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It had been a month since Valentina had trapped them together, in this neo superhero team that fell apart as the press further wormed their way into the many holes in their collective stories. Everything balanced on a knife's edge, swaying under the immense novelty of this new team. Not a one of them was clean enough to lose the interest of the public eye, as one story died down five theories sprung up in its place, like a hydra of prying snake heads.
Yelena huffed at the metaphor, a hydra was definitely what the public thought of when they saw Bucky. He had done well for himself, pursuing politics as a new way to keep peace, Yelena would never understand his reasoning there. Even so, all the good he could possibly do couldn’t make everyone forget, the deaths even if they weren’t necessarily by Bucky would never be forgotten. Something tortured and aching always throbbed in her throat when she saw the tabloid headlines, indeed like a hydra there would never be a day without opposition. Still Yelena liked to believe the world had grown bigger around it, so even if it had to be there Bucky would hopefully encounter it as rarely as possible.
Yelena thought she knew what kind of person Walker was. He had taken orders like the soldier he was for years, accomplished many feats of valor in the army, but outside of that he had fallen into a self deluded warpath of revenge. He had aimed his wrath without hesitation on an innocent, no matter how he had tried to justify it in that courtroom. Yelena had thought she understood what kind of danger he posed, an ignorant, entitled danger. a force of fury that would rather mow down a whole army of innocents than to leave its friend “unavenged.”
He had surprised her in many ways since they first met in that basement, as a person he seemed to be located slightly to the left of that fury, not entirely disassociated but certainly a calmer inferno, he was not as blinded as before. He had saved their group of misfits, he had let them fall but he had caught them in the end. Still Yelana mostly held him at arm's length, hoping with an intensity that surprised her that he hadn’t just saved them to support his survival.
Ava Starr was an even more complicated issue. Yelena was still even now grappling with Antonia’s death, she felt equal parts glad and devastated that she was gone. There was kinship between her and Dreykov’s daughter that came from being in the same neighborhood of child assassin and seeing a story so similar to her own end like that haunted Yelena. But Yelena didn’t know Antonia, not really, not enough to truly mourn.
In the same way she didn’t know Ava, she knew of her illness, her powers, but not her. There seemed to be a wall no matter how small between them, it was yet another surprise to herself that she found herself wanting to tear it down.
And then there was Bob, the Sentry, the Void, all of him. Yelena knew him like he had been there with him that day in the forest, he had in a way been in a version, a memory, of those woods. He saw the tree monolithes, the stark snow, the terrible stillness, and he saw what she did. The echoes of her apology reverberated with new volume since that day, but Yelena could and would not blame him. She had seen what had made him who he was too, had peaked through the floorboards with shaking child hands with him, and had flinched at angry voices with him. They were strangers in every rational way, but those rooms had left their mark, and now Yelena knew she would never truly consider him a stranger.
It was too late to be thinking about all of this again. Yelena groaned as she turned over in her bed, looking at the clock. It was 4AM, she blinked stupidly and flung her covers off with contempt, she wouldn’t stew in this bed all night. Best to do it in the kitchen like an adult. She zipped up her hoodie as she made her way through the halls of the Watchtower, it still felt like a hotel to her and she paused for a split second as she got her bearings. She would make tea. She would make tea and drink it and everything would be better. Yelena walked towards the kitchen and noticed a faint light. She was not alone in her insomnia she supposed.
She turned the corner and sighed through her nose as she saw who was also up at this truly late hour. Bob was in front of the sink and Yelena watched as he turned the faucet on, why would he want to do dishes so late in the night?
“Ahh… Bob?” Yelena began.
Bob jumped so violently that the sponge he was using lept out of his hands and splattered water all over the cabinet doors.
“Shit! Bob! I am so sorry!” Yelena spluttered out. “I will clean that, here, towel.”
“Oh goodness it's okay really, you just got the jump on me.” Bob interrupted. “No harm done really.”
Bob cleared his throat awkwardly as he took the towel Yelena offered. Despite the surprise Bob seemed off, his brow held a tension that spoke of reliving something. Yelena considered how to start the conversation as they helped each other dry the splatters of water.
“Bob, is ah… is everything okay?” Yelena finally started.
“Uh… can we say I just wanted a glass of water?” Bob blanched.
“How many dishes does one need to wash just for a glass of water?”
“Alright yeah, not just water.”
“Okay so?”
