Work Text:
“So, how have you been since our last session?”
The faux leather squeaked beneath Ladybug as he shifted on the couch, hands clasped neatly on his chest, gaze locked on the off-white office ceiling. The lights were off, early afternoon light streaming through the windows and into the serene room beyond. Ladybug couldn’t take his eyes off of the lights. He wondered if the flickering one third from the right had been fixed since their last session nearly two weeks earlier. Christ, had it only been two weeks? Would it be rude to ask the other man to turn it on, just so he could check?
Making the journey back to the States had felt like he was in a complete haze. Between the overwhelming chaos that had unfolded during what should have been a milk run of a job, the trail of destruction left in his wake, and the frankly absurd number of bodies for a simple snatch-and-grab, Ladybug had done his best not to think about all the ways that his return to the job had gone wrong. Not to think about work at all. Though, that in itself had been kind of hard with Maria at his side, insisting that none of it was his fault – even as she had eyed her own crushed car with a level of disbelief that had left him holding back giggles.
It’s never a good look to tell your handler ‘I-told-you-so’, no matter how tempting it might be, Ladybug thought, neatly covering the laugh that threatened to break free with a well-timed clearing of his throat. Maybe Maria will believe me next time I tell her my luck is messing with a job. Or maybe pigs will fly. No, no, that’s not fair. Maria’s always been pragmatic. It’s what makes our professional relationship work so well. I just–
“Is everything alright?”
Blue eyes slid towards the other man as Barry’s calm, gravelly voice broke through his reverie. Warm brown eyes watched Ladybug over the rim of his glasses as Barry waited patiently in his chair, notebook open and balanced on one crossed leg, pen already in hand. Ladybug wondered what kind of notes the other man had in there about him.
Panic attacks. Prone to high anxiety. Chronic worrier. Overly emotional, probably. But that’s normal for someone who’s in therapy, right? Let alone someone who’s seen the things I have… Ladybug thought to himself, eyes lingering on that notepad. The temptation to lift it on his way out of his appointment reared its head again. It would be so simple to slip it out of his therapist’s office, to just take a quick peek. He would return it, of course. But surely a little look couldn’t hurt?
Ladybug had only started seeing Barry following a string of terrible jobs. He had always suspected that his luck was… less than ideal. But that bellhop landing on the roof of his car really had been the final straw.
It’s not just people on my jobs who are getting hurt now. It’s everyone around me who’s at risk. Can I really keep going like this, if I’m just going to cause so much trouble to people around me?
Setting up his first appointment with Barry had been something of a turning point. Ladybug knew that people in his line of work weren’t exactly allowed to retire. While he had plenty of connections, he knew that his agency wasn’t the type of organisation to let him go. He had been assigned enough little ‘exit interview’ jobs himself to know exactly what kind of fate would await him if he even tried to broach the subject of proper retirement. And, well, with his luck, who would even want him as a handler? He just didn’t have the same calm temperament or way with words that Maria had. Not to mention his legendary bad luck. Having someone he could talk with candidly – well, ish – had turned out to be exactly what Ladybug needed.
“You seem more distracted than usual. Did something happen at work?” Barry pressed, voice low and soothing. It was one of the qualities about him that had first made Ladybug agree to sessions with him, rather than one of the in-house therapists his agency had to offer. Something about their cold, clinical, detached way of talking just sat uncomfortably with him. And knowing that they knew what he did for a living? Ladybug couldn’t help but think that they were judging him on some level. Heck, if he were being honest, he judged himself more days than not.
At least Barry can give me an outsider's perspective. At least I don’t have to worry about any hidden agendas, other than wanting to get me to sign up to another pre-payment plan.
“I know you were apprehensive about your return to work, but as we discussed previously, your progress really has been remarkable.” Barry’s words hung between them as he waited patiently for Ladybug to speak. There was something about his soft-spoken mannerisms combined with his neat professionalism that Ladybug found so compelling and virtually impossible to ignore. In all of their correspondences before his first session, he had seemed like such a genuinely nice, calm guy, each email and call leaving Ladybug with a sense of calm and focus that he hadn’t felt in longer than he cared to remember. While it had taken longer than he had expected to convince Maria to let him see someone outside of their network for his therapy sessions, Ladybug was convinced that it was well worth the investment in time and effort.
