𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 || s. rogers & b. barnes

10||; 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍 & 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

⤷ may 1, 2015
━━━━━━━━━━━

"Barnes," Irina knocks twice on the door. She doesn't get an answer, doesn't even hear a shift. "Barnes, it's me. Irina..."

Silence.

Irina sighs.

For almost two days now, Barnes had kept himself locked in his room, not coming out to eat or anything. Not even in the late or early stretches of the night and morning, did he escape.

Steve was pale with worry, spending hours a day knocking on his door, asking, pleading for him to at least give him a sign he was there.

When they'd gone to Tony, asking him to see if Barnes was still even in the Tower, it took him under a minute to confirm with J.A.R.V.I.S. that he, in fact, was.

And that concludes that Barnes just didn't want to talk to anyone.

Not even Steve.

And that seemed to hurt him more than it would have had Barnes just run off.

So here Irina was.

"Barnes," she sighs, "I know what this is about. Why you're shutting yourself away," she says. Irina frowns at the door. "It wasn't you. You weren't in control. They were. They ordered the Winter Soldier to train me, and he did. Not you. You had no choice in the matter."

No response again, and with a soft thunk, her forehead meets the door. "Come on, Barnes..." she groans, "meet me halfway here. Please. I told you; I'm helping you pick up your broken pieces. I'm here for you. But you can't let me do all the heavy-lifting. You have to help me."

She presses her hand flat against the door, warm palm meeting the cool surface. "Can't you at least unlock the door so I can come inside?" She asks. "Please?"

More silence. Irina curses softly under her breath, turning around and going to leave when there's a click barely even there that alerts her.

She stops, turning back to the door and staring at it incredulously.

Huh.

She hadn't even heard Barnes get up.

Pursing her lips, Irina gingerly touches the doorknob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open a little bit at a time, never too abrupt.

She peaks inside Barnes' room, the first time she's ever seen it...and it hardly looks like he's living in it at all.

The bed has sheets and blankets, but those look like they've never even been used. There's a red book on the bedside table, coloured tabs poking out of it, a single photo beside it...but that's it.

No personality, no colour...hardly a sleeping environment.

And there Barnes is, sitting at the foot of the bed with his back pressed against it, one knee propped up to his chest with his right arm dangling over it. And his eyes, a brilliant blue, are staring blankly at the wall across from him.

"Barnes..." murmurs Irina, slowly making her way to him, across the carpeted floor.

When she reaches him, Barnes doesn't react to her; doesn't move, doesn't blink... nothing.

Irina feels despair fill her.

"Barnes," she whispers, slowly going down onto one knee beside him. "Barnes, please look at me," she asks.

He doesn't react. Doesn't respond.

She purses her lips, eyes shining with sorrow as she watches the broken man before her. "Barnes," she insists in a more stern tone, "I need you to look at me. Look at me or I walk away right now, and we forget the deal we made," she says. "I walk away and never look back."