The Ghost I Left Behind - V

The ghost I left behind - V

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Word count: 11.4k

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Y/N's pov

Y/N woke with a jolt.

The pavement beneath her was cold, even through her coat. For a moment, her vision spun—bright lights above, blurred figures running, shouting. Her lungs burned like she'd just surfaced from deep underwater, and her ears rang with the echo of something… distant. Something awful.

She sat up slowly, disoriented. This was New York. The same street she’d been on before everything turned. The clinic was gone from sight now, swallowed up in the chaos of the crowd. People were rising to their feet, groaning, dusting themselves off, confused like her. Some cried. Some screamed. Others simply wandered aimlessly, eyes blank.

Where was Bobby?

Her head turned frantically, searching for his face, scanning over strangers and shadows. “Bobby?” she croaked, but her voice was swallowed by the noise. She stood up too fast, staggered, and her hand flew to her stomach instinctively.

The baby.

Her heart thudded. She reached into her coat pocket with shaking hands—and her fingers brushed glossy paper. The sonogram. It was still there. She pulled it out and held it tightly in both hands like it was the only thing grounding her to the earth. The tiny smudge in the picture—the tiny life she was fighting for—was safe.

She let out a breath that was halfway to a sob. Then, as if sensing her distress, her baby kicked—just once, firm and clear—and her hand flew to the spot, cradling her stomach.

“I know, baby,” she whispered, voice cracked and full of ache. “I know. I’m here.”

But was he?

Where was Bob?

She spun around again, more desperately this time, her hair falling into her eyes. “BOBBY?” she yelled now, throat raw. “BUCKY? YELENA? ANYONE?”

No one answered.

No one familiar.

Just the blaring of distant sirens, the hum of helicopters somewhere overhead, the sound of feet on pavement and confusion bleeding through the city.

Her body moved on its own, staggering toward the sidewalk. Her legs felt like jelly. Everything felt heavy. The smell of smoke and dust lingered in the air, and the ground vibrated faintly under her feet, like the world was still shaking from whatever had happened.

She reached a low wall and sank down slowly, curling in on herself. The sonogram fluttered in her fingers like a fragile leaf. She ran her hands over her stomach again, more gently this time, as if to reassure herself for the hundredth time that her baby was still okay. The thought of losing him, especially after everything… It was too much.

Her hand slipped into her coat pocket again and pulled out her phone. Cracked, screen flickering with life. She stared at it, willing it to work. Willing someone—anyone—to call. But there was nothing. No messages. No Bob.

Was it even real?

Her mind flashed back—violent and disjointed.

Bob’s face twisted with pain, his tears, the blood on his knuckles as he beat the Void senseless. The sound of Yelena’s voice calling out. The feel of Bob’s hand in hers. His voice: "You are… everything." The sudden pull, the blinding light—and then waking up here.

Was it just another illusion?

Was he really there, or had her mind played the cruelest trick yet?

Her lips trembled, and she buried her face in her hands. She tried to stay strong—for the baby, for herself—but the silence was deafening. The uncertainty unbearable.

A whimper escaped her throat.

Her back pressed to the wall, her arms curled protectively around her belly, and she let the grief unravel. Grief for the confusion, the fear, the loss, the aching not knowing. Grief for Bobby—if he was even real—if she had ever really had him back.

The baby kicked again. She smiled through tears.

“I’m still here,” she whispered. "I’m still here.”

Her breathing slowed, just enough to hear the trembling silence in her chest.

Y/N wiped at her cheeks with the sleeves of her coat, rough fabric against soft skin, not that she noticed. Her eyes burned.

The people around her had mostly cleared out. Sirens were growing distant. Police were trying to direct people away from the chaos, medics calling out for injured civilians. But none of them were for her. No one looked for her. Not even the team.

Maybe they were never really there, a part of her whispered, cruel and quiet.

But then she remembered—Mr. Cooper.

He had called her, right before the world turned inside out. She had never called him back.

With a shaky breath, she reached into her pocket again, pulling out her battered phone. She turned the brightness down just enough to keep it from shorting out. A thin crack ran through the middle like a scar, but thankfully, the phone still worked.

She tapped on his name and lifted the phone to her ear.

It rang only once.

“Y/N?” His voice came in a rush—tight, worried, breathless. “God, kid—are you okay? I tried calling you back, but then the phones went dead, and.. I don't what happened—Jesus, are you hurt? Where are you?”

The tightness in her throat returned immediately.

She swallowed it down.

“Yeah,” she croaked, trying to make her voice sound normal. Normal. “I’m okay, I—I’m fine, Mr. Cooper. Just… caught up in all that mess. Something happened downtown. I think it affected a lot of people.”

There was a pause on the other end. She could almost picture him—standing in his kitchen, hand bracing the edge of the counter, brow furrowed behind his thick glasses. His worry was palpable, stretching across the line like a tether.

“You don’t sound fine,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re alright? Where are you now? I can come get you.”

She almost said yes. Her body screamed for safety—for someone to take the weight from her, just for a moment. For someone to look at her and tell her she didn’t have to carry all of this alone.

But she couldn’t.

She needed to be alone. To think. To break. To cry.

“No,” she replied, quietly. “No, it’s okay. I’m walking back now. I just need to be home. I just… I need a little time, that’s all.”

He hesitated. She could hear it—his need to say more, to offer help, to insist.

But he knew her. He’d known her for long enough to hear what she wasn’t saying.

“Alright,” he said finally, with a gentleness only someone like him could offer. “But if you need me—even in the middle of the night—you call. I mean it.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I will.”

They hung up.

She stood there for a few more seconds, clutching her phone like it was an anchor.

Then, slowly, she turned and started walking.

The streets felt emptier than usual. The shadows felt taller. Her feet carried her forward on autopilot. She passed broken traffic lights, turned-over garbage bins, a restaurant window blown open from the pressure of whatever had hit the city. There was a scratch on her arm she hadn’t noticed until now, and her boots were scuffed from the fall.

Everything felt surreal. Like the city had been turned slightly inside out and then sewn back together in the wrong order.

Her apartment came into view.

As soon as she stepped inside and locked the door behind her, the silence swallowed her.

No more voices.

No Bobby.

No team.

No Void.

Just her.

She slipped her coat off and dropped it on the floor. Her body ached. Her back throbbed. Her eyes burned. She shuffled to the couch and sat down, curling her legs beneath her.

Her hand moved again to her stomach—her constant reminder that she wasn’t completely alone. He was still there. Still safe.

The sonogram sat on the coffee table where she placed it gently, her fingers lingering on the image.

She stared at it.

The tears came without warning.

She cried without sound at first, tears streaking down her cheeks and chin. Then came the hiccuped breaths, the full-body ache, the sobs she couldn’t swallow back. She buried her face in her hands and let it come. All of it. The fear. The loss. The impossible pain of seeing Bobby again—really seeing him—and not knowing what part of that had been real. Of hearing his voice. Of holding him. She felt like she had him again just to lost him minutes after. Just when things were moving for the better and her grief was getting easier, this thing appears, gives her her Bobby, made her relieve everything, and went away.

