Chapter Two of To Infinity and Beyond | A Project Hail Mary Fic
SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST
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Word Count: ~ 4.2k words
Author's Note: Had so much fun writing this one. I am so excited for Rocky to come, but that'll be next chapter. Let me know what you think, or if you have any fun ideas of flashback scenes go ahead and jot that down in the comments.
Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of bombs, mentions of death and funerals.
Nothing sobered someone up like a funeral. Part of you wished you weren't drunk as you and Grace stood above your two dead crew members. Another part knew they'd understand. Or at least, you hoped they would. Shaking your head, you brush some stray hairs out of your face. Grace wasn't the only one who had crazy coma bed head. You wished to cut it back to something familiar, but you weren't sure what that was. So you'd cut to something manageable. At least you would once you sobered up more and felt more at home in this body.
"Commander Yao," Grace sniffled as he flipped through the photos the two of you had found. They were personal belongings of the two people lying in front of you. Mostly, they contained photos of smiling faces and who you assumed were loved ones.
God you felt awful. Did you even know them? Yao and Ilyukhina? You were wanted to be sure you did, but as you stared at their hollow and pale faces, the certainty fled you.
One thing was sure, you had been to a funeral before. The somberness, the gravity of it all. It was all too familiar. You hated it. That was one thing you were sure of. You hated funerals and you hated death.
"I must have known you, but I just don't remember." He flipped to the next photo, making sure they were presented at an angle so you could see. Not that you really wanted to see the goofy faces Commander Yao was making with a small girl, who you assumed was his daughter. That was another thing you knew for certain. Grace was a considerate man. It was just in his nature.
"You make a funny face in literally…every picture." A dreary smile adorned Grace's face now. You were watching him intently, you realized. You weren't sure when you started observing him. The itch to give him a hug wrestled underneath your skin. You clenched your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek.
Get it together, you reprimanded yourself.
"You must have been very smart, and strong, and…brave," Grace's voice trailed off. Then he stepped forward and placed the photos underneath Yao's cold hands. He sniffled. "You wanna say anything?"
"Uh…" You went to shake your head, but then stopped yourself. "Commander Yao, I'm sure you were a great dad. Your daughter is gonna miss you." You were crying now. Quickly, you wiped away your tears, hoping Grace didn't notice. "I bet my life on it that she's looking up at the stars thinking of you."
If Grace didn't realize you were crying before, he did now with how your voice cracked. You took a sharp inhale.
"God. I—I'm not even sure I know you. I'm…I'm sorry." Then you nodded to Grace to let you know you were done.
Wiping your tears, you didn't see how Grace instinctively reached out to soothe you. He stopped his arm just before it grazed the your own. Pulling it back he, pulled out Ilyukhina's photos.
"Ilyukhina," Grace addressed. "First, I owe you like three bags of vodka." You nodded in agreement remembering the only thing in both your stomachs after the coma was her vodka. Well, it was yours now since you drank it.
"You seem to have a lot of friends. This picture of you," he flipped the picture over to show it to her body. "—What looks like you sneaking into the Kremlin is…legendary." He looked up biting his lip as he fought back tears.
"I wish you two were still here. I wish I was doing…a better job. I just, uh—" He glanced over at you to add anything.
"You both were very loved." You uttered, fighting back a sniffle. Grace let out a sob as you spoke. "You two deserve much better than this. I—we'll do our best to make sure that you both don't…" you trailed off. Your mouth refused to work as reality hit you.
Who was going to this for you? As you slowly died in space unable to get home. Grace had drunkenly shown you the math, the fuel, it was a one way trip. You all went aboard this ship knowing you'd die. Except you never remembered making such a decision. Would Grace be the one to see you off? Would you have to do this for him? Or would the two of you be buried in the stars like sailors lost at sea.
With no more words left to say. The two of you stepped back and closed the air-tight door. Grace was the one to flip the switch and release your crew mates into space. You watched as their bodies lifted up in the lack of gravity. They floated away farther and farther. You and Grace stood there for a long time, even after you could no longer see their bodies. It seemed the two of you were thinking the same thing. Something that no amount of vodka could fix.
You were going to die far from home and anyone you ever knew and loved. And God that was something you just couldn't make peace with.
"Knock knock," you melodically said, leaning against the open door frame. A massive grin adorned your face as you let your free arm sway slightly.
Grace whirled around at the sound of your voice. He hadn't heard it this clearly since the two of you graduated. Whiles phones and technology could do many cool things, they couldn't accurate capture your voice. His eyes were filled with surprise as he took you in.
You hadn't changed much. That he was glad. Only a few new signs of age decorated your face. Your hair was different from when he last saw it. It looked good. You looked good.
"Oh my god!" He squealed. You chuckled at his uncontainable excitement.
His arms were already open beckoning you in for a hug. You ran into his arms and hugged him tightly. He rocked you back and forth, milking the hug for every drop you could give him. With your head tucked in the crook of his neck, you couldn't help but smell him. The scent of his cologne was faint, no longer hiding the nature him.
Grace pulled back. His hands were on your shoulders, as he got another good look at you. "You're here!" He stated, with as much confusion and surprise as he could muster. "I thought your flight wasn't supposed to get in until tonight." Then his face fell. "I was supposed to pick you up."
You waved him off ensuring it was fine. "My plane arrived early. I knew you were still in class, so I just got a taxi to your place." You stepped to the side taking in the classroom. It was every bit welcoming and playful as it was him. This was definitely his classroom. You liked the wide windows that were decorated with student art. Some of which were adorably inaccurate depictions of himself with big letters reading THANK YOU MR. GRACE.
"Speaking of," you trailed off. "You need to change your door code. It's literally been your go to password for years. Anyone could easily break in."
Grace scoffed, taking a step back to adjust his shirt and blazer. "You sure did."
"Hey," you whined. "I was just dropping my stuff off and claiming my spot."
"Your spot?" Grace questioned, raising a brow.
You nodded. "Yeah, your bed."
Grace choked on his next words, your answer being at the center of it. You giggled at the sight of him. God he was so ease to fluster and tease. You were happy that fact never changed even after a near decade of friendship.
"Joking…" you teased. "Partially."
Shaking his head, Grace softly smiled at you. "Shouldn't have expected anything less." Then he took a seat on top of a nearby desk. His legs swayed back and forth like a swing as he placed his hands in his lap. He couldn't help but watch you as you navigated his classroom. You seemed at home in the space the school gave him. "How'd you get here anyway? Why not wait at the apartment?" He asked.
"I walked." You could feel how his eyes bulged out of his head. "It wasn't far. Besides it felt nice to stretch my legs and I wanted to see your classroom. See how you've settled in." You turned around and leaned your palms against one of the desks. "I was worried you know," you quietly admitted.
"Worried?" Grace crossed his arms over his chest sitting up. With how his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and the expression he wore you couldn't help but feel this was what he was meant to be. A teacher. Not once had either of you back in grad school figured you'd end up here, but that's how life worked. Things happen and sometimes it worked out for the best.
"Yeah, after grad school and the whole debacle with your dissertation, I was worried." He still had a look of confusion on his face. "I mean, your best friend moves across the country and takes a teaching job without so much of a word goodbye, you get worried." Suddenly, Grace's eyes softened and lowered alongside his hands. His shoulders caved in on themselves.
"I'm sorry about that. You know I am—"
"I'm not mad at you, Ry." You clarified. "I care too much about you to be that petty. It's not like I also packed up and moved around."
"Europe, right?" He asked trying to refresh his brain. You watched as he slowly inched out of his slump.
"Well yes, until a few years ago, then it was China and then—" You bit your lip searching your memory. "Then Spain and now I'm back in the states, back home with my mom but then she..."
"Do you want me to—" He stood up arms ready for another hug. You were hear cause you asked. You couldn't stand being in your old home. The condolences and the pity that people gave you after her funeral. So you gave Grace a call and he opened up his home, his arms, and his life. He'd let you stay for as long as you needed. He hoped you'd stay forever, but he was too much of a coward to say that.
"No, no don't. I don't want that." You shook your head, waving him off. "I just want to be here in San Francisco surrounded by life instead of reminders of what's buried six feet under."
Grace nodded. You hated death and funerals. You told him ages ago it had started with your dad. You never got a goodbye. Just a token and a message. Your dad had died in service. He remembers you told him all about one clear night as you drank on top of his beat up Nissan.
"He went up there for a mission. Something failed. I forget what. All I know is that he never came down. He's up there among the stars." Grace remembers how hard to tried to not cry as you told him. He remembers how much he wanted to hold you and whisper in your ear telling you everything would be alright. Most of all he remembers that he didn't. He just sat there and listened with cheap beer in his hands. "I look up there every chance I get when I miss him."
A giggle broke him out of memory. He glanced up and saw you eying him. He pursed his lips.
"What?" he asked. "Is there something on me?" He got up and started to whirl around looking for a spider or some paper taped to his back. His students did that once for April Fools.
"No," she smiled. "You just look like every middle science school teacher ever. So serious in such a not serious outfit."
"What?!" Grace gasped. "I do not."
"Yeah huh. Puny science shirt, check. Blazer to feel professional but still casual, check, the Jeans, check, and to top it off, running shoes, check."
Grace rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I look cool."
"I never said you didn't look cool. I just said that—"
"I look like a teacher. What is that a bad thing?"
You adamantly shook your head. "No, no, it's just…"
"What? Tell me," Grace demanded, stepping closer to you. You stepped back, hitting the edge of a desk. He kept stalking closer. Finally, he stood in front of you. "Tell me."
You peered up at him, biting your lip. "You're such a dork Ryland Grace," You smiled. "Please never change." You tone had grown soft. There was no longer an teasing edge.
"No promises," he quipped back. It was then he realized how close he was. His eyes trickled down to your lips. All he had to do was just lean down and—nope, nope. He was not doing that. No siree. No. No.
The sudden growl of your stomach reached his ears. He stepped back, clearing his throat.
"Hungry?" He asked. "I mean of course you are, your stomach growled."
He began to ramble. It was something he always did when he was nervous. Your eyes squinted. Why was he nervous? You wondered.
"I know a great place that's on the way home. We can stop there and get something to eat. Unfortunately, I do have to admit my fridge it quite bare." He began to shove papers and things into his bag. "Crap, I need to get groceries." He turned to you. Eyes wide and pleading. "Do you mind if we also stop at the store. I just need to get a few—"
"Of course," you smiled. "I am but your humble guest."
"Great," he clapped his hands and then slung his bag over his shoulder. "Let's go." He started making his way to the door of his classroom.
"Lead the way, Mr. Grace." You couldn't help but giggle as you watch Grace trip over his feet.
"I'm alright," he reassured. "I'm alright, just—"Luckily, he caught himself on one of the desks. Once stable he continue on out the door. His pace quickened a bit, and he let out a deep puff of air. "Oh god, I am not alright," he muttered under his breath too quiet for you to hear.
A big fat red question mark sat on the whiteboard. The two of you stared at it, like it held all the answers you needed. Sadly, it didn't. After all what was a crooked question mark going to tell you.
Grace sighed, erasing the question mark and wrote down his name. Underneath he drew a line. A feet inches below his name, he did the very same with yours. Then he ran his fingers through his hair. It was shorter now, better groomed. The two of you had found the razor and scissor and got to work. While he shaved down his beard into a light scruff, you snipped away at the long locks into something more comfortable stopping only when it felt right.
"Here," he handed you the expo marker. "Write down something you are sure of about yourself."
"Why do I have to start?" You glanced down at the marker like it was scalding your hand.
"Cause, uh…" Grace's eyes rolled around as he tried to find an answer. "Cause your ah," he snapped his fingers as the answer came. "You're a lady and ladies… go first."
You snorted, earning a glared from Grace. "Yeah sure, whatever." Uncapping the marker, you raised it to the board. You hovered over the white expanse, before writing down a few things. You were sure of your name. You were sure you hated death.
Grace's breath tickled your ear. You turned to look at him, getting a clear look at his eyes.
Trust. Safe.
No, you were not going to write that down. Instead, your hand jumped up to Grace's side of the board. You wrote down a few words, capped the marker and handed it back to Grace.
His hands absently took it as he read what you wrote. "Messy, small apartment, and considerate. Wait, messy?!" He peered over at you. You just shrugged.
"I don't know. I just get the vibe, for some reason." You pointed to the second line you wrote about his apartment. "Same with this one here."
Grace's head fell into his hands as he muttered "oh my god." He dragged his hands over his face before uncapping the marker. "Okay, then," he bit his lip as he wrote. You couldn't help but watch. "Teacher?" He added a few more question marks to the side of it, then erased them all. "Yep, definitely a teacher." He wrote a few more things down and then sat back, but not before adding a word under your name.
"Stubborn?" You glared at him. He turned to look at you with a smug on his face. Then he shrugged.
"I don't know. I just, you know, get the vibe."
You rolled your eyes. Then pounced, reaching for the marker. "Give it—"
"No!" He raised a hand in front of your face. His fingers were spread wide and his palm exposed. "You see this hand. My hand is raised." You tried to swat the hand away but was met with a force. Just how strong was this guy?
"Approaching Tau-Ceti orbit." A robotic voice echoed around the ship. "Prepare for engine cut off."
You both froze.
"What?" Grace muttered.
"Fourteen…." Mary, as Grace had named the robotic voice, began to count down.
"That's not good," you said, still on top of Grace. Quickly, you pushed yourself off him to a stand.
"Not good at all," Grace replied following after you as you scrambled to the cock pit of the ship.
"Thirteen. Twelve."
"Uh, Mary? Why engine cutoff?" He asked. Mary did not reply.
Reaching upwards, you began to climb up the ladder. Trying to ignore the soreness growing in your arms you pushed on. Grace was still not far behind.
"Isn't that something we should—" The two of you had climbed to the top. "—Talk about?" Grace continued to question.
"It's not going to answer you," you grimaced, stepping over the scattered vodka bags you two had left on the floor.
"Ten. Nine. Eight."
Managing to get into the cock pit, the two of you separated desperate to find some cancellation switch.
"I can't read any of this!" Grace sputtered in a panic. "It's like—"
"Chinese," you finished. The two of you shared a glance that said "how the hell did I/you know that?" but the count down continued making the momentary connection short.
You leaned in closer to the controls. The foreign language was not so foreign to you. You soon realized you could read everything. Hastily, your fingers brushed over the various controls and buttons as your mind did it's best to translate.
"Pilot detected." The cock pit lit up. You turned around to find Grace now pushing himself out of the seat terrified that Mary recognized this motion.
"I'm not a pilot," he squealed. "L/N," he called out, climbing out of the seat. "Take it."
"I'm not a pilot either," you hissed back. "Just let me find the right button and—"
"Two. One." Mary chimed. Then she went silent. For a moment you and Grace let out a sigh. Everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about.
"You are now orbiting Tau Ceti," Mary announced.
Then suddenly the lights flicked off and you rose. You glanced down, arms flailing. You were in zero gravity. Your feet were no longer on the floor. Why weren't they on the floor. You scrambled to get a hold of something, clutching onto the pilots seat, you pulled yourself forward.
Grace wasn't doing much better. He let out a shrill shriek as his world turned up side down.
"What the fudging fudger?!" he cursed. If you hadn't been flying, you would have chuckled. He was definitely a teacher.
"Petrovascope operational. Petrovascope operational," Mary said. Grace, pulled himself to the scope by the large window in the cock pit. You followed suit.
Space was beautiful, you had to admit it. You hadn't seen much of since the funeral for your crew mates, opting to drink and wallow in self-pity until Grace pulled you to the white board. You squinted your eyes a bit. Tau-Ceti. The star. Not yours but the one you were looking for.
Important. Save earth. Last hope. A hail Mary.
The words flickered in your memory. A faint line of red, trickled from the sun. "The petrova line," both you and Grace muttered at the same time.
Grace peered into the petrovascope. He pulled back, looked at you as if you grounded him, and then looked back in the scope. "You have a petrova line. But you're not dimming. Why?"
You shrugged. But the both of you now knew that's what you were here to find out.
"What is that?" Grace whispered.
"Huh? What is what?" You questioned.
"There's a blip in the line."
"What?" You turned to face him. "Let me see." He pulled back from the Petrova-scope, and you peered in. Amidst the long ethereal line of red, was a black spot. You were positive that was not normal. The line continued after the blip. Something was blocking the line, but what?
"You see it?" Grace wondered.
You nodded. "Yeah, that's weird."
"Really weird," Grace exaggeratedly nodded his head. His eyes wide as the strands of his hair floated around.
"Blip-A detected," Mary announced just as the radar near the pilot seat began to beep.
"Nope, nope, nope," Grace repeated like a prayer as he pushed off towards the radar. He shook his head. "Nope, nope, nope. Let's go Mary." Mary did not respond. "He turned around, blue eyes pleading with you to get in the scary pilot seat.
You answered his call without hesitation. The moment your back his the seat, the lights whirled on.
"Pilot detected." You quickly grabbed at the controls, glancing at the Chinese characters beneath the various buttons and screens.
"Let's go, L/N." He nervously eyed the blip. "No, no, no, no, no—"
"Just shut your mouth, Grace. I'm trying to concentrate!"
"Sorry, there's just a very large blip getting closer to us by the second!"
"I know that!" You took a deep breath in. "Fuck it," you muttered, before pressing a button and pulling back on the controls. "We are getting out of here," you said through clenched teeth. Slowly, the spaceship moved backwards. You were at least doing something.
Still the blip got closer. The beeping on the screen got brighter. God, you reached for a random button. "Is it this thing?"
"Mary?" Grace called out. "get us the hell out of here."
"Command not recognized," she replied. You pressed the button, a jolt rippled through the ship. "Engage spin drives."
"Whoa, it's doing something," you called out. "I think all I have to do now is—" You pulled the controls to the side. The ship began to move forwards. "Nope, not what I wanted. Not—"
"Blip-A detected." Mary announced, just as the room grew dark. The two of you turned your heads to the side. Just beyond the cockpit window, a massive brown and gold ship flew into view. Stopping, it completely blocked your view.
Grace groaned. "What do they want?!" You huffed beside him. "What?" he asked, clearly still stressed from the failed evasion tactic.
"Why don't you try piloting it?" You hissed. "I doubt you could do any better."
"Why didn't you tell me you read Chinese?" He quipped back.
"I don't know?!" You hollered. "Maybe it's because I didn't know until now?" Leaning back into the seat, you sighed. Your hand absent waved at the ship. "At least they aren't doing anything."
"Yet," Grace clarified. "Yet, it the key word here."
"Blip-B detected," Mary interjected. The two of you whipped your heads to the radar. A much small beep appeared. Its trajectory left the ship in front of yours and it was heading to you.
"What's a blip-b?" Grace uttered.
Mary happily replied. "Current distance from Hail Mary is 800 meters."
"Great," you groaned. "You jinxed us, Grace."
"It's sending us something." Grace tilted his head to the side weighing the options. "It could be a message," he said hopefully.
"Or it could be a bomb." You added.
"It could be a bomb. Is it a bomb?" Grace leaned in closer to the radar as if it would answer him. It didn't. Blip-B got closer. "Shield up!" He yelled at Mary.
"There are no shields onboard the Hail Mary," she replied.
"Why not?!" Grace whined.
"Thirty meters." Mary said. "Twenty meters. Ten."
You swiveled in the pilot's chair. Turning to look at Grace. Half joking, half serious you leaned forward. "Well, it was nice knowing you, Grace. Even if it was for a really short and uncertain time."
Grace looked at you. His hands moved from radar to sit beside yours. You could feel the warmth radiate from him. In low gravity, the motion brought him closer to you than either of you predicted.
"No, no, don't say that. We're not going to die…?" he muttered. Then there was a clang. Nothing happened as you watched blip-b bounce off the hull of the ship into deep space. Grace pulled back from your face. "Whoa, got close there. Well," he sighed. His face was bright red. Probably from the blood rushing to his head in 0g. Yeah that was it. He let go of the pilot's chair. "I guess there's an egg on both our face, huh?"
"Blip-C detected."
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Author's Note: Wow, I saw this movie a week or so ago. Not once has it left my mind. So, I had to do something about it and chose to write. Reep the benefits of my creative outlet please.
P.S it has not been beta-read nor really edited besides the basic spelling and grammar check.
Warnings: Spoilers for Project Hail Mary, isolation, drinking, mentions of alcohol, slow-burn, yearning from both parties, Ryland Grace's glasses (let me know if I missed anything)
"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, Ooooohhhh—"
"—my god," you finished with a chuckle on your lips.
Ryland Grace peered up at you from the desk he was sitting at. His glasses dangled off his nose nearing a descent down his chin. He drug the palms of his hands over his eyes stretching his eyelids wider than natural. You fought back another giggle at the sight.
"Exactly!" Grace exclaimed. His hands animatedly extended out, before plopping back down to his head. His fingers now messed with his hair, making the blond strands stick out at all ends.
You stopped wiping down the lecture hall's podium. The rag was drenched from wiping down everything in the room. Your arm already getting sore from the repetitive motion. You'd have to get a fresh one from the cart soon, but for now you'd give your arm a break.
It was now past closing hours. Campus was officially closed. Lecture halls locked and libraries once bright and hubs for silent life, now dead with quiet air. The dark blue hues of the night sky fell over the University like a blanket, enclosing everyone in for a restless night.
The lecture hall was silent besides the playful chatter between you and Ryland. During the day hundreds of students would file in. Some would chat among themselves. Mainly about how tiresome the new assignment was or how their lab partners were unreliable. Most college students happened to be. It was nothing against them. Adulthood was hard enough. Now stack on a decision that practically determines your future career path, grades, social lives, taxes, and financial burdens. Childhood left them all far behind, some would say good riddance. For others childhood lingered in all the good ways.
Ryland Grace was the exception. He held a child-like curiosity for astrobiology like no other. The stars, life, planets, and pretty much anything that relationship to the worlds beyond the atmosphere excited him. That was something you enjoyed about him. His curiosity and desire for learning and knowledge inspired you.
"It's just now processing?" You teased, tucking the rag into the side of the cart, before strolling over to him. "It's been what? like a week since you've gotten the news?"
Ryland sat up, his eyes narrowed sensing your jab at him. "Hey," he pointed at you. "Getting news and then processing are two very different timelines." You inclined your head in an exaggerate manner as if you already knew what he was going to say next. "You know I've got a long processing timeline."
"That I do." You sat down in the seat next to his, leaning your head down on the mini desk attached to the chair. "It took you…" You looked at him, your eyes deep in thought as you scanned your memory. "about a month and a half before you processed that people eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches different from you."
"That—that's insane. It was more like a week." You eyed him with a brow cocked. "Okay, more like three weeks, but still. Peanut butter on both side of the bread and jam in the middle is arguably the best way to go about it."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Ry." You leaned your head back against the seat, eyeing the ceiling. Doing so, you missed the light tint of pink that flushed to his ears and cheeks at the sound of his nickname.
"Not whatever I say, it's facts," he stated.
"For a future Dr. Ryland Grace, you sure mistake opinion for fact."
"Nuh uh," he quipped back.
"Yah huh," you retorted, tilting your head playfully. Your eyes trailed over Ryland as he looked up at your from where he rested his head against his folded arms. The warm dim light of the lecture hall did something magical to his eyes. God you could stare at them forever. A warmth crept to your cheeks.
"Which reminds me…," You forced your eyes away and pulled yourself to your feet. You walked over to your cleaning cart and found your personal bag. Shuffling through the tote-bag, you pulled out a lump of cream colored fabric.
Ryland sat up eyeing the bundle in your arms as you made his way back to you.
"What's this?" He asked, sitting up he moved his arms to make room for what you had in your arms.
A sheepish expression filled your face. "I…It's a gift. More of a congratulations than anything. It's really nothing." You began to ramble, embarrassed by the token you had given him.
Carefully, he unfolded the bundle to reveal a hand-knit cardigan. He held it up, eyes wide as he scanned every knit and inch of the gift. The flipped it around, eyeing the two dogs on the back.
"Wow…"he uttered in awe. His fingers now fiddled with the texture. It was soft, but durable.
"It's Laika, the dogs, I mean. I just remembered how much you talked about that dog and…"
"How long did this take you to make?" He asked, not meaning to cut you off.
"Um," you waved your hand and pursed your lips. "Oh, about…threeweeksnobiggie."
Ryland's eyes grew even wider than before. His mouth opened before any words came out. "Three weeks?"
"Well, technically only around 20 hours, spread out over three weeks." You sighed. "Again, no biggie."
"That's a lot of time," he breathlessly said.
"Not really," you replied. "Just knitted this during my lectures. It's keeps my hands busy, you know, so my brain can think."
For a moment Ryland was silent. You couldn't stand it. Soon your foot began to fidget. It was a tap move you had learn a million years ago when your parents put you in a dance to keep your body still. Then came the hands and fingers. You began to pick at your nails. Your fingers scraped along your skin, picking at whatever you could find. It didn't take long for Ryland to notice. Quickly, he abandoned the knit gift and reached out for your hand. His fingers clasped around your wrist, stilling your hands.
"Thank you." His grip traveled down to your hands. He gave them a solid shake. "Seriously, this is…" he let go of your hands, and you couldn't help but miss the warmth and comfort they provided. "This is like the best gift someone has ever given me."
You blushed from the compliment. "Well, go on, and try it on." You urged him on. Watching him as he shrugged off his puffy coat, he slid into the cardigan. It was massive on his frame. You winced. "Sorry, I didn't have your measurements, I just sort of winged it."
Ryland shook his head. "No, no…it's baggy. Oversized." He watched as each word that came out of his mouth stab the dagger in deeper. "It's…" He struggled for the words. "I'll grow into it."
"You?" She giggled, eying his figure. "You practically, eat eight hot-pockets a day and don't gain weight."
"Fast metabolism? Besides hot pockets are great," He shrugged unsure if that helped. "No, but seriously, I'll grow into it." He raised out the arms, seeing how the sleeves drooped slightly off his lean arms. Maybe you were right. He really was lean.
"I can easily adjust it—" You interjected.
"No." He shook his head. "No. No, I love it how it is. Just let me…"
"Grow into it?" You finished. You crossed your arms over your chest. The janitor coveralls creased. They were slightly too big on you, but it was the smallest size they had and you made do.
"Yeah, that." He nodded, hugging the cardigan around him in a protective manner. More so to protect the cardigan than himself. A lopsided grin formed on his face as he did a twirl around. It was soft, so unimaginably so. Despite it's texture, the cardigan was heavy. Not the kind that weighed one down, but the kind that brought comfort, like a weighted blanket. Suddenly, he felt very ashamed. There you were studing along side him. You had also applied for the doctorate program and got in. He hadn't gotten you anything.
"God, I feel horrible." You peered up at him over your shoulder as you turned to the white board spraying it and wiping off the latest scribbles of some professor.
"Why?"
"You also got in. I…I should get you something." He walked on over to your side leaning on the podium in the front of the room. "What would you like."
"Uh…I don't need anything," you stated. Ryland opened his mouth to argue, but you shut him down. "No seriously. You've given me so much already."
"That's a cheap answer." He raised his hands to cup his mouth. "Boo!" Then flipping his thumb down he booed again.
"Fine, alright." You bit your lip. Ryland couldn't help how his gaze flicker down to them. Before you glanced back at him, his gaze and returned to your eyes.
"Astrobiology…right?" He nodded. A quizzical expression formed on his face as he tried to predict where you'd go next. "If you somehow happen to work for NASA, or some other space project, or, if— ooo!" you pointed at him as a light bulb lit off in your mind. "If you go to space. I wanna go with you."
"…okay?" Ryland replied. What was he supposed to say to that. "I'm not sure if that will ever happen but—"
"You'll pull some strings and I'll come along. Besides," you turned back to the white board. "You and I make the greatest lab team in the world." You hummed to yourself recalling all the years spent in labs.
He had been your lab partner by accident in one of the entry level bio classes. One class turned into another. You weren't even a typical science major opting to pursue degrees in Linguistics and Anthropology. Granted anthropology was a science, it was more social than anything else. Even when you had fulfilled your science requirements, you still took the glasses, because he was there. Grace would be there alongside you. Your lab partner who wore punny shirts you'd only seen on science teachers and prepubescent boys. You practically had enough credits to have bachelors in biology and so much more.
"Alright." You turned around at the sound of his voice. His response was clear and confident. You eyed his soft smile as he stuck out a hand to you. A promise. He'd shake on it. Slowly, you took his hand and firmly shook it.
"It's a promise."
A gasp tore through the air as the tube was pulled from your throat. God it was horrible, the wet lubricant from your throat mixed with the abrasive instrument dragging up your trachea. Immediately the acidic liquid from your stomach came rising up as the first breath of air hit your lungs. Again, another awful combination. You gagged. Then choked. Then puked. You weren't sure where, that wasn't your biggest priority.
"Eye movement detected. What's two plus two?" A sterile voice asked.
You felt something push you back down. When did you ever sit up? Something sharp pierced your skin. Instinctively, you reached for the intrusion, only to have your hand swatted away.
"This is a cognition assessment. What's two plus two?" The voice asked again. You groaned. "Incorrect." Again the question was asked. You opened your mouth to answer. Instead, your throat croaked. You gagged again. The piercing sensation left, and a part of you felt better. Slightly.
"Four," you rasped. The voice finally grew quiet. There was a whir and a cup was present in front of you. You eyed the thing, blinking a few times. Everything was still so blurry. You tried reaching for the cup. Really, but your arms didn't work. Another whir filled the air and the cup touched your lips. Cool liquid flooded your mouth. It took all your willpower to not choke but swallow. You failed. Sort of. You got half of the water down your throat and into your stomach, the rest soaked your chest. It was then you realized one important thing. You were naked in a plastic-y suit. And cold.
"Body movement detected."
Turning to the side, you rolled. The momentum was too much for your disoriented self and you fell. You hit the floor with a thud. A much louder and more painful. Limbs were not working. Neither was your brain. It was cloudy and slow and just a jumble.
"For your own safety, please return to the medical platform." The voice robotically chimed. "Please remember muscle function has not yet been restored."
You fought off another groaned as you tried to sit up. The robot waited for your response. Letting out a sigh, you leaned your head back, resting it on the wall. It was too heavy for your neck to hold up right now. Everything was too heavy—too tired. There was no way you were getting back on the slab.
"Fuuccck off," you managed to say. Blinking a few more times, your eyes began to focus. You were in a…you weren't really sure. The walls were white, but not flat. You tilted your head up, eying the medical platform. A robot leaned over glancing down at you.
"Can not process input," It replied. "Unknown command."
"Of course you can't," you wanted to say, but found your tongue refused to move. How long was this going to take? Your eye lids started to grow heavy, you sighed, letting your chest cave in.
I guess it wouldn't hurt to sleep this through.
You weren't really sure what happened next or how long you slept. The next thing you knew, someone was shaking you awake. Trembling hands held tightly onto your shoulders. Despite their grip, they were careful of how much pressure they put.
"Wa…" their words were slurring. You frowned. "Wake…wake up. Please I can't be the only one," there was a sob. "Please."
Suddenly, your eyes burst open and you took in a sharp inhale.
"You're awake!" The voice exclaimed. It wasn't the robotic one that interrogated you on the basis of cognitive assessment. It was real. It was coarse and clear at the same time. As if he had gone through the same thing you had. Wait—you paused. He? You lifted your head up, eying the man in front of you. You blink once. Twice. One more time. Then screamed.
Startled he yelled back. Which made you scream louder…and longer.
Moments later the both of you calmed down. Although it was more like lung capacity ran out. After a pause, you looked back at the man. He had removed his hands after your sudden outburst. Rubbing them against his chest, he attempted to soothe the rapid beating of his heart.
It was then you got a good look at the man. His hair was long, scraggily, and sweaty. It clung to his forehead and neck like a second skin. Covering half his face was a beard in much worse condition. It seemed tangled and even matted in a few places. God, that must be itchy, you thought. Hidden behind all the fur, as you were calling it now, were blue eyes. Kind and gentle they looked at you. He was hesitant. Granted you did just scream at him. You blamed it on the confusion. You hadn't meant it. Not really. Looking deeper into his eyes, some flickered deep within you.
Trust. Safe.
You bit back the frown and quiver of your brows. You could ponder about where that thought came from. First and foremost was grounding yourself. Speaking of, you weren't even sure of who you were. You knew you were…well you. You were a person in a body you controlled with a brain and thoughts. But there was no name. No why? No nothing. The only thing were this man's blue eyes and the feelings that boiled up when you looked at them.
"I'm Grace?" He said more as a question than anything. He even pointed to a patch on his jacket that inscribed the name. "Yeah, Grace."
"Okay…" You nodded. Unsure of what to say next you opted to just stay silent.
You watched as Grace's throat bobbed up and down. Followed by a loud gulping noise. "So…space," he muttered.
Your eyes narrowed. "Space?" You asked.
He nodded, his eyes falling down, scanning your figure. Suddenly, his face went bright red and he whirled his head around, trying to look anywhere but you. "Clothes," he rasped. "No clothes."
You peered down remembering the sheerness of the plastic coverings. "Oh," you seemed all too fine with your apparent nakedness. It's not like you could really stand or even offer up the energy to look for something to cover you.
As if sensing your exhaustion, Grace shot up, marching to a corner of the room, and pulling out a white bag. You watched him unzip the bag and shake his head before grabbing another one.
Grace looked at the name on the label, then peered up at the two other two tubes, both with glaring red letters reading deceased. This one also wasn't yours. He placed it back. Picking up the last one, he opened it up and grabbed the first things he could find. Quickly, he carried them over to you, practically tossing it in your direction to avoid accidentally seeing more than he should.
