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It's common knowledge that Bob hasn't been the most faithful husband to Sara. A lot of times he isn't even a nice husband to her. But, for the time being, they're back together. They'd separated last year, Bob had written and released Idiot Wind, things were not looking good for several months, and then Bob wrote and played the song Sara for her. Upon hearing it, they were able to reconcile and Sara decided to join Bob on the Rolling Thunder Revue tour.
One would think that the dishonesty and the infidelity would stop there, but no. Bob is a special man. He's a rockstar! How's he supposed to deal with so many women--and sometimes men--wanting him without doing anything about it? He thinks it's ridiculous.
So, he's been cheating on Sara pretty openly during the tour, even kissing Joan Baez onstage one night. Sara tries to pretend it doesn't hurt her. The one that gets to her the most is Joan. She tries to like Joan, she really does, but it bothers her a lot that the woman is very much aware of the fact that Bob is a married man, yet she continues to flirt with him and kiss him and act like they're together. She knows the blame is almost entirely on Bob, she'd say about 99%, but she can't help but think Joan should know better.
It's safe to say that Joan is a bit of a sensitive topic between the Dylans. Any argument in which Joan is brought up always explodes as soon as Sara says her name. Bob knows things are getting heated when Sara starts talking about his past lover. She's right, he knows she is, but he argues anyway.
Surprisingly, though, they've been on pretty good terms the past few weeks. Sure, there are arguments here and there, but overall they've been doing well. Working together. Trying to be a real couple. Well, if you ignore the fact that Bob's still cheating on her.
Anyway, Bob notices how close they've become again when he starts getting sick and Sara immediately steps in to take care of him. In the past two years, she's practically banished him to their room, or a guest bedroom if she doesn't want to get sick--or be near him in general (it's a pretty good excuse). He's used to getting the cold shoulder from her when he's not feeling well, so this is a nice change of pace.
The Dylans aren't good at maintaining that pace.
It starts off really well.
They make someone else drive the bus while Bob lies down in the back with his head in Sara's lap. Joan's in the opposite corner of the bus, trying not to wish it was her in Sara's place.
"How you feeling?" Sara pets Bob's hair.
He rubs his nose on her thigh and sniffles. Grumbles something that Sara can't hear.
"What's that?"
Bob shifts so his head is facing up, looking Sara in the eyes. Sniffles again. "I'm okay. I wish we could lie down together."
When he's sweet he's really sweet. Sara blushes. "We'll get to the hotel in a few hours. Hang in there, Bobby."
He nuzzles up to her hand as she caresses his cheek.
--
They arrive at the hotel and Bob passes out on top of Sara the second they climb in bed. He's calm. Finally at peace. He's been worn so thin on this tour, it's reminded Sara of what went down in '66 and it's been weighing on her. Something in the back of her mind reminds her of how close she was--how close the world was to losing Bob.
She's not surprised that he's gotten sick, and she's almost glad he has. Nearly every single night, everyone on tour stays up until five in the morning listening to one another play, drinking and smoking and doing God knows whatever else.
Tonight, Bob goes to sleep at midnight. Sara holds him as he sleeps for nearly twelve hours.
He seems to be in a bad mood the second he wakes up. Sara quickly realizes that it's because he's feeling much worse and he's one day closer to having another show, which is stressing him out a great deal.
As always, she does her best to try and help him relax. They take a bath together before leaving the hotel for the day, Sara washing Bob's hair and body. He appreciates it and his mood lightens a little as they get ready to go.
The problem Sara has with the tour at this specific moment is that they always seem to have some sort of activity going on.
Today they're walking around the city that they'll be playing for in two days. It's nice to sight-see and visit towns that they might've never stepped foot in if it weren't for the tour, but it's cold as hell today and Sara--as well as every single person that's come in contact with Bob--can tell that he's downright miserable.
They had left the hotel when his hair was still wet from the bath and now he's mad at Sara for having him take a bath so close to when they were set to leave. Now he's shivering more than everyone else! He blames his runny nose on her too.