Ladybug let out a long, slow breath. A forced smile stretched across his lips as he shook his head. “That’s not it. I mean, yes, you could absolutely say I was a little apprehensive about returning after… everything…”
The words caught in his throat as the memories of the sickening crunch of metal and glass replayed in his head. How was he supposed to tell Barry that, not only had his worries been well-founded after all, but they had somehow been way worse than even he had been able to anticipate?
Maybe Maria’s right. Maybe I should just see a therapist I can actually tell about my day job, rather than trying to hide behind silly titles and obfuscation. Or maybe… huh. Yeah. That could work.
“Hey, so. You know how I was… a little… concerned… about the whole, bad luck thing?” Ladybug winced as the words came out of his mouth in a flurry, eyes darting to Barry’s face then away again.
“It may have been mentioned once or twice,” Barry said dryly. If ever there was an understatement, that was it. Both Maria and Barry had been trying to convince him that there was no such thing as bad luck. Dark brows twitched upwards as Barry waited patiently for him to continue.
“I know, I know; what feels like ‘bad luck’ is actually just my mind pattern-seeking under stress, trying to make sense of uncertainty by linking unrelated events together when I start to feel anxious or insecure. It’s not external forces working against me, it’s how my internal state shapes the story I tell myself is happening," Ladybug repeated, Barry’s last talk on the subject still fresh in his mind. As he spoke, Ladybug pushed himself up into a sitting position, stained sneakers squeaking against dark polished floors as he leaned forward. He spared a moment to glance between his own worn blue jeans and Barry’s immaculate black suit. Of the two of them, he really wasn’t the one that looked like an assassin.
Man, I’ve really got to get the name of his tailor. The cut of his suit really makes his shoulders look wider. And the way that it’s tapered at the waist?
Hands clasped between his knees, Ladybug met Barry’s gaze. He needed to focus. There would be time enough later to think about his work wardrobe. It wasn’t like Maria would send him out again so soon after the last disaster of a job.
“But here’s the thing. What if it really is bad luck?”
Silence stretched between them for a beat. The scratching of pen on paper broke the stillness as Barry held his gaze, making notes without even looking. Ladybug couldn’t help but glance towards the notebook, eyes flicking down then back as the need to know what the other man was writing became a tangible itch beneath his skin.
Is it possible to get a bad score in therapy? ‘Cause I feel like I’m getting a bad score in therapy.
“Something happened at work,” Barry said slowly, his guess on point. Ladybug’s lips twisted into a lopsided grimace. The scratching of pen on paper grew louder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Maybe?” Ladybug winced, hands clenching, nails leaving half-moon indents in his palms. It was the uncertainty more than anything else that he had grown to loathe. People didn’t make it to the point in their careers that he had by being uncertain. Heck, most didn’t make it past their first year. He couldn’t afford to let his newfound nerves take hold like that.
“I’m sensing some conflict. It’s okay. That’s perfectly natural, following such a period of prolonged anxiety. Take your time. We have all the time that you need.”
Ladybug’s eyes flicked to the tick-tick-ticking clock on the wall behind Barry. They were already almost a third of the way through his session, and they had barely discussed anything, let alone made any progress.
Even if Maria does give me a couple of weeks off, I just know the higher-ups will be pushing for me to get back in the field again ASAP. Time is money. I really need to get my act together. I can’t afford any more screw-ups.
Forcing his hands to unclench, Ladybug sent Barry a strained smile. “That’s a nice sentiment in theory, doc, really. But work waits for no man, y’know?”
A little furrow appeared between Barry’s eyes, his brow drawing down. It struck Ladybug as one of the first times he had seen such clear displeasure on the other man’s face. Voice even and calm, Barry said, “If you need a letter of recommendation for your employer–”
Ladybug snorted. He held his hands up, a lopsided, apologetic smile settling into place. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. No offence, but that really isn’t going to help.”
Fabric shifted, the sound of Barry’s neatly polished dress shoes lightly tapping against the floor as he sat up straight, pen finally pausing in its scratch-scratch-scratching. Dark eyes observed Ladybug closely. “If your workplace isn’t taking your mental health seriously, that is a cause for concern. I know we have talked a lot about your reactions to the uncertainty that your work can cause, but perhaps we have been approaching things from not quite the right angle. Sometimes, the issue isn’t how you are coping ‘well enough’ at all – it’s more about the environment you are being placed in, and how it is, or isn’t, supporting your needs. How do you feel that your needs are taken into consideration as part of your contract work?”
Well, my handler directly ignored my insistence on no guns on my last job, and almost stopped me from taking both sleeping powder and firecrackers which would have been a total disaster.
