There’s no ground beneath his feet. There’s no air around him, his lungs are collapsing. His heart lodges somewhere around his throat and he can’t breathe-

Barnes has such blue eyes. Cold and fierce but bright, wide, and Tony is lost.

He can’t tear himself away. Why would he?

There is nothing else.

Just the sparks dancing along his nerves and the pull in his chest and the realigning of the entire fucking universe around him.

Tony can’t tell if his head is spinning or if it’s everything.

Where-

What was he doing here? It was important, he knows that, but everything is gone-

All he knows is-

Barnes blinks and the world snaps back into place.

Except it snaps back wrong.

Like the center of gravity suddenly isn’t where it’s supposed to be. All of the colors are wrong, too bright and too rich. The air tastes electric.

Tony drags in a shuddering breath and he has no idea how much time has passed. A second. A lifetime.

Barnes is blinking rapidly now, like he’s trying to wake up.

At least Tony remembers why he’s here. He remembers all of his goals so clearly.

Stop this mess from becoming any more of an international disaster. Help Steve, if he can. Find out the truth.

He still needs to do all of that, it’s important.

His thumb falls away from the slide lock as Barnes lowers the gun. Barnes doesn’t actually pull out of his hold.

They’re still just staring at each other.

Tony needs to- to figure out what the hell happened here and how to fix it-

They need to-

The sound of footsteps are right behind him now, two sets of them, and he doesn’t think.

He spins on his heel, hand raised, and sends off a repulsor blast.

His blood runs cold as Natasha skids back across the polished floor and collides hard with one of the countless scattered tables. Sharon freezes a couple of feet away, staring at him with wide eyes.

He can’t breathe.

Natasha is still standing but she winces as she steps away from the table at her lower back. She hesitates, clearly confused, eyes darting between Tony and Barnes.

Tony doesn’t have any answers for her, even if he could speak. Why did he do that?

He still can’t fucking breathe.

Sharon lunges forward and Barnes’ hand wraps around the bend of Tony’s elbow, pulling him out of the way. Barnes puts himself between Tony and the attacking agent like a solid wall and it feels-

Tony shoves that incomplete thought away with the same vicious force that Barnes shoves Sharon down through another table.

He still feels so off balance. Like he’s waking up from a life-long dream. He’s relieved when Sharon curls around herself with a groan and doesn’t try to get up.

This isn’t right. Tony is supposed to be helping stop Barnes from breaking out of here, not- not looking for the exits-

Natasha is moving towards them again and Tony needs to help-

He needs to help her, he should- he should grab Barnes again, hold him so Natasha can-

Tony can’t even finish the thought. He’s still frozen in place.

None of this is right.

Barnes catches Natasha’s fists just as easily. Tony is all too familiar with the way Natasha swings herself up around Barnes’ shoulders, ready to strike, and he- he can’t-

He needs to-

They need to-

No, fuck. Tony can’t get it together, he can’t think. Everything is still sideways, it's all too bright.

Natasha brings her elbow down hard onto Barnes’ head, and Tony-

Reality finishes shattering around him.

He finally moves and things start to happen so damn fast. He sends out so many pulses of disorienting energy that the heat of the repulsor starts to burn his palm. Natasha hits the far wall and crumbles, and guilt twists Tony’s gut. He doesn’t stop to think.

Barnes' hand wraps around his arm again and Tony follows. More counter-terror agents approach them as they cross the room. Tony repulsors them. Barres takes care of any that get too close. They keep moving.

They have to get out of here.

It’s not until they’re approaching a staircase that Tony stops and says, “No.”

The helicopter is too exposed, too obvious. But Tony doesn’t need to explain.

Barnes goes tense for just a second. His fingers twitch against Tony’s skin. His eyes are fever-bright as he looks at Tony and nods.

So blue. Tony is still falling.

They turn down a hallway. Tony knows the way to the secret service tunnels. Barnes is following him now, hand still wrapped around Tony’s forearm. The contact feels like touching a live wire and Tony’s heart keeps stuttering in his chest. The strong grip feels like a brand, like a shackle-

Unbreakable-

T 'Challa steps into the hallway, blocking their path. Tony’s hand comes up again without thought, palm out and fingers spread in clear threat. He can’t stop himself.

“Stark,” T’Challa says, his eyebrows furrowed, “why are you doing this?”

Tony opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t have an answer. He can’t say it.

Barnes’ hand tightens on his arm the second T’Challa moves, and the chaos resumes. Tony's body moves faster than he can keep track of, than he wants to keep track of. He doesn’t want to think about what he’s- why he’s-

T‘Challa is clearly aiming to subdue Barnes and Tony can’t- he can’t let that- The repulsed burns his palm again, but the prince is quick. T’Challa’s hand swings at his face and Tony can’t dodge it.

He doesn’t have to.

Barnes is there. He grabs T’Challa’s arm with both hands and an audible snap echoes through the empty hallway.

Tony wants to throw up, he wants to stop. Instead he puts his palm to the side of T’Challa’s head and activates the repulsor.

It embeds the man halfway into the wall where he stills with a groan and Tony wavers on his feet. His hand is going numb and every fiber of him is screaming.

He’s still off balance, he still can’t breathe.

But he grabs Barnes by the wrist and they keep moving. Down the hall and then they’re practically tumbling down the dimly lit stairwell. They make it to the service tunnels. The tunnels lead to a parking garage, but the doors are locked.

Somehow Barnes’ gun found its way into his free hand, and Tony lifts it while Barnes works on the lock. When the doors swing open there’s a guard standing in their way, his hands shaking around his own gun.

Tony pulls the trigger first.