You felt the clothes plop against your face. Dragging them off, you did your best to remove the plastic covering. The thing was glued to you by sweat and sheer stubbornness. Glancing up at Grace, you sought some semblance of help. Instead, you found bright red skin.
"I'll, uh," he fumbled pointing to the door. "I'll let you get changed." And then he was gone.
It took you longer to get changed than you had thought. The memory slowly seeped back into your muscles as you pulled on your shirt and pants. Still feeling cold, you waddled over to the corner you saw Grace and found the containers. A label called out to you.
"Drr. Y/N L/N."
You said the name aloud. It felt right. It felt familiar and a thought popped in your head. Just as it had with Grace's eyes.
"That's my name," you muttered to yourself. Again you repeated the name, the movement feeling a bit foreign on your tongue. With the triumph of remembering your name, you opened the bag and pulled out some socks, and a jacket. You pulled out the jacket. It was bright yellow and there was a patch with your name on it. Just like Grace's. You put it on and waddled towards the door that Grace had just left.
Just as you managed to stumble out of the medical bay, you bumped right into Grace. His hands already reached out to stable you.
"God, I feel like a baby deer," you cursed, earning a chuckle from Grace.
"Y/N," you wheezed out next, holding onto him. Grace's brow raised. "That's my name. It was on the label. Feels right, I guess?"
Then you watched as his face fell. Something deep within you wanted to wipe it away and bring back that smile, but you weren't sure how. You weren't even sure you knew the guy.
"You don't remember?" You looked at him oddly and Grace's eyes started to water. "I thought...," he trailed off, taking a sharp inhale.
"Grace? What's wrong?" You asked, a little disoriented from what was happening. You weren't even sure what was going on.
Grace couldn't bring himself to look at you as he began to ramble, tears, now fled his eyes and down his cheeks. You did your best to pick out the words, but not much made sense.
"Weareinspace.Itsnotoursun.Weareyearsawayfromhome.Idon'tknowwhattodo.I'mnotsureIknowmuchofanything," he sobbed.
You blinked, your grip on Grace got tighter. " Wait, space? We're in space."
Grace nodded. "Yeah, I mentioned it earlier hoping you'd know something, but—" he cut himself off with a sob into his shoulder.
Your hands began to loose grip. As you pulled away from Grace, you reached out for the wall. Carefully, you lowered yourself down. All sense of strength you had fled. Vanished like oil scattering away from water.
"Fuck," you hissed. Your eyes began to gloss over.
"If it's any consolation," Grace said in between sobs. "There's vodka."
You peered up at him, fighting back sniffles of your own.
Author's Note: God this movie did something to me. While I fought of the urge to write something I couldn't help but just write, even if I've got finals and a bunch of other writing things I need to do. Oh well, that's a future me problem. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Chapters (not sure how many there will be)
One: Promises and Vodka
Two: Teachers and Chinese
One Shots/Snippets
Girl Scout Cookies and Chinese Takeout (Coming Soon!)
Comment below if you would like to be added to the taglist!
Hey guys, I know it's been a while since I last have posted anything, but here I am. I have started writing up a manuscript for my first novel and have been posting as I go on Substack. For my "A Sinner's Redemption" fans this might be up your alley. Although there is no zombie apocalypse, sorry to say. But there is a awkward, father figure, a main character who is ridden with guilt and traumas, and a boy who keeps bringing her cookies.
Chapter Seven of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic
SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST
Previous | Next
Word Count: ~7.0k
Warnings: Language, mentions of wanting to kill/murder someone, Valentina hate train, mentions of insecurities, I guess still THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, (let me know if I missed something)
Author's Note: Sorry for the late update. I've been on vacation in DC and Maryland, so I have been busy. But here it finally is. I believe from now on the chapters are going to get a bit longer. I'm trying my best to not write over 10k chapters anymore (we will see how long that lasts). As is mentioned in the tags, this is a slow burn, so I'm sorry folks, it'll be a while until reader and Bob become a thing, BUT I promise we will get a whole lot more interactions with Bob in the upcoming chapters. Anyways, please enjoy!
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You were all better prepared this time, walking into the old Avengers Tower. However, hardly anything remained of your old home. It had been one of many you had lived in, but it was the first. One tends never to forget their first home and the memories that linger in the walls, growing quieter with the years. The bones stayed the same, but the skin and muscle had all been torn out and replaced. Even as you walked in the front doors, there were people patching up and building new drywall. Your brows furrowed at the large white truck. Its siding was unlabelled, almost like a blank canvas waiting to be used for something more. As you approached the front, a team of guys hustled around the truck, seemingly trying to remove it from the building. You couldn’t help but notice some snickers escaping your fellow–well, you guessed you could say it now– teammates.
“Wow,” Yelena announced from her place in the front of the group. She twirled around, eyeing you all whilst wiggling her brows before stopping at Bucky. A slight grin appeared on her face as her pointer fingers twiddled in the air. It was the kind of smile that was always followed by a joke or a jab at another, and from how she scrunched her nose at Bucky, you figured it had something to do with him. “Nice knowing the door was unlocked this time.”
Peering over your shoulder, you caught Alexei cheerfully slapping Bucky on the shoulder. Yeah, definitely Bucky.
“It was great plan, Mr. Winter Soldier.” Alexei’s chest heaved as he let out another chuckle. Everyone besides you and Bob let out another laugh while the two of you tried to piece the inside joke like a puzzle. All the pieces lay before you: a broken wall with an indent that fit the front of the crush truck perfectly, piles of swept-up glass as workers put in new panes, Bullet holes in nearby walls. Each piece fitted together, snuggling closely inside your mind beside everything you knew about the culprit.
Despite being great friends with Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes was nothing like your bonus dad/uncle. You still weren’t really sure what familial titles to call the Avengers–your family. They all raised you, each one taking a different spin on the responsibility of caring for you. Bucky was someone who fell under that category. While Steve was the kind of person who’d sit with you on rainy days where you wanted to savour the sound of the water drowning out your thoughts, Bucky was the one you’d crash into when running from the demons in the dark. He listened and understood your struggles with your past, the regrets, the lies, all of it. With his vibranium arm, he’d hold you until you could stand on your own again, all while he shooed the shadows that crept too close to you. While a stable foundation you could find your footing on, Bucky was just as rickety as the rest of you. In a moment's notice, he’d jump out of a moving car, all while avoiding taking a trip to the grocery store because of something embarrassing he said a few weeks ago to an underpaid clerk. As you passed by the struggling workers removing the truck from the building’s entryway, it was apparent Bucky had taken the jump. Instead, the jump was barreling through the front doors.
Bucky rolled his shoulder back, as he tilted his head back and forth like he was adjusting how tightly his head was screwed onto his neck. He tightly nodded to Alexei, shaking off his encouragement, “Thanks. And just call me Barnes.”
“You got it, Mr. Win–Barnes,” Alexei corrected himself. Clutching the base of his belt, Alexei adjusted his suit to better keep his belly tucked in. He had insisted on wearing his Red Guardian attire despite its soiled state.
Besides Ava, due to obvious reasons, the others had chosen to wear the fresh clothes you and Bob had picked up for them at the store. It was strange seeing them all out of combat gear. You struggled to find the word for it as you waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby. Peaceful? You shook your head. You all were anything but peaceful, with how everyone had a permanent scowl or glare plastered on their face. The only ones you could probably say were close to anything peaceful were Bob and Yelena. Although Bob held a befuddled expression, he still did not understand much of anything despite your attempts to explain things to him. Yelena, on the other hand, was smiling, but it was the kind of smile that could turn deadly in the blink of an eye. You were all on edge with the upcoming meeting, so relaxed wasn’t the word. Your eyes lit up. Uncomfortable.
“Right,” Ava said, eyeing you strangely. It was then that you realized you had said it out loud. “Anyways, what are we planning on doing when we get up there? I still say we should kill her, you know, get it over with and then go on our merry way.”
Walker’s eyebrows raised as if he pondered the thought before shaking his head, his head tilting slightly. Your brows pinched together, wondering if he always shook his head like a father who only said no because Mom said so. Glancing at the group, you figured the title of ‘Mom’ belonged to Bucky, given how drained he appeared due to all the threats of murder.
“As I said before,” Bucky exhaled. His mouth was working overtime as he enunciated every word with remarkable clarity. “ We can NOT kill Valentina. We are here to discuss and ONLY THAT.” His eyes met every one of you, lingering a bit longer on the more bloodthirsty of you.
“Okay, Senator Barnes, way to be a politician,” Walker grumbled under his breath. “A little beating never hurt anyone. See, I turned out just great–” You and Ava snickered.
“Yes!” Alexei cheered. “Mr. Walker gets it. We can always break a few bones–”
“No breaking bones, no accidental flying knives, no weird energy stuff, or–” He pointed at Yelena. “Your zit-zit thingies.” Yelena groaned, flinging her arms into the air, revealing she had indeed brought her stun bracelets. “Bob–” At the mention of his name, Bob stood a little straighter. His gaze was torn from the popcorn-looking ceiling and onto Bucky. “Just…” But Bucky couldn’t finish his sentence. His face contorted to discover the right words, only to sigh in defeat. “Just don’t do any of what I said.”
“Yeah, no, got it,” Bob blurted. “No killing. Just talking.”
The ding of the elevator bell interrupted the conversation, bringing it to a conclusion. The brass doors slid open, revealing a spacious room. One by one, you all filtered in. Once Alexei entered, the room felt a little less spacious. Slowly, the doors closed with a thud. You all stood there for a moment.
“Why aren’t we moving?” Ava questioned, standing on the tip of her toes to peer over Bucky’s shoulder.
“Don’t ask me, I’m not near the buttons,” Walker clarified, shifting to lean his back against the cool surface of the elevator walls.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you, now did I?” Ava retorted. Walker lifted his head to scoff at her, angering Ava further.
“Okay, okay, we get it. No one has pressed the buttons yet.” With minimal effort, Yelena jumped into the air. It was just enough height to see over most of the heads. “Bob?” Yelena called out to him.
“Yeah?”
“You’re in the corner with the buttons.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So…can you press them, so we can go up?”
“Uh…W-what floor are we supposed to go to again?” Bob quietly asked. A loud groan left Walker’s mouth. You swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, stifling his complaints. “I forgot.”
“Uh…It’s floor…” Yelena trailed off. Her green eyes fell on Bucky.
He felt the stare hit the back of his skull. Sighing, Bucky muttered the floor Valentina had told them to be on. “73.”
“73, Bob!” Yelena bellowed.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
“So,” Valentina cleared her throat, bringing her hands together in a wringing motion. You eyed her tense smile. One you had put on many times before in front of people you’d rather be six feet under than standing in front of you, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Valentina was desperate. “Can I get you anything to drink? Mel here makes a great cup of coffee.” Mel gave you all a tiny introductory wave before catching Valentina’s glare and slumping back against the wall with her eyes cast down.
“I’ll have coffee. You can never be too awake,” Alexei grinned at Mel, who began to jot down his order.
“What would you like in–”
Leaning forward in your leather conference room seat, you placed your elbows on the table. It was a dark-stained oak with the O.X.E. label plastered on the middle in a blue and gold resin design. Your fists clenched tightly together as your voice lowered. “We’re not here to play nice and chat over drinks, Valentina.” Valentina’s smile dropped, finally expressing the face she had fought off since the moment you all entered the conference room.
It had been one of the only floors safe from the damage caused by the Void incident. After all, a building is not typically built to withstand a helicopter or two falling out of the sky and crashing down onto it. Some of the outer windows had been shattered, letting in a chilly late afternoon breeze. Even in the closed-off conference room, you could still feel the cold. You welcomed it. It kept you alert, and one needed to always be on the tip of their toes with Valentina.
“Ms. Stark, you surprised me.” Valentina’s dark eyes narrowed on you. “I thought your Father would have raised you with some manners. Or at least common courtesy–”
You lunged out of your seat. If it weren’t for Bucky hauling you back, you’d have your bare hands around Valentina’s throat.
“Y/N,” Bucky hissed. Using his vibranium arm, he led you to a chair farther away from Valentina, right across from Bob. “Talk, not kill,” he whispered to you under his breath once you were seated. You let out a huff of air in distaste at being removed from the conversation and placed in a time-out.
“Valentina,” Bucky cleared his throat.
“Mr. Barnes, or ah–” She corrected herself. “Senator Barnes, forgive me.”
Bucky made a tight-lipped smile before continuing. “Bitch,” he muttered quietly, as he took a sharp breath to try and cover the curse. But before he could say anything else, Valentina’s act dropped in the blink of an eye.
In an exasperated manner, Valentina flung her arms up and gawked at the lot of you as you sent her glares. They were all on a varying wavelength: Alexei was on the lowest end due to him loudly whispering to Mel his coffee order, Walker and Yelena were in the middle of bordering the fine line of talking to and actively planning Valentina’s murder. Ava and you were on the furthest end wanting to strangle the woman, and the desire grew ever more enticing the longer she breathed. All while Bob did not know the spectrum even existed, yet still held some animosity towards the woman. Something deep inside him hurt when he saw her. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling it had to do with what you and the others had gently tried telling him. Bucky was in the 3/4th range: 25 percent wanted to kill, and the other 75 percent wanted to sort this out. There was also an extra 30 percent there for his desire to just call Sam and have his help in figuring this all out.
“Jesus! What is with you people?” Valentina bleated. Her eyes went wide as they made a round trip around the room. “It’s like you hate me or something.” A flash of nervousness rippled through her dark eyes. She tried to hide how shaky she was getting by drinking some of the water in front of her at the head of the table. You all noticed the signs despite her attempts at concealment.
“More like we want to kill you,” Ava commented, shifting in her seat to prop her legs up onto the conference table. “But Bucky here wants us to talk and, well, he’s terrifying, so I’m doing my damnedest to listen.” Walker nodded in agreement. When he caught Bucky’s eye he uncomfortably shrugged in response.
“Wait–” Bucky turned to Ava, his eyes meeting each of yours briefly. “You’re scared of me? Why?”
Yelena let out a bewildered gasp. “Dude! You’re the Winter Soldier. Who wouldn’t be scared?”
“Not the Winter Soldier anymore,” Bucky clarified.
“Well, you were,” Yelena quipped back. “I’m still reeling from when you blew up our car.”
Alexei let out a sob, thinking about the Red Guardian Limo. “My Limo business,” he somberly mourned.
“Look,” Bucky sighed. “I said I’m sorry. You were evidence that was trying to run away, and I–”
“Made a tactical decision, I get it.” Walker finished. “Still could’ve driven your motorcycle up to us or, you know, maybe talked it out like you’re wanting us to do now.”
“Guys–” Bucky tried to defend.
“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Bob interjected.
“Honestly, Bob, that’s such a great question.” Yelena loudly stated, bringing the conversation to a halt. Bob beamed, happy to have been of help. Slowly, his eyes met yours as they flickered with confusion, asking for your help. Quietly, you nodded your head to the seat beside you. Yelena turned to Valentina, her eyes growing cold. “What are we doing here, Valentina?”
Finally having the attention back on her, Valentina clasped her hands together. Her rings ground against each other as she tried to calm herself. “Thank you, Yelena.” She cleared her throat, pulling up her most diplomatic voice. “Well–”
A loud screech came from the end of the table. “S-sorry,” Bob muttered, pulling out his chair. All eyes flashed to him as he made his way around the back of the table to sit next to you. He muttered apologies as he trekked over. It felt like years, with the silence and stares looming over him. “Sorry,” Bob apologized again, finally sitting down beside you as his hands found their way into his lap. He began to fiddle with them with his eyes cast down.
“You good?” You leaned over, whispering to him.
Bob’s eyes moved to yours, smiling softly as his hands came to a still. “Yeah, just…” He trailed off, looking at the others as they engaged with Valentina. “I still have no idea what’s going on.”
“I can try to explain if that helps?” Bob nodded. “You remember the Vault?”
“Y-yeah, we almost burned alive. I thought that lady was the one who, you know…” Bob gulped. “Wanted to kill us.”
“Right, well, I’m pretty sure she still does, but now we’re her ticket out of an impeachment trial, so she’s trying to play nice. While we are trying not to get caught up in her schemes and be taken down with her.” You explained.
Bob’s eyes narrowed as he began to piece things together. “So that’s what you and Bucky were talking about at the restaurant–Good food by the way. I really liked it. Wait–” Bob stopped himself short, his eyes lowering as his next question popped to the surface. “Uh, what’s she being impeached for? I’m sorry, I don’t know–”
“The director of the CIA.”
You weren’t sure what Bob was expecting you to say, but it sure wasn’t what came out of your mouth, with how his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “ Jesus, uh, wow. That’s a big one.”
“Yeah, I know–”
“No!” Alexei loudly exclaimed, banging his hands against the table. The coffee in his mug was spilling from the sheer force of the pound. “We are the Thunderbolts! Not the ‘New Avengers’.” Yelena groaned into her hand. Her face turned red as Alexei got louder. The disgust in Alexei’s voice at being the “New Avengers” was appallingly apparent. “We are no second-coming of Avengers. My team is the Thunderbolts. ” Then he mumbled under his breath, cursing the name Shane. You couldn’t quite hear it all.
“Well, it’s a little too late to change the name, seeing as I told the press and all,” Valentina explained. She tensed as Alexei claimed it was his team. “Besides, it’s my team.”
“No. My team. Yelena, tell her.” Alexei demanded.
“Dad–” Yelena pleaded.
“Tell her we are Thunderbolts,” He proudly proclaimed, before switching his focus back to Valentina. “Change name back. So simple.”
Valentina let out an annoyed chuckle. “Not simple. No, you’re all the New Avengers, whether you like it or not.”
“I think we’re all forgetting the fact that she tried to kill us,” Walker hissed. Standing up out of his seat, he pointed an accusing finger at Valentina. All of a sudden, it felt like you were in a courtroom, except every one of you was a prosecutor put up against a defendant who was speaking for themselves.
“Actually, I was having you all kill each other, ” Valentina clarified. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her poor attempt at an excuse. “Which seems to have worked somewhat since there’s only seven of you instead of eight.”
Walker froze. The finger that was once pointed at Valentina now faltered down to his side. His jaw clenched tightly at her words. You all did. Ava especially. Her eyes fell to the ground, finding the speckled pattern of the carpet drawing all of her attention. Bucky and Alexei glanced around at you all. Alexei’s eyes softened at Yelena’s somber expression, as a deep frown already etched itself onto her face. When Bucky’s eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but look away. Valentina was right. There was no refuting her words.
“So what?” Yelena muttered. Her breath was low, and her shoulders were tense. Her eyes slowly drew away from her reflection on the table. “Are we still your shadow ops? Here to do your dirty work but under a new shiny title?”
Valentina cocked her head to the side, taking in a deep breath. As if it were a reset button, her posture now stood straighter, like a needle about to inject something venomous deep into your veins. “Yes and no.” Her empty glass clinked as it was placed back onto the table. “You’re in this with me now. If I go down, you all do too. There’s nothing people love more than tearing into those who have fallen, and trust me, I’ll make you fall with me.”
Bob nervously glanced over at you. His glance sparked a similar reaction in others. It was exactly as Bucky had told you earlier. Valentina was a predator who saw her opportunity and took it. You all were trapped, enchained by her side until she fell, dragging you all down with her, or until someone freed you. The weight of Bucky’s words and ideas fell on your shoulders. You shrink under their gaze, not enough for Valentina to see weakness and pounce. No, it was the kind of weight that you could not buckle from. The only place left to go was forward, and so you raised your head to face the viper.
“Now, the public is already skeptical of you all, and I don’t blame them. I mean, we’ve got Walmart Captain America, a former assassin, a mall Santa, a failure of a senator—” Valentina’s words were intended to cut deep despite the coach-like tone she used when speaking to them. Despite her attempts to weaken you all, they fell on deaf ears. You knew you weren’t perfect. No one who sat at this table was. Covered in the shadows cast by the new name you all bore was enough of a reminder.
“Alright, we get it, Valentina,” Bucky spat. “Where are you going with all of this?”
“You’re so lucky you’ve got a cute face, Senator Barnes–and good hair,” Bucky scowled at the disguised insult. “Mel, I’m sure we can get it even better, tell the hair department that–”
“On it,” Mel said, already jotting down the ideas that began to spew from Valentina’s mouth. You wanted to feel bad for the poor woman, but she was just as much a part of this as you were.
“We’re going to need good PR. Charity events and maybe some interviews with top news stations. We have got to build the image that you, miscreants, can step into the shoes of the old Avengers. Oh god, I won’t even begin to mention sponsors and–”
“Yelena, the Wheaties box!” Alexei cheered, nudging Yelena’s side. It seemed he intended it to be a whisper of sorts, but his voice came out much too loud as if he were a child going through a growth spurt. Whose brain was not realizing that they stood two feet taller than before, misjudging every action and placement.
“I’m sorry,” Valentina blinked. “What? And what is that ridiculous get-up? We are definitely going to have to change that.”
Alexei’s face dropped as his eyes narrowed at her. “No change. I am the Red Guardian and–”
“Let me stop you there, Mr. Red Guardian,” Valentina interjected, brushing over Alexei as she continued to spit out more ways to make each of you into the most delectable mold for the press and people to eat up. The way she discussed wardrobe changes and PR events would put even the best social media influencers to shame. “Mel, make a note to trim up the beard, tidy him up a little…” She paused. “A lot. Hell, all of them. Actually, call the wardrobe and other accompanying departments stat. We’ve got a lot of work to do before–”
“Oh, I feel a headache coming,” Bob mumbled. The stress of it all: the unknown, Valentina’s threats and judgements, and now all this talk of being public and close-ups were making the wrinkles in his forehead more and more prominent.
“I feel you,” you replied, trying to soothe the divots in your skin that mirrored his.
“Enough about the hair and…whatever,” Bucky declared. Valentina paused her monologue, clenching her jaw. Sitting straighter, Bucky brought his hands together. He looked very official with how he sat, despite the T-shirt and jeans, and leather Jacket combo he was rocking. You understood now why he was elected by his Brooklyn constituents. While he didn’t have a way with words, Bucky did have a way with connecting with people and getting things done. “We need to talk about how this is going to work. Clearly, you need us, and somehow we need you.”
A smile flickered onto Valentina’s face. It wasn’t a challenge or one meant to belittle. Instead, it was one of acknowledgement, as if Valentina began to see past the cover and actually read the contents. “You all, this little team you made, is official. And because you are the New Avengers, you need to start acting like them, doing what they did. You will all live in the Watchtower once the renovations are complete. You will attend events and make public appearances. And you will complete missions, save the world, I’m sure you get the gist. You do all that, and I make sure you are provided for. It’s an exchange, you see, I don’t get impeached and criminalized, and you all can have a chance for the clean slate I promised. Sound fair?”
The rest of the meeting flew by. Not because the topics rolled off the tongue spurring on the conversation, but because you chose not to listen for much longer, instead choosing to fiddle with your fingers. You trace their shape, dragging along the creases of your knuckles, which eventually stop. Next, you fumbled with your nails, not once bringing them up to your mouth. It had been a habit you broke long ago, but the urge to nibble now was unbearable. You could feel the nail beds touching your skin, digging into places you hadn’t noticed before. Soon, your focus was brought to the hangnails that peeled away from the original nail. You winced as you scratched at them, an attempt to get it away. It wasn’t until a soft hand squeezed your shoulder that you snapped out of it.
Looking up, you found Bucky. It took a minute for your mind to load and understand what he was trying to tell you.
“Y/N?” Bucky muttered your name. His thumb came to rub your shoulder in a circular pattern. It was the same one he always did when trying to comfort you. Clockwise three times, then counterclockwise four times before rubbing up and down to restart the pattern.
“Huh? Oh yeah, I–sorry, ” you quietly said. You glanced down at the paper in front of you. It was a contract of sorts. One Valentina was having everyone sign. Legally binding, you recalled her saying. She’d do all the things she promised: provide housing and support for you all so long as you did what you agreed to. Scanning the papers, you realized she had pre-signed everything. You scoffed, picking up the pen that laid in front of you. You twirled it around, creating an illusion as if the pen was floating in the air. As your hands mindlessly flipped the pen between your fingers, your eyes lifted from the contract to your team. It seemed they were all reluctant to sign something like this, even though you spent the last two hours, give or take, discussing all the fine details.
It was air-tight, or at least that is what Val wanted you to believe. You knew there was always some loophole you could find and hold onto, like a get-out-of-jail card. Finding it was the problem, though. While you were smart, you knew little about the legality of things. Picking up the thick paper, you bit your lip and clicked your pen. With a swift motion, a signature now lay on the line. Signed and dated. Mel came around, picking up the contracts one by one. Valentina blabbed on about how you all would receive copies of the contract to keep with you. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you watched as the contract in front of you disappeared. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had just made a contract with the devil, and you weren’t sure if you’d get out of this with your soul intact. One thing was for sure: you were going to need one hell of a lawyer to help you out.
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The savoury scent of Chinese takeout wafted through the air. Although you and the others had devoured it the moment the delivery arrived, scarfing it down until your stomach overflowed and then eating some more, the scent lingered. Flopped against the cushions of your couch, you flung arms out, trying to stretch away your food baby.
“Oh god,” Yelena groaned as she curled up in the corner of your couch. Snagging one of the throw pillows to brace against her stomach, she puffed her cheeks and let out a huff of air, which blew the blonde strands of her hair out and away from her face. “I don’t think I have ever eaten so much food in my life.”
“I second that,” Ava added, letting her head fall back on the cushion to the right of you. Wiping a few stray strands of hair from her face, she let her arms slump back down to the ground, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of your shiny hardwood floors.
Beside you, Walker took a long sip of the beer he borrowed from your fridge. The flavour of the golden liquid teased his taste buds. At first sip, he wasn’t sure if he’d like it, seeing the brand and all, but it grew on him. The bitterness gave way to a soft sweetness that helped massage away the stress of the past few days. “Nothing better than cheap food and good beer,” he muttered, his eyes distant as he raised the drink in his hand, making a toast.
“I’d drink to that,” you chimed, as you turned your head to gaze at your drink on the coffee table. You had only taken a few chugs of it before filling your stomach with as much Chinese food as you could eat. Now it sat building up condensation that formed a ring on the wooden surface of the table, matching all the other rings that had come before it. You weren’t one for coasters, it seemed. Extending an arm, you reached out for the drink. Your knuckles stretched out of their place to brush the dewy surface of your can. You jutted out your bottom lip, frowning. It was just out of reach. So you strained even further. Still, the drink lay out of reach.
Walker chuckled. “Why don’t you try again? Maybe you’ll get it this time.”
“Shut up, Walker,” you quipped back. You caught sight of the smirk that formed on his lips. The line of his smile reached his bright blue eyes. You rolled yours in response, reaching again for the drink. However, you didn’t have to reach far as the drink was lifted up and placed into your hand.
“Here you go,” Bob said. Despite wearing your gloves, you could feel the warmth radiating from his hand. Carefully, you adjusted your fingers to hold only the tip of the can, giving his large hand the room it needed on the drink.
“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling his hand slip away once you had a grip on the drink. Bob just nodded his head, before turning back to his plate, still making his way through the last bits of fried rice on his plate. Lifting the beer to your lips, you felt the cool liquid drain into your throat. It sent a welcomed chill throughout your body.
At the end of the couch, Bucky pushed himself off the cushions. His hands reached for the dirtied plates and dishware littering the coffee table. Stacking them one on the other, he carried the pile into your kitchen, gently placing them into the sink before washing them off and putting them into your dishwasher. You wanted to tell him you’d take care of it later, but the meeting with Valentina had made your throat coarse and your vocal cords unwilling to speak. Instead, you made a mental note to remind yourself later to thank him. Soon ,Bucky came back with a trash bag, collecting the empty take-out boxes and crushed cans of beer. Eventually, you willed yourself off the couch, following Bucky into the kitchen to finish cleaning up.
“I’ve got this,” Bucky said, urging you to go sit back down with everyone else as the food comas overcame them. Alexei was the first to succumb as ripples of snores began to sneak out of his mouth.
You shook your head, placing a few remaining dishes into your dishwasher before closing it. “Nah, it’s my house, you’re my guests.”
“Well, you’ve been a great host so far, now let me be a grateful guest,” Bucky quipped back.
You chuckled as he gently pushed you to the side to start your dishwasher for you. “Ever the gentleman, Bucky Bear,” you teased, letting the nickname you gave him long ago slip out, watching as he rolled his eyes at it. You knew he cherished the name more than he let on. He just never would give you the satisfaction of knowing.
Reaching into the cupboard below your sink, you snatched a container of wipes and popped open the lid. The antiseptic smell of Lysol filled the air. With a sharp tug, the cleaning wipe detached, freeing itself from the bottle, and you began to wipe the counter. There wasn’t much to wipe, but even so, it kept you busy providing you a much-needed distraction from Valentina, the contract, the team, hell, everything.
“Pepper called.” The words slipped out of your mouth. You sighed, wiping a spot on your counter a little harder. Bucky leaned against the counter beside you. He didn’t say anything, instead just giving you the space you needed to breathe, to keep talking. “She saw the news and called to check in. Make sure everything was okay.”
“And is it? Is everything okay?” Bucky asked. You didn’t turn to look at him, but felt the weight of his eyes all the same.
“I don’t know anymore, Bucky,” you admitted. You had stopped wiping the counter long ago, the Lysol wiping having dried out. “Earlier at the restaurant, I thought maybe I could do it, but then we had the meeting and signed the contract–Bucky, I’m drowning. In over my head with everything, and I haven’t even started. What’s worse is that Val is right. She’s a horrible person, but she’s right. I mean, look at us.” You tried your best to stay quiet, but with how much your voice was trembling, it was getting difficult. “We’re a bunch of misfits.”
“You’re human,” Bucky said.
You let out a dry laugh. “So were they, and yet here I am feeling less than.”
Bucky took in a deep breath, flexing his hands. “Look, kid,” you sent him a glare. “Y/N,” Bucky corrected. “The Avengers were idolized. Put on pedestals for stepping up and being the first, but even then, they weren’t perfect. No one is. You know that better than anyone.”
“Then why is it so much harder to live up to their expectations when they’re gone than when they were alive?”
“Because they’re a memory. Living things change and adapt. Memories stay fixed, imperfect capsules of what once was. Look, I know it doesn’t do any good to dwell on the past. You get lost in all the questions of what could have happened and what might be instead of seeing what’s right in front of you.” Stepping closer, Bucky placed his vibranium hand over yours. “Go rest, I’ll finish cleaning up here.”
Reluctantly, you dragged yourself away from the kitchen and into the living room, flopping back down onto the couch. Pretty much everyone had fallen asleep by now. Walker lay tucked into the side of the couch. His mouth hung slightly open as he breathed in and out. His chest rose at a slow and steady pace. Nearby, Yelena grumbled in her sleep, still hugging your throw pillow. Ava was no longer anywhere in the room, but from the creaks in the floorboards upstairs, you figured she had found her way back into one of the guest rooms. Alexei still snored, his mouth hanging wide open. His nose twitched, and you noticed bits of rice stuck in his scruffy beard. All while Bob leaned against the palm of his hand. His elbow, which was braced against the table, slipped as he dozed off. The sudden jerk startled him awake. With a finger, you nudged his shoulder. He whirled around to look at you. His eyes were blown wide with sleep. “Huh, uh–I’m up,” he said groggily.
“You can take one of the beds,” you quietly offered, glancing at the sleeping figures nearby. “I doubt they’ll wake up anytime soon.”
“Uh, I’m good,” he tried to convince you he wasn’t tired, but you could see the sleep he was trying so hard to fight off.
“Bob,” you sighed. “You need to rest. We all do. I know my place is unfamiliar, but I’ll do what I can to make it comfortable for you. More pillows or blankets? Maybe melatonin?”
Still, he shook his head. “Melatonin makes me wake up in the middle of the night, so–I promise I’m okay. I just–” His face fell, and he turned away from you. You sat up from your place on the couch, sliding down on the floor next to him. Behind you, you could hear Bucky’s deep footsteps as he made his way into your office to crash on the blow-up mattress. “I-I know you all said that I’m coming with you and that I’m a part of the team, but I can’t help but feel like that if I fall asleep, that I’ll wake up and you all will be gone.”
Your shoulders fell as the tremble in his voice. Softly, you laid your head against your knees to get a better look at him. “Bob, I promise we will all be here when you wake up. I know some of them are leaving to get packed for when we move into the Watchtower, but we’ll be here.”
Finally, Bob looked at you. His eyes scanned your face as he searched for any sign of a lie, but there was none. You looked certain and secure in your words despite the uncertainty he had heard you convey to Bucky in the kitchen. He felt bad for eavesdropping, but found it difficult not to listen to the sound of your voice. “Okay…”
“Speaking of,” You began. “Do you have some place you want to go, things to pack up?”
Bob shook his head. “No, when I left for Malaysia, I kinda sort of left everything behind. I don’t really have anything, besides the clothes and toothbrush you got me.”
“Oh,” you uttered. “That’s fine. I’d be happy to pick you up some more things, if you’d like.”
“I don’t want to ask that of you. You’ve already done a lot for me.”
“Bob, please, it’s fine. I promise it does nothing but ease the weight of my wallet,” you lightly teased, all while trying to reassure him. “We can go shopping tomorrow if you like.”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Bob smiled, tucking his knees into his chest to rest his arms on top. Slowly, he let his head drop down, lying in his arms. His eyes were still gazing at you from where you sat. You couldn’t help the heat that flooded your cheeks as he looked at you.
