, "He's my favorite person in the world.”

“Okay,” Ava said. “Thought exercise. I know this isn’t his speed, but let’s say it was. If he went to a bar, met a nice girl, brought her home and fucked her, how would you feel?”

The thought hit her like a blow. Her stomach churned with a weird combination or hurt and grief and anger. She cracked her jaw. "I would have many feelings about that.”

That made the other woman smile. “Because he’s yours?”

"Yes. I don't like the idea of someone else touching him.”

“That’s not a platonic thing. That’s a thing you feel about a lover, or partner.”

"Okay." She nodded. That made sense. "Do I tell him?”

“If you want to get out of limbo? Yeah, yeah you do.”

"What if he doesn't feel like that?”

“It would honestly stun me if a dude—even one as weird as Bob—was behaving like he was in a relationship without wanting to be in one. Unless he doesn’t like women, which isn’t a vibe I get, but you never know. My gut says he’s probably waiting for you to make the first move. You’re kind of a scary woman to mis-step with.”

"Fair." And given what most people knew about the Red Room, he was probably scared of what issues she might have about sex and intimacy. "This is scary, though.”

“It’s terrifying. I avoid it like the plague.”

Yelena laughed a little. "Probably a better idea.”

“But, fortune favors the brave and all. Can’t win without playing. No pain, no gain. Whatever the sayings are.”

"Tch." Yelena shook her head and sighed. "Thank you for the advice.”

“I’m happy to help,” she said. She smiled. “You guys are adorable, I hope it works out.”

Yelena wasn't sure she'd ever been adorable before. Well, Alexei said she was as a little girl. Certainly not now. "Thank you," she said again. "I am going to go brood about this like proper Russian. But we should get lunch sometime.”

“I, uh, I’d really like that. It would be nice to have girl friends.”

"Me too," she said with a smile. She headed for the door, then stopped and looked back. "We could invited V and Mel, too. I bet they have stories. Like, normal person stories. Not science experiment brain-controlled assassin stories.”

“One can only hope,” she said with a laugh. “But yeah. We should.”

"Cool." She nodded, then headed back across the hall to her room.

*

Lani came back from her trip to California on December 29th, and sent Bob a message that if he wanted to keep his regular session the next day, he could. Which he did. At the very least he wanted to tell her about the album.

He was on his way to her office, which required passing the infirmary. Doc popped her head out as he did. "Robert, I've been meaning to catch you. I had something I needed to tell you.”

He swung around to face her. “Yes, ma’am?”

She hesitated a half second, then said, "Your father's dead.”

“I…didn’t know that,” he replied. Why she decided to tell him this right now, he didn’t know. But the idea that he no longer existed in the world felt strongly soothing. “But good riddens. Cirrhosis? Shoot out with the cops? I can imagine many possibilities.” Strangled with his own belt would be fitting, but Bob didn’t say that.

Doc crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder on the door frame. "Strangest thing. Apparently, he got a hold of some tainted beer? Went through most of a six pack before he realized. Choked to death on his own vomit. Nasty way to go. Long, drawn out. He'd have been aware the whole time.”

He stared at her a moment. “Doc…did you order a hit for me?”

She tilted her head. "My dad was a good guy. Had his demons, but would have cut off his own hand before touching one of his girls in anger. He taught me not to tolerate bullies. And to take care of people that matter to me." She shrugged. "The director of the CIA is a complicated assassination. A dead asshole in Florida is pretty easy.”

He didn’t know what to do right now. I first thought was to wonder what Yelena would do. So then he reached out and hugged her. “Thank you. Amanda.”

"Oh, how did I end up with huggers?" Still, she put her arms around him and rubbed his back in a way that felt weirdly maternal. "Guys like you father? Ever accusation is a confession. He was yelling at you, but he was talking about himself. I hope knowing he's gone helps.”

“It does. I don’t know if that makes me fucked up. But if he’s gone, he can’t hurt anyone else.”

"I don't think it makes you fucked up. I think it makes you human. But I'm probably not the best person to ask." She gave him a squeeze and leaned back. "You were on your way to Lani, right? Maybe she can tell you.”

“I’ll ask.” He smiled. “You’re a good boss.”

"Thank you. Don't spread it around. I have a reputation." She smiled and waved him off, heading back into the infirmary.