She cried for her younger self.

She cried for her baby.

And when she couldn’t cry anymore, she sat in silence, her palms resting on her belly.

“…What the hell happened?” she whispered into the dark.

There was no answer.

But her baby kicked again—soft this time, like a gentle reassurance.

And somehow, despite everything… it helped. Nothing was making sense. If was leaving her past, Bobby appeared as punishment, but how come those people that she never knew, or encountered before, made an appearence. Was it real ? Then where are they ?

Exhausted physically and emotionally, she falls asleep without noticing. No dreams, no faces, just an exhausting sleep in hopes of waking up better and half forgetting. Go on with the rest of her day, and restart her grief.

But a call came. Mr. Cooper was calling her. Which made her jump from her sleep, unaware that she had even fallen asleep. Scared of the sudden call, she picks up and answer as fast as her brain could process.

"Mr. Cooper, hi! what's...?"

"You turn the TV on, right now" He said in a raspy firm tone.

Confusing her even more. "What ? Mr.Cooper, why are you calling me to watch the news ? I'm resting, I will meet you later and tell what happened, everything fine plea..."

"I said, turn.on.the.TV.now Y/N.", as a dad scolding her, Y/N just does as he says, still not understand the urgency to watch whatever that she do later when she's fully rested.

Turning the TV, the news appeared, being splashed in every channel possible, doing a piece on what seemed to be a new team that were now the New Avengers.

"Oh...hell no, what the actual fuck."

--

Bob's pov

The press had a field day.

“Thunderbolts Save New York!” “Shadow Anomaly Contained by New Avengers!” “Sentry: Hero or Weapon?”

Everyone suddenly had opinions about them, but no one seemed to have answers. Inside the compound, though, it was just them—no press, no chaos, just post-mission exhaustion and a growing sense of what the hell just happened?

Alexei was already in celebration mode, sitting backward on a chair like a kid in detention. “They called us the New Avengers! I told you, didn’t I? All it took was a little global disaster, and boom—we’re legitimate!”

Yelena snorted. “You screamed ‘Thunderbolts assemble!’ like an idiot.”

“I wanted a moment, Yelena!”

Walker shook his head. “Next time, yell it before we get thrown through a building.”

Ava mumbled from the corner, rubbing her temple, “At least they spelled my name right on one headline. That’s a win.”

Bob was the only one still standing, leaning by the window, arms crossed but a weird energy in his posture. He had a faint smile, like he was too buzzed to come down from whatever adrenaline rush he’d been riding since they landed back in reality.

He turned toward them. “I mean, that wasn’t nothing, right? We did it. Whatever it was. I blacked out after that Void-whatever showed up and now I’m back in New York with a press badge taped to my ass.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

Bob shrugged, almost chipper. “Bits and pieces. Some wild dream stuff. Did we fight something? Did I do anything embarrassing? Don’t say crying, I’m emotionally evolved.”

“Define evolved,” Ava said dryly.

Walker, who’d been quiet for a second too long, finally turned toward Bob and asked, “Hey. You… remember anything about Y/N?”

Bob blinked. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Walker said, more pointed now. “Your girlfriend.”

Bob gave a crooked smile. “You guys know about her now? Valentina told you, didn’t she? Let me guess—she used that to recruit me. ‘Tragic story, guy ditched his pregnant girlfriend, big ol’ redemption arc.’ Classic spy move.”

He laughed, but no one laughed with him.

He looked around. The mood had shifted. Everyone was staring—not accusatory, but... odd. Sympathetic. Guarded.

“What?”

Ava tilted her head. “Bob, do you really not remember anything? In the Void?”

“Just flashes. Feelings, mostly. Stuff that didn’t make sense. Shadows. Screaming. A... woman. But I figured it was all in my head.”

Yelena walked toward him, gently. “It wasn’t. She was real. We saw her.”

Bob’s laugh faltered. “No, I mean—she’s a memory. That’s how it works, right?”

Alexei shook his head slowly. “No, Bob. We met her.”

Walker leaned forward, eyes serious. “She was with us. We were in some kind of mind trap or construct, sure, but it wasn’t just you. She was there. Talking to you. Touching you. Holding you.”

Bob looked between them, heartbeat rising. “You guys are messing with me.”

“We’re not,” Yelena said. “You held her. Told her you were sorry. Told her you loved her.”

Bob’s face fell. “No, that… that’s not possible. I would’ve remembered.”

“You don’t remember her saying to you you’d finish the baby's crib?” Ava asked softly.

Bob sat down slowly, as if the weight in his chest had just become too much. “I… I thought that was a dream.”

Walker’s voice was quieter now. “She was real, Bob. And when we came back… she wasn’t with us.”

He stared at the floor.

The room was quiet again.

Bob looked up slowly, eyes wide but full of dread. “Where is she?”

Yelena swallowed hard. “We don’t know.”

Bob sat there, stunned. His brain was still trying to catch up, to rewind through fragmented shadows, memories half-formed, a scream, a soft laugh, her hands on his face. It hadn’t been just a dream. She was there.

“She’s probably in the city,” he said suddenly, voice dry, eyes distant. “She lived here. We—we lived here. Small apartment just above a laundromat off 36th, near the bridge. The kind of place you don’t show your parents but you make it work because it’s yours. She hated how the window leaked in the winter. Always shoved towels under it to keep the cold out.”

He chuckled for a second. It was hollow.

“She might be there. Or around. She never liked going too far out of the neighborhood.”

The others exchanged a look. Alexei leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, watching Bob like he was defusing a bomb with his words.

Bob’s shoulders began to rise and fall unevenly. The smile had drained, replaced by a creeping realization behind his eyes. His mouth opened like he might speak again, but nothing came out—just a short breath, almost like a hiccup from the back of his throat.

Then the panic hit.

His hands gripped his knees, hard.

“Oh God,” he whispered. “What the hell do I do?”

“Go to her,” Yelena said softly.

“No—no, you don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head, palms pressing into his temples. “I left. I left her—knowing she was pregnant. I walked away. I just left. And then I got grabbed by Valentina like some stupid lab rat for some twisted ‘fix-the-golden-boy’ science project, and I thought I was going to die there.”

He looked up, eyes glassy, chest heaving like the weight of everything he ran from had finally caught up with him.

“I never thought I’d make it out. I didn’t think I’d have to face any of this again. I told myself I was saving her from me. That if I just disappeared, maybe she’d have a better shot. Maybe she'd forget the mess I was and move on. And then… then I survived.”

He looked around the room at their faces. “And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

Ava spoke gently. “You go to her.”

Bob let out a tight, bitter laugh. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I vanished, missed half the pregnancy, ditched you in the worst moment of your life—mind if I come back and finish building the crib?’”

His voice cracked halfway through, and he rubbed a hand down his face, hard.

“She probably hates me. She should hate me.”

“You don’t know that,” Walker said, his tone oddly soft for once. “You don’t know anything until you see her again. But I’ll tell you what’s worse than facing her? Never trying.”

Bob swallowed thickly.