Licking your lips, you began to nibble on them, your body unconsciously mirroring Bob’s position. “You’re welcome to stay with me, you know, until we all move into the Watchtower and all,” you whispered. Your fingers trailed the seam of your pants up and down, unsure as to why you were nervous for just offering him a place to stay. He hummed in agreement, fighting off the weight of his eyelids as they tried to close. Shifting, you carefully nudged him. “If you won’t go to sleep in one of the beds, at least sleep on the couch, Bob. It’s a great couch, if I might add. Might just sleep on it myself,” you yawned, lifting yourself off the floor to grab some blankets from your closet. Bob shook himself awake, mumbling that he’d be fine, but his body betrayed him as he stood up and crawled onto the couch. You unfolded the blankets, peeling the soft fluffy fabric from each other before lying it down over Yelena, Alexei, Walker, and lastly, Bob. Then finding an open place on the couch, you tugged a blanket over yourself.
You curled your legs closely, settling in the fetal position. Settling in one of the corners of your large U-shaped couch, you let the serenity of the night overcome you. Bucky or Ava still shuffled around upstairs moving to and from the bathroom. It was a few minutes before the light at the top of the stairs flicked off, leaving only the dim light in the kitchen and some of the warm lights of your lamps remaining. Outside, you could hear the faint rumbling as cars drove by. Occasionally, some light chatter would fill the air as your neighbors stumbled into their homes after a late night. Nearby, you could hear Bob shuffling. The fabric of his sweater zipped across the fabric of your couch as he tried to get comfortable. For a moment all would be still, until he started moving again.
“Bob?” You called out. He hummed in response, his movements stilled. “You good?”
“Y-yeah, I just–it’s a bit cramped.” You tilted your head off the throw pillow you were laying your head on. It was a floral pattern with tiny birds embroidered onto the surface. Even in the dim light you could see how crowded the other side of the couch was. Walker and Alexei, who were no means small, lay spread out. Walker had his legs out, his feet hanging off the edge of the couch as Yelena’s legs lay tucked behind him. Where Yelena’s waist lay, was Alexei’s head. Granted he was on the floor, his large arm that was tucked underneath his head took up the same amount of space as Yelena’s torso. At the end of the other side of the U lay Bob, trying to avoid placing his feet near Yelena’s face, and legs anywhere near Alexei’s open mouth.
Observing the large gap that was between you and Walker, you figured it’d be safe. Besides you still had your gloves on which eased any worry you might have accidental touch. “There’s more room over here,” you admitted, opening up the space for him. Bob muttered out an okay, before waddling over, dragging his blanket behind him. Your head dipped down as he lay next to you. His feet just inches from grazing Walker’s sleeping body, his head coming to a rest near yours. Your pillows pressed up against each other. “Better?” You asked.
Bob nodded, as you watched the tension in his shoulders and neck relax letting him fully extend. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Of course, anytime.” You took in a deep breath, letting your body fully be held by the couch below you. As your eyelids shut, you called to FRIDAY instructing her to switch off the lights and lock the doors for the night. You vaguely recalled her signalling the completion of the tasks. “Goodnight, Bob” you mumbled, unsure if your words came out coherent or not. Sleep quickly overcame you before you could hear Bob wish you a goodnight as well.
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Comment/Reblog/Follow or else...xp Also comment if you would like to be added to the tag list. (Please let me know if I missed you.)
Warnings: Mentions of death and violence, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS?, mentions of childhood trauma, language, mentions of Pepper and Morgan, Bucky acts like a dad/concerned uncle(let me know if I missed anything)
Author's Note: Went on a trip for my birthday and finally got back, so sorry for the late chapter. I'm hoping to at least post once a week. Anyways, this chapter is a fun one, and the beginning to the speculating (basically, I get to make stuff up, so yay!) The team gets food and finds a place to crash for the day, more Bob and Reader moments...I hope you enjoy!
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The restaurant was practically empty besides the seven of you in the wake of the Void incident, yet if you were to close your eyes, it’d be just as loud as rush hour, when everyone trickled in from their lunch breaks with the time clicking until they returned to work. Beside you, Alexei was chewing. His mouth was wide open, letting more food fall onto his plate than what was actually swallowed down his throat. He was chipper, even though you all had risked your lives, nearly died numerous times, and had been up for more days than were healthy. Still, he loudly jumped from conversational topics, starting with his disdain for the Avengers title, saying he liked the Thunderbolts more, then somehow ended up telling everyone the story of an after-mission party in Russia. You were glad there were no children in the restaurant due to the lewd direction Alexei’s story was taking. You were hardly paying attention, instead watching Walker’s face contort as he tried to swallow his next bite of food. Watching, you tried to hide your snicker as John gagged on a bite of his food at Alexei’s next words.
“Oh no,” Yelena groaned into her hand. Her fingers dragged down her face, elongating her embarrassed expression. “No, no, Alexei,” she called out. “No one wants to hear about that as we eat.”
“Yelena,” Alexei exasperated, throwing his arms up into the air, shooting bits of food at all of you. Flinching, you narrowly missed the chunk of lettuce coming your way. “It’s natural. You feel the glory of the battle and want to share success with others. Huh?” His eyes widened with enthusiasm, seeking agreement from the men at the table. Walker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether to encourage the man. Meanwhile, Bucky waved his hand dismissing the notion entirely, which left Bob; And Alexei singled out poor Bob. With a clap, Alexei patted Bob’s back, wiggling his brows. In turn, Bob arched his back, wriggling out of Alexei’s hold. “You understand Bob. I see in eyes.”
“I-uh-I don’t-sure?” Bob managed to stammer out. His eyes fell on you for an escape, to which you simply shrugged, not wanting to be a part of this. An action Alexei didn’t miss.
“See!” Alexei stood up triumphantly. A smirk appeared on his face in a not-so-whisper, and he leaned into Bob. “Let me guess, you share success today with–”
“Dad!” Yelena pleaded. “Can you stop?” Alexei’s face fell at his daughter's words.
“I thought it was never going to end,” Ava muttered under her breath before taking a sip of her soda.
“Tell me about it,” Walker added.
By now, there was no sign of any staff members. You didn’t blame them for making themselves scarce. However, it didn’t take long for Alexei to bring up another story to share with the others. This time, more PG-friendly.
“Pst,” Bucky called out to you, stopping you mid-bite. He nudged his head, asking you to follow him. If the others noticed you two leaving, they made no note of it. Walking to the corner by the bathrooms, Bucky stopped you with a firm expression printed onto his face. You knew that look well. It’s one that you've had a plethora of experience with, seeing it from Tony, occasionally Steve, and the others. You cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest to prepare for the upcoming reprimand. “Now that we have a chance, care to explain your involvement with the…,” Bucky motioned to the others at the table, “Bob ordeal?”
“Bucky–” you sighed, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.
“You said you were going to get evidence–”
“Which I did,” you interjected. Bucky’s eyebrows raised at your words. “Look, can we talk about this later, cause I’m-”
“No, Y/N. We won’t talk about this later. You know why?” His hands were resting at his hips now. You rolled your eyes at him, glancing back at the table as Yelena and Ava snickered at Walker choking on his food again. Bucky cleared his throat, awaiting an answer from you. You grumbled a “why,” allowing Bucky to continue his scolding.
“Because you nearly got yourself killed, and from what the others told me, at least three times. One of which I witnessed.” You winced as each word left Bucky’s mouth. You understood his concern, but you were no longer the kid who ran and hid with Steve and Bucky all those years ago. You were an adult and had been for a while.
“Look, I get you’re concerned–”
“That puts it lightly.”
“Bucky, I’m not a child anymore!” You yelled, your voice carried over to the now-silent table. You tried to ignore how their eyes bore into the back of your head, their ears itching to hear more of Bucky’s and your private conversation. “I–I can handle myself.” Your eyes finally met his icy blue ones. “I got the evidence for the trial. End of Story.”
Bucky opened his mouth to refute your words, but you shut him down. “Look, I’m sorry.” Bucky’s eyes lowered. “I got a live location and message from FRIDAY, only for it to disappear with no updates. Then you go and sacrifice yourself to buy us time to get out. So yeah, I’m concerned.” Guilt floods your system. Gently, you place your hand on Bucky’s arm. He reciprocated, lightly patting your hand in return.
“So?” You asked, breaking the silence. “What’s next? With the impeachment, I mean.”
You watched as Bucky’s face scrunched up. His jaw clenched tightly. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” you tensed. You shook your head. This isn’t how the story was supposed to go. You got the evidence, and now Valentina gets sent to jail—end of Story. “I sent you the evidence. We–” You pointed back to the table at the others. Yelena waved to you before turning back to her food. “Can testify against her. Hell, maybe even put her in federal prison for attempted murder.”
“Yeah?” Bucky raised his brows at your words, his shoulders tensing by his ears. “Well, she just tied all of us to her.” You felt every drop of blood in your body go cold. The New Avengers, the live broadcast. Hell, she got you and Bucky on screen as well. You two hadn’t said anything, but your presence was enough. “Doesn’t help, she wiped O.X.E’s slate clean. The investigation came up clear. Nothing.”
“Fuck,” you cursed, fingers reaching into your hair to clench tightly at the strands. “She’s gonna get away scotch free…and we’ll be screwed if we try anything against her.” You fought the urge to kick the wall beside you, but your willpower wasn’t as strong as you thought it had been. Your foot kicked out. The wall thudded, and a framed photo fell to the ground, shattering.
A chorus of ooo’s erupted from behind you.
“Someone’s in trouble,” Yelena teased.
Your ears flushed as you bent down to pick up the frame. Dusting off the photo, you took a step towards the counter, firstly to apologize, but then to clean up the mess you had made, but something stopped you. It had taken you a moment to recognize the faces in the photo, but you’d know them anywhere. The picture was dated to the Battle of New York and was signed by each member of the original Avengers. Your finger traced over their faces, stopping on your Father’s.
“You’re more like him than you think,” Bucky whispered into your ear. You whirled around to face him again, a chuckle escaping your mouth.
“Yeah, sure, you’re just saying that,” you disagreed. The frame dropped to your side. “He was a hero. Sometimes a bit of an overprotective asshole, but a hero…” You trailed off. “Nothing like me.” Your eyes trailed back to the table, unconsciously meeting Bob’s. He offered you a small smile before turning his gaze back onto Walker, who now took the opportunity to share one of his war stories. “I just don’t want to fail them. It’s funny,” you chuckled. “We’re a bunch of messed-up, traumatized people who were alone but found each other and made this,’ you whirled your hands trying to conjure up the word. “This team…it just,” You grew quiet. “Reminds me of them–The Avengers.”
Bucky took a step closer to you. His hand came to gently pry the photo from your hands. He held it up to you. The photo mirrored the team sitting at the table. Your eyes widened at what he was trying to get. You quickly snatched the frame back from him, shaking your head. “No. Bucky, no–”
“I think we have a shot–”
“Then Valentina would fuck us over. Remember? We’re chained to her.”
“Then become strong enough to steal those chains out from under her,” Bucky enunciated. You frowned. “There’s a reason Valentina wanted you to help her little PR stunt with the Sentry. You’re the daughter of the Avengers. Your name holds power. It’s time you took it back and made them proud.”
You shook your head, stepping into the shadows of the corner, your shoulders caving in on themselves. “But–but what if I fail? What if I just give Valentina more power and–”
“Then we’ll be beside you. Together as a team.” Bucky had never seemed more determined. A light flickered in his eyes at the proposal. You bit your lip, thinking it over and over. Your eyes darted back and forth between the others and Bucky.
“Okay.”
A thunderous chorus of “Yes!” filled the air. It came from Alexei, who had quite the set of lungs on him. As his yell filled the air, you made a note to leave a large tip once you all left. You winced, noticing all of the others had been listening the whole time.
“Were you…” You trailed off, feeling your cheeks heat up.
“Listening to the entirety of your conversation? Yes.” Ava blatantly said. “You’re not very subtle.”
“But it’s fine,” Yelena finished. “As Bucky said, we’re a team now. No use in fighting Valentina alone.”
“Hate to cut the conversation short…” Walker added. You all turned to look at him as a humongous yawn crept out of his mouth. Like wildfire, the yawn ignited a chain reaction in all of you; Your minds remembering your lack of sleep. “But can we talk about the whole team and Beat-Valentina's operation once we’ve, you know, slept?”
Nods and murmurs of agreement echoed from all of you, but an important question hung in the air. Bob was the first to voice it.
“Uh, where exactly are we supposed to sleep?” He raised his hand in the air like a student asking permission from a teacher.
“That’s a great fucking question, Bob,” Walker announced. His eyes fell on you.
It took you a moment to realize, they were all looking at you. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“You do live in New York—“ Bucky added. You shot him a glare. The New Avengers were sleeping at your place for the night.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
As you all lined up to enter your home, you wished you could turn invisible from all the looks your neighbors were giving you. You could only imagine how they felt: seven bloodied and beaten up, heavily armoured people, many of whom held terrifying demeanours, didn’t fit the prim and polished look the wealthy neighbor standardized. You offered tight-lipped smiles, occasionally acknowledging your neighbors until everyone had shuffled in.
You took in a sharp inhale of breath, scooting behind those still removing their shoes in the entryway, only exhaling when you got to the open living room.
“Now this…is home,” Alexei complimented, glancing around your house. His eyes fell on the various photos lining the walls. Some of which brought a smile to his face.
“Thanks,” you muttered, unsure of how to respond to the wave of visitors in your home. You weren’t one to have guests, even though you had numerous guest rooms and an air mattress in case anyone did come to visit. There had been some talks long ago for Pepper and Morgan to come visit, but they didn’t amount to much. Other than the occasional dinner with Bucky, Sam, and Clint, no one really stopped by.
“Shit your rich,” Ava noted, taking in the sight of your high end home decor. Walker laughed at Ava’s comment. His eyes lit up as he patrolled the room as if he were picturing himself living in a place like this.
Meanwhile, Yelena had made herself at home, plopping onto your couch. With a loud groan, she sank into the cushions. The grim and dirt from her armour rubbed into the fabric of the couch, but you didn’t care. “I’m stealing this couch, Stark.” You raised your brows at her comment. Part of you wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up one day to find it gone.
The only one who didn’t welcome them into your home was Bob. He stood by the entrance of the living room, lingering on the edge. You turned to him, opening your arms. “You’re welcome to make your home, Bob.”
“Oh, uh–” his eyes widened, taking a small step into the living room. Immediately, his eyes peered around the room in awe of it all. Glancing at the books and DVDs that lined the shelves along the far wall, you watched him stop and read all the titles. Occasionally, his hand would reach up to his mouth to wipe away something, his eyes finding something interesting on the ceiling.
Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “The kitchen is just past the living room.” Everyone’s eyes followed past your finger into the kitchen. “Feel free to help yourself to food. Uh–” you rubbed your temples, feeling a headache forming. “Two bathrooms, one on each floor. There’s showers if anyone, you know–Bedrooms, I got two guest rooms, and can inflate an air mattress in the office if–”
“I call the couch!” Yelena calls out, already draping an arm across her face. Soon after, the others began to stake claims to which bed they’d sleep in. Alexei took the guest room with the bunk bed, and Walker begrudgingly volunteered to take the bottom bunk. Ava snatched the other guest room, leaving Bucky the air mattress in the office. Once they all dispersed to their respective rooms to rest, clean up, etc., you realized Bob was still standing, with nowhere to go.
“You can take the couch with me, Bob,” Yelena murmured. Her voice was full of sleep. She was too tired to see the wave of discomfort Bob had to share the couch with her.
“There’s also my room,” You offered. Bob’s eyes squinted at you.
“Oh-uh, no, I can’t–”
“It’s fine, I’m not even tired,” you insisted. It was a lie, but Bob didn’t need to know that.
“I-uh, don’t sleep,” Bob shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head. “I mean–I have a hard time sleeping in places I’m not familiar with…sorry.”
“I get it,” you explained, trying not to overwhelm him. After all, his memory was still foggy from before. You weren’t sure he even remembered how he got to New York in the first place. “Do you want to take a shower or–”
“Nah,” Bob assured you. His eyes moved back over to the books on your shelf. His feet waddled closer to get a better look.
“You can read one if you’d like.” Bob looked back at you, and you felt another dismissal coming. “I’m serious. Most of ‘em are children’s and young adult novels. It was all I could read for the longest time…still, they’re a fun read.” You moved to stand beside him, reaching for one of your favorite novels. “This one is really good. Called The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. Granted, it's a bunch of pictures and poems, but I loved it.” You smile at him, offering the book as a passage of time. Bob glances down at your hands, gently taking the book from you. Hugging it to his chest as if he were afraid of dropping it, he thanked you before turning away to take a seat on a nearby lounge chair.
Steps descending the stairs pulled you away from the bookcase. Walker shuffled down, approaching you with a question on his lips. “Got any extra toothbrushes and a change of clothes?” He asked you quietly, eyes narrowing on Yelena’s passed-out figure.
Your eyes widened. You hadn’t thought of that when offering your place for them to stay and sleep. You’d have clothes for the other women, but Bob, Alexei, Bucky, and John? Maybe you had something of your dad’s, but you weren’t inclined to give those shirts away just yet. “Oh, no. I can run out and grab something from the store, if you’d like.”
“All good,” Walker began to apologize. “I was just–”
“I’m sure the others want to change and get clean as well.” Walker was still trying to refute your generosity. “I don’t mind,” you insisted. Reluctantly, he nodded, stepping back towards the stairs as he thanked you.
Without wasting a moment, you had grabbed your keys and were on your way out the door when a passerby’s judgmental stare caught you. Groaning, you closed your front door and shuffled up the stairs. You snuck into your room, snatching a pair of clothes heading to the bathroom to wash up.
Your skin stung as you pulled up the shirt. All the cuts and scabs that now littered your body had practically sewn the fabric to your skin. Peeling it off, you fought back a wave of wincing. God, it hurt. With all the adrenaline drained from your body, the entirety of the situation hit you like a train. Luckily, the steamy hot strings of water pumping from the shower soothed your aches. You peered down at your feet, observing all the dirt, blood, and grime taint the water a dark brown. The water swirled at your toes, pooling at the drain before slipping out of sight. Blinking, you wipe some droplets of water from your face, reaching for your hair wash. You had a meticulous and efficient way of bathing: tackling your hair first, then your face, and your body. It didn’t feel right to wash yourself in any other way. If you washed your hair last, there’d be lingering remnants of shampoo and conditioner on your back, so then what was the point of washing your body before? Clint had given you some strange looks as you explained your routine to Nat one day. Granted, he probably still used three-in-one body wash for all his needs, but even so, it worked for you.
Rinsing the remaining bubbles of soap from your skin, you turned off the shower, stepping out to dry yourself. As if on cue, your phone screen lit up. Snatching it from its place on the counter, you answered the call. It was from Pepper, your mom.
“Hey,” you answered, using the towel to dry your hair, squeezing the water out. You had an inkling as to what she was calling about. Pepper never really called you for anything unless it was important or unless Morgan wanted to chat. You doubted Morgan was there since it was the middle of the day during the week, which meant school.
“So,” Pepper began. You could hear the tension in her voice from a mile away. “I saw an interesting news clip not long ago. Something about the New Avengers?” You sighed. “Care to explain?”
With a click of a bottle cap, you began to put on your skin care. Your skin let out a breath of relief, feeling the soothing and healing products coat it. “It's…a long story, Mom.”
“Well, I’d like to hear it, and don’t tell me you’re busy. I can see you are at your house.” You bit your lip, wincing. You had forgotten she had your phone’s location. Something about keeping track of the family. You didn’t blame her, knowing the shenanigans you and Dad had gotten up to.
You let out a huff of air. Your hands came to rest on the cool surface of the sink. You took in your appearance before taking a deep breath to explain everything to Pepper. “You remember I was helping with the impeachment trial?” You asked her. Pepper hummed. “Well, we needed evidence, not just…hearsay. So I went to get evidence. One thing led to the other, ended up saving New York City with a bunch of…” Friends? Superhumans? You couldn’t think of a good word, instead opting to just skip it over. Pepper would understand you anyway. “Valentina saw her opportunity and used it. Now the impeachment will lead to nowhere and…” You couldn’t help the audible sigh that escaped your mouth.
“And you’re just going to let her get away with it?” Pepper asked you.
You shook your head, realizing Pepper could see it. “No, I just–How did Dad do it?”
“Do what, Y/N?”
“Gain the favor of the public? Lead? Make a successful team in the first place? Do it all?” You took in a shaky breath, reaching for your clothes to offer some distraction from it all. “ Bucky said I should make him proud, do what they would want me to do, but–I don’t know what I’m doing and if I shou–”
“You already do make him proud,” Pepper interjected. “You always did.” You scoffed at that.
“Sure, it’s not like I went off and went rogue after…” Shame swallowed up your next words. “I failed him. Thought I was doing something good, and it just turns out I was hurting more than helping.”
“You were young, still a kid–”
“And that makes what I did okay? Pepper, I killed people with my–I hurt Morgan and Dad.”
“That’s not your fault. You know the mind stone did something to your powers–”
“Still.” You tensed. “It’s been years, and I should be able to control it, to touch–” Immediately, you opened the bottom bathroom drawer, pulling out a pair of gloves, pulling them over your hands and fingers.
After a pause on Pepper’s end, she began to speak. “You want to know how he did it?”
“Y-yeah,” your voice broke.
“He played the part and worked the people, never stopping for a moment to achieve his goal and protect his family. To protect you. It’s hard, Y/N. It took its toll on him, but there’s a reason the name Avengers is something revered and respected.” After a moment, she continued. “If anyone can do it, Y/N, it’s you.” Pepper’s voice was gentle and reassuring. Like how a warm blanket and cup of cocoa snap you out of the trance of a raging stormy night, Pepper pulled you out, grounding you.
“I gotta go pick up Morgan from school in a little bit–”
“Oh, I can let you go,” You sputtered.
“She misses you. I do too. It’s been a while since you came to visit. Maybe you can drive out here sometime soon? We can talk about this more–” You thought about it. The cabin by the lake. The warm walls that comforted you and held the remaining pieces of your family. It was a place where only rest and peace were found–the place where you said your final farewell to your Dad. Maybe a break would do you good. A place for you to find your bearings before tackling Valentina off her pedestal.
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you interjected, cutting Pepper off. She let out a soft chuckle.
“We’ll talk later.”
“Tell Morgan I said hi,” you managed to say before the call ended.
Slowly, your eyes found your reflection in the mirror. You looked normal now. Fresh cuts still covered the skin of your cheeks, but you were clean and fresh. You took in a deep breath, muttering an affirmation to yourself. Cracking open the door, steam from the bathroom snuck out, clouding the air. You trekked down the stairs, snatching your wallet and keys from the bowl on your hallway cabinet. As you slipped on your shoes, a pair of footsteps crept up behind you.
“Uh–mind if I join you?” Bob asked, pulling at the end of his sleeve. “I can carry the bags, you know, help.”
You turned to look at him, smiling, “Book too boring for you?”
Bob shook his head. “Finished it actually.” Your eyes widened. Just how long had you been in the shower? “It was really good,” Bob added.
Shaking yourself out of your daze, you nodded, opening the door wide enough for the two of you. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company–or the help.” Bob smiled back at you, slipping on his shoes before shuffling out the front door behind you.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
80s music blasted from the rickety speakers in the grocery store ceiling. It always played during the slow business hours. Where no one really was in the store besides those who no longer had better things to occupy their days, such as work, family, school, and more. It seemed you and Bob fell under that category with the numerous elderly folk roaming the long aisles searching for the best deal for their buck.
Bob strolled the aisles beside you, pushing the cart. He quietly hummed along to the current song playing from above as you perused the shelves. You already had three tubes of toothpaste chucked into the metal cart, each a different brand of a minty fresh variety. You were unsure if any of your house guests had a preference or not. You squinted at another brand, which advertised as eco-friendly. You raised your brow, shrugged, and placed it in the cart with the others. Better safe than sorry, you figured. Next came the toothbrushes. You never understood the reason for all the different brands and varieties. They all did the same thing, yet it seemed there was a meaningful difference in the shape and design of the toothbrush bristles. You frowned, trying to figure out the difference between the Ultra Soft Bamboo brushes and the Micro Nano toothbrushes. Sighing, you placed both back on the racks, reaching for the cheap three-dollar ones. They came in a pack of 12. Each with different cartoon characters plastered onto them. Granted, they were marketed towards children, but you were sure they’d care less.
Watching you place the toothbrushes into the cart, Bob let out a chuckle. You cocked your head at him as he wiped his mouth. “You put four different toothpastes in the cart and just a basic bag of toothbrushes.”
You glanced down at the cart, noticing the irony. A soft shrug left your shoulders. “I don’t know, it’s just people have different tastes and tooth brushes just…” You snickered, trailing off, not really having a reason for the diverse set of toothpastes. “Oh well, do you want to add anything?”
Bob shook his head. “Nah, I don’t have a preference. Just whatever works, I guess.”
“Same,” you agreed. “Never can understand the difference between all of these. Just too–”
“Overwhelming?” Bob finished.
You nodded. “Yeah, overwhelming. I get that we don’t want products to be in a monopoly, but why are there all these differences? Like, what even is the difference between…” You grabbed two random toothbrushes off the shelf. “...Essential Fresh Clean or Advance Clean, like they both clean, or at least I hope they do.”
All of a sudden, Bob let out a loud snort as waves of laughter rippled from his chest. You watched a large smile etch itself onto his face, as his nose scrunched up, hands doing the same, tucking in close to his body. You couldn’t help but soften at the sight. He seemed so carefree and so full of light. Like a lighthouse on a stormy night, his eyes lit up, shining their way through the dark. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by them.
“S-sorry,” Bob managed to mutter in between his chortles. “It’s just–you’re so funny. You know that?”
You felt your ears growing hot from all the attention. Shyly, you glanced away, looking anywhere but at Bob. “Yeah, yeah. How ‘bout we move on from toothbrushes and onto the other things.” You said, reaching into your pocket to retrieve the list you had made. Your eyes scanned the different clothing sizes, and you had managed to figure out with the help of a very tired Yelena and a very intelligent AI. Who knew FRIDAY could deduce the approximate clothing size of everyone? With a click, you crossed out the toothbrush and paste section. “How’s your fashion sense, Bob?” You asked.
Bob shrugged before glancing down at his clothes. “Not great. I mean, I just wear…well, whatever.”
“Good enough for me,” You muttered, before telling him John’s, Bucky’s, and Alexei’s clothing sizes.
You figured you two could divide and conquer, leaving him to tackle the men’s section while you trekked through the women’s. As you perused each aisle of clothing racks, selecting items that Yelena or Ava might like, you navigated the sizing like a pro. While just as confusing as an ancient grimoire written before time itself existed, you took to understanding the language of women’s sizing well. Something you had Natasha to thank for. Meanwhile, the men’s sizing was too simple. It made you feel like there was some hidden agenda. You didn’t trust it. After you had grabbed a few shirts and pants in the sizes of your female house guests, you paused. Did Ava even wear anything besides her suit? You remember her mentioning something about how it helped her hold her body together in the physical realm. You glanced down at the clothes you got for her, contemplating whether you should put them back or not. Instead, you chose to leave them. She wore them if she wanted to, and if not, well, you had a few extra sets of clothes for the future.
Rolling the cart from the colorful women’s section into the beige and blue men’s section, you searched for Bob. Occasionally, you stopped to snicker at a strange quote plastered onto a shirt before moving on. It didn’t take long for you to find Bob, hiding behind a rack of pants. His eyes darted between the comfortable fabric of the sweat pants and the stiffer, nicer-looking trousers.
“Get both,” you spoke, coming up beside him.
Bob nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus!”
You chuckled. “Someone’s jumpy. Who’re these for?” You asked, pointing to the pants as you gently pried the pile Bob held in his hands, placing them into the cart.
“Uh, I got everything for the others, except–Does Walker seem like a sweatpants guy to you? I don’t know.”
You pursed your lips, excessively jutting out your bottom lip. “John’s definitely a pants kind of guy. I doubt the man’s worn anything other than shorts when lounging around. If you’re talking sweatpants, Alexei’s your man. Bucky…he’s a pants man, but also wears sweatpants.”
Bob cocked his brow at your words. “You seem very sure about Bucky’s taste.”
You scoffed. “Only had to live on the run with him for a while. Of course, Steve was there, but you learn a lot about a person living under the radar with them.” You noticed the questions popping up from Bob’s throat, waiting at the tip of his tongue. “The Sokovia Accords Debate?” Bob shook his head, unsure of what you were talking about. “It’s this set of agreements that regulates superhumans. Some of the Avengers were all for it; it held us accountable for our actions and their consequences. But others…well, they knew it meant the government would hold power over us.” You grew quiet as you took a pair of pants in John’s size and placed them in the cart. “I was scared and didn’t want to be under the government's control again. I suppose some of the others felt the same way. But it created a…divide amongst us.” You felt Bob’s eyes stare right through you. The pity, the sympathy, you didn’t want it. Shaking your head, you peered up at Bob with a tense smile. “They were repealed in the end. You know, after…the blip.”
Biting his lip, Bob reached out to grasp your arm and offer comfort. He couldn’t remember much about the blip, being in and out of intoxicated states. He had a hard time remembering anything from the haziness of his memory. But before his hand could touch you, you stepped back, taking a sharp inhale at the sight of his hand, his bare skin. “S-sorry,” Bob hurriedly said, pulling his hand back into his body.
You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry, I just–I don’t like touching people with my ability and all. Sometimes it’s fine and other times it’s…dangerous.” You stepped to the cart, taking the steering bar in your hands to push it to the grocery section of the store. You needed something other than some week-old beers and microwavable mac and cheese in your home. “It wasn’t always like that, you only had to worry about electronic things frying, but now…it’s everything—anything with energy. Anyway,” You muttered, trying to bring a more cheerful tone to the conversation. “Want to help me pick out something for dinner?” You didn’t give Bob time to answer before you had pushed the cart out of the men’s section.
Little conversation passed between you two as you selected some ingredients from the vegetable aisle. A simple pasta was easy enough to make and filling enough for seven people. You figured you’d also get some stuff to make sandwiches and some stuff for breakfast, unsure of how long everyone would be staying. Bob occasionally selected a few things to place into the cart. As the silence deepened between you two, you felt shame rising, boiling to the surface. The only sound accompanying the tension shifting in the air was the squeaking of the cart’s wheel. It had decided the weight of everything in the cart was too much for it. You couldn’t take one more deafening squeak, but couldn’t find it in yourself to say anything. Soon, you found yourself finished with the checkout, your card in hand. The cashier handed you your receipt as Bob placed the bagged goods into the cart, replacing you at the helm.
“Uh, I-” You kicked yourself, folding the receipt into a tiny little square. What were you going to say? Sorry for unconsciously dumping trauma onto you. Sorry for shutting down your help. Sorry for being a dick? None of the options your mind came up with sat well with you. Instead, you found yourself addressing a different topic. “Want to help me make…dinner?”
“You don’t sound very sure about that,” Bob noted, sensing the uncertainty in your voice.
“No, I want your help–I just meant–Is it really dinner? God,” you groaned. “I’m exhausted.”
“Thought you said you weren’t tired,” Bob repeated, unconsciously leaning into you. Not quite brushing shoulders, but close enough, you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Offered me your room to sleep in and everything.”
“Right. I did.” You sighed, glancing up at him. “Well, Bob, I lied. I fucking tired. Yeah, I was unconscious after crashing down from the sky, but there’s a difference in resting and being in an unresponsive state–”
“Wait, you what?”
You paused, having arrived at your car. You clicked the button that lifted the trunk. Your nose scrunched up slightly. “Do you…remember?” You shook your head. “What do you remember?”
“Uh,” Bob muttered, placing two bags into the back of your car. “Last I remember, I ran out, distracting everyone, and I saw you…” His eyes locked onto yours, his eyebrows pinching together. “You were calling out my name. They were–” He looked away. You watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched. You gulped. “You were supposed to be in the car with the others, but you came after me. W-why?”
You unloaded the last bag into the trunk, pulled the trunk closed, and began to push the cart into its designated spot in the parking lot. “That’s a…big question, Bob.”
“We’ve got time,” Bob muttered.
You took in a deep sigh as you two split; he entered the passenger seat and you the driver’s seat. Putting the key into the ignition, you turned it, your car humming to life. “I–” you looked down at your gloved hands. You had already told Bob more in a few hours than you had managed to spit out to Bucky in months. There was something about him that made you want to talk. Maybe it’s because you knew he’d understand, or that maybe he’d listen to you and not just hear your words. Whatever the reason, you began to speak just as the radio began to play a 90s rock song quietly in the background. “In the vault, I guess I made a promise to myself that I’d make sure you made it out. Told myself if I got you out, safe and sound, maybe I was what my dad thought I could be–a hero. And when you took off, drawing attention away from us so we could escape, I ran after you.”
“But you are a hero,” Bob said. “At least, I think you are.”
You smiled at Bob’s words. “Thanks, Bob.” You turned your attention away from him and to the road. You didn’t feel like now was the time to drop any more stories of your past. Instead, you cranked up the volume, allowing the music to fill the air.
Before you knew it, you had returned to your place, groceries unloaded and covering the countertop. Slowly, you began to unpack, placing everything in its place. Bob was kind enough to deliver the change of clothes and tooth brushes to their respective owners while you got dinner started. Yelena had woken up first, quickly showering before sauntering into the kitchen to peer over your shoulder, peering at the pot of boiling water.
“You’re making…?” Yelena asked, her accent seemingly thicker with sleep. You glanced over at her. Droplets of water trickled off her hair and onto the new shirt you had gotten her. It was a light grey with cute doodles of puppies on them.
