#thunderboltsvoid

Regardless, you don’t drop by the tower often after that. Every once in a while you would pick something up from Bob, or hang out for a few hours if he wanted company. Most of the time everyone would just go to your apartment. That drew less suspicion to you, and it let them feel free of Valentina’s clutches.

Oftentimes you’d come home from school or work and someone would be sprawled out on your couch. Or banging pots and pans in your kitchen. You’ve even caught Yelena filling up your tub for a bubble bath - twice!

So when you come home to your apartment and hear some chatter and obvious movement, it doesn’t raise suspicion. A little bit odd that more than one of them would come at the same time, but maybe someone was just getting ready to leave when another was heading in and they got to chitchatting. 

Not like they didn’t have all day to do that. Y’know. Because they live together. But you digress.

“Hey! You guys planning on staying for dinner?” You’re placing your keys and grocery bags on the counter, trying to peek around the corner so you can get a feel for how many extra portions you’d need.

You get silence as an answer. It means that they heard you, otherwise the chatter would have continued. Why wouldn’t they respond then?

You’ll give them a few minutes. They wouldn’t act this way without good reason. To fill your time you start putting the necessary foods away, keeping the ones you were going to use on the counter.

A huff leaves your lips. They can’t barge into your house, expect you to cook for them, to entertain them, and not speak to you. You’re a woman on a mission, marching out of your kitchen with your jaw set in mock seriousness.

Then you’re catching the butt of a gun to your temple, and crumpling into the man on your left. You can barely see him, vision starting to fill with black dots.

Who was he?

When did he get in here?

Who hit you?

What’s happening?

Then you’ve faded completely. Full ragdoll on the man, a bit of blood running down your face before it can soak into your hair or the man’s shirt.

—

It’s been a busy week for Bob. He’s been training with every member on the team. Each of them have something different to teach him and his want to be useful leaves him like a sponge in the ocean. 

If he’s not training, he’s in therapy. He’s hoping, believing, that if he gets himself sorted out then he’ll be able to go out and be the Sentry. It’s been pretty helpful for normal things too though, aiding him in not feeling like everyone is going to up and abandon him one day. Really giving him a sense of purpose, you’ve been doing that too though.

If he’s not doing either of those things, he’s working on his cooking skills. The two of you had gone on a date last month where you learned to make pasta from scratch. You were overjoyed, even if it looked and tasted a little wonky. He wanted to see what you’d look like when he made it perfectly, like a real chef.

The team wasn’t too upset. Maybe too much pasta for their liking, but Bob changed the sauce and protein every time so it didn’t get exhausting to eat.

Now that he has some time to think about it, he hasn’t seen you at all this week.

He wasn’t too worried though. You had exams coming up, you had reminded him of it last week. When you had exams you tended to shrink into your own personal bubble, not wanting a distraction to prevent you from getting the best grade possible. Maybe he’d stop by and bring you a dessert, something to reward you for all your hard work.

“Where are you going Bob?” Yelena asks, not even looking over the back of the couch she’s lounging on.

“To visit Y/n.” He’s facing her even though she’s not looking at him. Something’s been up with the team this week and he can’t seem to get it out of anyone, “I’m gonna stop at the bakery by her place, get her a slice of the cake that she likes.”

“Oh - That’s sweet.” Bob’s nodding along, Yelena turns before she finishes, “But no can do.”

“No… can do?” 

“Yes. Right. No can do.”

“Why not?” You’re his girlfriend, there’s no reason that he shouldn’t be able to go see you when he wants. You haven’t even explicitly said you didn’t want to see him. Unless you told Yelena to keep him away?

“I just do not think it would be good to distract her from her studies.” Yelena’s jutting her lips out a little as she nods along to herself, like it’s the best thing she’s ever said.

“I won’t be there long. She shouldn’t be studying this late anyway.” Then Bob’s pressing the down button for the elevator.