“She looked at you like you were still hers,” Yelena added. “In there, whatever the Void made, it was twisted, sure. But she still looked at you with love. With pain, yeah. But love, too.”

Bob went quiet. For a few seconds, no one said a word.

Then—he exhaled shakily and whispered something, like it had only just re-entered his mind.

“Guys…”

They looked over at him.

He blinked, stunned again by the weight of it.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

His voice cracked, and it wasn’t just shock this time—it was awe. Dread. Hope. Regret. All of it.

“I missed five months,” he said. “I missed appointments. Her cravings. Her first checkup. I wasn’t there when she probably cried herself to sleep because I most probably put her through hell. I missed everything.”

“But you’re here now,” Alexei said, gently but firm. “You still have time.”

Bob looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time how badly they trembled.

“I know I’m not the same person I was when I left. I’ve been clean since Malaysia. The withdrawal nearly killed me. I’ve been through hell trying to be better… but I never once thought about how I’d come back. What I’d say. What I’d do if I ever saw her again. And how will I even tell her that, how will that even sound ? Hi baby, I wasn't good so I left the country and found new friends, I'm so much better know, which would be impossible if I stayed here, by your side, taking care of you, in our home. Yeah, that sounds great. You know what that sounds like? I'll be blaming her for not being better!"

Walker crossed his arms. “We'll figure it out. Together. If she knows she knows that what you did was not the way, but was more desperation than being a deadbeat.”

Yelena nodded. “And he knows what that is like.”

Walker just looks at her, a shoked expression slap on his face. "What the hell did I do to you? Jesus."

“She might not want to see me,” Bob said, barely above a whisper.

“She might not,” Ava agreed. “But she deserves the choice. And you deserve to say it to her face.”

Bob finally stood, slowly, like the weight of his guilt was a physical thing slung across his shoulders.

“I need to find her,” he said quietly. “I need to see her. Even if it’s just to hear her say it’s too late.”

--

Y/N's pov

The scent of fries and charbroiled beef did nothing to ease the twist in Y/N’s stomach.

She sat at a booth by the window in a corner of the burger place, her cheek pressed against the cold faux-wood table. Outside, the neon lights of the city flickered with life, completely unaware that her world had been flipped upside down. Again.

Mr. Cooper sat across from her, silent, drumming his fingers lightly against his milkshake cup. Their number was still being called up at the counter—order 68—but neither of them moved. No appetite. Just tension and confusion and the low buzz of the news still replaying in her mind.

“The New Avengers—unofficially named, of course—have emerged after a battle outside Manhattan’s southern district. The team includes the U.S. Agent, Russian super-soldier, Red Guardian, Black Widow’s sister, and… a man we’re still learning about. A man who, eyewitnesses claim, flew and tore through solid steel. They’re calling him ‘The Sentry.’”

She flinched again at the title. It didn’t fit. Not with the man who used to sneak an extra shake into her takeout bags just to see her smile. The one who got nosebleeds too easily and talked in his sleep. The one who vanished five months ago and hadn’t left behind anything but a phantom of what used to be.

Mr. Cooper finally broke the silence with a gentle throat-clear and a hesitant voice.

“So… this is awkward,” he said, looking at her sideways. “You never mentioned him being a superhero. Or a super soldier.”

Y/N groaned, lifting her head off the table and glaring at him as if it were his fault.

“He’s not. I don’t even know what the hell is happening. We met because we worked together—he used to spin a sign to promote the restaurant's food.” Her voice cracked somewhere between disbelief and exhausted sarcasm. “Does that sound like a super soldier to you?”

Mr. Cooper leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Jezz! He spins a sign for a living and you let him date you and get you pregnant?” He gave her a crooked smile. “Kid, you’re a pretty lady. You kno—"

“Can you focus on the dead man I’ve been looking for four goddamn months who just reappeared out of nowhere as a freaking avenger?” she snapped, louder than she intended.

The people in the next booth looked over briefly.

Mr. Cooper coughed into his fist and looked away. “Yeah. Sorry. Right.”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest and leaned back into the booth, trying to breathe. Trying to think. But the noise in her head was deafening. Bobby. Bob. Alive. Right there on TV. Eyes glowing. Smiling like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

"He sure looks happy as hell." She said letting out a heavy breath.

And he never called. Not once. No text. No note. Nothing.

Her fingers curled around the sonogram still tucked inside her coat pocket.

“He just… left,” she murmured, eyes trained on the linoleum floor. “Didn’t say a word. Not one. And he was in New York this whole damn time?”

“I mean…” Mr. Cooper’s voice was cautious. “For what it’s worth, we don’t know that. There hasn’t been any official word on when he got back. Maybe he wasn’t in the States until now.”

“He had to see the posters,” she whispered, fury rising in her chest like a slow boil. “I plastered them everywhere. I went to every station, every hospital. He was all I thought about. And now he just shows up on the news with some dumb hero name, fighting like he’s Superman and pretending like he didn’t leave me behind?”

Her voice trembled by the end of it, rage and grief all tangled into one.

Mr. Cooper leaned forward, speaking softer now. “I know you’re hurting, kid. I know this feels like some cosmic slap to the face. But there has to be an explanation. People don’t come back from the dead just to pretend nothing happened.”

She looked at him, eyes glistening, but her jaw locked tight.

He added, “As far as we know, there’s no record of him even coming back from Malaysia. If that lady Valentina had anything to do with this, and he was part of one of her experiments, you know she was on trial for those sketchy projects.” He trailed off, grim. “They probably kept him buried in some black site until now, he had to gain some kind of power.”

Y/N didn’t say anything for a long time.

Her food number was called again. Still no movement.

“I just…” She exhaled, pressing a hand against her belly, where the baby gave a soft kick, as if responding to her heartache. “If he’s been here… If he knew... Why hasn’t he come back? Why isn’t he banging down my door? Why isn’t he groveling on his knees, begging me to forgive him for leaving me?”

Her throat clenched around the words. She hated how small they sounded. How hurt.

“Is he with someone else?” she asked suddenly, the words tumbling out like they had a mind of their own. “Did he just move on? Decide the whole father thing wasn’t for him, and now he’s flying around in spandex trying to save the world instead?”

Mr. Cooper reached out, placed a hand over hers gently. “He didn’t look like a man who moved on. Not to me.”

Y/N blinked down at the table. "How do you even know that? Let's recap, I tell I'm pregnant after a huge fight about his addiction, because I was scared of losing him, days later I wake up, he left without trace, I look after him, he's in Malaysia, now he's a super hero. Oh yeah! It doesn't sound likke he moved on and built a new life, without me."

Her heart ached. Not just because he was alive. But because now she had something even worse than grief to wrestle with.

"Mr. Cooper. I give up. I can't take anymore, I...when that thingy came I had this dream, nightmare, hallucination, whatever, he was there. I thought that it was real, those people were there, I'm having a hard time figuring out what's happening, but...if it was real than he saw me too, why isn't him here? He.moved.on." Tears blink in her eyes, she looks away.