“Pasta.”
“Pasta.” She repeated your words, slightly shaking her head back and forth like a bobblehead. “Just Pasta? No special sauce or–”
“Just pasta.”
“Alright, no,” Yelena stated, snatching the wooden spoon from your hand. “There is no ‘just pasta’. That is so wrong. Sit back, I’ll make dinner. ‘Just pasta,’ she grumbled, the words like it was a slur. Too tired, you stepped away from the stove, allowing Yelena full control of the cooking process. “What else did you get from the store?” You shrugged. “Please tell me you got some vegetables. Some meat?” You pointed over to a brown paper bag on the counter. Yelena skipped towards the bags, pulling out what she wanted. She gave you an approving look before asking you where everything in your kitchen was located. But before you could answer, she cut you off. “Never mind, I’ll find it. Just go to sleep and rid yourself of those…” She used her finger to draw tiny circles around your eyes. “Raccoon eyes. A bit too emo if you ask me.”
“They’re not that bad.”
Yelena smirked at your defensive reaction. “They’re bad. So bad. Bob, tell Stark how bad her eye bags are.”
You whirled around to find Bob sneaking back into the kitchen. His eyes widened, hovering over your dark circles. He peered over at Yelena, who was waiting for his agreement. “I–You do look tired,” Bob replied.
Quickly, you brought your hands to cover your eyes. “Alright, I got it. I’ll go sleep,” You turned to Yelena. “Just don’t burn my house down.”
“No promises,” Yelena smiled, shooing you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
You weren’t sure how long you had been sleeping. Once your head hit the soft plush of your pillow, your eyes closed, welcoming in well-deserved rest. Your lullaby was the loud rumbling snores that escaped through the wall you shared with the guest room, where Alexei and John were sleeping. You doubted John Walker was the kind of man who snored. Instead, you selected Alexei as the source of the thunderous noise. Any other day, the snoring would put you off sleep, yet the exhaustion that ached deep from within your bones overcame you. You didn’t even manage to pull your comforter over your body before falling asleep. It was a decision you regretted upon waking up. A chill crept up your body as Yelena shook you awake. Your eyes peered open. You groaned, of course, everyone was now occupying your room.
“Whatisit?” You mumbled, your words slurring together.
“Stark,” Yelena called out to you in your slumber. “It’s Valentina. She wants to talk.”
You were wide awake now.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
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Chapter Five of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic
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SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST
Word Count: ~6.0k
Warnings: Canon typical violence, descriptions of injuries and blood, mentions of death, mentions of Reader's trauma and shame rooms, mentions of child and domestic abuse, mentions of mental health and illness, Valentina hate train, descriptions of pain and suffocation, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, (let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: My significant other took me to see Thunderbolts for the third time and I'm going back later today to watch it one final time before it leaves my local theatres (thanks HTTYD). We've finally reached the end of the film and now onto the fun part, speculating. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
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A field of white welcomed you back. This time you didn’t run. This time, you didn’t try to stop what was to come. You just sat there on the linoleum floor, crying. Again, the lights flickered, a sign of what was happening to your fellow unconscious friends. Soon, everything went dark. The scene rewound, starting over again.
“Begin the simulation,” repeated over and over again like a mantra. Unlike the self-care and self-love ones that Bucky occasionally sent to you, this one burned, opening wounds you thought were long forgotten. The scars reopened, intertwined with the fresh ones that littered your body. The Sentry–Bob’s energy still remained in you, occasionally igniting a new wave of pain. To top your stay in hell, the memory of Bob’s still body flashed in your mind. The red light of the kill switch. His dark blue cloak gently waved from the breeze that snuck in from the broken window. You had killed him. You did. The darkness that overcame Bob was right. You were a Jinx. The mantle of hero would always be out of your reach, just out of the tip of your fingers.
“I’m so sorry, B-Bob,” you choked on your sobs. Tucking your legs into you, you wrapped your arms around your shins, pulling them in close. “I’m so sorry.”
“Begin the sim–”
“Y/N?” You flinched at your name. This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s not how the memory went. You weren’t even known at Y/N back then. Untucking your head from the shield of your knees, you looked up. In the one-way window, you no longer saw the inside of the laboratory. Instead, it was an attic. In the center of the room sat Bob. He lifted his head as if he were trying to see you better.
You stood up, wiping tears. “Bob?” You blinked, and he was gone. Confusion pinched your brows together as you whirled around. The lights above began to flicker again. Bob was here. You had seen him. Maybe there was a way to get out of here–out of this memory. Stepping back until your spine hit the wall behind you, you took in a deep breath, and charged shoulder braced for impact.
CRACK!
You were bounced back from the recoil. Resetting your position, you continued to ram yourself into the glass.
CRACK! CRACK!
The flickering was getting harsher. You had to get out before the memory reset.
CRACK!
Placing all the force you could muster behind the attack, the window gave in. The sound of glass shattering and scattering across the floor vanished just as you tumbled to the ground, surrounded in darkness. Groaning, you pushed yourself off the floor. You lifted your eyes to scan your surroundings. The laboratory was gone. Instead, you found yourself in a vast battlefield of debris and fires. The ghosts of buildings–the Avengers compound stood over the wreckage of the Earth. Scattered around the area stood heroes, your family, and others who joined the fight along the way, standing tall as they fought against the alien army. In the middle of it all, you spotted the purple titan fighting against a blur of red and gold.
With one final swing, he tossed your Father to the ground as clouds of dust enveloped him. Behind the sky was filled with smoke. The dark grey clouds clogged up the fiery dusk in the sky. You swore the battlefield went silent as Thanos approached Tony. His thick, purple hands clasped around the glove that housed the Infinity Stones.
“I am…inevitable,” Thanos declared, bringing his fingers together to snap. But by then, you were already running. Like the memory before, you couldn’t help how your feet carried you. A part of you knew nothing you did now would change anything, but the other side didn’t care. She was a little girl who wanted to save her dad; she was no longer the woman you were today.
“Dad!” You screamed as you tripped over a chunk of debris. Your body tumbled, snagging your clothes and ripping holes in the fabric, but you didn’t care. Instead, you trudged on, getting back up. Just as Tony was about to snap, the glow of the infinity stones glowing brighter and brighter, you tackled him to the ground, clawing at the stones. “Please, Dad. Don’t do this. Let me–”
Tony shoved you away. The back of his hand cut deep into your cheek as he slapped you. “You can’t run from this.” It wasn’t Tony’s voice that came out. It was Bob’s, but void of all warmth. The scene around you darkened. Suddenly, the scene brightened. Tony was no longer in front of you. Instead, he lay against a stone. His arm was ashen and falling apart. His dark eyes were losing the light of life in them.
“No.” You shook your head, fighting back tears.
“You can’t change anything. You just make things worse,” the voice continued.
“No!” You screamed, covering your ears. “No, please! Bob, please stop this,” You begged, crumpling to your knees as Tony vanished, leaving only his iron heart behind. Tearing your eyes away, you caught sight of a puddle at the cusp of your knees. The puddle beside you rippled. The image was now a window into the attic you had seen before. “Bob?” You peered into the puddle, as your fellow comrades bowed their heads and knelt in respect and reverence for your Father’s sacrifice.
“Y/N?” Bob, your Bob, not the one void of any warmth, responded.
“B-Bob?” You repeated, unsure if your eyes were tricking you. He bit his lip, nodding. “Can I…?” You trailed off, flinching at the sound of Tony being tossed to the ground by Thanos. The memory had started again. “Can I come in to where, you know, wherever you are?”
Bob glanced down at his hands and the Rubik's cube in his grasp. His face scrunched up in thought as he gazed at the puzzle of mixed and matched colors, before welcoming you in. You leaned closer and hesitantly reached a hand into the puddle. When your hand didn’t make contact with anything, you dove headfirst into the puddle.
The scene around you changed. Your eyes scanned the room: boxes with different hand-written labels stacked upon each other, walls covered in plaid blueish-green wallpaper that was falling off due to the humidity, and a dusty bed with quilts, pillows, and a teddy bear piled on. On each face of the room, there were windows. Your eyes narrowed to see out of them, but you could only find a greyish light.
“Oh, woah,” Bob muttered, looking up from the Rubik's cube in his hands. His eyes took in your disheveled appearance, so much for Valentina’s makeover. You turned around to face him and felt your breath catch in your throat. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” No words found the will to crawl out of your throat. How could you speak when the man you’d just killed was sitting right in front of you? Tears pooled in your eyes at the sight. There sat Bob, on a circular rug, hunched in on himself. The pure blue of his sweater made his eyes glow, but not the gold you had seen before. These were Bob’s eyes.
“A-are you crying?” Bob asked you, a concerned expression flickered over his face.
“Oh,” You muttered, snapping out of your daze. Slowly, your hands raised to your cheek, wiping the tears away. “I guess…yeah.”
“Your cheeks are really red, you must have,” Bob trailed off before his shyness took over, forcing him to quietly mutter the rest of his sentence, “…cried a lot.” His head fell back to the puzzle cube, afraid of what you might say. The sound that came next was not the reprimand he was expecting. Instead of a snappy comment, you laughed. Bob’s eyes found yours again, in awe at the sight.
“Thanks, Bob.” You said, now wiping tears from the laughter. “I needed that.” Once your eyes had dispelled the tears, you noticed the cube in his hands. Coming to sit beside him, you pointed to the object. “What are you…”
“Oh, it’s a Rubik's cube,” Bob explained, his voice a level below a whisper. “Helps distract me from the–”
Suddenly, a loud crash came from down below. You couldn’t help how you jumped out of your skin at the noise, noticing Bob flinching just the same. Below, an argument broke out. A man with a harsh voice began to yell, threatening, who you assumed was a young Bob, as he stood up for his Mother. Louder noises began to fill the air as pleas followed.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, trying to comfort Bob. Before your hand could brush against his shoulder, you froze, quickly tucking it into your lap.
Bob’s eyes fell as he watched your hand disappear. “I–I-it’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Shaking your head, you said, “No one should be used to that…” You paused, trying to find better words to comfort him. The only thing your mind conjured up was “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Bob reassured.
A moment of silence fell over you as the room grew quiet once again. The only noise that your ears picked up was the clicking of the Rubik's cube. With each spin of Bob’s fingers, the colors became more and more mixed up. As if Bob never wanted to try and solve it in the first place, choosing to give in to the chaos. “So…,” you cleared your throat. “The memories…um, I–” You couldn’t find the words.
Bob, noticing your hesitation, paused his pursuit of solving the puzzle. “What are you trying to say?”
*I’m not good with words. Do a better job of listening and being seen. I couldn’t speak for the longest time after, well…even so, my mom, Natasha, she could…understand. Read me like a book. Could tell when I was upset, hungry, or tired before I even realized I was. It was like magic. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m here for you. High or low.”
“You remember?’ Bob stammered in disbelief at your words.
Of course, you had remembered. He had mentioned this in the vault as you were trying to turn the lights back on. It was a moment of trust and calm before the storm. “I remember.” Taking a gulp, you wet your coarse throat.
You watched as Bob’s shoulders slowly slumped further down than you thought humanly possible. “It’s one of the l-lows,” he confessed. You bowed your head at his words, thinking on how to best help him. Instead, you remained quiet. The kind that allowed you to listen and not just hear. You nodded, encouraging Bob to continue talking to you. “At least I found a nice room.” He offered you a brief smile. His eyes eluded your attempts to make eye contact.
With crinkled eyes, you turned your gaze away from Bob. The attic was cozy and seemingly less hostile than all the other rooms you had been in. You could even go as far as say it was welcoming. “It is nice. Was this–” Glass plates shattered below you. You hadn’t realized the scene had reset, watching as Bob fell back, caving in on himself.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Bob’s body shook like an earthquake had erupted. The Rubik's cube clattered to the floor.
“You think you’re a hero, Bobby?!” Bob’s Father yelled, threatening his son.
Snatching up the Rubik's cube, you placed it back into Bob’s hands. However, the whispers in his head were growing louder and louder. Each word was a dagger cutting deeper into him. He couldn’t hear you or feel your attempts to calm and comfort him. Your face fell watching his comfort and flinch as the conflict below got louder and louder. Without thinking or fear of touching him, your fingers slid around his face, covering his ears. Bob’s eyes flew open as he tried to jerk back. His brows raised as his eyes rapidly blinked, looking between your shaking hands and your face. Slowly, the muscles in his forehead began to relax, soothing the fine lines that appeared before.
“I’m here. I’m here, Bob.” You whispered to him. They were words you had heard before, sung to you when you were at your lowest. Each time spoken by someone new: Natasha, Steve, Tony, Clint, Bruce, and even Thor. Now it was your turn to utter them.
Despite the volume of the violence below, Bob heard you, louder than he had ever heard anyone before. “You’re not alone.” Without warning, the room groaned and shook. Objects began to fall from their homes on forgotten shelves, clattering to the floor. Dust kicked up into the air, clouding your view. “What–?” You questioned, instinctively pulling Bob closer.
“It’s him,” Bob whimpered. Out of the chaos, the shadows in the corner no longer seemed full. Now empty of any shape or form, they crept closer to you two. Beneath you, the strands of fabric in the rug rose. Like vines, they coiled over your limbs, pulling you down. They yanked you away, swallowing you into the floor. The room began to spin, and the rug whirled as if the center of the room had become a maelstrom. “Bob! Help, Bo–” A cluster of fabric slapped itself over your mouth.
“He can’t help you. Can’t even save himself, let alone you.” Bob froze. His heart seemed to stop beating as pools formed in his eyes. He couldn’t move, cowering at his voice echoing in his head as you were sucked from view. Just as fast as the storm came, it cleared. There was no sign you had been there. Biting down hard on his lip, Bob tried to fight back tears. It was right. How could he have saved you? He couldn’t help anyone.
“Always making things worse,” he heard his father’s voice say in tandem with his own.
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You fell from the ceiling, collapsing onto something hard, hearing a sickening crack as your joints rejected the cold surface of the dark floor. On instinct, you curled in on yourself, your hands clutching your waist and stomach. In the fetal position, you shakingly took in one breath at a time; gentle words of advice Natasha had given you long ago as you lay in bed with a recovering dislocated shoulder and fractured ribs. You had gotten hurt on one of your test flights with Tony. You couldn’t quite figure out how to control the force of the thrusters, causing you to spin out and crash into a few trees. Not the most graceful landing you had ever done. Still, Nat sat beside your bed, watching over you and never leaving your side until you were feeling better.
It was just a simple breathing tactic. In and hold. Out and hold. It was supposed to calm your mind from the panic that arose with an injury. After all, you weren’t allowed to panic in a fight. One wrong move, a moment of overthinking, and you were dead. You inhaled and exhaled to calm the storm in your mind. The void. It had taken you away from Bob and brought you somewhere else. You didn’t dare look up until you were ready. The room would wait for you.
Lying there on the unwelcoming ground, you felt a chilling breeze trickle over your body. The air was crisp and dewy. All signs were that a rainstorm was coming. Your face scrunched in thought as you continued to breathe. Maybe you could figure out what the Void had in store for you, what memory awaited your tortured mind. From behind the dark of your eyelids, a warm, barish yellow light filtered in. You frowned, finding no memory of yours to match up with what your senses were telling you. Taking a sharp inhale, you opened your eyes.
Shattered glass and crumbled debris surround you, forming a makeshift nest. Your eyes met your distorted reflection on the dark flooring. Spects of glass lay beneath you as you carefully pushed yourself to a seat. Nothing in your body ached or screamed as if it were broken. You sighed in relief, dusting the shards of glass that clung to your body. Some cut their skin as they brushed it away. Droplets of red blood leaked out from under your skin. A sign you were human and fragile.
Hissing, you braced yourself against a nearby wall, letting your head fall back. You hadn’t seen the room you were in, and you were terrified of what awaited you. Closing your eyes again, you tried to prepare yourself for what horrors lay ahead: would you see them all disappear again? Watch yourself fail in destroying the Mind Stone? Stand behind the door to Morgan’s room, listening to her cry herself to sleep? No matter the memory that came crawling back up to haunt you, you knew you had to find a way out and get back to Bob.
Opening your eyes, light flooded your view. You brought your hand to shade your eyes until you adjusted to the sight. Nothing you had thought of before could prepare you. The Void had sent you here. The thing you regretted most and hit every weakened part of you. The moment you knew you had no chance of upholding their legacy. The moment you had crossed the line and lived up to your namesake.
A sob choked its way out of your throat. There you were in the corner, shriveled up into a husk of yourself as you fought the full force of the Sentry’s power. Above you, he stood. You watched as uncertainty seeped through the cracks of his invincibility. Robert knew he was strong. Stronger than anything anyone had seen before, yet staring down at you as you suffered, you saw he did the same. His words of assistance earlier in the vault echoed in your mind. He only wanted to help. To be strong enough for you and the others. That’s why he ran from the truck and stood in the line of fire. But now the cloak had been pulled from his eyes. The truth that followed the Sentry’s actions and Valentina’s snake-like words. He didn’t help. He had created hurt.
You watched as his hands twitched; his finger itching to reach out to you and ease your pain, but your betrayal stopped him. You had drained his power. You had, only for a moment, weakened his strength. He was torn at the sight of you. Shame and guilt crept to the surface. You saw the moment his eyes darkened and an emptiness crept into them. The very look you found in his face–the Void’s. Then it clicked. They were one and the same. Bob, Sentry, and Void. Each carrying the same burdens and fears, each one manifesting it differently, each one just as terrified as the other.
There you sat, leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold: Valentina instructing Bob to finish it and kill you, his refusal, and a budding challenge against her. You watched as he paced around the room, the tremors from his hand returned as more of his insecurities fractured at the surface. Despite it all, you watched how he continued to glance back at you, struggling. It was like he needed assurance you were still breathing, still alive. Each time his eyes darted back at you, his posture faltered, blond hair falling into his face as if the sight of you was grounding him and breaking him all at once.
Finding the courage to stand, you dragged yourself to Sentry–Bob–the Void. He had Valentina pressed up against the wall. Anger and fear mixed into one, as he choked her. In the blink of an eye, he fell, eyes rolling back into his head. Valentina made her getaway, leaving you and him alone. You crouched beside his body, bringing a hand to his cheek, brushing the wisps of hair that had fallen. You fought tears as you whispered a silent goodbye. A promise you’d never hurt him again, that you’d always be there just like Tony and the others had promised you all those years ago. You and Bob were one and the same. Alone, scared, and desperate for someone to stand by them, to see you for who you truly were, unashamed of the past and of the scars that littered your soul.
Slowly, you got up and limped to the elevator doors, all the while the other you ran to Bob’s side, weeping over her choices and his death. Sniffling, you pressed the call button, your back turned as darkness took over the room.
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In the darkness, you stumbled forward. Your hands were raised in front of you to warn you of any obstacle in your way. However, there were no obstacles above. Instead, they came from below in the shape of a pile of people. Tripping, you braced yourself for impact, only to have your fall cushioned by another. A groan escaped from underneath you.
“Yelena?” You questioned, seeing the blonde below you.
“Stark?” Yelena repeated your name back. A relieved smile appeared on her face at the sight of you.
“I’m perfectly peachy in case anyone was wondering,” Walker groaned. Beside you was Walker, holding his stomach from where you stepped on him.
“Oh, sorry, Walker,” you apologized, trying to push them off. As you placed your hand down and pushed, a chorus of ows echoed out from Ava. You scrambled off of her and the others as best you could, totally not kneeing Alexei in the face. He rubbed his nose where you had made contact. It was still sore from when a certain meth addicted chicken whacked him in the face once or twice.
Once everyone had found themselves back on their feet, you took in the sight of them all. They were all in varying stages of ease at the sight of you. Last they saw, you were crumpled on the floor, burning from the inside out. You had sacrificed yourself so they could get out. Bucky gave you a silent look over, his eyes scanning yours to confirm that you were really there. You saw the remaining ripples of concern and fear in his eyes as his eyes caught sight of every cut and bruise littering your skin. You knew the promise he had made Steve on that bench, that he’d watch over you, and he did. A silent protector, he stood beside you, supporting you when you found it hard to even stand. You reached out to him, finger grazing the metal of his arm.
“Jesus you look like shit,” Walker stated taking in your appearance.
“Thanks, Walker,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. You wouldn’t admit that even the sight of him reassured you. He was still an asshole, but a welcomed one. Now, you didn’t have to face the rooms alone anymore.
“Anytime.” He offered you a soft smile, clutching his shield just a little bit tighter. Behind Walker, you spotted a head of soft brown hair. The light curls drew you forward. “Bob, you’re all right,” you sighed. You couldn’t help but watch how his face widened as if he expected you to be upset for how his fear overcame him earlier. Biting his lip, he gratefully smiled, eyes darting to the floor.
“Not to cut this…short.” Ava waved her finger between you and Bob, “But where are we?”
Yelena turned her head. Before you all were a lab. Desks with tubes and glass beakers stacked upon shelves filled the room. In the middle was a pathway, leading to an examination room. Shadows of people were scorched onto the walls, and sitting in the room was he. The void. Still and silent, he sat, hunched over, hands tightly holding the other in his lap. “I've been here before,” Yelena confessed, taking the first step into the room. The rest of you followed suit, and the sliding doors closed behind you with a thud.
“This is where it started,” Bob began to speak as you all approached the Void. “I was traveling through Southeast Asia. Thought I'd figure something out. At least find more drugs. Then there was this guy.” His eyes were wide as he recalled his memories before the vault. “Started telling me about a medical study. An experimental drug that could make me...stronger. Felt like a miracle. Finally, I could prove to everyone that I was more...something.”
“And look what you unleashed,” the void rasped. His bare feet clattered across the lab floor as he hopped off the gurney. Like a shadow, he maneuvered himself into the doorway. His empty eyes glowed with a cold light that glared at you all. You couldn’t help the tremble that escaped the tips of your fingers. Bucky’s cool fingers wrapped around yours, giving them a light squeeze. You glanced over at him, nodding your head in thanks.
“The most embarrassing part was thinking you could be anything more than...nothing,” the Void directed his insults at Bob.
“We're leaving,” Yelena declared, stepping forward, she made your intentions clear. You weren’t asking the void, you were telling him.
For a moment, the Void just stared at you all in silence. His eerie eyes bore holes into the side of Bob’s skull. Slowly, his eyes trailed from Bob over to you. His eyes narrowed. “No,” he growled. “You’re not.”
From behind the Void, the gurney was lifted off the floor. Floating, it flipped to its side, brushing past the Void before shooting itself at you all. You grabbed Bob, tackling him to the floor out of the range of the metal bed. Bucky, Walker, and Ava dodged out of the way with ease. Yelena and Alexei weren’t so lucky, as the gurney trapped them against the door. Yet the Void’s siege was not over. Above, the lights flickered as the metal and strings flew down each, trapping another one of you. Ava beside Alexei and Yelena, Bucky against one of the desks. Across from him, Walker was staked into the desk behind him. A sharp shrapnel of metal stuck out of his shoulder blade. You and Bob ducked away from each attack until you got hit with a chunk of metal. The material coiled around your wrists, bringing them to the ground. Another piece wrapped around your torso, further trapping you. All that remained was Bob.
“Let them go,” he pleaded with the void. Tears flooded his eyes at the sight of all of you struggling and hurt. The void was an extension of him, and he was doing this. He was hurting you.
“You think they care about you?” The void growled, stalking towards Bob, who crawled towards you to try and pull the metal off of you. With each tug of Bob’s hands, the metal constricted tighter and tighter, causing you to cry out in pain. “You don't matter...to anyone.” The Void continued his assault.
“That's not true!” Yelena exclaimed, only to be choked as a plastic tube wriggled its way around her neck. She gasped for air, face turning a deep shade of purple.
“Don't hurt them,” Bob commanded. The Void only sneered. “I'm stronger than you.”
“Let's see,” the Void challenged. Suddenly, Bob was on his feet, arms swinging into the darkness. The Void easily dodged Bob’s attacks as if it were a choreographed dance. From Bob’s inexperience, the Void attack, punching into Bob’s stomach and face, crumpling him to the ground. The Void’s smile grew brighter as Bob coughed up air and spit.
“Get up, Bobby,” Walker urged on. The piece of shrapnel dug deeper into his shoulder. His cry of pain switched on something in Bob. Instantly, Bob was on the Void, tackling him to the ground. With his shadow securely underneath him, Bob raised his fist and brought it down. A sickening crack filled the air as the ceiling began to crumble. With each hit Bob landed on the Void, the room fell into more and more of a disarray. The hold the metal had on you tightened even further. You watched as the darkness that swallowed the Void whole leeched onto Bob. Slowly, it began to climb. Bob slowly destroyed the Void; he was slowly killing himself.
“Bob, stop!” You cried out, only for the glass wall to shatter. The tiny shards flew into the air, cutting you all.
“This isn’t right,” Bucky yelled over the chaos of the room.
“You thought you were going to be someone big?” The void taunted Bob as he continued his assault. “Some kind of savior? You can't even save yourself.” Bob’s punches got more and more violent as desperation seeped through. The darkness continued to spread. You flailed against your chains, fingers reaching out to Bob, but he was too far away.
All of a sudden, a blur of black flew through the air. Yelena ducked and dodged everything the Void and the room sent at her. She leaped over the crumbling floor, rolling beside Bob. Hurriedly, she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. One by one, the others followed suit, breaking free from their restraints to run to Bob. First was Ava, then Alexei. Next came Walker as he yanked the piece of metal from his arm, raising his shield as he ran over to you to pull you off the floor. Together, the two of you dashed to Bob, wrapping your arms around him and the others. Last came Bucky, who held you all close. His head tucked into your shoulder.
Bob’s fist was no longer digging into the Void. Instead, he sobbed, every part of him sinking deeper into your embrace. “We...will always...be alone,” the void croaked up at Bob, who turned his head into the crook of your neck. His tears soaked your skin.
“Not anymore,” you all collectively whispered as you continued to hug him, holding him up, letting him know he was not alone anymore. None of you would be. Together, as a team, you’d face the darkness in each of you, come what may.
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When you all opened your eyes next, finding yourselves in the streets of New York City, you stayed in the hug. Each of you is holding on, not wanting to let go. Each of you yearned for the embrace and the meaning behind it. All of you scared that if you’d let go, you’d be alone again. Reluctantly, you all peeled away, standing up one by one. “Is everyone okay?” You asked, dusting off your pants before helping Bob to a stand.
“You were great in there, Bob,” Walker noted, offering Bob a genuine smile. For once in the entire time you’d been together, there was no sarcasm sprinkled into his voice.
“Thanks, Walker.” Bob beamed, his eyes blinking rapidly, before calming. “Wait, where?” The expression of utter confusion spread from Bob to all of you. “Who are you two?” Bob asked, pointing to Bucky and Alexei.
Alexei let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh.”
“What happened here?” Bob’s confusion only increased. “Sorry, I'm a little fuzzy.”
“Well–” You croaked, glancing at the others.
“Are you serious?” Walker gasped, defeatedly flinging his arms into the air. His exasperated eyes met with all of yours.
“Are you okay?” Yelena frowned, looking up at Bob. Her eyes scanned him for any trace of remembrance or the Void, but none could be found.
“Yeah.” Bob nodded, a bit taken aback by Yelena’s question. “I'm fine.”
“Yes,” A sheer voice cried. As if on cue, all seven of your heads whirled in the direction of Valentina. She looked flustered as she paced around the road, hissing into her phone. “ I said I need an extraction ASAP. No, I know–”
Your eyes honed in on the woman. “Valentina…That Bitch.”
Before you all could begin your hunt for revenge, Walker interjected. “Wait, wait. What happens when he gets his memory back?”
Momentarily, you paused, peering around at everyone. You couldn’t just leave Bob, not after what happened, not after the silent promise you all had made to each other in the shame room fighting the Void.
“Okay,” Yelena declared, latching onto Bob’s arm, pulling him along in the direction of Valentina. “Come on.”
“Oh, me too?” Bob asked, looking behind him as if Yelena was talking to another person, but he found none.
“Yeah,” Yelena nodded. “We'll stick together from now on.”
“How sweet,” Bob smiled, glancing forward at you and the others as thoughts of Valentina's death filled your heads.
“You can't kill her,” Bucky stated. His eyes flicked back at those who had the most bloodthirsty glares. “We have to take her in.”
“You can't kill her, Bucky, but you said nothing about–” You began. Your fist was tightening at your side, dreaming of finding a home in her pompous face. Maybe you could even knock a few of her pearlescent teeth out.
“No,” Bucky reprimanded. “You can’t kill her either.”
“Oh, I'd like to kill her,” Ava added.
Bucky rolled his eyes. “We are not killing anyone.”
Beside you, Walker, fought against his shield. Your eyes flickered down to his struggle and the taco-shaped shield. You snickered. Walker sent you a warning glare. “If Bob gets his memory back, he can fix this stupid thing.”
“Don’t, I quite like it,” you teased. “Captain Taco.”Walker groaned beside you. Coincidentally, his grip on his shield slipped, bringing his elbow into your side.
“Ow,” you hissed. Quietly, you made a note for your future self to stay clear of the super soldiers when you decide to tease them next. “Save it for Valentina.”
“Oh,” Walker’s brows raised. “Trust me, I am.”
Valentina’s dark brown eyes flickered over to you all. Her hands raised as she expertly backed up, navigating the debris littering the streets of New York City. “Alright, guys.” She pleaded. “I know we're all going through a lot of feelings right now. I am, too. I get it. Give me half a second.” Suddenly, she was gone, disappearing behind an opaque sheet. One by one, you all followed her through the screen, and one by one, you all froze.
In front of you, reporters stood with mics ready. The photographers in the crowd didn’t wait to start snapping photos of you all as you trickled through the screen. You flinched at the bright flashes of light.
“Are we alive?” Valentina asked into the various mics set up on the makeshift stage. “Excellent. For years, I've been working in secret to develop a new era of protection. Today, the citizens of the United States need that protection, and thanks to my hard work, they got it.” Turning around, she waved her hand, presenting you all. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet the new Avengers.”
“What the fuck?” You gulped as journalists’ questions filled the air. Murmurs and whispers of the news grew to a deafening volume. Still, the cameras flashed and Valentina smiled. She peered back at you all, making sure to make eye contact with Bucky and you as if to say I won, try and impeach me now. A frown etched itself onto your face, all the while Bob stood beside you, all cheering and clapping without a clue in the world.
Stepping forward, Yelena whispered something into Valentina’s ear. You couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was all worth it to see the smile wiped off Valentina’s face. After a moment, Yelena stepped back in line with you all. Photographers were yelling at you all, demanding you look in their direction. Each command made your head ache.
“I’m too tired for this shit,” you grumbled. Tired was an understatement. You had been up over 72 hours fighting tooth and nail for your life. You hadn’t eaten at all in that span of time. Exhaustion filled your bones and gnawed at your remaining patience. Turning away, you stepped off the stage, pulling Bob along with you.
“W-wait, where are we going?” Bob asked, looking over his shoulder as the others followed behind you, leaving Valentina on the stage alone. If she was so desperate to remain in the public eye, she could deal with it.
“Getting food,” you announced over your shoulder. “I’m in the mood for shawarma.”
Yelena’s stomach growled beside you. “So long as you pay Stark. I’m happy.”
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Chapter Four of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic
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SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST
Word Count: ~5.8k
Spotify Playlist
Warnings: Canon typical violence, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, language, mentions of manipulation, vivid descriptions of pain and violence, Sentry and Void, angst and hurt, no comfort. (Let me know if I missed anthing)
Author's Note: We're getting to the good stuff now. I had a lot of fun writing this. Again this wasn't really proofread. I'll go back an edit the chapters, but my motivation for writing has really kicked in so I'm following the high. Anyway, please enjoy this next chapter! (Also I mixed up the chapter titles for this and the previous chapter. It's fixed now, so no need to worry ;) )
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Your eyes flung open. White blinding light filled your view. Blinking a few times, you groaned the sound falling short in your mouth as you saw your reflection on the white linoleum flooring. A cold chill crept down your spine, sending waves of fear throughout your body. Whipping your head up you found yourself in a long colorless hall. Walls lined with observation windows and blinking locking mechanisms. Your lip began to tremble as a sickening recognition filled you. You had gotten out. Escaped. The Avengers had taken you in and made sure you never saw the walls of this place again. Yet here you were.
Standing up, your eyes darted around the hallway. They seemed neverending as the blaring light created a mirrored surface. One thing was for sure. You had to get out. Quickly, your feet dashed down the hallway. Sprinting, you felt your lungs heave with exhaustions. With each step you felt as if the hallway extended further and further becoming a labyrinth. You didn’t know how long you ran. Knees buckling under you, you fell to the ground coming face to face with your reflection once again.
“Begin the simulation,” a deep voice commanded. You heard the murmurs of the other assisting scientists. A shiver rippled underneath your skin. Using the wall as leverage, you pushed yourself to a stand coming face to face with a window into a lab. As if a sudden drought overfell you, your throat dried up, your voice hoarse as you cried out at the scene.
There you were, sitting on a gurney hooked up to a vast machine. Wires were strung from your head and fingers. The maze of wires intermingled with the others that were connected to the other children. Fast asleep under the spell of anesthesia, you all were subjected to the tests. But this test was different. It was the one that changed everything.
Your fist banged against the mirror pane. The glass ripples from the impact of your fists, but never breaks.