Yelena can’t stop him without raising uncertainty in Bob, she’s backed into a corner. Either let him go and let him see the empty apartment where you should be. Or tell him that when Ava went by earlier this week she was greeted with an empty apartment, spoiled food on the counter, and a note left behind demanding that some criminal be released from prison.

Either way the risk of the void being unleashed was imminent, the only difference was the location; unleashed to the public or unleashed in the tower. Neither choice was good, the team still incapable of fully subduing the void in a normal sense. But they were the Avengers, they needed to take these hits.

So Yelena stops him. Drags him to the dining table and tells him to stay. Then she’s rounding up the rest of the team so they can all break the news to him together.

Since she stopped him, it’s her responsibility to break the ice, “Y/n went missing a few days ago.” 

“I-I don’t understand.” A skeptical look overtakes Bob’s eyes, “What do you mean went missing?”

“I went by to watch that Mormon wives show with her a few days ago and she was gone.”

“So she was out. Running errands like a normal person.” Bob moves to get up. This is ridiculous, no need to stress him out.

“No. There were groceries left out on the counter. And - and a note. Saying they took her to make a deal.”

Bob’s eying everyone up. Trying to figure out if this is some sort of prank and if anyone will slip and say that they were just testing him, trying to make sure he could control himself. 

When Walker, of all people, gives him a look of sympathy he knows its not a joke.

“So did you do it?” 

“Do what?”

“The deal. Did you make the deal or not.”

“Not yet. We were trying to keep the asset in prison and get Y/n out but we haven’t got the exact coordinates to her whereabouts yet.”

Ever the congressman. All about diplomacy and doing things the right way. If it was someone he cared about Bob is sure Bucky would have been trying harder. 

“Show me.”

“The file? We can’t Bob. It’s too risky, especially because nothing's official yet.”

He’s lucky that his hands are below the table, fingers starting to get encased in black. His eyes are downcast too, as long as no one looks too deep they wouldn’t be able to see the way they’re flashing gold. 

He’s competent. He’s been doing good. Going to therapy. Training. Setting himself straight. And they, his supposed family, couldn’t even tell him that his own girlfriend went missing? That she was being held for ransom?

“I just want to look. A fresh set of eyes never hurt.” He’s doing his best to keep his voice level. Doing all he can to not allow anyone to know the turmoil he’s truly going through. 

The tension could be cut with a knife. Every member looking at each other, doing their best to communicate telepathically. To figure out how many of them really trusted that Bob wouldn’t go ballistic, that he could just assist like he was trying to make them believe. 

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right Bob.” It’s Yelena. Always trusting in him, always being his number one supporter. “We’re sorry that we doubted you.”

He doesn’t say anything, just shoves his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and follows them down to the briefing room. He goes through all of the information fast, as it’s spread around the digitized walls.

The main thing he cared about was the suspected location, and who took you. There’s no for sure ID on your kidnappers. They knew exactly how to evade the cameras, either that or there was someone helping them become invisible. 

He didn’t mind sending everyone in that facility to the void though. It’s what they deserved.

He plays it off cool. He’s got a ‘level head’ and really did his best to come up with valid input. Everyone seems to truly believe that he just wanted to help by the end of their discussion. 

Bob lets out a yawn. Not too loud - then it’d be obvious he was faking. But loud enough to draw some attention. Then he rubbed his eyes, pressing the pads of his fingers to the inner corners and rubbing outwards. Followed a few minutes later by blinking for a few seconds, then trying to hold his eyes open wide to the point that they couldn’t close.

When he knows that everyone has seen him exhibit signs of being tired at least once, he excuses himself. He’s just ‘much too tired to be any real help’, and they all understand. It must be a lot for him to comprehend, a lot to take in unexpectedly. They let him go with no resistance, and he couldn’t be happier. 

As the last light went out, and everyone had been confirmed to be asleep he would leave. Well to be correct - Void would leave. Bob was working on coming to an understanding with him because of you, so he would do Bob a favor and bring you back.