He took a breath, and turned on his heel to walk into the infirmary.

Lani was waiting for him and greeted him with a smile, as usual. "Hello, Bob. How was your Christmas?”

“Good,” he said. “She loved the album. Got me something from my childhood that my father destroyed. We seem to think alike.”

"You do. Clearly you know each other well.”

“And…Doc seems to have had my father killed.”

Her brows lifted. "Well. What do you think of that?”

“I mean, I figured he was still alive because he’s such an asshole the devil wouldn’t let him in.”

Lani laughed a little. "One could argue that might mean even the Devil does what Doc wants.”

“I can’t find complaint with that.”

"Neither can I," she admitted. She paused, giving him a moment to get settled in his chair. "Are you in a good place to try the experiment we talked about?”

“I do think so, yes.” After the incident with Doc, he’d started working on figuring out how to trigger the void himself. Yelena had pointed out that if he could reliably and undramatically get out of his own rooms, he was a very useful defensive weapon. Like a porcupine, or a jellyfish.

"I'm ready when you are. And to hopefully assuage any concerns you might have, I am genuinely curious to see what my rooms will be.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to find you.”

"If I'm able to find you, I'll try as well.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had to think about bad memories, and he tried not to think about certain memories because he hadn’t seen rooms for them yet and didn’t want to. He just kind of follows thread of things he felt guilt or shame about, until something connected. He felt a little guilty that he didn’t feel bad about his father dying. His father would probably tell him he was a terrible person.

Always someone to defend you. When are you going to fight your own battles, Bobby?

And then there the asshole was, in the flesh. “Hey, it worked! Neat.”

"What the fuck are you—"

It was the same memory at the dinner table, which at this point didn't have any power over him. Bob went deeper into the house, since the closet led to the meth chicken street corner. Yelena said when she found him she had been thinking of him and calling for him, so he did that, thinking about Lani as he pushed open the door to his dad's den.

He stumbled out onto a city street, late at night. It was so late the street was essentially empty, the traffic lights stagnant.

Okay, well, this definitely wasn’t his, unless it was some drug trip he didn’t remember. “Lani?”

"Over here." He looked over to find her parked in her chair on the opposite corner. He jogged over to her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I hadn't started looking for you yet, I wanted to see how this played out.”

“Where are we?”

"The night of my accident. When I broke my back." She pointed up the street. "My friends and I will be coming from there in a moment." A point up the cross street, which had a hill. "And a man coming home from his third shift will come from there, nodding off briefly behind the wheel.”

“And you…want to watch this?”

She looked up at him. "Traumatic events effect your memory, to protect you. I want to see if this matches my memory, or if it's being dug up from some subconscious level, with complete details.”

“My originals were accurate, and then they’ve been altered since.”

"It's an interesting insight into how the Void works. Where it gets the information it needs to show people these things."

From down the road, he heard a car engine and looked back to see a four-door sedan full of teenagers coming towards them. He could see a young Asian girl sitting in the front passenger seat, laughing. She had on too much make-up, and had a streak of pink in her hair, and he couldn't swear he'd have known it was Lani if she hadn't told him.

They came tearing down the street, way faster than the speed limit would be on a street like this. Bob glanced at the side street and saw the truck crest the hill when they were a block from the intersection.

When they got closer, everything slowed down, like it was being played at a much lower frame rate. He winced, wanting to look away but not able to.

"Oh, interesting," Lani said. "While I remember it in interconnected flashes, this version has the time dilation effect one feels in the moment of experiencing a trauma." She tapped her chin, looking thoughtful even as the truck T-boned the car she and her friends were in, slamming it across the street and into the light pole on the opposite side. "So the rooms are not technically memories, but more of a replay of events as experienced. I should talk to Yelena about her childhood memories again, I imagine they're less detailed than later ones. You simply aren't as observant as a child.”

“Mine felt pretty detailed, the childhood ones.”

"And they were specific memories? Not conglomerations of various moments of abuse?”

He tilted his head. “Well…I suppose not. They were detailed and clear but…cumulative, I think.”

"Ah, so they are probably a collection of your memories of rooms and such. You didn't memorize the contents of your attic in one day, but over the course of your childhood, everything became familiar."
The driver of the truck that hit them had stumbled out of his car—apparently fine—and was frantically knocking on doors.