"I can't take the stress anymore, I'm just getting myself together, and I just putting all this anxiety and stress on the baby, I can't keep going in a path without a destiny." She picks up a napkin that rested on the table to wipe her tears, and looks at Mr.Cooper. "There's always other people, other women, he's a hero, and he's going to be rich now, bet ther-"

“Y/N.” Mr. Cooper’s voice was sharp, firm, cutting her spiral like a blade.

She stopped, her eyes snapping up to meet his. He wasn’t angry, not really. But there was something frustrated, protective in the way his brows drew together.

“Why do you always go there?” he asked. “Why do you keep acting like him leaving, or cheating, is the only explanation?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“You’ve been so damn strong these past months,” he continued, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I watched you tear up half the city looking for him. I watched you yell at cops who wouldn’t listen. You made those missing posters by hand. You begged strangers to keep an eye out. You didn’t let anyone talk shit about him—not even me. You told everyone who doubted him to go to hell, because you knew he wasn’t the kind of man who’d walk out. You believed in him.”

He paused, voice softening.

“So why is seeing him now—alive—turning into this total collapse?”

She shook her head, overwhelmed, trembling with exhaustion and rage and heartache.

“I don’t know,” she choked. “Because it’s easier to believe he left on purpose than to admit that maybe... maybe he’s been back and just didn’t want to come home.”

“No.” Mr. Cooper shook his head slowly. “You don’t believe that. You’re scared of that. There’s a difference.”

Y/N looked down at her stomach.

“I spent so long hoping. Waking up at night thinking maybe I heard the door. Every time the phone rang, I jumped like it was him. I let people call me delusional because I just knew he wouldn’t leave me like that. And now that he’s alive, I feel like... like I can’t breathe. He never made me feel like he didn't want me, or once made me doubt him.”

“Because hope is dangerous,” Cooper said gently. “But it’s still yours. And you don’t have to throw it away just to protect yourself. You don’t have to build a worst-case story in your head just so it hurts less if it’s true.”

She looked at him then, fully, eyes glassy and tired. “You really think he’s not out there forgetting me?”

“I think if Bob Reynolds is even half the man you made him out to be... then he’s out there panicking. Terrified. Not sure how to come back. Because maybe he thinks you moved on. Or that he hurt you too badly. Or that you’ll slam the door in his face.”

Silence stretched between them.

The burger order had been ready for fifteen minutes. No one cared.

Y/N leaned back slowly, wiped under her eyes with her sleeve. She exhaled shakily.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” she whispered.

“Then don’t be. Be ready.” Mr. Cooper smiled gently. “Because I don’t think this story’s over. Not even close.”

The footage of the Thunderbolts—no, the New Avengers—flashed across the screen again. Images of chaos, the sky cracking open, then the clean-up crews, and finally a group photo: grainy, chaotic, half-captured mid-motion—but there he was.

Bob.

Looking so different and yet unmistakably him. Taller somehow. Stronger. Almost glowing.

Y/N’s eyes were glued to the screen, her burger untouched.

“Do you really think that woman—Valentina, whatever—could have something to do with all this?” she asked suddenly, her voice low, cautious, like speaking the name might summon something.

Mr. Cooper blinked, caught a little off guard by the shift. “Valentina de Fontaine?”

She nodded. “They said she was behind the team, right? And now all this... stuff happens. And Bob’s with them. So I’ve been trying to piece it together, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

Mr. Cooper sighed, taking a bite of his fries before answering, reluctantly. “She’s in trial right now. Big federal investigation. No full details, but... I heard she’s being charged for working with the OXE Group.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“What’s the OXE Group?” she asked slowly.

He didn’t look at her at first. Just watched the news crawl at the bottom of the screen as if he were still deciding whether to tell her the truth.

“They’re a private military research firm. The kind of people who used to do black site work. Off-the-record stuff. Real shady.”

“Okay...” Y/N pressed, her voice tightening. “But what does that mean? What is she actually in trial for?”

Mr. Cooper finally turned to look at her, his expression sobering. “Illegal human experimentation. Enhancement trials. Word is, they were trying to recreate the super soldier program without oversight.”

The booth felt colder all of a sudden. Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath catching.

“Human experiments?” she repeated. “You mean like...”

He nodded, grim. “Like testing on people without consent. Drug trials. Mutation injections. Splicing DNA with alien tech. You name it.”

She slumped back in her seat, her hand going to her stomach again like second nature, like she needed the grounding.

Her voice cracked. “What if... What if she did something to him?”

Mr. Cooper frowned. “Y/N...”

“No, I’m serious!” she shot back, panic bubbling up. “What if he didn’t just leave? What if he was taken? Or experimented on? What if he got—changed—and that’s why he didn’t come back? What if they hurt him and wiped his memory, or used him like a weapon?”

“Y/N, we don’t know any of that,” he said gently, but her mind was already spiraling.

“It would make sense!” she snapped. “I saw him. I saw him in that facility, and he didn’t look like himself. Not just stronger or taller or whatever. He looked wrong. Like he was fighting something inside of him. And what if it wasn’t just him fighting—what if it was something they put in him?”

Mr. Cooper rubbed his temple slowly. “It’s a stretch, but... honestly? With people like Valentina? I wouldn’t rule it out.”

Y/N covered her face with both hands, overwhelmed by the thought.

“He always hated being weak,” she whispered. “He never said it out loud, but I could see it in how hard he tried.”

“And now maybe someone used that, maybe someone other then you saw what he had to give.” Cooper added grimly.

She dropped her hands and looked up at the screen again, the soft glow of the TV painting her worried face. Bob’s image flickered again—his silhouette standing strong beside the others, like he belonged there. But there was something distant in his expression. Something hollow. Something that didn’t look like the man she fell in love with.

“I’m not even pissed anymore,” she whispered. “I’m scared. What if he doesn’t come back because... he can’t?”

Mr. Cooper reached across the table and placed his hand gently over hers. “Then maybe it’s time someone went and got him.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away.

But her eyes, still glassy from earlier tears, were now clear with something else.

Determination.

"You think I should go there ?"

Mr.Cooper just smiles softly. "Maybe. You already went everywhere for him. This looks like a last trip."

--

The Next day - Bob's pov

The watchowerbuzzed with movement and low chatter as the Thunderbolts prepared for something that felt more serious than any mission they’d been on: Bob’s return.

Alexei was in his element—straightening a collar, wiping nonexistent dust from a navy-blue suit jacket, inspecting the polish on Bob’s shoes like a proud older brother sending a kid off to prom.

“You see this? This is what redemption looks like,” Alexei said, stepping back to admire Bob. “This says: ‘I am responsible man who has fought gods and folded laundry.’”

Bob stood stiffly in front of the mirror, hands tugging at the uncomfortable sleeves. “It says I’m about to ask for a job at a bank.”

“You look good,” Ava said simply from across the room. “It’s clean. Grown. It says you took this seriously. That matters.”

“She liked me messy,” Bob muttered under his breath, glancing down at the crisp fabric, the sleek hair combed back. “She said I looked more like me that way.”