Any shadows left in his wake, those were at the fault of the Avengers. They should have told him right away, or done their job properly.

—

Your sense of time was distorted. The only light you have is a single lightbulb, far beyond your reach. Guards coming in specified intervals, either to bring you sustenance or to try and interrogate you. 

It was always the same routine - Guard comes in, questions on how you know the Avengers, questions on their weaknesses. There weren’t any questions today though.

A guard you’ve never seen before steps into the cell. “We’ve been nice. You understand that right?”

You nod, smart enough to not provoke him. Even if everyone knows kidnapping someone isn’t considered ‘nice’.

“You’re comrades haven’t been as nice. Seems they need some… Motivation.”

“They’re not my comrades! We’re just friends, and I wouldn’t even call us that! They don’t tell me anything anyway, it’s all confident-” you’re cut off by the back of the man's gloved hand. You can feel the bruise forming on your cheekbone. 

“Keep sayin’ that. Hasn’t gotten you anywhere yet, maybe tomorrow’ll be your special day though.”

A couple more guards filter into your cell. One goes behind you, the other waiting by the door, something underneath his armpit that you can’t identify, “What’s your dominant hand sweetheart?” 

“M-m-my left.” He couldn’t be asking for any good reason, lying seems like your best choice. 

“Bullshit, you always eat with your right.” Then the man from the doorway is closing in on your right side, placing a wooden board beneath your hand and splaying your fingers out.

You start to thrash, trying to jerk your hand out of his grasp before your biceps are grabbed by the guard behind you. “What are you doing?”

“Told you. Your friends need motivation.” He flips out a switchblade, “Usually an appendage is enough. Won’t take nothing too important.. Yet at least.”

“No, no, no, no. Let me talk to them. Please.” You’re still thrashing, hoping that by some act of god or any higher being, you get enough strength to free yourself, “I-If I could talk to them I’m sure they’d get you whatever you’re asking for.” 

His tongue clicks, head tilting side to side as if he’s in thought. There’s hope! He’ll bring you a phone, you’ll talk to Yelena, or Bucky, or even Bob, and they’ll get you out of here.

“Nah.” 

What does he mean ‘nah’. He’s really going to cut your finger off? For what? Because you don’t know the Avengers personally enough for him. Come on, you work in a bookshop for Christ's sake.

He’s lining up the cut when everything goes dark. You can still feel the other two grips on you, so it must be some electricity issue, but the grips went a little slack when the lights turned off. 

You throw your head back, connecting with something behind you - probably a nose from the crunch you heard. Then you’re taking your left hand, shoving it in the direction you think the head of the man holding your right arm down would be. Connecting with his face you look for his eyes, pushing inwards as much as possible when you locate them.

You’re stumbling through the room, trying to stay as silent as possible. The entire compound erupted in chaos when the lights went off. People trying to figure out what happened, who’s to fault, how to get the lights back on. 

The noise allows you to creep out of your cell. Pressing your back against the wall you try to move in only one direction, hoping it will lead you to an exit.

On your way around a corner you hit something. It’s solid, so you don’t move. Praying it’s a file cabinet, just a weird divot in the wall, even a fridge. But then it inhales, and you move with its chest.

When you look up to assess the damage you’ve just done, you’re met with two pinpoint white eyes. You’d think you were hallucinating them if they didn’t seem to track over your face, like they were assessing you.

“Stay here.” It’s a command, not a statement. His voice is deep, sort of gravely or raspy. His arms grasp your biceps, nothing like the last person who held you like this. It’s soft, gentle, like you mean something. He’s maneuvering you however he pleases, pushing you into a sitting position in the corner.

Then you hear footsteps, fading away in the direction that you came. 

The noise progressively gets quieter and quieter. Surprisingly, there’s no gunshots, no grunts or groans, not even thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Eventually, there’s complete silence, not for long though, soon there’s footsteps heading in your direction.

