Tags: Post-Canon, Aftermath of Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Coping, Hugs, Developing Friendships, this fic came to me in a dream and i had to write it, i'd say they're both around 13 and 15 here since that's how old they seemed to be in the dream.
Giving Hope
What had been a haunted house was nothing more than a large pile of decimated lumbers and plywoods. Smoke wafted from the wreckage on the brown, wilted grass. Raz panted and raised his goggles, realizing they had won. He brushed stray, shiny specs of metal off his coat, the dangerous glint of the monstrous Nightmare's serrated blades still fresh in his head.
But he was more concerned with the mind's owner. Raz wiped the sweat off his brow and gave the taller intern his full attention. Bobby hadn't moved from his spot. He stared at the demolition with eyes that seemed more sunken than Raz remembered. He hunched forward, his trembling fingers curling into fists, and Raz reached out, tentatively murmuring Bobby's name.
As if his voice had been a trigger, Bobby's knees buckled. He collapsed, still gazing out at the devastation. Raz winced and rounded to Bobby's side. His hand hovered near the bony hunch on his long neck before he drew in his courage and rested it firmly on the small of his back. He quietly shifted it up and down, but Bobby didn't react to his touch, his lapse into total silence more than concerning for Raz.
Bobby's mental world was among the worst places Raz had visited. It had taken plentiful hours of coaxing and bartering for Bobby to give his consent for Raz to perform a mental health check-up. It turned out there was much, much to be unpacked. Sequestered in corners had been Memory Vaults, Regrets, Bad Moods, and Doubts smothered with telekinetic locks and Censors beating them half to death. Bobby had been burying his problems until they simply couldn't have been ignored any longer, resulting in a Nightmare so enormous, so grotesque, that it had wiped out Bobby's mental world.
What had remained was the house in a wretched neighborhood surrounded by filth, used hypodermic needles, and pollution so thick that Raz couldn't see the sky. The source of Bobby's issues stemmed from a home life that had become so distorted that the floors and caricatures within warped every time Raz looked at them. Although they defeated the Nightmare that had swelled like a boil over the traumatic years,, it didn't change the fact that Bobby was still slack-jawed on his knees.
"Bobby, can you hear me?" Raz called, sliding his hand up to his shoulder. He gripped it, feeling the bone underneath tough, freckled skin.
Disbelief seemed to have overtaken Bobby. He didn't react to Raz' voice or contact and stared ahead. Raz gnawed on his lower lip. Throughout his training, he knew what to do when someone was in a clear state of shock, but Bobby wasn't someone who reacted well to normal methods.
As Raz pondered, a hole opened up. Raz gasped, instinctively jerking Bobby back. It swallowed the grass and the debris, rattling like an earthquake. The black depths seemed to stretch infinitely only to suddenly close, revealing a plain white surface. Not even a splinter of scrap wood was left.
"It's gone," Raz murmured. "That's good. You're recovering."
Bobby dropped his head. He furrowed his brow and examined his hands. To Raz, they looked like the claws of a frightened animal that had just made their first kill. An oily, thick substance still coated his palms. Raz recalled how Bobby had been the one to deliver the finishing blow through the Nightmare's back, but when he rubbed his hands together, the liquid evaporated into mist, gone from their sight.
Raz tried again. "Bobby, are you with me?"
A soft gasp escaped Bobby. His shoulders hitched, and his eyes widened. He raked his fingers through the loose curls of his hair, not bothering to brush them out of his face. Swallowing, he stared at Raz with an expression reminiscent of a pet that had been harshly kicked aside by its owner.
"How're you feeling?" Raz asked, and he bit his tongue.
Bobby's brow wrinkled. He gritted his teeth, and he thrust his arms out. But his expression hardly matched his wrath. His eyes were glassy, shimmering with clear wetness, and his nostrils flared, Raz sensing how Bobby's face burned when his own nose ached.
"Why did you help me?" Bobby croaked out.
It was probably all Bobby could say without falling apart. The way his voice cracked was heightened with emotion that he still refused to fully indulge and express. His clenched jaw, shaky breathing, and the tears he fought back invoked a wall between himself and Raz, who was left speechless by his question.
The answer should have been obvious. As a Psychonaut, it was Raz' duty to help people overcome their mental hurdles. He wasn't in Bobby's mind to fix him. It wasn't for the sake of glory and gloating that he had been the one to cure Bobby, adding another victory to his already long list of accomplishments. Instead, he had succeeded in assisting Bobby to defeat the demons that swarmed and festered into an abominable entity, like a blood-sucking tick that feasted upon him.
And yet, his relationship with Bobby was far from ideal. Bobby despised him, and Raz believed he was better than the boy who found happiness through others' misery. Raz was certain there were moments when Bobby genuinely wanted him dead and gone at Whispering Rock to retain the moniker of camp strongman. Raz became an agent before him, who had been attending Whispering Rock since its supposedly grand opening, and even now, Junior Psychonaut Aquato outranked Intern Zilch.
Bobby was jealous of him. Ever since Bobby gawked at him when Ford asked if he would be a Psychonaut, Raz knew. There were times when Raz purposefully goaded him. He sneered to him about an upcoming mission while Bobby was left punching in orders at the Noodle Bowl. Raz had everything Bobby wanted, rubbing it in his face or defending himself when Bobby lashed out. They shared a mutually assured detestation.
But this was different from the times they threw punches or hurled insults. Bobby was vulnerable, even if the sensation must have been making his skin crawl. He had granted Raz access to his mind. As far as Raz was aware, he was the only one who had ever trekked this deeply into Bobby's brain. He had sifted through downright horrifying Memory Vaults that wept when he freed them from their locks. He had watched his Regrets carry CRT televisions publicizing his past misdeeds. His Doubts had oozed and his Bad Moods had circulated across almost every inch of the landscape. Bobby's madness reached a breaking point when Raz accosted him for refusing help when it had been offered several times earlier at the Motherlobe, releasing the Nightmare that he had fought to bury for good. Raz witnessed the absolute worst parts of him that had tried dragging Bobby deeper into his own personal hell.
After everything they had endured, Bobby was far more than deserving of Raz' kindness.
"Of course, I'd help you," Raz said with a small smile curving on his lips. "Isn't that what friends are for?"
Astonishment forced Bobby's breathing to come to a halt. Raz tightened his grip, doubling down on his words. They weren't friends. Anyone with half a mind could see that. But in the moment, it felt perfectly natural to say they were.
Before Raz realized it, Bobby had flung his arms out. He clamped down past his shoulders and on Raz' back. Raz yipped, flinching, expecting some sort of blow to strike him, but nothing happened. He was secured in Bobby's embrace - if he could call it that. Bobby dug his fingers through the fabric of Raz' coat, quavering with enough intensity that Raz thought he was going to kick himself out of his own head.
Relaxing, Raz patted Bobby's back. He listened for any sobs, but nothing came from Bobby. He still refused to weep. Even if Raz sensed the sadness swelling within him like an incoming flood, Bobby denied himself his full catharsis. Raz let him have it, knowing that was as far as Bobby was willing to go, and as the scents of sewage and decay faded, Raz noticed the sunlight finally filtering through the overcast.