"You knew when we were leaving!" He shouts.
Sara looks around, embarrassed that all these people are hearing him scold her. "You did too! How's that my fault?" She bit back, not nearly as loud.
Bob doesn't have a response. He just unlinks his arm from hers and keeps walking ahead. Sara falls back and tries not to cry as she watches her husband start walking next to Joan. She catches a glimpse of him smiling at Joan and nearly falls to pieces. He hasn't smiled at Sara all morning.
She watches on as Bob sneezes several times and Joan puts a hand on his shoulder, offers him her handkerchief.
Without telling anyone, Sara turns back and heads for the hotel.
--
Somehow, Bob returns to the hotel even grumpier than he was before. Sara's sitting in bed when she hears the door slam.
"Fuckin'...shit, Sara. You just-" he pauses to cough. "You just fuckin' disappeared! No one knew where you went! Freaked me the hell out."
Sara rolls her eyes. "I got back here four hours ago. Clearly it wasn't that big of a deal."
To be honest, it had taken a long time for Bob to notice. He had only realized that she’d left when someone else asked him where she was. He took a look around the group and didn't see her, then proceeded to say she was probably fine, and continued walking around the city, arm linked with Joan’s.
He'd only returned when he felt too sick to stay out.
"What do you mean it wasn't a big deal? It--you think it wasn't a big deal to me that my wife was missing?"
This time it's Sara who raises her voice first. "It's been hours since I left, Bob! Hours! You couldn't have cared that much if it took you--bless you--if it took you that fucking long to decide to come back here and look for me. Where else would I have gone? I don't know where the hell I am!"
"How the fuck should I know where you're going?" This is the point at which Bob, like in most arguments, likes to flip the blame onto whoever he's wronged. "It's not my fault you don't tell me a goddamn thing! I'm, y'know, I've been real busy with this tour and I'm sorry that you ran off and didn't tell me and I was busy and now you're mad that you left without telling me!"
Sara could explode. She'd be angrier if Bob wasn't so sick, though. She knows him well, they've been married for a decade now, and she knows he lashes out like this when he's feeling especially shitty. With everything else that's been building up to break them down, though, she's having a hard time excusing his behavior. Still, she tries.
To keep herself from screaming at him again, because she knows all he'll do is scream back and ruin his voice, Sara pauses and takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry I left and didn't tell you," she says coolly. "I was upset that you were upset with me and I just didn't feel very welcome there."
Bob softens a little. "I wish you'd've told me you were--ahhem-ahem, you were gonna leave." It's quiet for a moment. "I woulda come with you."
Sara looks up at him. She can tell by the look in his eyes that he's telling the truth.
"Really?"
She asks anyway. She wants to hear him say it.
"Yeah, really. I feel like a pile of hot, stinkin' garbage."
Sara's heart sinks a little. Would it have killed him to say he wanted to come back just to be with her?
Bob can see that his answer isn't what Sara wanted to hear. It miffs him a little, but he tries to be compassionate. Not because he really cares about hurting her feelings, but because he's sick and he's tired and he just wants Sara to hold him.
"I missed you taking care of me." He tacks on.
It has the desired effect. Sara beckons him forward and he takes his coat and shoes off before curling up in her lap. She pets his hair until he drifts off.
--
Sara has a horrible thought as Bob's asleep in her arms. He's much more pleasant to be around when he's not awake. She nearly slaps a hand over her mouth despite the fact that she hasn't said anything. Can she really think that about her husband? That can't be a good sign.
For the rest of Bob's nap, Sara spends all her time thinking of all of the good qualities that she admires about her husband. She comes up with quite a few and is satisfied by the time Bob blinks his sleepy eyes open.
"Rise and shine, darling," Sara says.
Bob stretches out and coughs against his shoulder. He presses his face into her skin and leaves a few kisses. Sara can finally breathe. She'd been wondering if Bob would wake up on the edge of divorcing her or if he'd be sweet and loving. It had been about a 50/50 chance.