You keep your head down. You hope it’s whoever put you here, whoever told you to stay, but there’s no guarantee. Better to be safe than sorry.

There’s a hand lightly brushing your shoulder, “You hurt?”

A small sigh leaves your mouth, recognizing the voice as the same one from before. Hearing it again brings an odd sense of familiarity to you. “N-No.”

“Good. I’m going to pick you up.”

Before you could deny, informing the man that you were perfectly capable of walking yourself, you’re in his arms. It’s dark outside, not like anything you’ve seen in the city. No lamp posts, no buildings, nothing supplemental to aid the stars in lighting the sky.

You can see more than in the building though. The fingers that are gripping the back of your knee and your bicep are black. More black than humanly natural, like a tar. Maybe it was just spandex gloves over your saviors suit?

You look to the left and quickly realize you’re mistaken. The entirety of this man is black. Like he was drenched in it, no part of him free from it. His pupils are white, the only indication that you have that he’s got thoughts going on in his head. 

He takes off, bursting into the sky like a rocket. You assume this is how he got here, but you would have thought he would be more considerate considering you have minimal clothing on. 

You wouldn’t complain though. While the Avengers, your friends, had left you high and dry this man came and saved you. You’d forever be grateful. 

There’s plenty of time to stare at this man during your flight. Quickly, you’re able to identify him. Or at least you assume you can. He has all the same features as your boyfriend.

Same cheekbones, same nose, same jaw, same hair. Did Bob have a twin that he was hiding from you? 

Oh.

Wait.

Was this the void? The one who sent you to that shame room all those months ago? The reason you avoided Bob in the first place?

If he senses your turmoil, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t talk at all actually. You’d think it bothered him to save you, but his fingers are digging into you. Not enough to be painful or bruise, but enough to make sure that he never lost focus, never risked you being dropped.

You’re flown back to the Watchtower, directly into Bob's room. You’re placed gently on the bed, sitting on the edge. The void gives you a once over one last time before the darkness is receding. It flows down Bob’s body, as if there’s a drain on the floor and it’s all flowing downwards to it. 

After a couple of seconds Bob’s eyes shoot up. Surprise overtakes his features, “Y/n?”

“Hi Bob.”

“Oh my God. What happened to you?” His fingers are ghosting over the bruise on your cheekbone, then they’re making their way over to the scabbing on your temple.

“Uh - A lot. Yeah, a lot.”

“Let’s get you to the med room. You gotta get patched up.”

You shake your head, moving a bit in his firm grasp, “I just want to shower and sleep. If that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah of course that’s alright. We’ll get you patched up in the morning.”

Bob wanted to know what happened, everything that happened. Wanted to know how you got here, who took you, what really happened in your apartment. But if you wanted to shower and cuddle up in his grasp for the rest of the night, he wouldn’t deny you.

When he woke up before you, heading out to get you a cup of coffee and some waffles, the rest of the team cornered him. Asking him how he was feeling, that’s when he remembered that he essentially faked exhaustion to leave the briefing room.

They informed him that an underground facility was found this morning, some unknown source tipping off local authorities. Inside they found tons of information on a terrorist group, no one to guard it however. Only shadows plastered to the ground, unable to be smudged or wiped up. 

Bob raises the mug he’s carrying in mock toast on his way back down the hall to his room, “Not sure how that happened, I do wanna get back to my room before Y/n wakes up though.” 

You could answer their questions later. Figure out some therapy probably too. Right now though Bob wanted you to rest. He was sure that you weren’t able to for a long while, so he’d make sure you stayed undisturbed until you wanted to wake. 

Even though the Void has always been a burden on him, making his life hard, miserable even. Bob couldn’t help but believe it was growing, changing into a better force. The one who could do the hard things when he couldn’t. The one who was able to dish out the proper judgement. A true blessing in disguise.