Yelena, seated on the couch, rolled her eyes. “That was before you got sucked into a lab, exploded in the sky, and became some walking nuclear sunrise. You’re not just the guy that was struggle to keep yourselve together anymore, Bob. You’ve changed.”

Bob frowned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Walker stepped in then, arms crossed, voice blunt but not unkind. “Look. You go there looking like you haven’t slept since 2019, she’ll think you’re still spiraling. But you show up like this? It says you’ve been trying. You want her back, right? Then show her you didn’t just survive — you got your shit together.”

Bob sighed and looked at himself again. The suit was neat, dark, serious. The tie Alexei picked was a shade too bright, but he let it be. His hair, slicked back, made his features sharper, more intense — and somehow older.

“Do I really look like… me? Do you think she will like this?” he asked, quieter this time.

Ava shrugged. “You look like someone who fought to come back.”

“And is about to cry,” Yelena said, deadpan. “But that’s your brand.”

Alexei grinned, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Trust us, this is the version of you she’ll want to see. Not the one who left, the one who chose to come back.”

Bob didn’t say anything for a moment. He took one last look at himself and nodded—just slightly.

Alexei, walking beside Bob, leaned in and whispered, “If she cries, cry with her. If she yells, nod wisely. If she hugs you… propose.”

Bob laughed for the first time all day, nerves still twisting deep in his chest. “Noted.”

He didn’t feel ready—not even close.

Alexei was fussing over Bob’s lapels like a proud uncle before prom, squinting critically at the clean lines of the suit. “You look strong. You look professional.”

“Fashion is how we prepare for emotional battle,” Alexei declared, adjusting Bob’s cuffs. “You must dress like the man you want her to believe in. Smell good. Stand tall. Speak deeply.”

“Alexei, you sound like a shampoo commercial,” Ava said from her spot near the mission board, clearly unimpressed.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “He’s not seducing her. He’s trying to apologize. Just tell her the truth, idiot.”

“Tell her the truth?” Alexei scoffed. “Fine. Tell her: ‘Hello. I have become golden space god now. I will protect you and make you rich. Also, I will buy you several dogs. Jewels. Maybe matching capes.’ Boom. Proposal.”

“Yeah,” Yelena muttered, “you just described a sugar daddy.”

“Is that not good?” Alexei blinked.

“That’s not great,” Ava shot back.

Walker leaned forward, trying to restore order. “Can we all just stop arguing about sugar daddies for one second?”

But that second was long gone. Ava was now arguing with Alexei about power dynamics in relationships, Yelena was threatening to punch someone if they didn’t shut up, and Walker looked like he was about five seconds from walking out.

Amid the chaos, Bob slowly sat down on the edge of the chair by the wide Watchtower window. He didn’t say anything. Just stared out at the distant lights of the city. A city she might be somewhere in. Alone.

They kept bickering around him, their voices overlapping, but Bob wasn’t listening anymore.

Then, softly, without looking at them, he spoke.

“I’m really scared.”

Silence fell, thick and immediate.

The team turned to look at him. Even Alexei’s big grin faded a little.

Bob kept his eyes on the skyline, his voice low and honest.

“She’s been abandoned her whole life. By people who were supposed to stay. Family. Friends. Even strangers who promised better and never meant it. And now I just—” he swallowed hard—“I went and added myself to that list.”

He clasped his hands, fingers threading and unthreading like his nerves were on a loop. He finally looked at them, eyes wide with something between guilt and fear and rawness that none of them had ever seen from him.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know if she even wants to see me. But she deserves the truth. And the choice.”

Yelena blinked a few times, her voice quieter when she spoke. “Then that’s what you give her.”

Alexei stepped closer, this time without a joke. He reached out and straightened Bob’s jacket collar.

“You wear the suit,” he said, firm but kind. “Because you are not just scared man anymore. You are also someone who came back. Someone who shows up. And sometimes... that is everything.”

Bob looked down at his shoes. The suit didn’t feel like him—but maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe it wasn’t about who he used to be.

Maybe it was about who he wanted to become.

Just as the room began to settle—after the shouting, the sarcastic digs, and the tail end of Alexei offering to re-style Bob’s hair himself if it meant calming him down—the doors to the Watchtower meeting room hissed open.

Mel stepped inside. She had that look of someone about to drop a grenade in the middle of the room and then walk away.

“Hey, uh—sorry to break up whatever group therapy session this is,” she said, tapping her tablet nervously, “but you’ve got a situation downstairs.”

Everyone turned.

Bob stood near the window, still fidgeting with his collar, his mind halfway between meltdown and autopilot.

Mel glanced at her screen. “There’s a woman and a guy asking for you. She’s being very... insistent.”

Bob blinked. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Mel said, nodding. “She says her name is Y/N L/N.”

The name hit him like a punch to the ribs. He froze. The breath left his lungs in one swift exhale.

“She’s here?” he said, barely audible.

Mel gave a wide-eyed shrug. “And some guy with her—says his name is George Cooper.”

Bob’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

Walker squinted. “You don’t know him?”

Bob shook his head. “No. Never heard of him.”

“Probably someone helping her,” Ava muttered. “Friend? Neighbor?”

“Or he’s just muscle,” Alexei offered. “In case she decides to throw you out a window.”

Bob swallowed thickly.

“She’s here?” he repeated, almost like he didn’t believe it. “In this building?”

Mel nodded. “Refusing to leave. She said if you don’t come down, she’s coming up. I told her that wasn’t exactly allowed without clearance and she said—and I quote—‘He’ll want to see me. Tell him I’m here. He’ll come.’”

Silence dropped over the room.

Alexei stood, clapping once. “WELL! This is very romantic. She crossed enemy lines to see you.”

Yelena looked at Bob. “You gonna faint or do something useful?”

Bob’s heart was racing. He glanced at Mel again. “She’s okay? I mean... she looks okay?”

“She looks pissed,” Mel said, matter-of-fact. “But yeah. Alive. Loud. Standing on both feet.”

Walker leaned back in his chair. “So. What’s the move?”

Bob licked his lips, nervous. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Ava gave a soft exhale. “Start with 'Hi, I’m sorry,' and work your way up.”

“Do not start with ‘I’m a superhero now,’” Yelena added, arms crossed. “She might hit you.”

Alexei looked far too excited. “Tell her you’re going to take care of her forever and buy her a houseboat.”

“Guys,” Bob muttered, pressing his fingers to his temple. “I don’t even know who that guy is. What if she moved on? What if he’s her—God, I don’t know—boyfriend?”

“Then she wouldn’t be here, asking for you by name,” Yelena said calmly.

He was shaking.

Not with fear exactly—but something deeper. The kind of anxiety you only feel when you know you're about to come face to face with the thing you both miss and broke.

Bob whispered, “I’m really scared.”

That was enough to quiet the room.

He looked down at his hands. “She deserves better. And now... I don’t know what she’s going to see when she looks at me.”

Walker leaned forward on the table, his voice low. “Give her the choice, Reynolds. That’s all you can do.”

Mel stood awkwardly in the doorway. “So... what do you want me to tell them?”