"How you feeling?" She massages his temples.
Another cough. "Mmm," is the only semi-verbal response she gets.
So, not good, she assumes.
The frequency with which he's sniffling and rubbing his nose confirms her suspicions.
"Tissue?"
"Mhm!" Bob nods with urgency.
Sara plucks one from the box and places it in Bob's hands. He brings it to cover his mouth and nose, but has to wait a few seconds before a volley
of sneezes comes pouring out. It exhausts him, Sara can see.
"Can I do anything for you?"
Bob sniffles and thinks for a second. "'Nother tissue?" Another sniffle, this one more urgent. "Please?"
Harmless request. Simple enough, too.
Or so you'd think.
Sara reaches over to grab the tissue box, succeeds, but it's when she retracts her arm that things go south. Bob sits up at the same time that she's moving her arm back and her elbow ends up colliding rather forcefully with his cranium.
"Fuck!" The strain on his voice makes Bob cough. "Fucking bitch!"
Sara knows he doesn't mean her, but she does know that he's about to be furious with her anyway.
"Bobby, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you sitting up, I-" She knows by now that most of her efforts are futile, but it looks better for her to try and apologize anyway.
"Fucking Christ! I've already got a headache on top of the rest of the-the coughing and the sneezing and the sniffling and the fuckin' achey bones and shit, now I gotta deal with takin' a blow to the brain like I'm a goddamn street fighter?" His voice is fading fast.
Sara tries again. "I'm sorry, honey, what can I do to help?"
"Nothing! Not a goddamn thing! You know what, you tried to help and just look what happened! Fuckin' tryin' to give me a concussion or something! I mean, geez, that was...I mean, really, what the hell?" He sneezes twice and winces when his head throbs.
The pain makes him even angrier.
"I didn't do it on purpose, Bobby, you have to know that." Sara's nearly in tears at this point. She's convinced Bob thinks she did it to hurt him.
He confirms her suspicion. "Are you, snnf, are you really still pissed at me that I didn't notice you take off earlier? Ahhem, are you-" His voice breaks. He tries to cough to clear his throat better but it just leaves him trapped in his elbow for a few seconds. "Do you still got a fuckin' stick up your ass 'cause you ran off like a little kid?"
"Why would I hit you?" Sara cries. "Why would I comfort you after you yelled at me for feeling like you didn't give a shit about me, just to elbow you in the side of the head? What the fuck would that accomplish!"
"I don't know! Some-some sick and twisted bullshit, that's what! Did you, were you just tryin' to wait for me to-to fall back in your arms so you could-"
Sara's sure she's never rolled her eyes so hard until this moment. "You sound like a raving lunatic! Do you think I'm conspiring against you? Plotting your downfall? Give me a fucking break! I'm just trying to take care of you because you're not feeling well, you asshole!"
"Well, you're not doing a very good job," Bob jabs at her, voice quiet. Sara's not sure if it's because he doesn't want to raise his voice or if it's because he can't. He shakes his head. "I d'know, maybe I should just go get Joan to take care of me. She'd never do somethin' like that."
Sara sees red. Bob has sat up and distanced himself from Sara at this point but she reaches over and shoves him farther away. Tears are streaming down her face, but Bob doesn’t seem to care that much.
"Go!"
It's always about fucking Joan, isn't it?
"Get out! Go to her! Let her put up with you! With you and your stupid fucking bullshit, Bob! Let her tell you that you're a child and a brat and that you don't appreciate a goddamn thing!"
Surely people in the hall can hear her ranting and raving, but Sara doesn’t care.
"Fine!"
Her heart breaks as Bob sneezes desperately while grabbing some of his things. The adrenaline rush is fading and Sara's starting to feel an empty pit in her chest. Is this really what they've come to?
She hopes and she prays that Bob will put his things down, that he'll turn around and apologize and come lie down with her again. He doesn't, though.
"Well, see ya."
His words push Sara over the edge once more.
She shouts after him, "You're a jerk when you're sick, Bobby! A real fuckin' jerk!"