“It’s fine. That’s… that’s fine,” he began, not even sounding convincing to himself. He shook his head, trying again. “Believe me. That’s the last of my worries. Do you watch the news? I don’t just mean the local stuff. Did you see the coverage about the derailment? I mean the big one near Kyoto, where the shinkansen came off the tracks.” Ladybug paused.
Barry nodded slowly, hand reaching up to brush back his dark hair away from his face. “It was a little hard to miss. Only the third derailment in over fifty years, they said. And the first–”
“–with any fatalities,” Ladybug finished grimly. His smile morphed into more of a grimace. “Did I ever tell you where work was sending me?”
Barry’s eyes widened. A steady hand reached up to remove his glasses as the man took a moment to centre himself, trying to process the implication of Ladybug’s words. “You were there when it happened. That… would be a shock to anyone’s system. To witness something so unprecedented in the wake of the trauma you were already experiencing… Something like that would take its toll on anyone.”
Ladybug swallowed back the words that threatened to break free. He hadn’t just been a passive witness; he had been there. He had played a hand in how events had unfolded. If it hadn’t been for his bad luck – if fucking Carver had just done his goddamned job – how differently could things have gone? He found himself speaking without thinking, his throat tight, a familiar stinging at the corner of his eyes.
“I just can’t help but think that I had something to do with how everything played out. If I hadn’t been there–” Ladybug cut himself off, his mind flashing back to Tangerine’s face – to the silence, the stillness of his shoulders, the unblinking loop in his eyes – as he found Lemon slumped in the bathroom. Neon lights and bright, dark flashes of colour filled Ladybug’s mind. Wild, wide blue eyes. Words – short and sharp and slick with frustration – that he never allowed Tangerine to finish saying.
I should have just listened to him.
All of it paled in comparison to Lemon himself. To that broken scream, as they entered the tunnel. As he sat beside his brother, and the weight of his reality settled in.
I should have listened to them both.
“It sounds like you’re trying to make sense of something unsettling, and your mind is looking for a way to explain it. What I’m hearing is a sense of responsibility that might not fully belong to you.” Barry’s smooth voice broke through Ladybug’s reverie. He wiped at the corners of his eyes with the heel of his hand, refusing to acknowledge the gathered tears there, or the uncomfortable tightness in his chest. The Twins were hardly the first independent contractors he had passed in his line of work. They wouldn’t be the last. Then why did their fate seem to affect him so much?
“When things go wrong, it can be common for us to turn inward and wonder if we had some role in events beyond our comprehension – even when there’s no clear connection there in the first place. It’s important to acknowledge that having a thought or feeling or worrying about something doesn’t affect external events. Accidents – whether that’s something big or small – come from a chain of external factors, not from someone’s internal sense of luck. It sounds to me like your mind is trying to assign meaning, to take responsibility for something unpredictable, as a way to protect yourself.”
Blue eyes wandered to the bank of windows sitting to Barry’s right. The first hints of summer could be seen in the wildflowers beyond the spotless pane, grass already beginning to turn from lush towards something more yellowed, the heat too much for it to bear. Maybe he should take a break. Not another full on sabbatical, but a few weeks away from it all. Somewhere he hadn’t been in a while. Europe, maybe?
England’s meant to be nice this time of year, isn’t it? Not too hot. And I’m sure the food can’t be all that bad.
“You don’t understand,” Ladybug said at last, his words heavier than they had any right to be.
“Then help me understand.”
Ladybug glanced up at Barry incredulously, his mind stuttering to a halt. How could he begin to explain that it wasn’t all in his head? That there really was something almost cursed about his luck, that seemed to only affect those around him?
Blue eyes slid back towards the clock. They were almost out of time. In his pocket, Ladybug’s phone began to vibrate. He reached for it without thinking; he didn’t need to see the familiar beetle emoji flashing on screen to know who was calling him. Only a handful of people had his number. Only one ever actually called. Something heavy settled in his chest. He flashed Barry a strained smile.
“Maybe we can talk about that in our next session.” Ladybug stood, ignoring the aching in his knees, the way that the still-healing cut on his brow twinged as he reached up to carelessly brush back dirty blonde hair. He might have survived the crash, but even he hadn’t managed it fully unscathed. “No rest for the wicked.”
Barry rose slowly, notebook closing in one hand, pen neatly keeping his place. His smile was small, but Ladybug liked to think that it looked real. “Of course. Whenever you are ready. Same time next week? Or would you like me to see if we have something a little sooner, if you’ve been struggling recently?” Barry asked gently.