Bob took one breath. Then two. Then forced himself upright.

“Tell them to come up.”

Yelena gave a small smirk. “About damn time.”

Mel nodded, giving him a soft, understanding look. “Got it.”

And with that, she stepped out, letting the doors seal shut behind her.

Bob stared at the floor.

“She’s really here.”

“Yeah,” Ava said. “She is.”

He swallowed.

Bob immediately turned to the rest of the team, his chest rising and falling too fast, hands shaking.

“I can’t do this. I seriously cannot do this. She’s here. She saw me on TV, and now she’s here, and I have no idea what she’s going to say—what if she just wants to scream at me? What if she’s already moved on and she’s just here for closure or to give me back my things—oh God, what if she brought a box of my stuff? That’s what people do, right? Boxes?”

Alexei clapped him hard on the back, nearly sending Bob stumbling forward.

“Relax, golden boy,” he said with a grin. “At least she came when you look good. If this was five hours ago, you’d still have pizza sauce on your shirt and look like a wet rat. Now you look like a gentleman. Hair all slicked back. Like James Bond but sad.”

“Very sad,” Yelena added, dryly. “Like James Bond who’s been crying in a Denny’s parking lot.”

Walker grunted. “Real supportive, guys.”

Ava leaned forward, her tone softer. “Bob. You’re spiraling.”

“I should be spiraling,” Bob huffed. “She’s probably been through hell and I left her—what do I even say? ‘Hi, sorry I ghosted you and joined a black-ops team and maybe died a little bit in Malaysia, and now I have godlike powers but still can’t hold a normal conversation’?”

“Yeah,” Yelena said with a shrug. “That, but slower.”

Alexei was still grinning. “What if she’s just here to take you back? Huh? Ever thought of that?”

Bob blinked at him, confused.

“I mean,” Alexei continued, “she saw you on the news, looking heroic, cape blowing in the wind—metaphorically speaking—and she thought, ‘That’s my idiot.’ Maybe she’s just here because she wants you back.”

“Exactly,” Ava chimed in. “You don’t know what she’s thinking. You’re panicking over something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“She came, man,” Walker added. “She didn’t send a letter. She didn’t text. She showed up.”

Bob ran a shaky hand through his hair—well, tried to, forgetting it was slicked back with gel now and recoiling in horror. “God, it’s so crispy.”

“Don’t touch it!” Alexei scolded, slapping his hand away. “You ruin that hair, and all this is for nothing.”

Everyone turned as the elevator down the hall gave a soft ding.

Bob went pale.

“They’re coming up,” he whispered. “Oh God. They’re coming up.”

Yelena gave him a nudge. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest. And breathe. In through the nose. Out through the dramatic monologue.”

He looked to them, chest rising and falling, eyes wide.

Then he nodded. Slowly.

“Okay,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

And Bob—dressed like a gentleman, scared out of his mind—stood facing the door, waiting for her

The elevator let out a soft chime, and the doors slid open with a mechanical hum.

Y/N stood there like a storm held in a glass bottle. Hair a little windblown, eyes sharp and already glossed with too much unshed emotion. Her coat hung off one shoulder, and beside her stood Mr. Cooper, arms crossed, watching with the protective stiffness of a man about to throw someone through a wall if needed.

The moment her eyes locked on Bob, she froze. Just for a second. Because what she saw was so jarringly not what she expected.

He stood across the room in a suit. Hair combed back, posture stiff as if he were pretending to be someone else. A mock version of composure. And yet—beneath it, she could still see him. Still Bob. Still the same guy who used to burn toast and tell jokes that didn’t land, who once danced in the living room holding a broom like a microphone.

Her mouth fell open.

“Bobby…” she began, voice strained, “What the fuck?”

Bob flinched. She hadn’t even raised her voice, but it hit him like a slap. Still, without thinking, without breathing, he moved forward, arms open.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I know—I just need to—”

He embraced her.

Y/N’s breath hitched sharply against his chest. He was warm. Real. Solid. And for the briefest of seconds—less than a heartbeat—she didn’t push him away. Her hands even hovered, as if they didn’t know what to do.

He smelled the same. Felt the same. She hated that her body remembered.

Then she came to.

“No—no!” she gasped, shoving him back with both palms against his chest. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to hug me like that, like nothing happened!”

Tears spilled from her eyes now, but her jaw clenched with fury. “Where the hell have you been?! What was this, Bobby? What was this?! You disappeared, and now you’re in a goddamn suit, on the news like everything’s fine? You left me! You left me!”

Bob stumbled back, hands raised, chest heaving. “I know. I know I did—please, I—I swear I’ll explain, just—can we… can we talk? Alone?”

He looked past her to Mr. Cooper, then the rest of the team hovering awkwardly in the background. They were trying not to look like they were watching, but they definitely were.

Yelena was half-tucked behind Ava, who was subtly gripping Alexei’s arm to stop him from chiming in. Even Walker looked frozen mid-step, unsure if he should intervene or back off.

Bob turned to them with a shaky exhale. “Can we have a minute? Please?”

Mr. Cooper looked to Y/N. “That what you want?”

Y/N glanced around the room, then back at Bob. She wiped the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah… please.”

The tension in the air shifted as the others nodded and slowly made their exit. Alexei gave Bob a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed—though it was more like a seismic jolt.

“I’m watching you,” Yelena muttered under her breath as she followed the others out.

Walker pointed a finger at Bob.

The doors shut behind them.

Now it was just Bob and Y/N, the silence closing in like walls. The city glowed faintly through the tall windows. The room suddenly felt too big. Too quiet.

Bob took a tentative step toward her. “I—don’t know where to start.”

Y/N folded her arms, brows pulled tight. “Try the part where you vanished into thin air.”

His throat tightened. His hands trembled.

“Okay,” he whispered, eyes locked on her. “Okay.”

“I didn’t think I’d get to say any of this,” he started, his voice dry and cracking. “I didn’t plan on saying anything at all.”

He finally looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed, breathing uneven. “When I left, I didn’t just leave because of the pregnancy, Y/N. I’d already… been thinking about leaving. About… disappearing. I’d been thinking about it long before I knew. That test—God, it broke me. Not because of the baby. Not because of you. Because I knew right then I wasn’t the person you needed me to be.”

He swallowed hard and stepped forward slowly, careful not to spook her.

“You know how bad it got. I—I thought I had it under control, the meth, the withdrawals, the spirals, all of it. But I didn’t. I relapsed again two days before you told me. I—I’d been hiding it. I was so ashamed. I couldn’t even look you in the eyes some nights. I’d lie awake next to you and think about how much I was failing. How I was just—burning your life down with mine.”

He rubbed his face roughly, eyes shining as his breathing caught. “And then the test. And you. You looked so happy. And I—I felt like I was standing in front of this life, this beautiful life you wanted, and I was the wreckage in the way. I thought… if I stayed, I’d keep failing. That I’d be angry all the time. That I’d scream, or break things, or—God—for the first time in my life, I was scared of myself.”

He looked at her now. Fully. Face open and wounded, stripped of anything but his truth.