“No, no, no.” Your vocal chords grinded against the other. You had to get in there. You had to stop this, but the glass would not give. “No!” You screamed as the lights in the lab and hallway flickered around you. You helplessly watched as the scientists scrambled to adjust settings and shut the test down. Wires sparked and one by one the children surrounding the machine bodies erupted in seizures. Eyes rolled back, drool and foam trickled from the mouth. Their veins splicing, the blood spilling out mimicking the shape of the electrical current flowing through them. Heart monitoring screeched, blaring red. With one final flash, everything went dark.
It was a few moments before the backup generators flickered on. You knew what came next, but still you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene. Bodies of scientists and children littered the room. All dead except for one. Turning your head away as your sleeping body aroused from the drug induced slumber, you noticed a figure standing beside you. Jumping back, you came to face dark blue eyes. The tears pooling in his eyes mirrored yours.
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“Jesus, how long does it take to wake someone up?” A disdainful voice questioned.
Your vision blinked in and out of focus. Two dark figures zoomed in and out. Your brain was foggy and everything was sore, your body fighting the rising conscious state.
“The medical staff stated that it shouldn’t be long now,” a soft voice tried to explain.
You watched the fuzzy scene as the shorter figure approached you. You tried to make sense of it all, but your mind kept growing blanks. It took a moment before any semblance of movement displayed from your limbs. At the twitch of your fingers you heard the excitement from the soft one. “Valentina,” she said. You watched with clearer eyes as she pulled the other’s sleeve. Soon the view bloomed to life. “She’s awake.”
“Ah, there you are Ms. Stark. We were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up. Oh and don’t think about doing your little energy thing.” Perfectly manicured nails pointed to two bulky bracelets thrumming with power. “The tower wasn’t the only thing I bought from your father’s company.”
You knew that voice. Without a second thought you shot up from the bed you lay in. Tubes and wires connecting to monitors hung attached to your fingers and arms. “Valentina,” you hissed. Upon seeing her dark hair and white strands framing her heart-shaped face everything came back to you: the vault, and the others, Project Sentry and Bob.
“Where’s Bob?” You coughed. Valentina’s assistant, Mel, handed you a cup of water. You scowled at the cup of liquid. Noticing your hesitation, Valentina assured you it wasn’t poison. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Now, where's Bob?”
“Robert is fine,” Valentina began. You couldn’t help how your eyes narrowed at how she said his name. “In fact he’s perfect.” A soft smile flashed across her face as a calculated hand reached out to yours. You yanked your hand away, causing Valentina’s expression to falter. “Look, I think the two of us got off on the wrong foot.” Flicking her hair out of her face, she continued. “I’m here to help both Robert and you. I–”
“His name is Bob,” you corrected.
Valentina let out a strained laugh. “It’s so sweet you think you know him after your little stint in the vault.” She leaned closer to you, her voice growing dangerously low. “But you know nothing about him. At least not as well as I do.”
Your gaze remained unwavering as you stared at her, but she caught the tiny tremble in your eyes. Could you really say you know him? You’d only known him for a few hours and in that time you had no clue he was Project Sentry. You began to wonder how much you really did know about him. Your eyes flickered to Valentina’s triumphant grin. You shook your head, throwing your doubts about Bob to the wind. “We’ve got you Valentina. The evidence in the vault. The others. I notified Bucky, and he–”
“Lets stop with the threats, Ms Stark, and talk about this like adults.” You fell silent, eyeing both her and Mel. “Good. Now as I was saying, I’m here to help. The world has felt a void since the Avengers left. Everyone has grown uncertain about who is coming to save the day. I’m sure you’ve felt that hole more than anyone.” Valentina motioned for Mel to hand her the tablet. “Project Sentry, the one you reported to the authorities, is there to fill that ache in your heart.” She handed you the tablet. Your eyes fell down to the screen scanning the information there. It was a picture of Bob alongside concepts and various notes. You had seen these before in the vault, taken photos of some as evidence. “I hope you will welcome Robert as the world’s mightiest hero. All the Avengers bagged into one perfect specimen.”
“What?” You asked, your tone a caution for Valentina’s next words.
“I need you, the daughter of Tony Stark and the girl raised by the Avengers to help introduce Sentry,” she pointed to the sketched photos of Bob in a super suit,” to the world. The people, they’ll believe you. They trust you. After all, who wouldn’t believe the child of the Avengers, the heroes we all hold close to our hearts.”
“No,” you swore,” You tried to kill me in that vault.”
Valentina asked. “No, I tried to kill criminals. Pests infesting our country. You were swept up with the dirt. An accident.”
“Pests?” Your jaw clenched at her words.
“Ms. Stark,” Valentina calmly addressed you. “I want to bring in a new era of peace. In this new world there can be no trash hiding under the bed. We need a clean slate. A fresh start–”
“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. Valentina jumped slightly at your voice. “I won’t help you and you sure as hell won’t succeed. They’ll come and–”
“Who? Your little delinquent friends from the vault?” Valentina scoffed. “It’s a miracle you even worked your way out of there in the first place, but to take on me? The Sentry?” She cynically laughed, her words cutting deep against your skin. “They’ll be arrested or dead the moment they step foot near me.” Sitting up straight, she adjusted her matching suit. The fabric pulled taught against her. With a flick of her fingers, Mel had snatched the pad away from you and the two of them stood up opening the door to your strange cell. Just as Valentina was about to exit, she turned back to you. “Oh, and about your help? Let me just say that the media is more susceptible to my charms than you are.” Without another word, she left. The door locking shut behind her.
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It had been hours since anyone entered your room. You weren’t really even sure if you could call it that. The empty coloring and design brought you back to your past. Unease boiled in your stomach. You tried to not let Valentina get to you. She knew your past and had used it against you before. But that was long ago. You were older now, smarter, and you’d go through hell and back before you’d let Valentina use you again.
The only thing keeping you company and letting you know the passing of time was the monitor beside your bed. Every fifteen minutes it’d beep and the strap around your arm would squeeze tightly before releasing. You hated the quiet of the room. You hated the quiet. In the quiet you would think, your mind would be free to remember and remember hurt. Questions and worries filled you. What was Valentina doing to Bob? Was he okay? Did the others make it out? Has Bucky gotten your message? You knew your suit was destroyed, one of the last things you had left that Tony had made for you. Pulling at the sleeve of the medical garment you wore, you felt yourself become lost in your thoughts.
All of a sudden, the door’s locks were released. Mel peaked her head in. Her songbird necklace clinked against the frame of the door. “Good,” She said. “You’re still awake.” Pushing the door further open, she stepped inside followed by a few others. You eyed the contents of their hands: freshly ironed clothes, makeup, hair products.
“What’s this?” You asked, scooting back on the medical bed until your back hit the wall.
“Valentina said to get you ready.”
You frowned. “I told her I–”
“You weren’t going to help?” Mel finished. “Yeah, I know. Still. I’m just doing my job.”
Without another word she gave the go ahead for the team of people to approach you. Mel took her leave and closed the door. One man in a nurse uniform began to remove the wires and medical devices attached to your person. The bracelets dampening your abilities remained on. Next a woman grabbed your arm, pulling you off the bed. Her hands made quick work of the medical garb’s tie in the back before handing you a change of clothes.
“Change into these,” she instructed. You slowly eyed her, noting how she didn’t back away from you or turn her head. Realizing she and the others weren’t going to offer any semblance of privacy, you began to change into the new clothes. The shirt hugged your body tightly. Long sleeve clung to your arms and at the end was a small hole for your thumb to slip through. Your pants were high waisted and were of a looser design. It reminded you of lounge wear, but clean and fashionable. Next you slipped on the shoes provided for you, regular white sneakers.
Once you had changed, you found yourself being dragged to a nearby chair. A man with nicely trimmed hair, began to fiddle with your locks. All while another woman began to pepper your face with makeup. There was no mirror to see what they were doing, but you could guess what they were told to do. Make her look presentable, not enough to debunk the story, but enough to make them all look good.
You tried making conversation, putting the pieces together to give you a better idea of Valentina’s plan, but none of them spoke other than to tell you to look straight and hold still. Instead, you opted to gain as much as you could from what your eyes and ears were telling you. You couldn’t use your powers and sense the flows of energy nearby, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something for you to go off of. You had gotten glimpses of what lay outside the door as they had all trickled in. The scene was half baked, a construction site. From there you remembered what you had drawn up in your initial investigation of Valentina. She had bought the Avengers tower. Your childhood home. And she was renovating it, but halted the project once the Senate began their investigation. It was probably a long shot, but if it was the tower. You could get out and find Bob. You just needed the opportunity to.
“Ms. Stark?” Mel’s voice called out to you. You peered over your shoulder at her, not realizing the make and hair artists have completed their jobs. “We’re ready for you.” For a moment, you stayed sitting in your chair, before coming to a stand. Mel motioned for you to follow her as she walked out of the room. Hesitantly, you trailed after her. Your eyes darted around for any sign she was tricking you, but none came. No one stopped you as you walked by. They hardly paid attention to you.
You nearly tripped over Mel as she came to a stop. “Inside, Ms. Stark,” She told you. It was an elevator. Large and spacious. You glanced at the glowing button pointing up. You nodded your head at Mel as you stepped inside, hoping that you’d be able to figure out what floor you were going to be on. Soon the thrum of the elevator stopped. The doors opened and you stepped out. The room was a husk of what it had been before. Once filled with seating and a long bar along the east wall. It was a room of comfort and welcome arms. A place where you spent many a night playing board games, joking and laughing with your family. Now it was stripped bare. A cold earthen design along the walls accompanied by a few stray chairs and a small bar and seat are to the west. Beside you, the walls held tokens from your past. Weapons and fragments of armour were displayed like a museum.
“Ah, Ms. Stark,” Valentina greeted. A chute of champagne in her hand. “Speak of the devil, Senator Barnes was just asking about you.”
Surrounding her were four familiar faces and a scruffy giant man. You blinked a few times, in disbelief of their appearance.
“Bucky? Guys?” You questioned their presence. “What are you doing here–”
“Is this Tony Stark's daughter?” The bulky man bellowed. You offered a small wave as Yelena groaned into her hand. “Alexei Shostakov. Red Guardian. Pleasure to meet you.” He stepped forward to grasp your hand, taking it into a firm handshake. Retrieving your hand from him, your arm felt like jello. “Yelena talked about you alot. You two are very good friends,” Alexei added. You glanced at Yelena with a shocked expression. She thought you were friends?
“Dad, what did I say about–sorry Stark. He’s just like that.”
“Uh, no problem,” you muttered a bit bewildered by the attendance of your vault mates, Bucky, Yelena’s dad and Valentina.
“Jesus, Stark,” Ava gasped. “Why do you look like you're about to go on the front page of a magazine.” You glanced at your reflection in the display case. Ava was spot on with her assumptions. They’re scruffed up and dirty looks were a stark contrast to your light and innocent look that the artists had dressed you in.
Before you could respond, Valentina clinked the side of her glass. “While I hate to cut your heartwarming reunion short, but there are more important matters we should be discussing”
“Yeah?” Yelena cocked her head to the side. “You want to talk important, Valentina, you tell us where Bob is.” The others nodded their heads in agreement.
“She’s got him,” You interjected. “Bob’s project Sentry.”
“Thank you, Ms. Stark for that…mediocre introduction.” Valentina cleared her throat, brushing her hair over her shoulder. She blinked, glancing around the room at everyone. “Robert,” her voice sang over you all followed by a thud of boots down a set of stairs behind the bar, Valentina leaned against. With a cocky, ear-splitting grin, she soaked in your varied expressions of shock and confusion.
You stood stunned, eyeing Bob strut down the stairs. His hair bleached blonde and streaked back with a light covering of gel. His body was scarce of any sweat or dirt he collected in the desert vault. Clothing his body was a near skin tight suit. The golden and blue fabric showcased his defined muscles. A dark blue cloak floated behind him. He looked unrecognizable, like a Greek god from the past.
“Oh my god,” Yelena enunciated.
“That’s Bob,” Ava muttered.
Walker nodded his head. “Yes, he’s changed a bit.”
Valentina clasped her hands together then waving to Bob, she began. “It is my great honor to present to you, the Sentry.”
Bob stood tall and proud. You swore he grew a few inches. Searching your faces, he shyly smiled. “Hi, guys,” he greeted. His dark blue eyes landed on you, and you swore you saw his breath catch in his throat. “Hi, Y/N,” he said sheepishly.
“Oh, that’s great,” Walker cursed, adjusting the grip of his shield.
Smiling, Valentina continued with Sentry’s introduction. “All-powerful, invincible, stronger than all the Avengers combined into one, and soon to be known as Earth’s mightiest hero.”
Ava’s face scrunched up. “Did you dye your hair?” She asked Bob.
Bob nodded. “Yeah, well, it was–”
“It was my idea,” Valentina bragged, dragging a hand up Bob’s arm. “People love a classic hero.”
Bucky’s blue eyes flickered between Bob and you. His eyes noted how the man seemingly couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. You on the other hand scowled at Valentina. “Alright,” Bucky stated. “I’ll bite.” Valentina’s hand drew away from Sentry. “What’s the plan?”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Senator Barnes?” She questioned him. Bucky shook his head. “Well at least you’re somewhat cute.”
“You’re not going to hurt people,” Alexier announced, puffing his chest out. The group began to close in on Valentina. You watched as she stepped behind Bob, the Sentry.
“No, I’m not going to hurt people,” Valentina corrected. “I’m going to hurt you. You see, the press is on their way up here now and they’re going to witness,” She turned to Bob and smiled, “the amazing power of Sentry as he takes out a ruthless group of rogue agents hell bent on taking out our dear Ms. Y/N Stark.” You felt all the air in your lungs leave. Yelena and the others glanced at you with varied looks. Some expressed betrayal, others hurt. “Thus beginning a new era in which I decide how to keep the American people safe. Answerable to no one. I will be untouchable and unimpeachable.”
“That’s not going to happen, Valentina,” you stated.
“And that’s not for you to decide, Ms. Stark,” Valentina finished. Turning to Bob, she relayed her first command. “Sentry,” he leaned closer to her, “your first mission is to take these criminals out.”
Bob nodded, accepting the order. Your expression faltered. “I don’t want to hurt you, guys. So why don’t you just surrender?”
“No,” Walker shook his head. “You don’t want to do this, Bobby.”
Bob tensed at the nickname. His jaw clenched tightly as he spoke slowly. “You can call me the Sentry.” He took a step forward towards all of them, his fists clenched.
“Please,” Yelena pleaded. “Don’t do this. You don’t need to listen to her.”
“Robert,” Valentina called out, demanding his attention which he willingly gave to her. “They don’t think you’re good enough.”
“That’s not true, remember?” Yelena corrected. “You can trust me.”
For a moment, Bob paused. His dark blue eyes turned into whirlpools of gold. Bob was no longer there. He was only the Sentry. “I don’t think so.”
Grunting, Alexei cried. “Enough talking! Nobody messes with the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts!” Then he charged Sentry like a rhino, only for Sentry flick his wrist sending Alexei flying into the wall behind him. The sound of concrete shattering filled the air.
All of a sudden, everyone flew into combat. Next Walker threw his shield. Sentry quickly raised his forearm to block it. The shield bounced off him knocking Walker in the chest. Focused on Walker, Bucky shot his gun. Four bullets shot. One by one they stopped just in front of Sentry. Floating, Sentry eyed the bullets before shooting ricochets back at Bucky, which Walker deflected with his shield.
From beside Ava appeared. One hand swung at his head. The knives never scratch the surface of the Sentry. Getting back up, Bucky and John charged, coming at the Sentry from all angles. You could only helplessly watch as the Sentry pushed them back, knocking them to the ground.
Running over to Bucky, you held out your wrists. “Their dampeners, I need the–” Before Bucky could snap them, Yelena crashed into him. Whipping your head around, you saw Ava and Walker continuing their attacks. Alexei came up the rear screaming a battle cry. One by one they fell and got back up. Each time slower and weaker than before.
Sentry danced around them. Flying, punching, and maneuvering around each of them. His face filled with unwavering confidence as they continued their assault. He swatted them away like pesky flies. His ego and attacks were growing more violent. Ava cried out as Sentry grabbed her out of her phased state, taking her knife out of her hand and chucking it to the side before tossing her into a pile with the others near the elevator.
You glanced over your friends. They weren’t getting back up. Your eyes darted over to Ava’s discarded knife. You couldn’t use your powers, but you could give them time. Dashing over to the knife, you slid across the ground picking it up. Dust and specs of shattered glass dirtied your clothes. You stood behind Bob, knife drawn as he had his back turned to you, stalking closer to the others.
“Bob!” You called out his name. The Sentry froze in his pursuit, clicking his lips together he turned to face you. His eyes fell down to the knife that trembled in your grasp. From behind Sentry, Yelena, wide eyed, shook her head at you.
The Sentry chuckled at your attempt to engage with him in combat. “Y/N,” he tsked. “Don’t do this. I’m supposed to save you.” His pupils went wide with gold flames.
“This isn’t you, Bob.” The Sentry winced at the name. “Please stop, we’re–”
“It’s Sentry.” He surged towards you. Feet inches off the floor, he grabbed your wrists raising them above your head as he pushed you against a wall. You cried out in pain as his grip on your wrists tightened. The dampeners’ light flickered on and off. Your fingers turned white as you released Ava’s knife. It clattered to the floor in a deafening silence. “Why can’t you just let me save you?” Sentry asked. His head lowered closer and closer to your face.
“You’re hurting me,” You whimpered. Sensing your fear, Sentry pulled back just enough for you to see the deep blue of his eyes. You gasped as you felt him place a hand against your cheek. His thumb wiping off the dust that had smeared your makeup. In that moment of hesitance, you sensed it. The dampeners crushed by the hand of Sentry, you felt his energy call out to you. Your powers were back. Sentry’s thumb froze beside your lips. His eyes trickled down lower and lower.
You gulped, closing your eyes. Energy was not meant to stay put. It was meant to be used, redirected. That’s why you had trained to redirect instead of drain. Purely absorbing fried computers and weakened defenses but without anywhere to go, the energy flared up inside you, fighting your own energy like weeds trying to overtake a garden. Smaller and weaker weeds were easier to fight. Larger ones with deeper roots took time to drown it out. You could only wait as your body fought the foreign currents. A struggle that only got worse with the remnants of the mind stone staining your energy flow. You knew the risks. The dangers that came from trying to tackle his energy, swallowing the overflowing wisps that glowed brighter than the sun.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered, barely loud enough for the Sentry to hear. Suddenly, his feet touched the ground. He blinked a few times, noticing the faint glow from streaming down from your hands and the top of your head. You were draining his energy, weakening him. His hand dropped to his side, releasing you. His energy inside you was fighting yours, begging to be let out and redirected. You collapsed to the floor clenching your stomach. It burned.
Behind Sentry, stood for one final push. Stripping off his leather jacket he charged Sentry whose eyes wavered with betrayal. You had weakened him. Not enough to beat him, but enough to give them a chance. Bucky punched his arms against Sentry. Relentless, Bucky fought Sentry, who stood eerily still.
After a minute of Bucky’s attack, Sentry caught Bucky’s metal arm. His fist made the metal groan before he tore it off Bucky and hit him with it.
Chucking the arm to the side, Sentry stared down at you, as you trembled with pain. A part of him ached at the sight of you struggling to keep Sentry’s energy at bay. It was one thing to absorb the energy of a supercomputer, but when it came to the energy of a thousand suns it hurt. Sentry’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you, cocking his head to the side to study your pain. Your skin was flaring up with a gold light as your typical iridescent lighting flickered in and out. As time passed, the gold light got brighter, scorching your veins.
In your pain, you made eye contact with the others. “Go!” You yelled through clenched teeth.“Go!” Bucky was the first to take action, pulling Walker and the others to their feet. His glacier blue eyes flickered to yours. They saw your determination behind the sweat and tears that trickled down your face. You were giving them a chance to run, a chance to fight another day. You watched as they quickly trickled into the elevator. Bucky pausing to look at you before fleeing. Sighing in relief as the elevator doors closed, your fingers tensed against the ground.
The clicking of heels echoed across the floor covered in debris did little to draw Sentry’s attention from you shriveled up on the floor. “You should’ve listened, Ms. Stark.” You whimpered as the pain of Sentry’s energy coursed through you. Is this what Bob felt when they injected him with this power? The power seared everything it touched, making it hard to see or hear anything. “Finish the job, Robert,” Valentina commanded, glowering at you with disgust on her face. She could secure Sentry’s future without you.
Sentry’s eyes flickered away from you. “Finish the job?” He glanced down back at you. The ache in his chest before was getting stronger. You were like this because of him. He was meant to save you, not this. Now Valentina wanted him to kill you. That wasn’t the plan. “No.”
Valentina blinked once. Then twice. Her eyes dragged from your struggling figure to the Sentry. “What?”
“That wasn’t the plan,” he stated.
Valentina’s voice rose. “You have to do what I tell you, Robert.” She sounded like a mother scolding a child’s disobedient act.
“Why?” Sentry asked, challenging Valentina’s words. The confidence of a god that Bob possessed before faltered, leaving cracks of insecurity and uncertainty. Even crumpled in on yourself glowing like a ticking time bomb, you felt the shift in power. Valentina grew more and more fearful, desperate to regain control. “It has to be more of a collaboration,” Bob began to pace around the room as the pain inflicted by Sentry’s power began to ease up on you. “The hair, for example. Maybe I should have had more of a say.”
“Don’t let those idiots get in your head,” Valentina tried to soothe this new breaking foundation Sentry stood on. “The blond is great.”
His mind turned to the skepticism Ava and the other had at his hair. They hated it? Didn’t they? “I don’t know, I thought I liked it and now I’m not so sure,” Bob mumbled under his breath.
“Enough about the hair,” Valentina demanded. “Are you still mumbling about the hair?”
“No,” Bob shook his head. The shakiness that was present in his hands before returned. “It’s everything. My suit, my name, my missions.” He raised his head, putting a halt to his pacing. His eyes lightly twitched before settling on Valentina. A shadow of darkness crept onto his face making his blue eyes seem more like the darkest depths of the sea. “I mean, why would a god take orders from…,” Bob stalked closer towards Valentina. With each step he took she took one back. As Bob cornered Valentina, you managed to crawl away towards the side. The pain still flared up every so often, but it was more manageable than before. Your energy had begun to fight back against his energy, and it was winning. “Anyone at all?”
Valentina scoffed. “I think you're using the word God a little loosely there.”
Bob shook his head. “No, no, because you said I was. All-powerful and invincible and stronger than an entire Avengers team, which includes at least one god.” He noted how Valentina’s eyes widened, briefly flashing with fear. Her hand slowly drew behind her back. “So I thought I was starting to...I think maybe you don't know what I am. Or what I'm capable of.”
“Oh, damn it,” Valentina cursed.
“Perhaps I need to show you,”Bob challenged.
“This is very irritating–” Valentina exclaimed, but found Bob’s hand around her throat flying her back into a nearby wall. Startled, she dropped a small device. You eyed it and the small red light atop the device. Valentina gasped upon impact.
“You were going to turn on me,” Bob accused. His grip on her neck tightened. Valentina clawed at Bob’s hands as she choked for air. “Just like the rest of them.”
“I'm not afraid of you, Robert.” Valentina choked, trying to gain some power in the situation.
Bob shook his head, eyes a fire with the challenge he presented to her. “That's not what you need to be afraid of.”
Click.
Bob’s eyes rolled back into his head. He fell limp, falling to the floor.
Gasping for air, Valentina peered up. Kneeled on the floor, with the kill switch in hand was you. You weren’t sure how you got to the device. You knew it held some importance, that it could stop Bob. You didn’t want him to have her death on his hands. Bob was a hero. A misguided one, manipulated by Valentina. Despite it all, you knew what lied underneath. After all, you had seen it, the hero in Bob, as he sacrificed himself so that you all could escape the vault. That’s why you pressed the switch, but why was he still? Why was Bob not breathing?
The elevator door dinged behind you. A light of recognition and relief filled Valentina as she stood up and approached the person behind you. As she passed by you, she paused. Her heels clicked together. “Call clean up. We need to get rid of the body,” Valentina announced loudly. You froze. Your heart was pounding thunderously in your ears. You didn’t see the smirk on Valentina’s face as she walked away. “Tell Holt it’s finally time to go lethal on these losers.”
You didn’t move even after the elevator doors closed carrying Valentina far away from you. You could hardly breathe. The pain from before was nothing to how your body constricted itself. Your lungs tightened forcing all air out in cries and gasps. You had killed Bob. You hadn’t realized it was a kill switch, instead thinking it was something equivalent to a super power shock collar. Staring at his lifeless body, you sobbed. Chucking the switch away, you crawled over to Bob muttering useless apologies. His eyes were closed as you took his head into your lap. No energy flowed beneath your fingertips. Instead lay a void absent of all light.
As you mourned Bob’s death and your actions, you didn’t notice how the room grew darker. Shadows from the corners crept closer reaching out spreading like ink tainting the room around you. The tendrils of black drew closer, swirling around and reaching out to Bob. Wiping your eyes clear from tears, you saw the darkness swallowing him whole. Startled, you backed away, watching the shadow around you be soaked up by Bob’s body. You eyed the body void of all light, shape or definition. The lights in the room flickered and the building quaked. You tried to stand up, but your knees buckled under you, still weak from your attempt to weaken the Sentry earlier.
“Y/N Stark,” a voice coldly called out your name. You looked up from the ground to find Bob’s body floating in the air. A gasp left your lips at the sight. Whatever was before you wasn’t Bob. It took his form, but was empty of everything that was him. Where once blue eyes lived were piercing white pupils. Small and dagger like they stared at you, taunting you. “You thought you could save him. Be the hero your father always wanted you to be, but you know the truth. You’re weak. Scared. Not worthy of the legacy they left you.”
His words sliced deep, cutting loose the fears and insecurities you tried so hard to push down. “How can you save anyone if you can’t even control your powers?” He floated closer to you. The air around you turned cold and menacing, stealing away your breath. “You really just a Jinx.” He hissed your title like a slur. A name given in love now flipped around to stab you deep in the heart.
“Bob, stop it,” you pleaded, trying to crawl away from him.
“He can’t hear you,” it said. Raising a hand up to you, he cocked his head to the side. “You can’t escape me, can’t escape the void.” You braced yourself for an attack that never came. Darkness drowned out all light, swallowing up your vision.
Suddenly the room burst with a white light. ““Begin the simulation.”
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Chapter Three of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic
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Word Count: ~5.5k
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Warnings: Canon typical violence, gun violence, crude language, mentions of character death, mentions of trauma, child enslavement, and abuse, SPOILERS for THUNDERBOLTS, Walker is a bit of a dick, angst with little comfort. (Let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: I watched Thunderbolts for the second time today. I really love that movie. If you're looking for a sign to watch it again, here it is. Anyway, I went back and added/changed a few things pertaining to the Reader and her powers. Feel free to go back and read the chapter if you'd like. Without further ado, please enjoy this chapter. (Also sort of proofread, I was too excited to wait)
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Everything hurt. You were sweating a storm in your suit, despite its attempts at ventilating. For the first time in a while, you cursed the suit you wore. Why did metal have to be this hot? Groaning, you moved your feet in time with Walker’s directions.
“Right. Left. Right. Left.” It went on and on as you all trekked up the wall, backs pressed together, your sweat intermingling. By now, you’d imagine you were practically sharing DNA with all of them with how much everyone brushed against each other, gripping tightly by your arms. It was one hell of a team bonding exercise, if you could even say you were a team.
You were squished between Ava and Bob. Yelena resided on the other side of him, and Walker was pressed between her and Ava. Right and left, you stepped until you fell into a rhythm. By the time you got out of this elevator shaft, you were sure you’d still be stepping to the pace Walker set.
“Ugh!” Ava groaned, adjusting her position beside you, nearly making you slip. You sent her a glare, which she missed. “Which one of you is wet?” She flipped her head as far back as she could to eye everyone in the group.
Beside you, Bob clenched his shoulders behind him, taking a sharp inhale of breath. “I run hot,” he labouredly said, “I’m sorry.”
“Someone has a weird, hard ass,” Yelena grumbled. You felt her lift her hips up slightly from behind you.
“That’s not my ass, it’s my suit,” Ava hissed. Yelena groaned. “Oh, excuse me for the inconvenience. I mean,” Ava’s voice grew louder, echoing off the walls. “I only spent my entire life in it. Hooked up to machines so I could create this physical cage to keep my body from disintegrating at all times. So yeah, I’m really sorry about that.”
“Yeah?” Yelena grunted. “You don’t want to start the whole sob story game, cause–” She flicked her fingers to point to herself. Not that anyone could see the gesture. “I win.” Ava scoffed. “Enslaved, child assassin over here.”
“Well, you were just a kid, so…” Walker trailed off. Yelena’s eyes narrowed at him. He was lucky he was a vital part in them not crashing to their deaths below.
“Oh, so that’s a good thing?” Yelena questioned?
“Look! We get it, we’ve all got sob stories,” you scoffed.
Walker peered over his shoulder at you. “Oh yeah? As if you have a sob story, Ms.daughter-of-THE-Tony-Stark,” Walker leered. “I bet your life was perf–”
“Well, I’ll have you know–” You heaved, “I spent the majority of my life locked in a government facility. By the time the Avengers found me, I had never seen the sky, felt rain, hell, I could hardly speak besides answers to commands that were repeatedly given to me. How’s that for a sob story?”
The elevator shaft grew quiet for a moment besides the shuffling of your feet against the walls. You felt Bob turn his gaze to look at you. His eyes burned a laser of pity right through you. Still, you refused to look at him, instead choosing to study your feet.
“I’d say we’re pretty even, Stark,” Yelena noted.
“Thanks, Yelena,” You sarcastically muttered, “I feel so much better.” Sighing, you peered up at the elevator shaft above you. “How bout we focus on getting out of here, rather than having the equivalent of a 'whose’ dick is bigger” but with trauma contest?”
Again, a wave of silence fell upon the group as you all collectively paused to catch your breaths, shoving down threats and complaints down your throats.
Clearing his throat, Bob turned his head to you. This time, you met his gaze. “Sounds like a great plan.” Murmurs of agreement from the others followed.
You chuckled, adjusting your grip on both Bob’s and Ava’s arms. “Thanks, Bob.”
After a moment, Walker continued his mantra of rights and lefts. Together, you all continued climbing up the wall. Grunts, moans, and pants filled the air as you rose higher and higher up the elevator shaft. Occasionally, each of you would peer up only to see a seemingly never-ending darkness. You could tell who looked up by the sighs of defeat that escaped their mouths. Instead, you either looked forward at the wall of the shaft or down. Once it had felt like hours of climbing, a trembling erupted from your thighs, cascading down to your calves and ankles.
You took in a shaking breath, not sure how much longer you could hold the position. “Anyone got eyes on a door?” You asked, clenching your eyes tight to fight off the shakes.
“This is crazy,” Ava complained. “I can’t even see the floor or a door.”
“Can we not talk about how high we are?” Bob pleaded. “I’m not great with heights.” Briefly, his eyes darted down below before yanking back up. Shutting his eyes tightly, you felt Bob tremble beside you. Great, now two of you were about ready to fall.
“Hey,” Walker hopefully exclaimed. “I think I see the door.” You all collectively paused, peering over your shoulders to spot where Walker was talking about. Lo and behold, there was the door. Relief flowed through your body.
“Ah, okay.” Yelena huffed. “Now what?” The question was meant mainly for Bob, but was open to anyone who had an idea.
“Erm, I guess,” Ava began. “One of us should go first.”
Yelena shook her head. “Then the other four immediately fall down.”
Dropping your head back, you muttered a string of curses to yourself.
“You good there?” Bob asked you.
You tensely nodded. “Just trying to lighten the mood with profanities.”
“Genius plan, Bobby,” Walker growled.
“Sorry, I guess I didn’t really think this far ahead,” Bob apologized to you all, lowering his head so his chin hit his chest. “Always making things worse,” Bob muttered under his breath.
“Shut up, Walker, we wouldn’t have gotten this far up without Bob’s idea,” you defended. Bob’s head whipped around at your defense. “We just need a little time to think and come up with a plan.” Your words were spoken more to assure yourself than the others.
Beside you, Ava’s grip on the wall slipped slightly. You felt her tense beside you, pushing hard into your backs. “These bloody boots. I don’t think we have much time,” Ava explained. “I can’t hold on much longer.” At her confession, your heart began to beat faster as the stress of the situation began to sink deeper and deeper underneath your skin.
“Yelena,” Walker called out. “Hand me your baton. I can reach it.”
“What?!” Yelena panted. “No way, you’re just going to leave us.” You could feel Walker rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Okay, how about this?” Yelena suggested. “We spin around, and I latch us on.”
Beside you, Bob tilted his head upwards. His eyes opened slightly before blinking, as his nose began to scrunch and release, like an accordion. You cocked your head to the side with a look of concern on your face.
“You good, Bob?” You asked him while Walker shot down Yelena’s idea.
“Yeah, just–” Bob muttered, harshly shaking his head. You frowned, not believing him.
“I’m not spinning us around. Someone’s gotta–”
“Cucumber! Cucumber! Cucumber!” Bob shouted over the debate of how to escape the shaft.
Collectively, your eyes all widened. “What the hell is happening?” Yelena questioned. Her voice quaked with confusion as she peered over at Bob.
“Growing up, someone told me that you could stop a sneeze if you confused your brain,” Bob hurriedly explained, still shaking his head and scrunching his nose to fight off the sneeze. “I always yell cucumber.” To you, it seemed “cucumber” wasn’t working as you watched Bob struggle with the oncoming sneeze.
“Well, it doesn’t seem like cucumber is working anymore,” You told him.
“I have a hard time thinking of anything else, “Bob admitted. After a pause, he continued. “I have to sneeze. But if I sneeze, you know, then I’m going to lose control.”
