so what if he's having a mental breakdown? not like it's big deal
When he’s back to himself, he’s shaking. Violently, his hands dug in the dying grass on the side of the road in an attempt to ground himself, to stop his too-fast mind from running far, far away from the pain he finds himself in.
Billy, he thinks deliriously. Billy Billy Billy where are you where are you I need you I-
A long, slow breath. It hurts his lungs.
He does it anyway.
Again. In, out.
Are you out there? Billy?
His brother had always been a constant in his own mind, his thoughts pressing and twisting with Tommy’s own, and now there is nothing.
Just blank space where Billy’s response should be.
His chest feels hollow. He feels hollow.
He needs to find his brother. Not just because he needs to find Billy so badly it hurts, but because if he does not he is not sure he will be able to find himself.
Billy, he thinks again, tries to project it out into the world the way his brother could. Focuses on the empty spot in his chest where his brother should fit and pushes.
Billy, please.
He isn’t a telepath. There’s no response.
There is no response.
He sits back on his heels, untangling his fingers from the dirt and grass roots, and tries his very best not to let his speeding thoughts stick on what it had felt like to drown.
And how similar this feeling is now.
“Are you okay?”
Kate’s voice breaks his trance, and he drags his eyes up to see her worried face, teeth dug into her lip.
No.
“Yeah,” he mutters hoarsely, dragging his dirt-stained hands down his face, still wet with tears. The movement leaves smears of mud down his cheeks- he can feel it, cakey and gritty. He doesn’t care. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Kate’s voice is hesitant. Wavering. He wishes she’d just talk normally- then maybe he’d feel less like he’s falling apart. “You don't, uh. Seem very... fine.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and decides this is a later issue. Hear that, brain? He can’t think about this now. It doesn’t matter how badly he is drowning. This is a later issue.
He is fine.
He blinks. Once, then twice, staring up at the cloudless sky. “I said I’m fine.”
Kate works her worry into words, rolls them in her mouth, then lets them die on her tongue. “Okay,” she says instead. “I, um.” She stands, stretches. “Okay. If you’re sure, then we should... probably get moving again. I’m, uh, sorta not supposed to be parked on the side of the road like this, and I cannot get pulled over by the cops.” He stares at her, and she adds, trying to lighten the depressing mood, “Don’t have a license.”
“No wonder you didn’t care that my body’s a criminal,” he mumbles, attempting a joke. The syllables don’t fit right on his lips. He makes it work anyway.
“Your... body?” she asks. He stands, rolls his neck and shoulders.
“Yep.”
“And, uh.” She sucks a breath through her teeth, taking the hair tie from her wrist and pulling back the dark strands. “How, exactly, is your body a criminal while you aren’t?” A question he politely ignores.
His head is mostly clear of grief, now. He really is fine.
He’s gotta be.
“You don’t hate superpowers, right?”
Kate blinks, letting her hands fall to her sides. “What? No, of course n-”
He’s moving before she’s finished, running six laps around the car in rapid succession. Finally, his body almost feels like his again when he runs. It’s so, so good.
He skids to a stop before her as she finishes her sentence. “-ot.” She blinks again, looking from the car to him. “Um. Did you just-”
“Mhm.”
Kate takes it, as she seems to do most things, in stride. “Alright then. Sure. What a normal thing to be able to do.”
“I like to think so,” he tells her. Then he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not all that uncommon. As far as powers that run in the family, anyway.”
“What,” she asks, “get that from your dad?”
“My dad is a robot.” Another shrug. “And also dead. Nah, that’s from my uncle.”
“Your uncle,” Kate repeats. “Okay. Sure. Didn’t- wasn’t he an avenger too?” She hesitates, then adds, “My mentor-Clint -he’s... mentioned him before. Pietro, right?” Her expression turns somber, and she says seriously, “He’s sorry he couldn’t save him. But he owes your uncle his life. He’s eternally thankful to him.”
“That’s...” He blinks, then laughs. “A sweet sentiment, for sure, but I never met the man. Only a fake version. He slept on our couch, for an arc or two, before Mom made him disappear.”
“Oh,” Kate says awkwardly. She rubs her arm, looking away, then asks, “An “arc or two”? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Episode arcs,” he replies easily. “For the show.”
“I have zero clue what that means.”
“Long story,” he sighs, and Kate snorts.
“Tommy, everything is a long story with you.”
“Which is weird,” he muses, “because I can talk at the speed of sound. So.”
“You,” she announces, “are a very weird kid.”
He scrunches his nose up, bouncing on his heels. “I’m not a kid. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Don’t you know?” she teases, and he shakes his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Nope. I was ten, when I died, and I’m clearly not now. So.” He frowns. “Actually, I think I’m only like, five days old. Technically.”
“What?” is Kate’s reply, which is very fair given the situation.
“Long-”
“-long story, yeah, so you’ve said.” She eyes him, then gestures to the car. “Y’know, we’ve got a long drive. If you wanted to tell it.”
“You don’t need to stay with me,” he says quickly. “Like I said, I can just run-”
“I’m not leaving a teenager alone on some backwater road in New Jersey,” Kate announces firmly. “I am taking you where you are going. That is a threat.”
He groans, and protests, but that’s mostly for show. It feels... sorta nice, that she’d care. “Ugh. Fine. Westview. I need to go to Westview. It’s like, an hour thirty south of here.”
“Back to the scene of the crime, huh?” she teases, and he laughs, dragging his hands down his face. Remembering what Billy had said, about the townspeople screaming in their minds.
“Oh, you have no idea.”