“So I did what cowards do. I ran. And I didn’t just run—I collapsed. I went to Malaysia because it was dangerous. Because I thought I’d die out there. Because dying felt easier than telling you I was broken. I thought I was doing you a favor. That you'd be better off. That the baby would have a clean slate, and you’d hate me, sure—but you’d survive. You’d thrive without me.”

Silence.

A few seconds passed, and he saw it—her breathing uneven, her hands curled tight at her sides.

And then she broke.

“You know me, Bobby,” she cried, voice trembling but laced with fire. “You know me.”

He barely had time to brace himself before the words poured out of her in sobs and gasps and fists clenched in grief.

“I love you so much I could feel death creeping into my chest every night you didn’t come back. I stopped eating. I couldn’t sleep. I would scream into my pillow until I passed out. I waited for hours by the door every time it rained, thinking you’d be cold and coming home. I sat in hospitals and police stations—God—I put up flyers, Bobby. I looked in every building, every alley, every damn street like a maniac because I knew something had to be wrong!”

Her hands trembled as she wiped her face with her sleeve, but the tears kept coming. Her voice broke again, smaller now.

“All I ever wanted was for you to come home. To have you here. I—I would’ve moved with you. To anywhere. Anywhere. You could’ve said the word and we would’ve started over. Just me and you. I would’ve helped you through everything. I wanted to help. But you didn’t give me the chance. You didn’t even give me a choice.”

She was sobbing now, her chest heaving, and Bob could only stare at her, broken open.

“I want our kid to know you. To love you. I wanted him to have what I never had. You keep thinking you’re some monster—that you ruin everything, that nobody gives a shit. But you leaving took my whole life with you. You took my happiness and left me to hold the pieces!”

Bob stepped closer, slow and trembling. His voice came out hoarse.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was saving you.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears, shaking her head. “Well, you didn’t save me. You wrecked me.”

Bob nodded, lips pressed together as tears welled in his eyes. He looked down at her—then unconsciously, his eyes dropped to her stomach. She was showing now. Just enough.

“I missed everything,” he whispered, his hand trembling like it wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.

Y/N nodded silently, wiping her cheek.

“You did,” she said.

“Bobby…” she exhaled slowly. “You’re on the damn news. The Avengers, the Watchtower, all of this? You’re dressed like a damn wedding crasher—how the hell are you a superhero now?”

Her voice cracked. Confusion, disbelief, anger still curling in her chest like smoke.

“You don’t have powers. I know you. You had bad knees and a caffeine addiction and you used to pull your back lifting grocery bags. What the hell happened to you? What—what was that thing in the sky that took over the city? I saw you in it. I thought I was losing my mind.”

Bob blinked, lips parted like he’d been caught off guard. He looked down at the floor, then back up at her with a deep, ashamed breath.

“I wasn’t supposed to make it,” he said softly. “When I left for Malaysia… it wasn’t just to run. I signed up for something. Something I knew was dangerous.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, a pang of dread in her gut.

“What kind of something?” she asked carefully.

Bob clenched his jaw. “Human experimentation.”

Her eyes widened, horror flashing across her face. He rushed to keep speaking before she could spiral.

“It was Valentina. She was… recruiting people. Not for the Avengers, not at first. For something else. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t want answers. I thought—if it worked, maybe I’d be someone. If it didn’t… I’d just disappear like I always meant to.”

Y/N shook her head, horrified. “Bob—Jesus Christ.”

He nodded, shame deepening his voice. “It worked. Somehow. I don’t know how to explain it. They gave me something. It rewired everything. My body, my mind. I’m not… me anymore. I’m something else now. I can fly. I can tear steel apart. I can hear a pin drop from across the city. I don’t get tired. I don’t bleed. But…”

His voice wavered. He looked up at her with eyes that were begging to be understood.

“There’s something inside me. Something that came with the powers. A shadow. A presence. They call it The Void.”

Y/N stiffened at the name. Her breath caught.

Bob swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“It’s real. That… thing that covered New York? That was me. Or, part of me. I don’t remember all of it—I black out when he comes. But it’s like… he waits. Like he watches from behind my eyes, waiting for a moment to crawl out.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes again.

“I didn’t know what I’d done until I woke up in that lab. Until I saw what was left behind. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t even know I could do something like that. I—”

He broke off, breath shaky.

“I don’t want these powers. Not if they come with him. I’m scared, Y/N. Every second. Because if I lose focus for one moment, if I get too angry, too desperate, too… weak—he gets out again. And next time, he might not leave anything standing.”

Y/N’s face had softened now. Her arms weren’t crossed anymore. She was just… standing there. Listening. Absorbing it all.

Bob stepped forward, a hand to his chest like he was trying to ground himself.

“But if I have to… if I have to… I’ll use it. Because I’ve seen what he can do. And I’ve seen what I can do when I keep him under. I think I was meant to help. Meant to protect people. Even if I’m scared.”

He met her gaze again, with more resolve this time.

“I don’t want to run anymore. From you, from what I’ve done, from what I am. I just want to… figure out how to live with it. With him. With the powers. And I want to do it with you.”

Y/N stared at him in stunned silence for a moment.

Then she took a trembling step forward.

“Do you really want to be that guy?” she whispered. “Or are you still trying to disappear, just in a different uniform?”

Bob flinched like she’d slapped him—but he didn’t deny it.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m trying.”

Y/N stood in front of him, arms limp at her sides, staring down at the floor. The silence was no longer sharp—it was dull, thick, almost protective. She was processing. Still trying to stitch everything together, the pain and confusion and love all colliding at once inside her chest like a storm without direction.

Bobby shifted, watching her with quiet, careful eyes.

“…Are you able to forgive me?” he asked, his voice a near whisper, almost afraid the sound might shatter whatever moment this was.

She didn’t answer. Not yet.

“I mean… we don’t have to be anything. Not if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you into something just because we—because this happened,” he continued, motioning vaguely to her belly, to the air between them, to everything. “But I want to be there. I want to be there for you. And for the baby.”

His voice cracked.

“And I want you. I love you. I never stopped. Not for a second. But… you went through hell. And I was the one who lit the match. I didn’t protect you. I hurt you.”

That last part hung in the air like a confession he was ashamed to even say out loud.

Y/N still didn’t say anything. Her eyes flicked upward for only a second before she turned her head to the side, blinking hard. Her heart was racing, her head was buzzing. All of it was too much. The powers. The Void. The abandonment. The hug. The apology. The love. The ache. She loved him. God, she loved him—but what if love wasn’t enough? What if it never had been?

And then… she felt it.

A soft, unmistakable push from within her. Tiny.

She looked back at Bobby, the emotion behind her eyes unreadable—but deep.

Without saying a word, she stepped forward and gently took his hand in hers.

Then, she guided it to her belly.

His fingers spread over the fabric of her shirt, and at first, he just looked at her, confused—until he felt it.

A kick. Strong. Rhythmic.

His eyes widened. A stunned breath fell out of him.