An increase of pressure trickled down your spine. Not only were your legs trembling, threatening to release due to exhaustion, but Ava’s boots were slipping, and now Bob needed to sneeze.
“This is insane,” Walker growled. “Okay? I can get us all out of here. I just let me go first. Give me the baton, Yelena.”
“No, no, no, no, no.” Ava shuddered, her boots slipping further down the wall. “There’s got to be another way. “Any other ideas?”
“Oh no.” Bob’s voice cut through the air. Lifting his head up to try and shake off the sneeze, he felt you and Yelena tense beside him. Like a wave making its way through a sport-drunk crowd, panic passed around to each of you.
“Cucumber! Cucumber!” Ava and Yelena began to yell.
“Aardvark!” You shouted alongside them, earning a weird look from Ava. “What? We need to confuse his brain!”
“Cucumber! Aardvark! Bubbles!” Yelena, you, and Ava began to yell random words from the top of your lungs, all while Bob stuck to his known phrase.
As you all shouted over each other, trying to confuse Bob’s mind, Walker flipped himself around, reaching for Yelena’s baton. Once in his grasp, he pushed off his feet using your backs as leverage and hoisted himself up, hooking the baton on the door. One by one, your grip on Bob’s and Ava’s arms faltered. You yelped as you tumbled out of their grasp. Ava was quick on her reaction, pulling out her weapons to dig into the wall, stopping her fall. Meanwhile, Yelena spun around, one arm shooting her wire to latch onto Walker, the other onto Bob, who continued to fall down. In your panic, you activated your jets, stopping your descent to hover just below Bob.
“You had jets this whole time?” Yelena rasped, with a look of betrayal and disbelief in her eyes.
“You’re telling me that we didn't have to go through that whole ordeal in the first place?” Ava criticized you.
You sheepishly looked away. “Look, I didn’t know if I had enough fuel to get us all up–”
“You could have dropped down a rope,” Walker harshly added.
You felt your cheeks grow red from embarrassment. “I guess I could ha–” Suddenly, your jet faltered, causing you to fall, before sputtering back on. “See? Not enough fuel.” They sputtered again. You let out another yelp. In a panic, you clawed upwards for anything to grasp onto. Your fingers clasped over Bob’s forearm. Bob’s finger coiled around your forearm, holding tightly.
“I’ve got you–” Bob started before the tell of a sneeze formed again. Hurriedly, you tugged on his arm to lift yourself up higher. Your free hand reached around to hug his waist. Just as you secured your hold, Bob sneezed. His head was knocking against your thigh.
“Sorry,” Bob apologized, as he rubbed the side of his temple.
“You’re fine,” you sighed a breath of relief as you squeezed Bob tighter. Glancing down at him, you winced at the position you had placed both of you in. Bob was hanging upside down, his head and shoulder resting between your legs as his arms held a mirrored position: wrapping around your waist. Meanwhile, your head hung between his legs, dangerously close to his inner thighs. “Sorry about…” You trailed off, burying your face into one of his legs, before realizing your mistake. Quickly, with a face as bright as a cherry, you pulled away, causing you two to swing slightly off Yelena’s wire. “Sorry,” you tensed. Bob just nodded, his throat too dry and ears too pink to say anything.
“God it’s like watching a horribly executed porno,” Walker complained, as he began to hoist himself up just enough to begin prying the door open. You and Bob simultaneously blushed harder.
“Are you two okay?” Yelena asked. Her arm tingled from the additional weight of you on Bob.
“...Yeah…,” You sheepishly mumbled.
“Will you be able to hold on long enough?” Yelena wondered. Before you could answer, you felt Bob’s grip around you tighten around your waist. You appreciated the extra security it gave you, but it brought Bob closer to you, which was a different problem all in itself.
“Stark?” Yelena called out. You gulped, not realizing how long you had been quiet. You peeked up at her, nodding before letting out a shaky sigh.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let go,” Bob reassured you. You muttered a quick thank you back, barely loud enough for Bob to hear.
With a final grunt, Walker managed to pry open the elevator door, pushing himself up and out. He extended a hand to Ava, pulling her up and out of the shaft. Quickly, Ava ran to retrieve anything that resembled a rope, settling on an emergency hose for fires. Rolling it out, she and Walker tossed it down. Yelena grabbed it, maneuvering the bottom to be within your reach. You grabbed on tightly, Bob still latching onto you.
“Bob,” Yelena addressed.
Lifting his head, you saw that it was bright red from all the blood pooling. “Yeah?” he croaked, sounding dazed.
“I need you to grab onto the rope, so I can retract my wires and climb out of here,” Yelena explained.
“Oh, uh, yeah, grab the rope,” Bob muttered, slowly removing his arms from you to grab the rope. Once Yelena retracted the wire, Bob’s body flung down.
“AH-woah,” Bob cried out as the force of the fall made his grip slip. Instinctively, you reached down, clutching the collar of his pajamas like one would pick up a cat. Now it was your turn to hold onto him.
“You good?” You called out to him. He hummed. His eyes were clenched tightly as his head aggressively nodded. You could see the tremors of fear erupting from his shoulders.
“Just don’t look down.” You said, trying to soothe his fear of heights. “Uhm, think of…” you trailed off, “happy thought…?”
“Happy thoughts,” Bob repeated, still clenching his eyes tightly. “Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts, ha-happy thoughts.”
“Jesus,” Walker groaned. “What is with you and repeating shit?”
You glared up at Walker. “Not helping, Walker,” you hissed. Looking back down at Bob, you lowered your voice and summoned as much gentleness as you could summon, hanging onto the hose. “You’ve got this, Bob. Just start climbing.”
Cracking his eyes open, he peered up at you. “R-right.”
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Finally reaching the ledge of the floor, Walker grasped your shoulders, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. “Thanks,” you quietly muttered, earning a nod from Walker.
“Finally, someone who’s grateful,” Walker enunciated, glancing over at Ava and Yelena.
“Asshole,” Ava cursed under her breath.
Walker scoffed, extending an arm towards Bob to help him up. “I made a tactical decision to secure my own safety and then ensure all of yours. You’re all pretty ungrateful if you’d ask me, but you’ll make it, right, Bobby?” Throwing his elbow over the ledge, a disgruntled Bob took Walker’s hand. “Looks like you might have missed a leg, check, and arm day, huh?” Walker jeered, helping Bob stand before suddenly going still. His eyes grew unfocused.
“Walker? “ Yelena called out. Whatever trance Walker was in stopped. “What the hell are you doing?”
For a moment, Walker’s face faltered. “I'm good…” Stepping forward, you all peeked around the corner where the entrance to the bunker lay. You frowned at the bright light that filtered through. It couldn’t have been the day. Blinking, your eyes adjusted to reveal multiple lights. From cars, trucks, tanks, and small flashlights atop helmets and weapons.
“Fuck,” You whispered under your breath. Turning away from the corner, you clicked the side of your earpiece. The static noise had faded. “FRIDAY?” You breathed. Silence filled the air as you awaited her response. Meanwhile, Yelena and Walker were fighting over who’d be in charge and what plan they should go with.
“Yes, Ms. Stark?”
A smile appeared on your face. “Thank god,” you whispered. Eyeing the rest of the group, your eyes fell on Bob, who stared at you with a quizzical look. Upon noticing you caught his stare, he blinked, tearing his eyes away. “FRIDAY, can you send Bucky a live location and status update. Tell him, I got the evidence.” You observed the group. While the photos on your phone were great, these people were the true evidence. They could talk and testify against Valentina, so long as you all got out unscathed. You’d imagine that, on top of impeachment, you could add attempted murder to the charges to keep her locked away far from any strings of power.
“Why should you be in charge?” Ava cocked her head at Walker, placing her hands on her hips.
“You almost got us all killed back there.”
“Well, let's see,” Walker explained, mirroring Ava’s stance. “I've been in the trenches of every war-torn country on this planet, rescued God knows how many hostages, and shook the hands of two U.S. Presidents. What else?”
“Oh god,” Yelena rasped, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“High school state football champions. Back to back to back,” Walker continued, “Go Bears!”
“Oh, wow,” Yelena sarcastically said. “When I was five, I was on a Little League soccer team called West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Shane's Tire Shop. We didn't win a single game the entire time. This girl, Mindy, made a poo on the field. Anyone else have any pointless childhood stories to tell me?”
“I grew up in a lab prison,” Ava added.
“Meth-addicted sign twirling chicken,” Bob mentioned. “Summer job.”
“Stark?” Yelena asked, turning to you. “Got anything to add?”
“Uh,” you pondered your past. “Had an uncle who liked hanging out in the vents and another who pretty much had three boxes of Poptarts a day.”
“Right.” Yelena scrunched her nose in confusion. Shaking it off, a look of certainty appeared on her face. “ Well, here's the plan. We set off an explosion to bring them in–”
“I don't know,” Walker cut Yelena off. “Too many variables with an explosion.”
Sending Walker a glare to shut him up, Yelena continued. “They turn on their night vision.” She pointed to Walker. “You handle the first wave. On my signal, Stark will redirect power into the lights, but you’ve got to wait for Stark after she blinds the remaining troops. I’ll wait once the lights are on to help you take the rest of them out.”
“Everyone's gonna wait for you?” Walker mused.
“It'll only work if you wait.”
Walker shook his head. “It's a terrible plan.”
“Ava, find us an escape vehicle–” Yelena began, but Ava had already phased away, leaving you all behind.
Popping up behind Yelena, Bob flashed a quick smile. “What about me?”
Yelena paused, looking over Bob. “You..you go with Stark. Stay behind her, Bob. She’ll keep you safe.”
“-But I can–,” Bob tried to interject, but Yelena and Walker had already moved on, initiating the plan.
Pulling on his sleeve, you led Bob down the maze of hallways. Following the thrum of the power source. “Maybe I should have a gun?” Bob suggested.
“Do you know how to use one?” You asked, sharply turning the corner to where all the energy flowed from. The electrical room hummed as tiny lights blinked in and out, a sign of life and light. You frowned at all the switches. Luckily, you didn’t need to figure them all out, thanks to your abilities.
“No, but we're going to need a fight, right?” Bob argued.
Stopping, you turned around to face him, watching as he knocked into you. You raised your hands to brace him, stopping just inches away from his chest. Freezing, you pulled your hands away, stepping back. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but…” You watched as his eyes fell at your words. The sadness in those dark blue eyes made your chest tighten. “I'll fight, but–”
“The medical trial was supposed to make me better,” Bob persisted. “I don't know. I feel like maybe I could help.” His eyes widened to plead with you. Internally, you groaned. Goddamn puppy eyes.
“But,” you emphasized, “If I need help, I guess you can help. How’s that sound?”
Bob nodded. “O-okay. Yeah, I’ll help.”
You smiled at him as he beamed down at you, fiddling with his fingers. “Thanks. I trust you.”
Startled by your words, Bob raised his brows at you. “You trust…me?”
Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed throughout the halls. The lights flickered out of power, making everything dark except the backup power residing in the electrical units. You faintly made out the uncertainty in Bob’s face as if he didn’t even trust himself. “You got us up that elevator. Sang to me so I could focus, of course, I trust you.” Turning away, you removed your gloves, placing your hands on the units to redirect the energy.
A silence fell over you two. As you lured the whisps of energy towards where they needed to go, Bob couldn’t help but soften his gaze. His eyes trailed over your hands as the strings of light filled the space under your skin, lighting it up as it traveled up your hair escaping at the neds. In the peace of the quiet as you worked, Bob couldn’t help the words that slipped out of his mouth next. “I've always had these episodes ever since I was a kid.” Bob watched as you tilted your head to let him know you were listening. He swallowed down his nerves before continuing. “There's a high and then there's a low, and then my memory just goes blank. But this time I feel like there's something bad that happened, or I did something bad.”
“I mean, everyone does bad things in their life. Things we all regret. I’ve–” your voice grew soft as you tried to focus on both your words and the energy flow. “I’ve done bad things too.” You could hear the small intake of air that entered Bob’s lungs at your confession. “After we lost to Than– Shit.” Your eyes flickered open. “No. Come on. Please–”
“Wha–what’s wrong?” Bob questioned, worry growing on his face.
In your frustration, you kicked the electrical units. “Stupid…the wires are fried, even with the backup energy, I can’t turn on the lights. Walker was right.”
“But you have to turn it back on,” Bob said, reciting the plan. “I mean, we’re supposed to blind the guys.”
“Yeah, I know, Bob.”
“That was the plan.”
“You're not helping, Bob,” you uttered, exiting the electrical room. You had to tell the others, or at least help them. The two of you navigated the dark hallways. You led, and Bob trailed behind. His steps are uncertain compared to your purposeful ones. Suddenly, bangs and grunts were heard down the hall. You froze, stopping Bob. Once the sounds died down, you motioned for Bob to follow. Turning a new corner, you nearly tripped over the pile of unconscious soldiers.
“Where are they?” Bob asked. Before you could answer, a red laser lit up the hall. You grabbed Bob’s shirt, pulling him behind the corner. Ducking down, you quickly snatched a gun from a nearby soldier.
Cling. Clang.
You watched as the soldiers chucked tear gas at you and Bob. Quickly, you pulled off the gas masks from the closest men. One for you and Bob. Chucking it to him, you pulled yours on.
“I can help,” Bob mumbled through the gas.
You shook your head, checking your gun. “Stay. If I need help–” Shot began to fire. You ducked down and rolled to the opposite corner. Bracing yourself, you aimed and fired, shooting a soldier. Two more appeared where the other one fell. You charged them, shooting your gun again until you were close enough to swing at their helmets, touching their night vision goggles, and using their energy to shock them unconscious. Another shot rang out, narrowly missing your head. Before you could counterattack, the soldier fell. Turning around, you saw Bob holding a rifle from a fallen soldier.
“That was incredible,” Bob stated, dropping the gun to his side.
“Thanks.” You blushed at the compliment, thankful for the darkness. “Not so bad yourself for having not used a gun before.” A shuffle of movement appeared behind you. Whirling around, you and Bob both began to shoot at it.
Commands of stop filled the air as your bullets ricocheted off a…shield? Both you and Bob quickly stopped firing.
“It’s us!” John and Yelena yelled.
“Where were you?” You snapped, lowering your now-empty gun.
“Where were you?” Walker hissed. “What happened to the lights?”
“The explosion fried the wires.” You explained. “I couldn’t redirect the energy.”
“God, what use are you then?” Walker groaned. He glanced at Yelena. “I told you. Too many variables. I knew it.”
“And then you didn't wait,” Yelena accused.
“I did wait,” Walker retaliated. “And then…” Suddenly, Walker paused. “We’ve probably got about 60 seconds until they send another squad in.”
“Then let’s make sure we get out of here by then,” you said.
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As far as plans were going, you guys were on fire. Lugging Bob over your shoulders, you and Walker dragged him along. Bob did his best to act injured while Yelena tagged behind, guarding the rear. Despite the complaints, Bob held to being a limp body; you all had made it past the initial wall of soldiers. Valentina and her assistant, Mel, stood behind them watching the entrance with a worried anticipation. God, you wanted to kill that woman, but you knew you had found people you could trust, and the evidence in your pocket would suffice. You didn’t want to do anything else that tainted your father’s legacy.
Pulling off to the side between two large trucks, you and Walker released Bob from your hold, letting him stand straight. “We need a truck,” Walker pointed out.
“Where's Ava?” You asked, remembering the task given to her. Although you weren’t positive she had actually heard it.
“She's gone,” Walker stated. “Of course she is.”
As if summoning the devil, Ava pulled up behind you all. Rolling down the window, she motioned for you all to get in. Popping open the back, you and Bob hopped up. Sitting down, you began to take off your helmet to let you breathe the cool night air. Across from you, Bob did the same.
“You two gonna be okay back there?” Yelena asked as Walker and Ava headed up to the front.
“Yeah,” you two said in tandem. Yelena nodded before closing the door behind her.
Behind the shield of the doors, you began to tear off the combat gear. It was hot enough in the suit, now you added a few new layers on top of it. “God, I’m burning up.”
Bob agreed. His eyes couldn’t help but follow your hands as you stripped back down to your suit. He gulped, feeling hot all of a sudden. Quickly, he began taking off the combat suit that adorned his body. Once discarding the clothes, Bob glanced around the back of the armoured truck before returning his eyes to you. “So, uh, have you been in one of these before?” He winced at his own attempt at conversation.
“Sort of. I’m assuming you haven’t,” you said, noting his civilian status.
“Heh, no. I-I haven’t.”
An awkward silence fell between you two as the truck began to drive out of the camp. You peered out the back tinted window.
“We got out,” Bob noted.
You looked over at him. “Almost,” you muttered. “Not yet.” Right as those words left your mouth, the truck came to a halt. You glanced out the window again. “Shit. Guards.” You told Bob. The two of you grew quiet to listen to Walker trying to handle the situation as guards stalked around the back of the truck, creeping up to the front. To say Walker had the situation under control was a lie. He was absolutely failing. You figured a kindergartener would have pulled it off better. Hearing a click beside you, you turned. The back door was open, and Bob was getting out.
“Bob,” you hissed. “What are you doing?”
He glanced back at you and offered you a weak smile. You froze. You had seen that smile before. It was the heroic kind. One you’d offer when you knew a sacrifice was imminent. One you’d never get back up from. One you’d offer when you had made peace with it. After all, only those who truly cared presented that smile. You knew this well. It was the same smile that haunted your dreams and waking memories. It was the smile he gave you when he snapped.
“No,” you muttered to yourself. “No, no, no.” Bob wasn’t supposed to give you that smile. He was supposed to make it out of here. You had promised yourself to get him out, secretly promised him he’d be safe, be free. You couldn’t help how your feet moved, jumping out of the back of the car. You ran after him, watching as he picked up a rifle, aiming it at the sky. Bob wasn’t supposed to be the hero. You were. It’s what they left behind for you. A mantle to take up. Be a hero, Y/N. That’s what they raised you to be. Yet here you were, drowning underneath that title, one that Bob so selflessly picked up, leaving you to chase after him.
“No, no, Bob! Stop!” You didn’t care if you were drawing attention. Nearby soldiers began to track your movements: guns ready to shoot, violence and determination filling their veins. You watched as Bob ran into the spotlight, demanding everyone’s attention, pulling them away from the truck so they could escape, so you could escape.
“Hey!” Bob yelled, a cry of heroes, as he emptied the bullets in the gun. Never once aiming at another person.
“Bob!” You screamed, arms reaching out for him. His eyes widened at you. You weren’t supposed to follow him. He took a step toward you as red aiming lights lit up his body. Hard-armoured figures tackled you before you could reach him. They pushed you into the ground, the dirt and gravel scraping against your cheeks as tears trickled down them. “Bob!” You wept as they opened fire. Bullets were hitting his body. It was all too fast and horrifically slow. Your mind was memorizing every moment until his body hit the ground. You struggled against your captors, desperate to reach him. A mantra of guilt flooded you.
It should have been me. It should have–
The grip of the soldiers loosened as he stood up. Like a god awakening from death, Bob stood up. His shirt was torn and filled with the remnants of what should have killed him. But there he stood, a testament against everything known to man. Bob was alive.
“Bob!” You called out, pushing the soldiers off of you. His head swerved in your direction. You gasped. His eyes. They glowed a golden hue. Suddenly, he began to rise, feet ghosting the ground as ripples formed in the dirt below. Within the blink of an eye, he was gone up in the sky and falling back down just as fast.
Without thinking, you darted to the power source, lights all ablaze. With one touch, you drained its energy into your suit. If you have enough power, enough energy, you could fly up there, maybe you could catch him, or slow his descent. Anything to make sure he made it.
“Come on,” you pleaded with your suit. The jets sparked to life, shooting you into the sky in the direction of Bob’s falling figure. It didn’t take long for your trajectory to cross his. Wrapping your arms around him, your jets began to flicker. On and off. On and off. They didn’t switch back on. You peered down at the ground below. It was getting closer and closer. Hugging Bob tighter against your chest, you sensed his energy flow, calling out to you. “FRIDAY,” you said. “Activate Safe Landing protocols.” She repeated your command before flickering off to allow the suit to form a protective shield that would come between you and the ground. Still, Bob’s energy danced around yours, overflowing even in his unconscious state. Maybe, just maybe, if you gave a bit more, a shock, he’d wake up. Closing your eyes, you brought your hands to his face. Running a thumb against his cheek, you called out to his energy. The golden strings twirled around yours as you connected them. A bright light thrummed from where your energy flows were joined. You felt as if you could sense every part of him. Calling out to him, you pleaded with him to wake up. “Come on, Bob. Wake up.”
But he never did, not before you two crashed into the ground below. Rocks and dust flew everywhere as the sheer force of your fall created a crater deep in the ground. Around you, your suit lay in shambles, doing what Tony had made it to do. Just as the suit protected you, your arms still tightly clung to Bob, protecting him.
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Comment/Reblog/Follow or else...:) Also, comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list.
Warnings: Canon typical violence, gun violence, government testing, mentions of death, language, John Walker needs his own warning, mentions of trauma, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS (let me know if I missed any)
Author's Note: Wrote this in a day. Man, I haven't had the writing juices this good in a long time. Anyway, reader finally meets the gang and Bob. I hope you all enjoy! (P.S I didn't really have time to proofread, so if there's typos, I'm sorry :) )
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It was surprisingly easy to get out to Utah within the span of less than a day. You thanked your money, and the tools Tony had left you. He had made you a suit, one that wouldn’t see the wear and tear that normal fabric would. You remember when you stumbled upon it late at night. Tony had been sitting at his desk in his workroom. The walls were lined with his various Iron Man suits, all ones you had seen before, except a small blue and silver one. Tony caught how your eyes were drawn to the suit as a proud smile flicked onto his face.
“What’s this?” You asked, stepping closer to the suit. Tony approached, his path slowly beside yours.
“Like it?” Tony peered down at you, wiggling his brows before popping some dried blue berries into his mouth. He always had a snack on hand, and ever since you joined their little superhero family, he carried extra. You nodded in response. “Well, it’s yours.” Your jaw fell slack, making Tony chuckle. “Just let me know when you want to take it out for a spin, Jinx.” You smiled at the nickname, Jinx. The one he gave you the first time you made his suit malfunction.
Landing down, just outside the remote bunker, you double-checked your fuel levels. It was just enough to get you out of here and back to a place where you could hitch a ride. Barely enough.
“FRIDAY, do a scan of the area for any threats, and get me more information on this place.”
“Of course, Ms. Stark,” she replied before a mini icon loading screen popped up in your helmet. You never understood how Tony could deal with all the icons that required attention in the helmet. It was all too much for you, too cluttered, too distracting. Instead, you stuck to allowing a small icon for FRIDAY, a map, and your music to appear before you. Flicking off your helmet, you adjusted your earpiece, making sure the connection was strong. Satisfied, you pressed the side of your earpiece. Music flowed into your ears. It was a playlist you and Tony had made to help you focus on the energy flows around you.
A small chime lets you know FRIDAY’s search was complete. Pulling up the holographic screen from your forearm, you scanned the information. The Bunker was one of O.X.E’s. What it was used for or what could be inside was a mystery. You bit your lip, shaking the uneasy feeling you left walking in blind. Despite the unease, you pushed forward; what was inside this place was more important than being too cautious.
You had promised Bucky you’d get it, even if it was more of a promise to yourself. Growing up in a testing facility to make new super-powered humans was never a life anyone wanted. No matter how much the internet chat rooms wished and begged to get a chance to be a hero, to fight alongside the Avengers, to be Tony Stark’s daughter, they would all cower in fear from the truth. The pain and hollowness that followed everywhere you went from all those years making you, building you into the person you are–the weapon. You swore off the internet and chat rooms ever since that day. The remnant quakes that erupted from your body and the tears that scalded your cheeks still resided deep inside you, like invincible scars immune to the effects of time and love. That hurt is what pushed you on. No one should be forced into that life, and you were going to make sure of it.
It had been years since Valentina Allegra de Fontain found you. It was a time in your life you’d rather forget. You had all just lost. Thanos had gotten all the stones, and you were there on the last line of defense, watching over Vision. Energy manipulation, that’s the power you possessed. Able to manipulate the energy of anything and everything. However, that meant you did it all the time. Just a touch and the technological victim would jinx out. Its energy was now a part of your arsenal. It took years of training, tears, and numerous pairs of gloves before you could really touch anything without frying it.
This power was one Vision had begged you to use. His plea was simple: use your power, drain the stone, stop Thanos. You did as he asked. But it wasn’t enough. Thanos still got the stone, Vision died again, and you failed. All of a sudden, your progress had reverted, and your power was stronger and less predictable. The mind stone left a mark on you, one you couldn’t wash away. From then on, you could see the energy flows, not just sense them—whisps of glowing strings like the aurora borealis that danced across the sky. Not only that, you could see the energy flow of living things, something that terrified you. Frying out a machine was one thing, but taking the energy of a living thing?
Wiping the beads of sweat off your forehead, you sighed. Utah was hot. A dry heat that made your blood boil so hot that your veins would burst. Hurriedly, you approached the building, removing your gloves to redirect the energy in the vault door and open it. The dark concrete surface was cool and smooth despite the flaming heat casting down from the sun. Closing your eyes, you took a deep inhale of air, searching for the energy. In your mind's eye, you saw the wisps of light swirling around. Gently, you grasped it, directing it to where you needed it to go. Slowly it followed, but soon enough there was a deafening click and the door pulled open. With your gloves back on, you enter the building, sighing at the difference in temperature.
“Remind me to never move out here,” you muttered to yourself. All the nearest wall stood an elevator. You frowned at the tube-like thing. It reminded you of those water park tubes, yet instead of glass, it was concrete and metal. Once you stepped into the elevator, it hummed to life, traveling downwards before coming to a thud. Stepping out of the elevator, you pondered the ease with which you had found and entered the vault. It wasn’t normal. Too easy. Sighing, you bit your lip.
“FRIDAY?” You called out. There was no response other than some static noise. Your music had also shut off. “Fuck,” you muttered. Well, it was too late to text Bucky and let him know where you went, and it was too late to back out. Every fiber in your being screamed with warnings. If one good thing came from being raised by the Avengers, it was your sense of self-preservation and awareness. Too bad, it always came right when you were in the middle of something. Suddenly, the elevator door closed. Its energy darkened.
Now you really couldn’t turn back. Turning away from the elevator, you saw an area up ahead. Warm yellow lights directed you deeper into the vault. Passing through large entryways, you noted their energy flow. It was filled with anticipation, as if awaiting some sort of command or trigger. Narrowing your eyes, you memorized the flow of its energy in case you needed to reverse whatever command it was given later. Easier said than done, though.
Leaving the doors behind, you noted three other entry ways into the room. Well, to say it was a room was an understatement. It was more like a forgotten storage container filled to the brim with papers, files, and odd-looking machines. Your mind flickered to the message from before. The one that had sent you here on what was a wild goose chase, yet here you are in the wings of the goose. Taking a closer look, you realized you had hit the jackpot—the remnants of Project Sentry. Taking out your device, you flicked through the pages and files, taking photos of anything you deemed relevant. With each click of the camera, the smile on your face grew wider. This was it. The evidence that would stop Valentina.
In the corner of your eye, you noticed a blue blinking light. It was small, and if you hadn’t had a heightened sense of energy, you wouldn’t have noticed it. Placing the file in your hand, you slowly sauntered over to the box. It was long, almost coffin-like, with its strange dimensions. Removing one of your gloves and tucking it into your pocket, you placed your hand onto the box, eyes closing. There were two signs of energy. One similar to the energy that flowed in the rest of the building and another that–
A gunshot rang out. You ducked beside the box as your lungs held the air captive.
“I know you’re there,” a crude voice rang out. “Make it easier on yourself and come out.”
You knew damn well that coming out would make you an easier target. Clenching your eyes shut, you tugged your other glove off, but not before activating the security measures of your suit. Staying low, you crawled away from the box, behind some stacked file cabinets. You didn’t really have weapons, not in the traditional sense. You just never got used to them, but cowering behind the cabinets made you regret not taking Bucky up on those lessons.
Behind you, heavy footsteps thudded against the floor. With each calculated step they took, the sound shortened. They were getting closer. You needed to move somewhere safer, preferably with a strong flow of energy, so you could fight back. But before you could make your escape, another gunshot rang out, followed by a pang and a few grunts. You frowned. Were there more people? Shaking your head, you reached your arms out and jumped, tucking your body into a ball, coming up behind the flipped-over table.
“What's happening?” A coarse voice rang out. It was different from the one before. There were definitely more people. “You’re not even my target!”
“You’re mine!” The man growled before grunting as he launched another attack.
The voice was louder now. Peeking out from behind the table, a black figure came soaring over, plopping next to you. You couldn’t help how your mouth hung open at the woman. Her short, choppy blonde hair was tinted with dust and dirt. It took her a moment to notice you beside her.
“Who are you?” She questioned in a thick russian accent, all while pulling her gun on you.
“Who are you?” you emphasized, raising your hands to disarm her, but before you could, the table you two were hiding behind flipped over, knocked over by a flying shield. Jumping to your feet, you rolled away from the woman. Both of you were coming to a stand behind more filing cabinets.
“Look,” she said in a hushed voice as she checked the status of her gun. “I don’t know who you are. But all I know is you’re not my target. So I say we kick this asshole’s butt and I leave you alone.” Glancing over at you, you nodded in agreement.
As you both popped out of your hiding place, more shots were fired. As the man threw his shield at you, the woman ducked and shot her tasers at him. Twirling out of the way, you swung your legs over a fallen cabinet. The man’s movements appeared to be a mimicry of Steve’s shield, the armour, and his fighting style. Unconsciously, your jaw clenched at the sight, as you swung an arm at the man. Expertly, he dodged your attack, swinging his leg to knock yours out from under you, just as the shield came flying back.
As you collapsed to the ground, you couldn’t help the gasp of air that fled from your lungs. Your suit, noticing the lack of oxygen, switched the mask open, something you quickly tried to override. Above you, the man clenched his hand in a tight fist, ready to strike.
“Stark?” You heard him question.
Your eyes narrowed, and a moment of recognition flooded your system. “Walker?” You had known him before the incident. When he was first named the new Captain. Everyone was seeking validation from you. The girl grew up under the wing of America’s hero. No one wanted that validation more than Walker, something you refused to give him. He was nothing like Steve Rogers. Steve was kind and a shoulder you could lean on when Tony was being too harsh. He always noticed when you were too pent up in the tower and took you on runs, which turned into Steve running laps around you. Walker was something else entirely. He was there to fill a void left by Steve. A void you found yourself not wanting to be filled by just anyone.
In his stunned silence, the woman from before pounced, knocking Walker off of you. At least you thought it was the woman from before; however, seeing the white mask and orange details, you realized your error. Fumbling to a stand, you clutched your ribs, groaning in pain as you watched the scene in front of you. There were four of them, all fighting each other. Each one had a target, and the rest seemed irrelevant. As the fight continued, you stepped further and further away, seeking shelter from the fallen debris. Without taking a look back, you navigated the battlefield. You had your evidence, now you needed to get out of here before one of them decided you were their target.
Suddenly, a clear shot rang out, and a body fell, and silence fell over the group. All of them were breathing heavily as they watched the third, a woman in a white mask, begin to scavenge the weapons and gear off the dead body. Hurriedly, you backed up, reaching for the vault doors. You could open them and get out. Your hand felt the air behind you, slowing landing on something hard.
“Woah there,” a voice muttered. You froze. Feeling a warm hand brush against your back and arms, you felt your breath go cold. Instinctively, the other’s raised their guns, cocked and ready to shoot. Whirling around, you stepped back and found a pair of deep blue eyes. The man stood wide-eyed with shock as he raised his hands innocently in the air. You studied his nervous figure dressed in pajamas you’d only seen in hospitals. Slowly, your eyes trailed to his hands, which were trembling. For fear or other reasons, you weren’t sure. He looked dazed and out of place as a room full of strangers had weapons aimed at him. Something itched inside you. You winced at the strange flow of energy nearby. Surely it wasn’t from this guy?
“Hello,” he cleared his throat. “Hi, I’m Bob.” He nervously glanced around at all four of you. His eyes settled on you for a moment as the wisps of dark curls framed his face. You watched as his eyes darted over your figure with an expression you could not quite place. His gaze lingered a little too long on you before flicking to the guns pointed at him. Having assessed the threat, he turned and leaped towards the open doors. Suddenly, they shut. Their thud brought a wave of silence. Weakly, Bob turned around, fixing his garments. You noticed the air of defeat around him as his eyes began to water slightly.
“Who are you?” Walker aggressively asked.
Bob gulped and backed up a bit as Walker’s grip on his gun tightened. “I’m Bob. I told you, I’m…uh…yeah…Bob”
“Jesus Christ, stop saying Bob.” Walker hissed, and Bob’s posture sank, like a dog cowering with its tail tucked. “Who sent you, Bob?” I frowned at the sudden interrogation. Clearly, this guy was terrified, yet Walker continued his pursuit.
“Nobody,” Bob replied, his eyes unconsciously searching yours before darting around the room. “Why would they send me? Were all of you sent?”
Rolling her eyes, she put her mask back on, drawing all the attention in the room off of Bob. “I’m not sure what’s all going on here, but you’re all exhausting and my job is done.”
“Oh, no, you’re not. You see, my job is watching you,” the blonde woman explained. She raised her gun at the retreating woman. “So no, you’re not going anywhere.”
Walker scoffed. “So you’re watching her, huh?” His eyes narrowed at the blonde woman. “That’s a pretty decent cover for someone stealing from O.X.E’s assets.
