𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

14||; '𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆

⤷ march 29, 2014
━━━━━━━━━━━

When she finally reaches the top floor of the Triskelion, Irina's eyes dart to the helicarriers instantly. There's distant gunfire, Sam flying in the air, dodging ballistics, and explosions everywhere.

She can't tell where Steve is, what he's doing, but she knows he's there, fighting the action head on. It's what he always does. What he always may do.

She steps up to the edge, looking at the helicarriers that continue rising into the air. She can't jump to them, not from where she was. But if she was given a boost...

Her eyes drag down to her hands, her fingers twitching.

The idea comes. It's stupid, downright suicidal...but it was an idea.

Taking a deep breath, Irina slowly retraces her steps back a long way. Once she's far enough away from the ledge, she exhales, and sprints, full speed, back to it. She concentrates. Balls of blue vibrate and form in the palms of her hands, fingers curling and moulding it.

Once she's there, a step away from falling to her death, she pushes the energy out, leaping off the roof as the energy explodes, launching her freely through the air.

She screams.

She screams, loud and terrified, as she flies with no wings, towards the closest helicarrier. For a moment, she doesn't think she can make it, but then —

Irina's landing is harsh, her body rolling many times over before it slows to a stop on her back, and she can press her feet into solid ground again.

She made it.

For a quick moment, she just takes a breather. A long, steady breather, in order to catch her breath. She lays there, on the cement runway, head tilted back as her chest rises and lowers, and groans.

"This is why I quit," she pants. "I can't keep doing this shit."

"Irina?"

Immediately, she's sitting upright, looking over at the voice that called for her with such surprise and confusion.

It's Steve.

Irina stands up, gaping at the captain. He has a new uniform, looks more toned-down and army-worn, but he's still Steve; baby blues wide and shining, pink lips parted, shield in hand.

"Steve?" She chokes out.

Whatever hesitance and wariness Steve might have held in his eyes upon seeing her diminishes instantly, and his shield is on his back, his footsteps hurrying towards her. Their eyes, brown and blue, don't look away from one another, even as Irina's start welling up with tears.

Steve.

It's Steve.

Steve came.

"Irina," Steve exhales her name like it's a breath of fresh air. A spring breeze, a prayer. His hands, though gloved and rough, rise up and cup her cheeks ever so softly, cradling her in them like she's the entire world. "Irina, is it really you? Are you really — can you really still remember me?"

Irina breaks out into the widest of smiles she's ever had, the tears that had built up, casting a shine to her eyes, falling down her cheeks as she leaps into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing, desperate to hold onto Steve and never be taken from him again.

"Steve," she sobs, "Steve, it's you, Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve!" She chants with chokes and sobs, tears raining down her cheeks, wetting his uniform.

Steve's hands brush over her waist, as if unsure she was really there, but when his fingers touch her, they jolt back, as if shocked. Steve punches out a breath, and then his arms are wrapping around her waist, squeezing her back with more gentle care, taking his strength into account, but still wanting to never let her go, and showing it.