And then… his knees buckled, slowly, reverently, until he was crouched in front of her, both hands now resting on her belly, forehead pressing softly against it like he was praying. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if listening with his whole soul.

And he heard it.

A heartbeat.

Steady. Fierce. Alive.

Bob’s breath hitched. His lips parted in disbelief, awe folding into tears.

“We made that,” he whispered.

Y/N’s hand lifted, slow and gentle, resting on top of his head—his hair stiff with gel, slicked back against the version of him someone else dressed up to be a man who looked like he had it all together. But beneath it… she missed the curls. The mess. Him.

She let her fingers slip through what little softness she could find, her thumb brushing the nape of his neck.

“We can take it slow,” she said, voice raw, almost hoarse from holding back too much for too long. “We can do it.”

His head tilted up to look at her, his eyes glassy, his whole world held between her hands and the heartbeat beneath them.

“I just need to… readjust,” she said, inhaling shakily. “I don’t know what to do just yet. But… I can do it.”

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips as her gaze met his.

“I want you.”

Bob blinked, breath caught in his throat.

She nodded gently, her hand still cradling the side of his head.

“He wants you, too.”

Bob closed his eyes again, pulling in a breath like he’d been underwater all this time and finally came up for air.

And for the first time in months, everything stopped hurting—just for a moment.

Bob stood slowly, eyes never leaving hers. He looked unsure, reverent almost, as if standing in front of something holy.

This time, when he moved to embrace her, it wasn’t frantic or desperate—it was gentle. Careful. A silent apology. A prayer wrapped in human warmth. His arms curled around her back as hers slid around his waist, and they just held each other for a moment, feeling every tremble and heartbeat, the months of pain melting into skin-on-skin comfort.

He pulled back just slightly, enough to see her face. His hands cradled her waist, thumbs brushing slow circles against her sides. His voice was low, a little hoarse.

“Can I… please kiss you?” he asked, breath shaky. “I really need it.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes still glassy with leftover tears—but softer now. Open. She nodded, slow.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too.”

Their lips met in a kiss that wasn’t rushed or polished—it was real. It was raw—it all came crashing together in that one, perfect kiss.

And it felt like him. Like Bobby. Like home.

She tasted salt—his tears, or hers, she couldn’t tell. One of her hands moved to his jaw, fingers curling against the line of it, while the other gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, needing him. His arms wrapped tight around her, and he let out a low sound—half-laugh, half-sob—into her mouth as their kiss deepened.

They could almost feel the ghost of another version of them—laughing in the kitchen of their tiny old apartment, dancing in their socks, sneaking kisses between burnt grilled cheese and a mattress on the floor. That old life flickered like a film reel behind their eyes.

He kissed her like he was trying to memorize her again.

She kissed him like she’d never let him disappear again.

When they finally pulled back for air, they were both breathless, foreheads touching. Their hands lingered—on waists, on cheeks, on the edges of clothing. Like letting go might mean waking up.

Y/N looked at him through her lashes, still catching her breath. Her voice cracked with a laugh.

“…Is this how you dress now?”

Bob blinked, then glanced down at himself—the stiff suit, the buttoned collar, the slicked-back hair.

Y/N made a face. “I hate it. You look so… ew.”

He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “What?!”

She nodded, pointing dramatically at his head. “That’s not my Bobby. That’s a… stockbroker.”

“A what?” he said, grinning.

“Messy Bobby. Large hoodie Bobby. Hair-like-you-just-woke-up Bobby. That guy?” She grinned through the teasing, stepping closer, fingers already mussing his gelled-back hair with playful aggression. “That guy was hot. This guy looks like he’s about to lecture me about my Roth IRA.”

Bob chuckled, letting her mess it all up, curls flopping forward again. “Okay, okay. I’ll ditch the suit. Alexei’s gonna cry, though. He made me wear it.”

“Why?” she asked, still smoothing his hair out to her liking.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “We were… planning on coming to see you. The team thought I should look… presentable. Impressive.”

She raised a brow. “Well, you failed. Miserably.”

He laughed again, and for a moment, it was just joy. Simple, real joy.

Then his smile softened. “Still worth it, though. You’re here. You kissed me. Twice.”

She smirked, a glimmer of playfulness flashing through the exhaustion in her eyes.

“That was charity.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She grabbed the collar of his too-stiff suit jacket, pulled him forward, and kissed him again—slow and deliberate.

“Still charity,” she whispered against his lips.

And Bobby just laughed into the kiss, his arms tightening around her.

The elevator doors slid open again with a soft ding. Bob straightened, still holding Y/N’s hand, only to freeze when a man stepped into view behind her.

Middle-aged. Slightly rumpled jacket. The kind of no-nonsense posture that screamed authority with too much paperwork. Bob blinked. So did the rest of the team.

Alexei leaned in and stage-whispered, “Who’s the guy? Is that your dad? Did you bring your dad?”

Y/N shot him a look. “No.”

Bob tilted his head, confused. “Uh… sorry, who…?”

The man extended a casual, unimpressed nod toward Bob. “Name’s Cooper. George Cooper. I work at the precinct downtown.”

Bob blinked again. “Wait—like… a cop?”

Walker narrowed his eyes. “Why is a cop here?”

Cooper kept his arms crossed. “Because I’ve been the one picking up the pieces while your golden boy here ghosted the entire tri-state area.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows and turned to Bob with a snort. “Ooooh, I like him already.”

Bob looked at Y/N, still processing. “You brought a cop with you?”

“He’s not just a cop,” she replied, gently but firmly. “He’s my friend. The only one who gave a damn when you disappeared. When nobody took my reports seriously, when they called me crazy—he helped. Every step.”

Mr. Cooper glanced sideways at her, not showing much emotion, but his voice softened. “She didn’t have anyone else, man. I’m not here to cause problems. Just had to make sure she was okay. That you were actually here and not another hallucination.”

Bob rubbed the back of his neck, heart squeezing in his chest. “Right. Yeah. Okay… sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Alexei interrupted with a grin. “It is okay, Bobby. She brought backup. Like real soldier. I respect it.”

Yelena nodded. “Honestly? After everything, he should’ve come with more backup.”

Walker crossed his arms. “So what now, cop? You sticking around?”

Cooper held up his hands. “Nope. I’ve done my part. She wanted to talk, I made sure she got here safe. That’s all.”

Y/N looked over at him, smiling faintly. “Thanks, Mr.Cooper.”

He gave her a brief nod and headed for the elevator. “You know how to reach me, kid.”

As the doors closed behind him, Bob turned to Y/N again, still wrapping his head around it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know you had to go through all that.”

Y/N met his eyes. “That’s because you weren’t there.”

Silence lingered for a beat—one heavy with mutual understanding and all the things they still had to say.

Alexei, ever the mood-breaker, clapped Bob on the back. “Well, at least she showed up while you still looked dashing. I told you—hair slicked back, suit crisp. You’re like billionaire crime-fighter now.”

Y/N squinted at Bob. “God, you still look ridiculous.”

Bob gave her a sheepish grin. “I know. I was trying to impress you.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Like that would work on me.”