You felt your face go pale. Were they all here to stop someone from stealing information? If so, you were cooked.
“I’m not stealing,” the blonde corrected. “She’s stealing,” she said, pointing to the other woman. Her eyes narrowed before widening as if she came to a realization. “Okay,” she dropped her gun to her side. “It’s clear we’ve all worked for Valentina in some kind of Shadow-Ops role.”
“So what?” the other woman asked.
“So…” The blonde motioned to the rest of the room. “All of this is O.X.E’s mysteries, but so are we. Which makes us the unknown liabilities in this…”
You cursed under your breath. Bucky was going to kill you when you got back. If you got out. Your connections were compromised. Valentina knew it was you who discovered and leaked Project Sentry, and like the others, you once worked for her. She wanted you gone, but a public or sudden death wouldn’t do. You were Y/N Stark. Your death would bring attention, but if you died in an undisclosed location, you’d be chalked off as missing. Not like anyone would really come looking. Your family was gone.
“Speak for yourself,” the woman in the white mask muttered.
Walker scoffed, bringing his hands to his hips. “Your theory is flawed.”
The blonde smirked and cocked her brow. Her russian accent getting thicker as Walker got cockier. “Oh, please. Go on.”
“Fine,” Walker stated. “Well, let’s look at the facts. The infamous Ghost,” Walker motioned to the woman with the white mask. “Ava Starr. A SHIELD reject on the run across 15 nations.” Next, he pointed to the dead body on the floor. The one he ransacked without a care, a few moments before. “Dead girl over there, she destroyed half of Budapest.”
“Don’t talk about that,” the blonde said quietly. You noticed the reverence and pity she held in her voice.
“You,” Walker continued, “ Yelena Belova. A former Red Room assassin.” You drew in a breath. Natasha was from the Red Room. Pursing your lips, you wondered if they had any connections. “Only God knows the blood on your hands.”
“Pretty rich coming from a dime-store Captain America,” Ava quipped back.
Walker’s face tensed. “I want you to know I was actually the official Captain America, so…”
“Yeah, for two seconds before you tainted his legacy,” you hissed, pulling all eyes on you.
“You don’t have the right–” Walker began, marching towards you.
You didn’t cower from his menacing aura, standing tall, you met his eye with an unwavering gaze. “Oh yeah?! I’m innocent in all of this. You publicly murdered an innocent man on the streets, do you call that Captain America-esque?”
Walker’s voice lowered. “Look, I’m a decorated war veteran, with a loving wife and son. And if we’re being honest, what’s a girl like you doing in this vault with the rest of us?” He glared at you, waiting for you to waver.
“It’s none of your business, Walker.”
A smile twitched onto Walker’s face. “The little princess isn’t as perfect as she wants us to believe.” You clenched your fist at your side. It was twitching to find a home deep in the side of Walker’s pompous face. Pulling his gaze away from you, Walker turned back towards the others, cocky confidence oozing from his figure. “You guys are just cheap mercenaries, alright? So clearly, I wasn’t supposed to bring you in.”
Yelena’s eyes narrowed at Walker before glancing over to Ava. The two of them shared a smirk before bursting into laughter. “That was funny,” Yelena noted. “Thanks. We needed that.” You watched as Walker’s ego faltered. The sight brought a small smile to your face as the tension in your fist eased.
Suddenly, a foreign laugh joined in from the wake of the women’s laughter. You all turned towards Bob, who had slowly made way around the room before peeping out from behind a cabinet. “It was getting pretty tense in here for a second,” he beamed, playing with his hands. Bob’s eyes scanned the remnants of laughter on the women’s faces before freezing on Walker’s, who made his face fall. Creeping back, Bob returned to his place behind the cabinet.
Shaking his head, Walker placed his helmet back on, tightening the straps. “I’m not leaving here without completing my mission. Valentina gave me a clean slate guarantee, and I’m not going to blow it. But this weirdo–” Walker pointed to Bob, who had made his way back behind you, making you slightly jump out of your skin. Bob gave you an apologetic look before feeling Walker’s eyes on him. You weakly smiled, figuring he felt safer behind you than a metal filing cabinet. You couldn’t blame him. A human shield was more comforting than an inanimate one.
“He wasn’t a part of the job, so I need to know,” Walker stalked towards Bob. Your arm instinctively reached out. Walker barely glanced at you, stopping just short of your arm. “How did you get in?” Walker interrogated.
A puff of air escaped Bob’s mouth as he shrugged his shoulders. His pajamas crinkled around his neck before falling back down across his shoulders. “I don’t remember,” Bob mumbled.
“Excellent answer,” Walker cursed. “Alright,” he said after a pause. “Tie him up.”
“Wow,” Ava chuckled, stepping closer and closer to the doors just as you hissed no.
“Walker, he’s most likely a civilian, caught up in all of this,” You responded.
Walker rolled his eyes. “Just like you were, Ms. Stark?” You tensed at the name.
“Well, goodbye,” Ava said, waving her hand as she phased out of sight towards one of the vault doors. Before she could reach the doors, a deafening screech filled the air. Clutching your ears, you cowered in pain. Just as fast as the sound came, it was gone.
“What the hell was that?” Walker groaned, pushing himself off the floor.
“Oww,” Bob moaned, his eyes blown so wide all you could see were his dark pupils.“Did you hear that?” Bob muttered to you. You nodded your head, rubbing your temple with the palms of your hands.
“I think everyone heard that, Bob,” you mumbled. “God, that hurt.”
“We can’t get out,” Ava said, as she flicked it off.
“No duh, we can’t get out,” You snapped. “Should’ve known when the doors first closed when Bob tried to run.” Behind you, Bob’s eyes flickered down to the ground.
“Sorry, guys,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear.
Twirling around, guilt filled your body. “Oh no, it’s not your fault. You just tried to leave first. It would’ve happened to any of us.” You scanned Bob’s eyes, making sure he understood it wasn’t his fault. “I had a feeling it was going to happen. The energy in the doors was waiting for something.”
“Energy?” Yelena questioned.
You nodded. “Yeah, energy manipulation.’ The other frowned, unsure of what you were saying. You winced, remembering it wasn’t common knowledge. The Avengers took precautions to make sure hardly anyone knew. Those who did were in the know. After all, an ability like yours was powerful and dangerous in the wrong hands. “You know, my ability,” you clarified.
“Can this energy manipulation help get us out?” Yelena asked. You nodded. “Good, you get to work on that then, and the rest of us can–”
“Who put you in charge?” Walker questioned.
You rolled your eyes. “Jesus Christ.” Taking a step forward, you reached for the doors. Your hands came to rest on the smooth surface of the thick metal. Closing your eyes, you felt the energy around you, noticing Bob had come up behind you. Peeking your eyes open, you watched Bob as he observed you while the rest argued behind you. You softly smiled at the intrigue he held for something as simple as putting your hands on a door.
“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you teased. Bob snapped out of his daze and began to profusely apologize. You chuckled, turning back to the door. “You’re good.”
“So–sorry, you just your hands and hair…they were,” his eyes flickered down in a sheepish manner. You glanced at your hands and the strands of your hair that had fallen in your face. “- They glow.” You nodded. They hadn’t glowed before Mind Stone, but now, well, you guessed it was another side effect of dealing with an infinity stone.
“Yeah, I guess it’s a side effect of the energy manipulation.”
“It’s pretty,” he muttered before his brain could catch up. A deep red hue tinted his ears.
“Thanks,” you smiled, turning your focus back on the door. “Keep talking,” you said. Bob froze beside you. “It helps keep me focused. Usually, I have music playing in my ear, but the connection doesn’t work this far down in the ground.”
“O–okay,” Bob said, biting his lip, unsure of what to say. It was always a strange phenomenon. The moment someone asks you to speak, all thoughts of conversation vacate the mind, leaving you wordless. It was a phenomenon that Bob found himself under, so instead, he began to hum a familiar tune. It was twinkle, twinkle little star, but he was cut off before he could finish. The warm yellow lights flickered red. A loud beep thundered. A screen with a timer appeared as the room grew worryingly hot.
“Stark,” Yelena called out. “How’s the door looking?”
“I’m trying, guys!” You tensed. “Manipulating energy is a lot more complicated than it looks.
“It’s an incinerator,” Yelena noted. “Two minutes, then Valentina’s plate is clean.”
Behind, Walker shook his head. “You don’t know that for sure. It could be for anything.” Then, with a more hopeful, slightly delusional tone, he added, “It could be for when they come to pick me up.”
Ava hissed. “You feel that? Temperatures are rising dramatically, like heat is involved? Guess what, that's an incinerator.”
“Well, then, how would you like to get out, Ghost lady?” Walker growled.
“Shut up!” Yelena yelled, and everyone grew silent. “We need to help get Ava through these walls so she can open the door. No offense, Stark, I don’t think you’re getting that door open anytime soon.”
“I’m doing my best,” you hissed.
“I’m not saying you’re not great, just…” Yelena tilted her head side to side before uttering the next words, “...slow.”
“I’m going slow so we don’t go BOOM prematurely.”
“Well, I’d much rather get out of here faster and risk going boom than getting burned alive,” Walker blurted. You shot him a glare.
“Guys, what if we try shutting down the sound barrier. They built it for Ava,” Yelena noted, glancing around the room. “It has to be an independent power source.” Turning to you, she continued. “Stark, can you–”
Sighing, you pulled your hands from the door, closing your eyes already knowing what she was going to ask of you. Beside you, Bob nervously hummed another tune. You softly smiled, telling yourself to thank him later. Focusing on the song Bob hummed, you tuned out the frantic sounds of your fellow captives…? Friends? Whatever you were. “There!” You pointed to a hidden latch in the room.
Quickly, you all dashed to the power source, prying it open. “Can you turn this off, Stark?” Yelena asked you, but before you could reach the power source, Walker came barging in.
“On your left,” and without another word, sparks flew, and the power source flickered out.
“Well, that works,” Yelena muttered, as Ava wasted no time running through the wall.
Together, the remaining of you made your way to the door Ava had phased through. All of you stood side by side, some closer than others. With heavy breath, anticipation built up. The room was getting warmer and warmer. By the time you got out, you’d think the Utah heat would be cold. That’s if you did get out. A thought that passed through all of you. However, Bob was the first to speak.
“You think she’s coming back?”
You clenched your eyes shut. You had to believe she would come back. She would, you kept telling yourself.
“Should’ve seen this coming,” Walker hissed, wanting to throw his shield against the wall.
You glanced to the side. The clock had less than fifteen seconds left. With a blink, the clock was nearing ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. You peered over at Yelena. An expression of acceptance found its way onto her face. Six. You looked over at Bob. His blue eyes reflected the reddish lights that were blaring brighter and brighter. He was terrified, but so were you. Five. Four. Three. You reached out to him. Your hand stopped just before grazing his fingers, realizing your gloves were off. Bob glanced at you and your attempt at comfort, but the contact never came. Suddenly, the door lifted open, and all of you ran. Two. One. Your back burned from the heat of the incinerators filling the room, and the force of the fire sent you flying into the hallway. With a crack, your back hit the opposing wall. Before it went dark, you heard the sound of the door shutting. You had made it out. Ava had come back.
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“Hey, Y/N,” a gentle voice called out to you. It was Nat’s. You whined and rolled over to your side, mumbling to Nat to give you five more minutes. The hand on your shoulder retracted. “Stark,” Yelena’s voice broke out of Nat’s. Frowning, you opened your eyes. An action you immediately regretted as a throbbing headache formed.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” You groaned. Pushing yourself off the ground into a seating position, Yelena sat in front of you with a look of concern and bewilderment on her face. “Are you okay?” You asked.
Yelena chuckled. “I should be asking you that, Stark. You were knocked out cold.” You tried to stand up, and Yelena raised her arms to brace you. “Woah there. Careful.”
“Thanks,” you muttered while coming to a stand. In the corner of your eye, you caught Bob pacing around. He stood hunched over, a hand grazing his lips as he occasionally eyed you all. When he noticed your gaze, he grew quiet.
“Hey Bobby, talk less to yourself and more talking to us.” Walker was marching over to Bobby. You saw the panic that formed in his eyes. Instinctively, you moved yourself in front of him. However, Walker was not having it, shoving you to the side.
“What is your problem, Walker!” You yelled, rubbing your arm from where he pushed you. The Super Soldier serum was no joke.
“Everyone has a reason to be here except this guy,” Walker accused, reaching out to grab the neck of Bob’s shirt.
Quickly, Bob backed away, avoiding Walker’s grasp. With each step Walker took towards him, Bob took a step back until his back hit the wall behind him. “I swear, man, I just woke up in this place. One minute I was, you know, getting…my blood drawn for this medical study, and the next I’m here in my pajamas.” Walker cocked his head to the side not believing a word out of Bob’s mouth. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
That seemed to get to Walker, who paused in his rampage. “Okay, then show me where you woke up.” Bob hesitated, something Walker didn’t appreciate. “Go on,” he urged.
Bob turned his head, pointing to the door that led to the vault that was currently burning to a crisp. “In there.”
“Where everything’s on fire.” Walker rolled his eyes. “That’s really convenient.”
“You don’t remember anything?”Ava questioned. “A bag over your head and a needle in your neck.”
Bob shook his head. “No.”
“A chokehold, nerve pinch?” Yelena suggested. Bob shook his head again.
“Guys, as I said before, I think he’s just a civilian,” You noted.
“If he’s a civilian, he knows too much,” Walker spat with an animosity that you didn’t like. “If he’s an agent, he’s useless. Either way, I say we throw him back into the fire.”
Like a knife cutting through butter, a chuckle left Bob’s mouth, silencing the tension building in the room. You all expressed some form of confusion at his giggles. “You said you’re Captain America?” Bob snickered.
The rage once lit in Walker’s eyes returned at Bob’s laughter. “Why are you laughing?” Walker sneered.
“Because…” Bob was cut off by his own laughter. Taking a sharp inhale, he continued. “Because you’re such an asshole.”
With those words, Walker pounced on Bob, shoving him up against the wall. A threatening glare twinkled in his eye as Bob struggled against him. Suddenly, Walker’s shoulders fell, and you watched as Yelena pulled Walker off of Bob, yanking him away.
“You go over there,” Yelena instructed Walker. “Bob, come with me,” she said, pulling Bob to the side.
Approaching Ava and a fuming Walker, you walked past them towards the elevator. With trembling fingers, you reached out and touched the door of the elevator. Narrowly escaping with your life did little to help calm the nerves that spread throughout your body. Closing your eyes, you searched for some remnant of energy, but you found none. You frowned, opening your eyes to a knowing look from Ava and Walker. Averting your eyes, you peered over at Bob and Yelena. If you listened hard enough, you could make out their whispers, but Walker demanded your attention before you could.
“So you’re saying it’s dead?” Walker exasperated.
“I’m saying, Walker, there’s no energy, not unless I take it from something else and put it into the elevator, but I don’t think you want the whole vault to lose power or one of you to go unconscious.”
Ava furrowed her brows at your comment. “Wait, you can take energy from people? Like us?”
“Every living thing has energy, so yeah, I can take it, but…” You trailed off, looking at your hands. They were bare. A risky choice. Fumbling for your pocket, you pulled out the gloves and put them on.
Walker frowned at the action. “What’s with the gloves?”
“None of your business, Walker,” you hissed.
“Wow, someone’s pissy,” Walker exclaimed as you ground your teeth together.
“Wow, someone’s a dick,” you quipped back. “Maybe use your anger to break down the door to the elevator, so we can get out of here faster.”
“As you wish, princess,” Walker tensed, raising his shield to bash into the door.
“Jesus, you two really hate each other,” Ava muttered.
“Shut up,” you and Walker simultaneously fumed.
Ava’s eyes widened, and she raised her hands in defeat, taking a step away from you two. As Walker dug at the elevator, your attention turned back to Bob. There was something about him, his energy was…different. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but his energy seemed to be overflowing from his body. Even so, you kept finding yourself worrying about him. You guessed it was sympathy and pity. If he really was a civilian, there was no need for him to be dragged into this mess. Shaking your head, you staved off thoughts of the past, your need to be a hero to prove yourself. Looking at Bob, you thought quietly, if you could protect him, get him out of here, maybe you’d have a chance. Maybe you could step into the legacy your family had left behind, and god, there was nothing you wanted more.
Walker’s voice cut through your thoughts as he called out to Bob and Yelena. “Are you two down with therapy?” The two of them turned to Walker, who motioned to the gap he had made in the door of the elevator. “I think I found a way out.”
Slowly, the lot of you climbed into the elevator that was most definitely not built for five grown adults.
“Stark?” Yelena wondered. “Any chance you can get us up?”
You sighed. “Like I told Walker, unless one of you wants to be carried out of here unconscious, we’ve gotta find another way up.” Yelena’s brows pinched together before spotting the hatch above.
“Think you can open that up, Walker?” Yelena asked.
Walker raised his brow, assessing the hatch. “Yeah.” It only took a moment before the hatch opened. One by one, you all climbed up, Walker climbing up last. You all stood too close together for comfort, peering up at the long tunnel above you. It seemed to stretch forever. You pursed your lips, wondering just how far down you all were. For a moment, you thought of your jets. You could possibly fly everyone up one by one, but you don’t know how far down you were and if you’d have enough fuel in the supply to carry two. Shaking your head, you chose not to mention it.
“We’re pretty far down here,” Ava muttered.
“We’ll see about that,” Walker chimed, before jumping up. You all eyed his figure as he disappeared in the darkness, before slowly crashing back down. Grumbling, Walker pushed himself to a stand, ignoring how all of you snickered. None of you had the grace to attempt to hide your laughter. “Why don’t you just go through the walls or whatever and then throw us down some rope,” Walker furiously suggested.
“Yeah, well,” Ava tensed. “First of all, someone else would have to ask me nicely. And second, I have to know where I’m going because I’ve never been able to hold it for longer than a minute. So I’d just get lost in an ocean of earth and then I’d be crushed to death, okay?”
“Oh, shut up,” Walker chastised.
“God this sucks,” Yelena muttered to herself, as you groaned, rubbing the headache from all the bickering away.
Amidst all the arguing and tension boiling hotter and hotter, Bob peered up into the dark. The emergency lights slowly dimmed as he looked higher. Scrunching his nose, he tilted his head to the side before speaking up. “Oh, I have an idea.” You all looked at Bob, awaiting his next words. “Has anyone seen Emperor’s New Groove?”
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Synopsis: One by one, the original Avengers moved on, leaving behind a vast legacy many try to replace. No one feels the burden of that legacy more than Y/N Stark, the adopted daughter of Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers. Trying to find her place in the legacy of her family, Y/N finds herself trapped in a room full of strangers. Can they make the most of their circumstance, or will they crumble under the weight of the world?
Warning: Canon typical violence, angst, fluff, found families, mental illness (mental health is important y'all), character death, talk of depression and loneliness, 2012 Avengers vibes (the eventual goal), (Let me know if I missed any, and of course, it will update)
Author's Note: I walked out of the movie theater having just seen Thunderbolts, and something reawakened in me. I got home and just had to write. I love me some found family with angst, fluff, and a hint of romance. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.
P.S Each of the Chapters will have a song accompanying it, hence the titles. Feel free to give the songs a listen to. :)
Last Updated 6.28.25
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Chapter One: All We Ever Wanted Was Everything - by Bauhaus
Chapter Two: Hayloft - by Mother Mother
Chapter Three: Guns for Hire - by Woodkid
Chapter Four: Enemy
Chapter Five: The Line | Thunderbolts *
Chapter Six: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now
Chapter Seven: Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want This Time
Chapter Eight: Coming Soon!
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Warnings: Grief and Loss, mentions of character death, SPOILERS for THUNDERBOLTS, government abuse, and mentions of tragic back stories (Let me know if I missed anything)
Author's Note: Honestly, this chapter is more like a prologue, which is why it is so short. Anyway, please enjoy this fic. :) (Also not really proofread... I got excited)
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Rain. Pouring rain. It was the kind that thundered against the window with its pitter-patter. This would let your mind fall into a trance, so that when you woke up, you’d wonder how you drove to your destination safely. However, instead of questioning, you’d have to accept the power of the trance of the rain. It was this kind of rain that begins all good stories, or at least that was what you were told. There’s a reason good stories start with “it was a dark and stormy night.” Well, those beginnings aren’t really used anymore, too cliche, all the poets say. Yet it was in the rain that you met them.
The truck driver couldn’t see well and wasn’t a good driver in the first place. Honestly, it was ironic knowing that the government employed him to transport the cargo. One would think they’d at least test their drivers, but you guessed even the government cut corners, hence why you were created in the first place. Project J.I.N.X. was what they called it. The government wanted something that could be a living EMP of sorts. A great tactical advantage when dealing with foreign enemies, especially in a world where Warcraft heavily relied on the technological rather than the physical. You’d never understand the world’s way of war; all fighting against each other when there were bigger threats from outside the planet. It was harder fighting a war alone than together, but you guessed, since the Avengers were there, that the enemies that the world couldn’t fight themselves were left to them. How selfish.
It was this drive to prove they were better that tore you from your parents at birth and locked you up in a testing facility for fourteen years of your life. Time passed slowly in those white lined pristine walls. Initially, there were other children like you, subjected to a life of testing, prodding, and training. You were taught to follow commands, and soon that’s all you came to know. Command. Obey. Command. Obey. Things like Christmas, birthdays, and dishwashers were things that didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Not until you tumbled out of the back of that truck. It was cold and wet when you stepped out. Peering up at the sky, you frowned, wondering where all this water was coming from. It wasn’t a shower head. The ones you knew were small and could barely spit out water, but still, it was all you knew. Soon, you would come to know it as rain. As you stumbled away from the flipped-over truck, the blaring lights of white and yellow blinded your eyes. Screams and sounds of terrified city life screeched in your ears. Glancing down, you noticed how your feet danced around, never walking straight. You had never been outside. Never knew what was out there, still too much of a liability. Before you knew it, there was a woman calling out to you. You squinted hard to see her head of red flaming hair. You stared in awe, having never seen hair like that before. It was…you didn’t have a word for it. Soon you’d realize it was beautiful. It took you a moment to realize she was trying to talk to you, but by then the shock fell over you, drowning your senses, lulling you to the dark.
The news outlets were all over it. A government corruption at its finest. Child slavery and abuse, but their favorite headline of all. Tony Stark adopts a Child, with varying subtitles containing mentions of the Project. From that moment on, everyone who didn’t know anything dreamed of being you: living with the Avengers, living the life of a superhero, and the daughter of Tony Stark. But from the shadows surrounding the spotlight, this life wasn’t a dream, not anymore. Maybe there was a time being Y/N Stark was great, but now, in the wake left by the Avengers, you found it hard to carry that name.
The Avengers. The world’s mightiest heroes. The one who would always be there to protect everyone, yet one by one, they left. Tony and Natasha, ever the heroes, died just that, heroes. Clint, Bruce, and Thor did their best to move on. Steve went back for a life he thought was taken from him, but Y/N, you, had nowhere to go, no past to run to, or purpose to find; you just were Y/N Stark. The girl who had everything, the press had said. A fortune left behind by Tony Stark, a legacy of heroes who raised you, a future brighter than any around, yet as Y/N drove along the rainy roads of New York, she felt nothing but a void. How could she find that future if everyone and everything she had was gone?
It’s called grief, the therapist had told you. It was the first and last appointment you ever went to. No duh, it’s grief. You didn’t need to pay someone to help you with your problems. You already knew where they came from and what they were doing to you. All you needed was to figure out how to get it fixed, to be better, to be like them, the Avengers, the heroes, your family.
The bright screen in the middle of her car’s console flashed to life. Bucky “Bear” Barnes popped up on the screen alongside a green and red button. It was a nickname you had given him long ago, one he hated. Insisting he was nothing like a Teddy Bear, but you were adamant. To the surprise of everyone and to no one at all, teenage determination won. Selecting the green, you brought your hands back to the wheel. Your gloves creaked against the leather of the wheel as your grip tightened.
“What’s up, Buck?” You muttered, flicking on the turn signal before stopping behind the car in front.
A deep sigh echoed through the phone. “It’s de Fontaine.”
“When is it never?” You quipped back. “What’s it now?”
“The hearing is tomorrow, yet she’s–”
“You think she’s gonna pull the plug.” You finished. The street light flickers green. Instinctively, you pushed down the gas and turned down a new road.
“If she hasn’t already. There’s an investigation on her and her ties to O.X.E. Just,” Bucky took a sharp breath. “Just tell me, you’ve got enough evidence.”
Biting your lip, you glanced in the rearview mirror. Her hands expertly twisted the wheel to maneuver the car into a parallel park. “I told you already, Bucky. I don’t have the evidence. I was tipped off by some connections–”
“Any of those connections could help secure the votes.”
“I’m well aware of that, Bucky. I–the connections are too afraid to talk. Valentina, she’s…” You trailed off. Your fingers had removed themselves from the wheel and begun to pinch the fabric of your gloves. “She’s powerful and has connections herself. If she got something like Project Sentry started, she knows how to end it.”
Peering out the window, you watched the passersby stroll along the sidewalk. Some faces you recognized as her neighbors, others remained unfamiliar. It hadn’t been long since you got the information on Project Sentry. People missing, dead, unaccounted for, they were all signs you had seen before. Hell, you had lived through it. Hissing, you peered down at your hands. Your nails had sliced through the fabric of your gloves. Relaxing your fingers, you flexed your hands, feeling the blood trickle from the crescent-shaped cuts. “Fuck,” You muttered under her breath.
“What is it? What happened?” Bucky quickly replied.
“Nothing,” You reassured, shaking her hand. “Just broke another pair of gloves. I’ve really got to fix the ones Dad gave me.” There were magic bracelets, he had told you long ago. They weren’t really magic, just nano-technology that was too advanced for a teen with limited vocabulary and knowledge to understand. Tony had figured out some way to negate the energy drain effects that came with your abilities. “Energy Manipulation,” SHIELD had called it. You remember all the tests they put you through to see what you could do. With just a touch, you’d access the energy in technology. The term “access” was putting it lightly; it was more like a drain. After all, project J.I.N.X. wanted you to be a living EMP, and a living EMP you were. As you trained, your grasp of your ability improved, allowing you to change the flow of energy, redirecting it to open doors and unlock computers.
“Didn’t you break them months ago?” Bucky questioned.
“Yeah, I did, I’ve been busy.” Shuffling the gloves on your hand so that they felt more secure, you continued. “Look, Bucky. We’re not going to get testimonies from the connections. I…I’ll get you your evidence. Just give me time.”
“I’m not sure if we have time, kid,” Bucky added.
“I’ll make time. I’ll find something.” Bucky stayed silent. “I promise,” You said with as much confidence as she could muster.
“Okay,” Bucky muttered. “I trust you.”
“Thanks, Buck,” You replied before ending the call. Heavily, your head dropped to the seat behind you. The leather did little to brace the impact. Taking a deep breath, you opened her car door, jammed your keys into the lock, and entered your home. Tossing the keys into a ceramic bowl on the shelf in the hallway, you trekked to the bathroom, where you began to peel your gloves off. A wince escaped your mouth as the leather tore off the small scabs that had already begun to form. Gently, you grabbed her first aid kit, bandaged her palms, and slid on a new pair of gloves.
“Hey Friday?” You called out.
“Yes, Y/N? How can I help you today?” The artificial voice chimed back.
“Find me everything you can on Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.”
“I have already–”
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you groaned. “I know, I know, just dig deeper. Access whatever you can, bypass all security measures, whatever you need to do…Pretty please?”
“Of course, Ms. Stark.” Friday, chinmed before going silent.
Plopping down onto your leather couch, you sighed with pleasure at your choice of the more expensive couch, as the cushions wrapped around you, welcoming you in. As you lay waiting for FRIDAY’s response, the soft velvety fabric of the couch soothed the stiffness in your back and the aches flaring from the base of your skull. The rain still pounded against the concrete streets and your windows. The sound echoed throughout your home, lulling you into a sleepy trance.
Just as you were about to succumb to the night, FRIDAY chimed above, signalling the completion of your search. Shooting up from your seat, you reached for your pad. Swiping along the data, the frown on your face began to fall more and more. “Nothing,” You hissed, tempted to throw the pad, but instead gently placed it on the couch beside you. “Thanks FRIDAY,” you defeatedly said before pushing yourself off the comfort of your couch in search of a liquid sort of comfort, something you blamed Thor for from all those sips he gave you here and there during parties and late nights. Although the stuff in your fridge couldn't compare to the stuff made on Asgard. Popping the bottle of your beverage, you pursed your lips, wondering if New Asgard has made any attempts at recreating their infamous mead.
Taking a swig of your drink, you wandered back into the living room, opting to turn on the television to add to your distractions for the evening. You flicked through various reality series and documentaries. One of which was about the Avengers. A memorial film of sorts. Narrowing your eyes, you vaguely remember an email reaching out about a statement from you. You declined, of course. It felt wrong to allow others to profit off your grief. Hell, it felt wrong for you to even carry that name, Stark. The one who started it all. The hero who defeated Thanos snapped his fingers and saved the day, all while ending his. With that single snap, he’d never see another sunrise. He didn’t get to see Morgan graduate from Kindergarten. He didn’t know all the nights you stayed by Pepper’s side. He couldn’t see you breaking under the pressure of his legacy.
A deep buzz trembled from your pocket. Retrieving your phone, you peered down at the screen. Slowly, your eyes widened. Your drink had been discarded on the coffee table alongside your breath. Shakingly, oxygen returned to your lungs. It was a location, a string of coordinates to be exact, and a message.
“Here’s your evidence.”
Thank God for connections.
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As of the time of this post, AO3 has been scraped by yet another shady individual looking to make a quick buck off the backs of hardworking hobby writers. This Reddit post here has all the details and the most current information. In short, if your fic URL ends in a number between 1 and 63,200,000 (inclusive), AND is not archive locked, your fic has been scraped and added to this database.
I have been trying to hold off on archive locking my fics for as long as possible, and I've managed to get by unscathed up to now. Unfortunately, my luck has run out and I am archive locking all of my current and future stories. I'm sorry to my lovelies who read and comment without an account; I love you all. But I have to do what is best for me and my work. Thank you for your understanding.
Synopsis: Joel, Ellie, and Piper have all returned to Jackson to start their new lives together as they learn to cope with and heal from the sins that scar their pasts.
Author's Note: TLOU Season 2 is out, and my bones have been itching to revisit these lovely characters, and luckily, the urge won. I don't know how long this fic will be, but I hope to showcase our little family's journey for the 5+ years they're in Jackson. Also, I'd love to hear your input on what you'd like to see from Joel, Ellie, and Piper while in Jackson. I'm running off of pure delusions at this point and am willing to include your thoughts :)
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Chapter One: Coming Soon
More Chapters to follow...
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Part 22 of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221B Baker Street
SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST
Previous
Word Count: ~7.5k
Author's Note: This has been a long time coming. Man the AO3 curse has really gotten to me, but I refuse to let it defeat me. Finally it is done. I've done a few revisions and drafts of this chapter and have come up with something I am finally happy with. I will admit it's not to par with my other works, but it is done. I started my fanfic writing journey with Sherlock Holmes and here I am finally closing a chapter in my book. Hopefully, I'll be back writing again one day, but for now I'm going to take a break and focus on some original works. Anyways, I just want to say thank you for being along for the journey and all the patience you all have had. Without further ado, here it is. The final chapter of Arbitrary Lives.
Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of stalking, Moriarty is a creep, bombs, threats on character's lives, guns, violence, language, Sherlock is Sherlock, murder, canon typical stuff (let me know if I have missed anything)
Fury.
Anger.
Frustration.
No there was not a word for it. Whatever it was it burned through John like an inferno, every trace of his usual calm soaked deep into his pores was now scorched by a searing anger. His face, contorted between emotions as he watched the scene unfold before him. Y/N and Sherlock. Sherlock and Y/N. Once you had stormed out, John was left alone with what boiled beneath the surface. He stood still. Words still flickered through his mind as he sought to find a meaning, a purpose, a reason, but there was none, especially when it came to Sherlock. His friend, however ,that word did not sit right with him anymore. Friend. However, friends don’t do anything close to what Sherlock had just done to her.
Wrath.
Livid.
Irate.
Still, those words were not enough for John as he glared at the tall detective who curled back into his chair ignorant of John’s wrath.
“What the hell was that?!” John roared with a volume that shook the very walls of 221B. His anger echoed deep within the rickety floorboards.
Sherlock’s eyes drifted to the side, avoiding John’s gaze. His long lean arms draped lazily over his chair. Sherlock waved a hand dismissively, his expression unreadable as his eyes finally met John’s. “What was what?” Sherlock muttered.
John swore even Mrs. Hudson who kept the volume of her telly on max could hear the way his teeth ground against each other. His fists were clenched tightly, leaving curved lines embedded into the palms of his hands. “Don’t you dare. You know what.”
Sherlock tore his eyes away from John. Despite Sherlock’s calm exterior, John could see the shift in his blue eyes. It reminded him of a puppy avoiding retribution. The chair beneath Sherlock creaked as he shifted to his seat and assumed his familiar pose of thought.
“No. No, you don’t get to ignore me,” John barked. His voice trembled. “Not after what you did to Y/N.” Sherlock closed his eyes in response. “Sherlock!” John yelled.
Exhaling heavily, Sherlock’s eyes rolled open and upward. This outburst of John’s was an inconvenience. Sherlock knew he’d have to face John’s anger with his decision, but he couldn’t falter. If he cracked. If John saw the breaking of his soul, his heart, he’d lose. This was a game he couldn’t forfeit. He had to protect you. Protect everyone. It was safer to protect his team than let them get taken by his opponent, M.