Lani shook her head, looking over at him. "Poor man. He never really recovered from what happened. Not even after I told him I forgave him.”

“The consensus has been these rooms are about shame,” Bob said. “Why are you ashamed about this? You weren’t driving.”

She seemed to have to think about it. "We were being distracting in the car, Brian kept taking his eyes off the road. I had my hand on his thigh—he was my boyfriend. But, more likely, I imagine it has to do with survivor's guilt." She gestured to the car. "Brian and Mike died at the scene. Mia lasted two days in the hospital before her parents decided to turn off the machines. My life was changed forever, but I did have a life. And my friends didn't. No reason for it. Just angles and timing and luck.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I think you do good. With the life that got saved.”

"Thank you," she replied, smiling. "But think of the chef I might have made." It was said with enough of a lilt he could tell she was joking. "Anyway. Shall we try to find our way to yours?”

“Follow me. You can meet my recently deceased father.”

"That will be very enlightening.”

The went back to the house. It wasn’t particularly wheelchair friendly, but somehow it was okay. He didn’t understand how it all worked. He pointed at the closet as they passed. “Meth addiction is that way.”

"I don't know that we'd make much headway with that particular memory.”

“Probably not. Complicated it ain’t.”

They reached the dining room.

His father was still there, seething. "Back again? You never know when to stop."

Lani considered him. "So are these things you remember him saying? Or simply the sort of thing he would say to you?”

“I feel like he said every conceivable insult at some point. But it might be an amalgamation. Is that why I can alter them and argue with him? It’s not a fixed memory.”

"I think that's a good theory. I also suspect, much like the one in the lab that you fought with the team, this is more a… representation of a part of your psyche, rather than a memory. This is the part of you that still thinks your father was right about you. As you talk with me and work on yourself, it gets weaker and more desperate to hurt you.”

“He’s really angry at me for getting help.”

"Of course. If you get help and learn better self talk, he won't exist anymore. Or will be so powerless he might as well be invisible." She flashed a smile. "I do sometimes talk about people's anxieties or intrusive thoughts as if they were separate people, but you are my first client where it was actually true.”

“No one’s going to help you,” his father said, something about the sudden quiet tone sending ice down his spine. “Who would even believe you?”

There were other rooms. If he turned the wrong way, he’d see the doors.

Bob shook his head sharply. “I think I’ve had enough of this.”

"All right," Lani said calmly. "Can you get us out?”

He inhaled and exhaled. “Yep. Kitchen. Right this way.”

She wheeled after him, following him out of the memory.

Immediately, blessedly, they were back in her office. Both him and her, no black smudges. “Hey, we did it.”

"We did," she said, smiling. "I found that very enlightening. A good first step. How do you feel about it?”

“I really like how much control I’m getting over it. Like maybe one day I’ll can just zip tie him to a chair and give him a piece of my mind.” Or punch him in the face.

Lani actually laughed a little. "You've come a really long way, Bob. I'm glad that you can see that.”

“You think I could have, like, a relationship? Like a real one?”

She softened into a smile. "I do. I think that is very doable. As long as we keep your medication steady and keep doing the work here, I think a relationship would be a great goal.”

“I really think I have…feelings for her.”

"For Yelena?" she said, as if there was anyone else it could be. "Have you talked about that at all? Feelings?”

“No no no,” he said shaking his head.

"That feels scary?”

“What if she says no?” She was, currently, the most important person in the world to him.

"Do you think she will? Do you think that's a likely outcome?”

“No,” he admitted. “I just worry…like I feel like we skipped a step, you know? We functionally live together and I’ve never kissed her.”

Lani smiled. "Some people say being friends first makes for the strongest relationships. You already know a lot of each other's landmines and history." She tilted her head. "Has she told you much about the Red Room or her experiences there?”

“Bits and pieces. Enough her upbringing was even more fucked up than mine.”

"The Red Room is a special kind of fucked up," she agreed. "But it might be good to remember that. This is new for her, too. You two can figure out what works for you, together.”

“I just want to be with her. In whatever way that turns out to mean.”

"That's a good place to start," she told him gently.

“I suppose it is, isn’t it? Gotta start somewhere.”

"And if you two need an objective voice to help with anything, I'm always here.”

He took a deep breath, feeling better. He could just ignore the other doors. “Thank you.”