Bob fidgeted with his damp towel, looking trapped and soggy.
“Look okay, we don’t need to talk about it.” Yelena relented. “I came down for tea so I will make us tea.”
Bob seemed to crumple with relief as Yelena began bringing out the tea supplies. His silence didn’t last long however.
“What’s that?”
“This?”
“No uh… the genie lamp looking thing?”
“Oh that, that's a самовар.”
“Oh! Uh… and what does a samovar do?”
“It's for the tea, like ah… like a kettle.”
Bob continued to pepper her with questions regarding tea and its brewing as they waited for the cups to steep. Yelena expected to be annoyed but that feeling never came, it just felt good to talk to someone about something so mundane.
“It's not that mundane really, I think it's really interesting…” Bob cut in.
“Wha-” Yelena croaked.
“Oh my god I'm so sorry sometimes I just hear stuff.”
“You… you can read my mind?”
Yelena shivered, despite what happened in the shame rooms she still cringed at the thought of someone having such open access to her mind, and her past.
“I don’t think that's what it is, I pick up on feelings mostly.” Bob blushed. “It's normally easier to ‘hear’ negative things though…”
“And you can do that without… without the…”
“Uh yes, yeah. Without losing control…”
Yelena pressed her lips together and inhaled. They still didn’t understand much about Bob’s powers, on account that using them may be a trigger for far worse things. Yelena wondered if the powersets were as evenly split as they first believed or maybe things just bled over from either side.
“This is really good!” Bob said as he sipped his tea. “What's in it?”
“Cinnamon, and vanilla, with chamomile. It's herbal so maybe you can sleep.” Yelena answered.
“I don't really think I'll sleep anymore tonight. There's uhm… a lot of… feelings, tonight.”
“You… you hear everyone's feelings? Right now?”
“I mean, yeah? It's a lot of nightmares and insomnia. So really nothing new… to me at least…”
Yelena winced in sympathy at Bob’s rueful smile.
“Have these feelings, have you always been able to hear them? Since the vault at least?” Yelena asked gently.
“I mean… yes and no? It sort of comes in cycles.” Bob explained. “Some Days I'm just my feelings and then sometimes I can just, know… know what everyone else is feeling.”
“Can you do anything else? On those days?”
“No. no… no shadows, no anything. I think, I think it's sort of natural you know… feels like a pattern again.” Bob continued noticeably shrinking into himself. “I think. I think if I tried to push it, my powers I mean. Those days might also get more… more intense.”
Yelena rested her hand on Bob’s shoulder gently. “No one is asking you to, and no one will, you are doing enough by just being here.”
Bob looked up into Yelena’s eyes, his own going glassy. Yelena panicked as he began to cry.
“I’m- I’m sorry… I don't mean to panic you really, I don’t know why I’m crying…”
Yelena pulled his hands away from his face gently. She pulled him into a long hug, feeling tears wet her cheek as she rubbed circles into his open palm.
“Don’t apologise for tears Bob.” Yelena half whispered. “They are the same as blood. A response to hurt, to change. We don’t apologize for bleeding so we won’t for tears.”
Her sudden wisdom caused Bob to cry harder, shoulders heaving silently. Yelena kept hugging him, kept drawing circles on his palm. They would be okay. It was hard but they were together and so nothing could truly harm them. The line of thought Yelena was trying so hard to project seemed to soothe Bob slightly, the tears stopped and Yelena waited as his shuddering breaths calmed.
“Y-Yelena I… thank you…” Bob stuttered.
“Thanks are also unnecessary, anyone would have done the same.” Yelena deflected.
“Yeah but, you did do it. You did help me.”
Yelena’s eyebrows raised as Bob hugged her back. She didn’t hesitate much before resting her arm around his back.
“It's so good to have… people. To have friends.” Bob whispered in a wondrous tone. “I, I’m so much happier than I was before, I mean. Things are still bad but. It's Bad for all of us.”
“Does it make it easier?”
“No, not easier… just better. Like I have more room to be sad and more room to be happy. I'm not as cramped up with it anymore, I can… stretch… further and further everyday.”
Yelena hummed as Bob backed away. She considered the conversation as they watched the first rays of dawn illuminate the dining area. The tea was lukewarm, not hot enough to feel it in her ribs, but thinking back on Bob's words Yelena supposed it didn’t need to be. Yelena supposed nothing had to be just right all the time, she closed her eyes and exhaled through slightly upturned lips.