John’s vision began to blur. He sniffled, sucking in a tight breath. “She loved you,” John’s voice breaking. “She—”
Sherlock closed his eyes, fighting off tears of his own. He knew. He loved Y/N too. She quickly became worth more than his games, his boredom, his everything. Sherlock bit his lip. John needed to stop before he broke through Sherlock’s guise. He needed to–“She was a nuisance,” Sherlock growled, his tone clipped and cold.
The words hung in the air. For a moment, John stood still as if he’d been slapped in the face. Suddenly, his face grew red. John surged forward. His breath came in quick, angry bursts. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare talk about her like that. She’s my friend, Sherlock. Your friend. ..And you destroyed it. You destroyed her. Didn’t you see how you–.”
Sherlock groaned, reaching for the remote to turn on the television. The screen flickered to life, and the volume cranked high enough to drown out John’s fury.
It was the final straw.
“I can’t stand you,” John spat, his voice dripped with venom. He raked his hands through his hair, as his frustration grew with every second of Sherlock’s indifference. “You know what? Forget it. You don’t care.” John unclenched his fists. The palms of his hands ached. Turning over his shoulder, his voice low, John asked, “Does anything matter to you?”
There came no response from Sherlock. Scoffing, John stormed toward the door, his boots heavy against the creaking floorboards. He didn’t look back, unsure if he even wanted to see a reaction on Sherlock’s face. Would he care? Could he care?
The questions clung to John’s mind, gnawing at his thoughts as he descended the stairs. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but something heavier now edged its way into his chest. A weight. A dread. Worry and concern for Y/N coursed through him. He recalled her words about leaving for good. His pace down the rest of the stairs picked up in speed. He didn’t want her to leave. Y/N was his friend. He thought about all the late-night runs for coffee and food, the grocery trips Sherlock refused to attend, and the movie nights where Bjorn would curl onto his lap.
Turning down the hallway, John froze. His breath was trapped deep within his lungs. The door stood ajar, creaking softly as it swayed in time with the faint draft. A warning bell sounded in John’s mind, his instincts honed from years of service in the war–danger. It was screaming at him that something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Y/N?” he called out, stepping cautiously closer. His voice cracked, hoarse and unsteady, the fury from earlier evaporating under the cold, creeping realization that she wasn’t answering.
He pushed the door open fully, the hinges groaned as he stepped inside. The scene that greeted him hit like a punch to the gut.
The room was in disarray, the usual warmth and order gone. Tea had spilled across the floor in the dark, spreading the stain. Beside it, a porcelain cup shattered into jagged shards. A chair lay overturned, the air thick with an eerie stillness.
“Y/N?” he called again, louder this time, desperation threading through his voice. His pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the room. The silence that followed was deafening.
John moved further in, his chest tightening with each step. His practiced eyes noted every detail, his mind cataloging the scene like a battlefield. The overturned chair, the unwashed plate on the table, the scarf she’d left hanging by the door—all signs of a life interrupted.
His breath hitched as a thousand scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the last. He turned sharply, searching for any sign of her, any clue that she was safe.
“Come on, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. “Be here. Be okay.”
The back of his neck prickled. It was a sensation he couldn’t shake, like unseen eyes watching from the shadows. The feeling made his movements more urgent, his hands trembling as he reached for his phone. He needed to call someone—anyone.
But before he could press the button, a sharp, searing pain exploded at the base of his skull. The world tilted violently, the edges of his vision blurring into darkness. He staggered, grasping the wall for balance, but his legs gave out beneath him.
The last thing he registered was the cold, hard floor rushing up to meet him and the faint, acrid scent of something chemical lingering in the air.
And then, nothing.
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the dim, cold light of the bathroom flickering above her. She groaned in pain. Everything hurt. She tried to rub the pain from behind her eyes, but no hands came. Looking up she saw handcuffs. They shimmered under the dull light of the room. The handcuffs dug into her wrists. Red began to swell out from underneath the cool metal. Panic surged through her as she tugged futilely at the handcuffs. However, the chain would not yield.
Glancing around the room, the shapes and colors began to focus. Lockers tall and a pale blueish grey towered over her. They encircled her, save for one opening. Across from her, a familiar figure lay draped against the lockers. His hands, she could see it was a man, was also cuffed to the lockers. As the man’s face became clearer, a new wave of fear coursed through her.
“John?” she called out. Her voice was shaky and hoarse. Leaning forward towards John, she felt bile rise in her throat. Swallowing it, she caved back into the stiff lockers. Tears threatened to burst out of her eyes as memories came flooding back in. The tea. James. Moriarty. Sherlock. The Game. The truth.
Across from her, John groaned. His head was pounding, and each motion his body took to arise from its unconscious state made it throb even more.
“Y/N? Are you—” John began to ask, but stopped upon noticing his new attire. They had seen it before. The bomb. The jacket. Instead of it being strapped to a voice over the phone, it was now attached to him, like a leech.
“John!” Y/N cried out.
“It’ll be alright, so long as we’re smart. We’ll get out.” His words did little to reassure them both.
“Oh my god! I know who M is. Jim is Moriarty. M. My–” Y/N’s voice broke as tears began to flood down her cheeks.
John’s brows pinched together in confusion. “Jim? Your–?”
Before either could say more, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room. The sound sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. Slowly turning her head, she watched as a pair of sleek shoes stalked closer.
“Well, isn’t this a lovely little reunion?” The voice jeered. As her eyes trailed up, Y/N choked on a sob. Her eyes met with Jim’s dark ones. They were alive and terrifying in a way she had never seen before.
“Who the hell are you?” John growled, his body tensing despite the obvious threat strapped to him.
A predatorial grin etched itself onto Moriarty’s face as he spun to face John. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal. And, as it happens, Y/N’s boyfriend.” A sob slipped out of Y/N’s mouth. Jolting his head to the side, Moriarty crept closer to her. His gaze fixed on Y/N. “Oh, darling, you look dreadful. Have you been crying already?” He crouched down to his feet to wipe away a few tears. Y/N flinched as his hands grazed her cheeks, making Moriarty smile. “We’re just getting started,” he whispered in her ear.
“Why…” Y/N whimpered, her voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”
“Leave her alone!” John spat.
“Oh, Johnny-boy, don’t be rude,” Moriarty said with mock disappointment, wagging a finger at him. “Don’t forget there’s a bomb strapped to your chest. And guess who holds the controls? Come on,” Moriarty tormented. “Guess.”
“You,” John muttered.
“Me.” Pushing off his feet, he came to a stand. His shadow towered over both John and Y/N. “Oh, forgive me. I’m being rude,” sarcasm dripped off his tongue. “Why don’t we tell John, how we met?” He twirled his head to look at Y/N. “We go way back. Isn’t that right, darling? Much farther than our adorable little meet-up in the airport.”
Y/N’s eyes widened. Her breath came out in short puffs as she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Jim, stop this. Please.”
Again Moriarty crouched in front of her, his dark eyes gleaming. “Oh, I think John deserves to know the full story. Don’t you? Besides who wouldn’t like a memory refresher?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a sickening whisper. “You’re going to love this.”
Pulling back, he began. “We were friends. Remember those summer holidays. We’d play in the woods? Although, we met long before that. In school. You’d cling to my side. Shared the same class.”
Y/N’s lips trembled as memories flashed before her eyes. No. No this couldn’t be. No.
“Remember dear James?” Moriarty asked before opening is arms up. Y/N paled and Moriarty beamed. “So you do remember. Now can you remember a particular Carl Powers? I’m sure you can.”
Y/N froze, her breath hitching.
“Carl Powers?” John repeated in his confusion. His mind jumped back to the first case the monster before him set them on.
“Ah, yes. Y/N’s childhood tormentor,” Moriarty cooed, his tone dripping with faux sympathy. “Poor Y/N, always the target of that nasty boy. Always so sweet, so helpless. And me?” He grinned, his teeth gleaming. “Well, I couldn’t stand to see her treated that way. Y/N is mine. So I did something about it.”
Moriarty began to pace around Y/N and John. His voice rose with each step. “Oh, how satisfying it was. A pair of stolen trainers, a little dosage of fatal drugs, and a swim in the pool…” He snapped his fingers. “Then, just like that, Carl Powers was no more. All for you, darling.”
Y/N’s sobs grew louder, her head shaking violently. “No… no, you didn’t…”
“Yes, I did,” Moriarty said, almost lovingly. “I made sure you were safe. I sent a little letter to your mummy, didn’t I? Told her what I did for you. But it seems she didn’t like that. And off you went, far away from me. But I always kept an eye on you, Y/N. Always.”
John lurched forward, his movement yanked back by the handcuffs.“Leave her alone! She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want you.”
Moriarty turned on him, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. “Careful, Doctor Watson,” he hissed, his voice venomous. Then, just as quickly, his smile returned. “But I digress. We’re on a schedule, after all.”
He checked his watch, his grin widening. “I’ve got a meeting with your flatmate, John. And you’ll be joining me. But don’t worry, I’ll take excellent care of Y/N once this is all over.” Moriarty stepped toward Y/N, brushing a tear from her cheek with sickening tenderness. She tried to recoil, but the cuffs kept her rooted in place. “You’ll never have to see Sherlock again, darling. Just you and me.” Y/N let out a whimper.
“Say goodbye to Johnny,” he whispered. “We wouldn’t want him to miss his appointment.”
“Please,” Y/N peered up into Moriarty’s eyes for any semblance of the man she thought she knew. “Please don’t do this.”
Moriarty let out a sharp tsk, before motioning for someone. From beyond the shadows of the locker room, a large man dressed in all black stepped out. In one swift motion he had unlocked John’s cuffs and began to haul him out of the room. John began to struggle, but a wave of the remote in Moriraty’s hands stilled him.
“Y/N,” John called out one final time. His voice echoed off the tiled walls and then he was gone.
Moriarty turned back to Y/N, his grin softening into something almost tender. “Goodbye, my love.” He leaned down. His breath ghosted over her lips. Y/N whimpered, clenching her eyes tight and turning her head away. For a moment his breath stayed. A sickening heat that warmed her chilled cheeks. Then with a dull force, he pressed a kiss to her lips. She twisted away, tears streaming, a sickness growing in her stomach, to which he only laughed.
When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She was alone. Chained, broken, and beaten. Y/N was left alone in the silence, with only her sobs for company.
____
The air was thick with chlorine as Sherlock stepped into the pool room, his coat billowing behind him. His sharp eyes scanned the area, taking in every detail: the tiled floor slick with moisture, the faint hum of overhead lights, and the figure standing at the other end.
In his hand, Sherlock held the memory stick high, the faint smile on his lips not reaching his eyes. “Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present,” he began, his voice calm, calculated. “Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance—all to distract me from this.”
A figure stirred in the shadows, and Sherlock stiffened as John stepped into the light, his expression unnervingly neutral. Sherlock cocked his head to the side. His eyes followed John’s stiff and robotic movements.
“Evening,” John said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?”
Sherlock’s blood ran cold. No. It couldn’t be. “John... What the hell—?”
“Bet you never saw this coming,” John continued, his words strange, stilted. His lips moved, but something about his voice was wrong. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “What... would you like me... to make him say... next?”
“Stop it,” Sherlock hissed. He twirled around looking for a sight of another. The true voice behind the commands.
Then John’s voice took on an eerie singsong tone, stopping Sherlock in his tracks. “Gottle o' gear... gottle o' gear... gottle o' gear.”
Sherlock’s jaw clenched, his fists curling. “I said, stop it!”
John’s hands twitched at his sides, his body rigid. “Nice touch, this,” he said, gesturing faintly to the pool. “The pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart.”
Sherlock took a step forward, his mind racing. His eyes scanned John’s body. From the outline in the large coat, he could see the bomb. There was no injury besides the redness of John’s wrist. Each detail Sherlock noted. He’d get John out. He just needed time and time was always something on Sherlock’s side. “Who are you?” Sherlock questioned.
The sound of the door creaking open behind him drew Sherlock’s attention, and an eerie voice cut through the tension like a knife. Smooth and mocking it spoke.
“I gave you my number,” the voice said casually, almost amused. “I thought you might call.”
Out from the shadows concealing a corner of the room, sauntered Moriarty. He wore a grin as sharp as the razor-thin line of his suit. “Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket,” he drawled, “or are you just pleased to see me?”
“Both,” Sherlock shot back, his voice steely.
Moriarty laughed, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. “Jim Moriarty. Hi!” He gestured grandly, his gaze flicking between Sherlock and John. Sherlock made no hint of recognition. It wouldn’t have given him time.
“Jim? Jim from the hospital? Did I really make such a fleeting impression? Although, I suppose that was the point.” He paused, his smile sharpening into something darker. “Or perhaps you know me better by another name: Jim Moriarty. Y/N’s boyfriend.”
The shift in Sherlock’s demeanor was instantaneous as the words struck their way into his ears. For a moment, his icy composure cracked, replaced with raw panic. He took a step forward, his voice trembling with urgency. Pulling out the gun in his pocket her aimed it at Moriarty.“Where is she?”
Moriarty’s grin widened with the success of his words. He reveled in the detective’s show of emotion. “Don’t be silly, Sherlock. She’s safe—Although, I wouldn’t say the same about Johnny-boy.”
Suddenly, a red laser dot appeared on John’s chest, tracking his every movement. Moriarty chuckled, as Sherlock’s aim faltered. “Someone else is holding the rifle, of course,” Moriarty continued, his tone almost bored. “I don’t like getting my hands dirty. But I’ve given you a teeny, tiny glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see… like you.”
"Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" Sherlock’s lips curled in disgust. “Consulting criminal. Brilliant.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Moriarty beamed as if Sherlock had just handed him a trophy. “No one ever gets to me... and no one ever will.”
Sherlock cocked his gun, his voice low. “I did.”
“And you’ve come the closest,” Moriarty admitted, leaning in with mock sincerity. “But now you’re in my way.”
Sherlock’s expression didn’t waver. “Thank you.”
“Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Okay, fine,” Moriarty said with a theatrical sigh. “But the flirting’s over, Sherlock.” His voice rose to a sing-song taunt. “Daddy’s had enough now!”
Moriarty’s polished shoes clicked against the wet tiles as he stepped closer, his smile morphing into something sharp and predatory. His voice dripped with mockery, every word designed to provoke Sherlock to his very core. “I’ve shown you what I can do, Sherlock,” he began, his tone laced with feigned affection. “Cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid—poof!—gone, just to lure you out to play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off.” His grin widened as a glint of malice lit up his eyes. “Although, I have loved this – this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T., playing gay. Did you like the underwear bit? Quite cheeky, don’t you think? And then there’s Jim, Y/N’s boyfriend. That part?” He paused, tilting his head. “That wasn’t pretend. That was real.”
Sherlock’s lips pressed into a thin line, his composure cracking ever so slightly at the mention of Y/N. Internally, he cursed himself. This game they were playing, this game of chess where the players were real, and the stakes were high, he had just sacrificed his queen. He sent her away and got her off the board where the monster could snatch her. Sherlock had led Y/N right into his arms. He thought he had planned it all–a way to win the game and keep everyone safe, but in the end, he lost her. He lost John. Both were now in the clutches of his enemy. It seems they had been for a long time. He was just too blinded to see, to caught up in the game.
“People have died,” Sherlock bit out, his voice low, vibrating with restrained fury.
Moriarty clapped his hands once, the sound echoing in the room. “That’s what people do!” he shouted, his laughter bubbling up, harsh and jagged.
“I will stop you,” Sherlock said, his words measured but heavy with promise. A promise to himself, to her, and to John. He loved Y/N. Sherlock wouldn’t deny it anymore. He wouldn’t deny it to anyone. He loved Y/N. Those simple words, that promise, he’d save her, even if it meant sacrificing everything else. He wasn’t an angel or a hero who’d let the world burn. No, they might say he was. He solved cases and helped people, but he’d let it all burn if he could protect those he loved, forever preserving his haven of 221B Baker Street and the arbitrary lives they lived.
Moriarty’s amusement didn’t waver. “No, you won’t.”
Sherlock turned his gaze to John, his expression softening for a moment. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, let him talk!” Moriarty gestured dramatically. “Go on, Johnny-boy. Say something clever. Entertain us.”
Sherlock ignored him, taking a calculated step forward and holding out the memory stick. “Take it.”
Moriarty glanced at the item with disinterest as if it were a piece of lint. Snatching it out of Sherlock’s hands he peered at it.“Huh? Oh! That!” He waved dismissively, before tossing it into the pool. The water rippled from its impact. “The missile plans. How dull. I could have gotten them anywhere.”
Suddenly, John pounced. His arms flung out and coiled around Moriarty’s neck in an unyielding grip. Then John’s voice cut through the air, urgent and desperate. “Sherlock, run! He’s got Y/N in the locker room, you can—”
Moriarty’s laughter erupted, sharp and cruel. “Good! Very good, Doctor Watson. You’re learning.”`
“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up,” John said, his voice steady despite the danger.
“Isn’t he sweet?” Moriarty cooed mockingly, his tone saccharine. “I can see why you keep him around. So loyal. So... touchingly sentimental.” He leaned forward, his smile widening into a smirk. “But, oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson. Gotcha!”
A new red laser dot flicked onto Sherlock’s chest. John’s face fell and backed away from Moriarty–the red dot unmoving.
Moriarty’s voice dropped, his playful tone replaced with cold menace. “You know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his voice hissing. “Oh, let me guess: I get killed.”
“Killed? Oh no, Sherlock.” Moriarty’s expression darkened, his grin fading. “Don’t be so obvious. I mean, I’m going to kill you someday, of course. But I’m not rushing it. I’m saving it for something special.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “If you don’t stop prying, I’ll burn you. I’ll burn the heart out of you.”
Sherlock’s face remained impassive, but his voice cut like steel. Y/N and John’s words echoed through his head. “I’ve been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” With each word, he spoke the more time he got. Sherlock would speak for as long as needed. He’d save them. He just needed to think. Time to think.
Moriarty’s grin returned, more sinister than before. “But we both know that’s not quite true.” He leaned in closer, his voice turning sing-song. “See, I’ve asked our dear Y/N myself. She told me everything. The little argument you two had? Quite nasty.”
A piercing melody broke through the tension as a phone buzzed in Moriarty’s pocket. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing. Upon looking at the phone, Moriarty pulled back, glancing at his watch. “Well, I’d better be off. Can’t keep her waiting. I’m going to take her far away, and it’ll be just the two of us. Isn’t that romantic?” He gave Sherlock one last mocking smile. “So nice to have had a proper chat.”
Time. He was out of it. Cursing his mind to think, Sherlock found his body moving first. He lunged forward. His aim with the gun was never clearer. Sherlock’s voice was sharp, laced with threat. “What if I were to shoot you now? Right now?”
Moriarty spread his arms wide as if inviting the bullet. “Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.” His grin stretched wider, his eyes gleaming. “I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit... disappointed. And, of course, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long.” His dark eyes motioned to the bright red dots lingering on John and Sherlock’s form.
He gave a mock bow, stepping backward toward the door. “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.”
Sherlock’s voice followed him. “Catch... you... later.”
Moriarty laughed as he exited. “No, you won’t!” The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the empty pool room.
And Sherlock was left standing there, his mind racing, his heart pounding, and the weight of Moriarty’s threats pressing heavily on his chest.
____
Y/N’s wrists burned as she strained against the cold, unyielding metal of the handcuffs. Her breathing was shallow, panic threatening to overtake her, but she forced herself to focus. In her mind’s eye, she could see Sherlock’s face that rainy evening at 221B Baker Street. His sharp eyes had glinted with mischief, but his voice had been calm, almost soothing as his hands encased hers.
“It’s all in the angle. Precision, Y/N. And patience,” he had said, his long fingers demonstrating the technique with an air of effortless confidence.
“Patience,” Y/N muttered under her breath now, though it felt like a cruel joke. The seconds ticked by, each one an eternity, as she fumbled with the trick Sherlock had shown her. She twisted her wrists, wincing as the metal bit into her skin. Her hands were shaking, but she forced them to steady.
Finally, with a sharp click, the cuffs sprang open. She stared at them for a moment, almost unable to believe it. However, relief was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not yet. She rubbed her wrists to soothe the angry skin. Pushing herself off the cold tiled floor, she stood. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her.
The locker room was dimly lit, the fluorescent light flickering overhead, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Her breath quickened as her change in direction twirled the shadows around. Quietly she crept towards an exit. With trembling hands she reached out for the handle. Her finger wrapped around the cool metal. With ease and caution she turned it and pulled it open. Peeking out of the door, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. The hallway stretched out before her. Silent and empty.
Everything felt too quiet as her footsteps echoed off the walls. Every breath and rustle of her clothes was deafening. As she crept forward, every nerve in her body was on high alert. She had made it halfway down the hall when a sudden noise froze her in place.
Boots. Heavy, purposeful.
“Hey!” a voice barked, and Y/N’s stomach dropped. One of Moriarty’s men had spotted her.
Panic surged through her, and she bolted, adrenaline propelling her forward. The hallway became a blur as she ran, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. She could hear the man’s footsteps pounding behind her, his curses echoing off the walls.
Y/N turned sharply, darting into a staircase. Each step she took was like a leap in the air. Her lungs burning, her legs screaming in protest. At the top, she sprinted down another corridor, her mind racing. Think, Y/N. Think!
She spotted a small alcove and dove into it, pressing herself against the wall. Her chest heaved as she tried to quiet her breathing. The footsteps grew louder, then slowed.
“Where are you, sweetheart?” the man called, his tone mocking. “You can’t hide forever.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth, her body trembling. The man passed by, his shadow stretching across the floor. Y/N stayed perfectly still, waiting until the sound of his boots faded.
After what felt like an eternity, his footsteps receded. She waited a moment longer before slipping out of her hiding place, her movements careful and deliberate. She crept down the hall. She had to find a way out, but first, she needed to find Sherlock and John.
When she reached the end of the hallway, the quiet commotion of two voices made her heart leap. Peeking through the windows into the pool room, she saw Sherlock and John. Their figures were unmistakable as John flung off the bomb and vest far away. Relief washed over her, giving her the strength to push the door open.
“Sherlock! John!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion.
Sherlock spun around, his expression hard and calculating, but the moment he saw her, it softened. She was alive. For a moment Sherlock forgot how to breathe or how to beat his heart. Things so innate fell apart at the sight of her.
Y/N ran to him, collapsing into his arms. The tears she had been holding back spilled over as she clung to him.
The weight of her against his body brought him back to life like the shock of lighting that reanimated Frankenstein’s monster. His arms instinctively enveloped her, drowning her figure with his. A wave of relief washed over Sherlock as he held her trembling body. Pulling back, his crystal blue eyes scanned over her. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though his hands betrayed his worry as they roamed over her, checking for injuries. His fingers trailed her skin and the outline of the clothes that adorned her body, stopping at her wrists. Wrapping his fingers gently around her wrists, Sherlock pulled them close. His lips ached to soothe the ache she felt.
“I... I think so,” she managed, her voice cracking. With teary eyes, she peered at Sherlock. His harsh words from earlier all but seemed to vanish.
John approached his face a mixture of concern and relief. “Christ, Y/N. How’d you get out?”
“The... the handcuff trick. The one Sherlock taught me,” Y/N explained, her voice shaky but proud.
John let out a breathless laugh. “Of course. Trust Sherlock to teach you that.”
Sherlock’s grip on her tightened, his jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him. He had been scared—truly scared. He thought he had lost his queen. The most vital piece to his game, to his team. Yet here she was quivering in his arms. She was alive. She was with him and no Moriarty in sight.
John glanced toward the door where Moriarty once emerged. “How about we get out of here before Moriarty decides to come back?”
Y/N nodded, her shaken eyes following John’s line of sight. Slowly, the three of them turned to leave, but before they could reach the exit, a chilling voice rang out.
“Y/N!” Moriarty’s tone was sharp, almost furious. The toxic vileness struck terror deep within Y/N. With trembling hands, she clutched onto Sherlock’s sleeve, grasping the fabric as tightly as possible. She watched as Moriarty’s face softened, becoming almost affectionate. “Y/N, come back, dear.”
Sherlock immediately stepped in front of her, his posture protective. “No,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Moriarty stepped into the room, his smirk sharp as a knife. “Oh, Sherlock. Always so predictable.”
He pulled out a gun, twirling it lazily in his hand. “Sorry, boys! I’m just so... changeable! It’s a weakness, but my only one, I assure you.” Moriarty’s tone turned deadly. “You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t.” He cocked the gun, his smile widening. “Everything I could say has already crossed your mind, Sherlock.”
“And probably my answer has crossed yours,” Sherlock replied coolly, his voice steady as he positioned himself to shield Y/N completely. John followed suit.
“Stop! Jim!” Y/N’s voice broke through the tension. Stepping past Sherlock and John, she raised her arms out in front of them. “Please! If I ever meant anything to you—”
Moriarty’s gaze shifted to her, his expression pooling with the cruelty of obsession. “You are everything, Y/N.” With his gun still raised, he stepped closer to the three. The barrel was directed to Sherlock. He wanted the pleasure of killing him. The others could handle John, and then he’d have her. Just as it was supposed to be. Before he could act, his phone buzzed. Moriarty frowned, glancing at the screen. Whatever he saw made him hesitate. His eyes twitched with annoyance.
“Well,” he said with a forced smile, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “It seems I’m needed elsewhere. But don’t think this is over.”
He pointed at Y/N. “I’ll have you. One way or another.”
With that, he turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing ominously.
The three of them starred, unmoving, awaiting another threat, another attempt on their lives. But nothing came. Their feet ached, and still, they hadn’t moved, even after the red dots faded. It was John who spoke first. “What happened there?”
“Someone changed his mind,” Sherlock muttered. His mind was a wire, prepared to protect and run.
Y/N’s legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, her body finally unable to carry the weight of the fear and adrenaline that had driven her forward. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, the exhaustion suddenly overwhelming. Her mind was too shaken to fully understand what had occurred: Jim was Moriarty, John nearly died, and so did Sherlock, but now they were safe. She wasn’t alone now. Sherlock was there. He always was.
Without hesitation, Sherlock dropped to the floor beside her, his arms wrapping around her as though he couldn’t bear to let go. He pulled her tightly against him, his fingers trembling as they clutched at her like a lifeline. Y/N buried her face in his chest. Her nose filled with his scent, and she thought of one thing only: Home.
John sat nearby. His presence was a comfort on the stiff tiles of the floor. They had survived, solved the mystery, and beat the game. However, the unease never left his chest. What was the cost?
Neither of them spoke at first. There were no words for this—this raw, unspoken understanding between them. Sherlock’s heartbeat drummed in Y/N’s ear, steady and comforting, even though his own breath was uneven. He was afraid, too. They all had been.
They must have stayed like that for an eternity, caught between the relief of being alive and the dread of what they’d just escaped. But eventually, the sounds of sirens and shouting in the distance pulled them back to reality.
The police arrived first, followed closely by EMTs, their presence a blur of movement as they rushed in to assess the situation. John was ushered away. While Sherlock didn’t budge, he held Y/N tighter as medics approached, glancing over at the situation with his typical detached air, but his hands remained protectively around her, not ready to let go.
The EMTs ushered a reluctant Sherlock and Y/N out of the building and into the back of an ambulance with orange shock blankets at the ready. One draped over Y/N’s shoulders, the other over Sherlock’s, and he didn’t refuse it this time. However, the moment he saw Y/N still shaking, he shifted closer, gently placed his blanket over her, his fingers brushing against her skin, and settled it carefully over her body.
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes soft with exhaustion, and a small, tired smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Sherlock's gaze met hers, but the usual coldness in his eyes was gone. There was a vulnerability there now, something raw and honest.
“I’m sorry,” Sherlock said, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it. The words were so rare from him that it felt like the air had changed.
She blinked at him, confused for a moment before her mind caught up with his apology. “Sorry?” Her voice was a soft rasp. The weight of what had happened had drained her of all her strength.
“I... ” he stuttered. His jaw was tight as he struggled with the words. “I pushed you away, thought I could keep you safe, but all it did was put you in more danger. I…I’m sorry.”
Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words settle in her mind. Then, she lifted a hand and gently cupped his face, her fingers brushing against the length of his jawline. “You can’t protect someone, by pushing them away,” she said softly, her voice hoarse from the tears she had shed earlier. “Promise me, Sherlock... never do that again. Promise me you’ll let me in. John too. We’re here for a reason. You aren’t alone in this.”
He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable as his hand cupped hers. He wasn’t alone. A small smile crept onto his face. “I promise,” he murmured, head leaning into her touch.
Y/N managed a weak smile, though there was a sadness in her gaze. “And... I’m sorry too,” she added quietly. “For the cruel things I said.” A small smile shifted onto her face as her eyes peered into Sherlock’s shimmering ones. “Although I know I was right,” earning a chuckle from Sherlock. “But that doesn’t mean I should have said them.”
Sherlock’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, the edges of his usually distant features softening. “You were right,” he said with a hint of amusement, though it was tempered with the weight of everything they had just survived. “You often are.”
Placing her hand to her side, Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound surprisingly light despite everything. Sherlock found himself yearning for her touch.
“Wow, Sherlock admitting I was right. I’ve got to get this written down or recorded so I can play it back later,” she teased. Slowly her tone regained its seriousness. “You know you’ve got a lot of making up to do?”
Sherlock nodded his head. “I do.” As the sound of his voice died, an unspoken feeling settled between them. Their eyes locked, something deeper than just words filling the space between them. Something vulnerable. Something neither of them could deny. Y/N found herself unable to look away. Sherlock drew her in. His faintly quivering lips were chapped and red, and eyes were hesitant.
Slowly, her hand trailed up, cupping the side of his face, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. For a moment, they shared breaths, the air of one sustaining the other. The breaths were warm. Closing her eyes, Y/N savored the moment. They were here. Together. The blood warming the skin beneath her palms grounded her to him. She was alive. She was safe and most of all she wasn’t alone. She doubted she’d ever be again, however, the thought thrilled her. What better way to live life? A new fear pumped into her mind, but she didn’t mind. It was a welcomed one. After all, love is the greatest terror of them all, one she’d give into willingly. A sentiment Sherlock agreed with her on. Bringing her lips up to meet his, the world around them fading into nothingness as they closed the distance. The kiss was tentative at first, as though they were both afraid to move too quickly. But then, as if they couldn’t stop it, the kiss deepened, their emotions spilling out in a way words never could. Y/N’s heart pounded, and she wrapped her arms around Sherlock’s neck, pulling him closer. It was everything they hadn’t said before, everything they had kept hidden for so long, and yet, it felt so right.
When they finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, neither of them spoke. The world outside the ambulance could continue as it would, but at this moment, nothing else mattered. They had survived. And they had each other for the first time in a long time.
In the distance, observing the scene from afar, Greg begrudgingly passed John a 50 quid, one the man gracefully took. After all, he owed half of it to Mrs. Hudson, something he pay up later.
____
After what had felt like a lifetime of interrogations and checks with medical professionals, John, Y/N, and Sherlock, had finally made it back to the familiar comfort of 221B Baker Street. The tension in the air, which had clung to them through the ordeal, seemed to melt away as soon as they stepped inside. The walls plastered with faded wallpaper invited them in, enveloping them in a comforting hug. It was late, the clock ticking toward the early hours of the morning, but none of them had the energy to do anything but collapse.
John had looked at the short distance to his room and the shorter distance to the armchair in the corner. Dragging his feet behind him he sat down in the seat, curling into himself. His eyes closed almost instantly after the chaos, and his steady breathing was quiet and still.
On the couch, Sherlock and Y/N sat together, both exhausted beyond measure. Like John, neither had the strength to move far. Y/N, her body still lingered with trembles from the aftershock of their ordeal, had slipped into Sherlock’s arms, finding solace in his presence. Sherlock wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as he allowed himself to relax finally. Silence, too, overcame them as their eyes closed one after the other.
The room was bathed in soft, golden light from the flickering lamps that cast gentle shadows on the walls. Quietly, Mrs. Hudson trekked up the stairs. A hushed creaking followed in pursuit as her soft slippers barely made a sound on the floorboards. She peeked into the room, her eyes softening as she took in the sight of the three of them. She had always worried about Sherlock, but seeing him like this—so still, so uncharacteristically at ease—made her heart swell with a quiet sense of relief. And then there was Y/N, nestled against him. Mrs. Hudson’s smile grew bigger thinking of the money John now owed her, but she’d collect her payment later.
Mrs. Hudson paused momentarily before moving to the cupboard and retrieving the thick, woolen blankets from the shelf. She carefully draped one over John, who stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Then, she moved to Sherlock and Y/N, gently placing a blanket over both of them. Sherlock shifted a little, pulling Y/N closer to him.
As she finished covering them, Mrs. Hudson turned to look at Y/N’s cat, Bjorn, who had padded silently into the room and was now perched beside her, watching the scene with his usual quiet curiosity. His normal distaste for Sherlock faded. There was always the morning to resume one’s hatred for a lanky detective.
"Come on, Bjorn," Mrs. Hudson murmured with a soft smile, her voice filled with affection. "Let them sleep."
The cat meowed softly in response as if agreeing before strutting over to the rug and curling up into a ball, content in the warmth of the room. Mrs. Hudson took one last glance at the trio before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving them in their peaceful slumber.
The flat was still now, the hum of the city outside barely audible as the sounds of soft breathing and steady heartbeats filled the space. For once, there was no danger, no threat looming. Just the quiet comfort of being home and the solace of their arbitrary lives as the occupants of 221B Baker Street.
____
THE END
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