It was tempting. The thought of a string of endless, sleepless nights loomed ahead of him. His phone, not for the first time, felt unreasonably heavy in his grip. Just how long could he keep doing this? How long could he keep going, before his luck finally caught up with him? Before the risk outweighed the reward?
When was the last time it felt like a job was actually worth the payoff? Ladybug wasn’t sure that he knew anymore. Lips parted, words poised on the tip of his tongue.
His phone buzzed again.
Ladybug’s smile took on an apologetic edge. He held up a hand, eyes already falling to the cracked screen. “Just, give me a moment–”
Ladybug pulled up his messages, clicking through to the familiar thread.
🪲: We need you to come in for your next briefing. Can you make it to London by tomorrow evening?
🪲: I know it’s short notice, but a mutual acquaintance called in a favour. Says it can only be you to help him out on this next job.
🪲: 🍋
🪲: You don’t have to say yes.
🪲: It’s your call.
Ladybug stared down at the familiar little emoji, his mind blank. There had to be some mistake. After how they left things in Kyoto – Lemon refusing to leave the river until he could find whatever remains he could, Ladybug trying to insist that Tangerine wouldn’t have wanted him to see him like that, screamed words that he didn’t know what Tangerine would have wanted – there was no way that Lemon would be asking for his help, let alone with a job.
It’s gotta be a mistake. Or a trap. Or something, Ladybug thought, not a hint of uncertainty in his mind. Fingers flexed unconsciously around his phone, the cracked screen catching in the light. No matter how often he replaced his burner phones, they always seemed to end up in pieces. Does it really matter what it is? I owe him. I owe them both.
“Is everything alright?” Barry’s soft voice broke through Ladybug’s musings. A hand landed on his shoulder. “You’re shaking.”
“It’s nothing. Just work. You know how it is.” Ladybug forced a weak smile onto his face. Barry’s hand remained in place. Ladybug took a step back. “Y’know what? I think I’m going to have to reschedule our next appointment. Maybe switch to Zoom? Or email? You do email appointments now, right? I’ll just email your secretary to get something sorted.”
As he spoke, Ladybug began to gather his things, toeing on his shoes, pulling on his jacket, slipping his hat from his pocket and tugging it into place. In a matter of moments, he was ready to leave, not a trace of his presence left behind. “Thanks again for today’s session. Big help, as always. You’ve given me a lot to think about. It’s good to be able to talk about these things.”
“I’d really encourage you to keep our next session, even if things are feeling a little busy or uncomfortable right now. Often, that’s when it’s most important we stay consistent. I wouldn’t normally say this, but…” Barry paused, as though searching for the right words. “I’m a little concerned about how much you’re taking on right now. Is work–”
“I’m fine.” Ladybug’s words cut sharply across before Barry could finish. He forced the tension from his shoulders, hand curling possessively around his phone to one side, the other – palm sweaty, hand steady – wiping against his jeans. “Really. It’s just like you told me. I can’t wait around for the conditions to feel ‘right’ before getting started, or I’m gonna be waiting around forever. Action doesn’t follow readiness; readiness follows action.”
He took another step towards the door. Barry turned, lips twitching at the corners, his concern clear. “It’s great that my words resonated with you, but–”
“Thanks again for today’s session.” Ladybug reached the door to the office, turning back to offer Barry one final, lopsided smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine until our next one. Really. It’s just one little work meeting. We can talk all about it at my next session. And I’ll keep up with those mindfulness exercises you recommended last time. Oh! And the box breathing. That one really seemed to work.”
Though breathing into a paper bag seemed to have the same exact effect.
“I’ll email if anything else pops up before then. See you in a couple of weeks!”
Ladybug didn’t give Barry another chance to speak. As the door closed behind him, he let his eyes slide closed, a ragged, uneven sigh falling from between his lips. Fingers clenched around his phone more tightly, Maria’s words playing out in his head, again and again.
He didn’t give himself time to stop. To think. Clumsy thumbs moved, the words coming quickly.
🐞: 👍✈️
It wouldn’t take him long to get everything sorted at home. By the time that he had cleared out the half-shelf of groceries he had in, to take out the garbage, to pack light, Maria would no doubt already have a plane ticket sorted, and a ride for him at the other end.
This is the least that I can do to try and make it up to them. I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Really. I mean… What’s the worst that could happen?