The door closes behind him before she can finish speaking.
The room becomes so silent that Sara almost misses the yelling. At least he had been in there with her then. Now she's alone again, and Bob will be with Joan.
Sara cries herself to sleep. She can't imagine Bob does the same.
--
She doesn't see him until two days later. They'd canceled the show they were supposed to play the night before. Who'd have guessed that screaming at your wife when you're already losing your voice isn't really good for you?
He sounds better when she sees him, though. Looks better, too.
A whole group of them are playing in someone's room, but Bob's not in the center like he usually is. He's still resting his voice, Sara's heard.
She pokes her head in to see what's going on, hoping to catch his eye. Somehow, it works. Bob looks up and lays eyes on her. Instead of immediately focusing his graze elsewhere like Sara expects, he keeps his eyes locked with hers. She swears she can see a hint of sadness, maybe even regret on his face when she feels the small smile she's offering him falter.
All of a sudden, Bob's standing. He puts his guitar down and someone asks where he's going. He tells them he's not feeling well still and most importantly he's really gotta go clear his nose out.
No one questions him. People rarely do.
Sara steps out into the hall and waits for Bob. When he gets out there, she notices that he doesn't really look as much better as she'd thought. Standing so far away from him must've tricked her mind.
"Hi," he says quietly.
"Hi."
They both feel like teenagers, making up with their "lover" of two weeks after a fight over one of them staring at the quarterback for a little too long.
When Bob is the first to apologize, Sara thinks the world might stop spinning. What?
"Sara...I've meant to talk to you about…I mean…well, you know, I don't need to tell you." Bob scratches the back of his head. Sara cringes at the state of his voice. "I shouldn't've...I'm-I apologize, for what happened."
He can’t even say what he did. Sara ignores that part.
"It's alr-"
Bob shakes his head. "Let me--just...Joan told me that when I got to her she stuck a thermometer in me, she took my temperature and it was through the roof. That ain't an excuse, by the way, I'm not, I ain't excusing what happened or nothin', but I was hurtin' real bad. Shouldn't'a…yelled at you like that, though. Held Joan over your head like that."
Upon first hearing Joan's name, Sara wants to scream. She doesn't want to talk about Joan right now. When he provides more context, she relaxes, only to tense right up again when he mentions her the second time. She tries not to lash out at him for it, about keeping her out of their problems.
On some level she supposes she's glad that Joan was the one who'd had to deal with Bob for the past few days. It’s been nice having a break, having some time apart. Sara's missed Bob, despite the fact that their last encounter had been awful.
"Sara?"
She notices she's lost in thought when Bob brings her back down to Earth. Before she can respond, Bob's tucked into his elbow letting out a cluster of sneezes that have virtually no power behind them.
He's still quite sick, Sara realizes. Even though he's hurt her deeply, she still has the urge to tuck him in and hold him tight. She sees in front of her not the thirty-four year-old man that he is now, but the twenty-four year-old man—boy, even—that she’d married. He looks small. Pitiful.
"Baby?"
Sara realizes she still hasn't responded. She chooses her words carefully. "I'm sorry you've been so sick."
"I'm--it doesn't, that doesn't matter right now." Sara disagrees with this statement. He sounds like if a garbage disposal could speak. "Look, ahhem, I-"
"Will you come lie down with me?" Sara asks. Bob's eyes open wide, he can't her words. "I'm a little tired and I thought you maybe...you might be too. Maybe you could use some rest."
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Bob smiles at her.
They'll have to work this out later; it's nothing they should tackle while they're still so emotional. Bob needs more rest and more fluids before he'll be able to have a normal-person conversation without getting too worked up.
On the short walk back to their hotel room, no words are spoken. They both know they've said some hurtful things and that it's likely that those things will contribute to problems they might not be able to fix. Neither one has much hope that the relationship will last, but they'll take all the sweet, calm moments they can get until it’s too late.
The levee's gonna break. No one knows when, but the stones are already cracking.