The man crumbles, bleeding, and bile rises in Tony’s throat.

Oh fuck, why can’t he stop?

Barnes pulls him along and Tony doesn’t protest when he picks their getaway car. Barnes smashes in the window and Tony hotwires it as easy as breathing. Tony drives.

Within minutes they’re blending into traffic in a nondescript sedan. When his phone starts to ring Tony passes it over, and Barnes crushes it in his metal hand without instruction.

They keep driving.

---

They don’t stop running for thirteen hours.

The entire time, they don’t speak. They don’t need to.

Tony’s stomach is still rolling.

He doesn’t sleep, even when Barnes takes over driving near the end. He’s too tired to consider questioning the rundown farmhouse that Barnes finds near the northern border of Lithuania.

It’s not like he’s been thinking through a fucking thing since-

Barnes leads the way into the one-room shack, and Tony doesn’t let himself think. He watches Barnes drop stiffly onto the worn couch.

Tony is trying so hard not to think.

Everything is still wrong. He’s exhausted but energy is still buzzing beneath his skin. Electric and terrifying. He can taste static on the air and his heart rate is still- He doesn’t-

"What the fuck?" Tony finally bursts, his voice hoarse, “why- what the fuck just happened?”

Barnes doesn’t look up from staring at his own palms. “You know,” he says heavily, “you’re too smart t’ pretend you don’ know what this is.”

“No,” Tony snaps. He spins on his heel and starts to pace. He doesn’t make it more than three steps towards the door before his head starts to pound, his chest pulling tight. So he paces the other direction, not looking over at Barnes as he repeats, "No, there’s no fucking way."

“You got another explanation?” Barnes demands. His breathing sounds ragged, too-quick.

Tony refuses to look over.

"I don’t- how about a mental breakdown?" Tony replies. His own breathing is shallow and shaky. "Why else would I- unless your Hydra brainworm is fucking contagious-"

"Wh- no," Barnes says around a harsh bark of laughter.

“- Then I don’t- something else must have-”

“No,” Barnes says again, "you know what this is."

Tony whirls on him, glaring, but Barnes is still hunched over himself. They’re both breathing too hard, too fast, Tony can hear the air wheezing in and out of his lungs.

It can’t be-

“You helped a fugitive escape custody,” Barnes says flatly, not looking up from his hands. “I was- you broke my orders with a word. Why else-”

“Shut up,” Tony snaps, "I am not your- we are not soulmates." His voice is too loud is his own ears, ringing oddly. “That’s- this shit doesn’t happen anymore.”

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends-

It can’t be-

But they are.

Tony makes a strangled sound as the truth that he’s known all along starts to really sink in. He’s not even trying to breathe anymore.

Barnes mutters something under his breath, too low for Tony to catch. Then he repeats it, over and over as he drops his face into his palms, and eventually Tony can make out the words.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

The wave of guilt that crashes over Tony is unexpected and infuriating.

He doesn’t want an apology, not from Barnes- Not when-

Neither of them chose this, but that’s kind of the fucking point, isn’t it? Tony wants an apology from the goddamn universe, not from the man hyperventilating on the shitty couch.

And the worse Barnes’ breathing gets, fast and too deep until his entire body heaves with it, the more Tony wants to- he doesn’t even know, but he can’t-

He can’t stop himself.

Tony marches across the room, his body once again moving without any input from his brain. Like a puppet on strings. Without the adrenaline of a fight it's even more obvious how completely out of control he is.

All that fucking time and effort trying to take back control of his life and his legacy, even if he has been regularly fucking it up, and now this-

By the time he’s standing in front of Barnes his own chest is rising and falling nearly as quickly and Tony hesitates, trailing to a stop. Now that he’s here he doesn’t actually know what to do, he has no plan, all he knows is that it’s physically impossible to do nothing.

Every breath Tony takes burns through his lungs and Barnes is starting to hiccup on every inhale, what Tony can see of his face going ghostly pale.

Tony can only watch numbly as his hands move, reaching out, and not knowing what he’s going to do is fucking terrifying. So he makes a decision instead.

He buries his fingers in Barnes’ wild hair and it feels like being electrocuted. Tony’s grip clenches tighter as a current of something that damn sure feels like electricity flows up his arms. They’ve both stopped breathing entirely. Tony’s chest is too full of something-

It feels-

Barnes doesn’t resist when Tony yanks on his hair with shaking hands, letting Tony pull his face up out of his palms. He lets Tony pull until his head is craned back, loose strands of hair falling out of his face as they stare at each other.

His eyes are wide and bloodshot. Still so damn blue.

"Breathe, stupid," Tony finally manages to wheeze. He has to drag in a shuddering, painful lungful of air before he can add, “I’m having the panic attack right now, and I don’t share.”

The laugh that Barnes chokes out is edged with hysteria. His gaze moves over Tony’s face, looking for something, and when Tony forces himself to take another shaking inhale Barnes follows along.

Tony takes another breath, and so does Barnes. It’s easier than Tony expected, shoving everything aside to just focus on getting air in and out of his lungs.

Maybe because they’re finally touching again.

Barnes’ hair is surprisingly soft. It's hard to ignore, even if Tony is doing his best not to notice. Barnes’ skin gives off a heat that radiates up Tony’s arms, into his chest, and it is slightly loosening the knot of panic wrapped around Tony’s heart.

They continue to stare at each other, breathing in time.

Slowly Barnes raises one shaking hand to grab blindly for Tony’s hip. He holds on like Tony is some kind of life line, wrinkling the expensive fabric. It’s hard enough to bruise and it feels-

Everything is still sideways.

Reality has been pulled inside out, too bright and harsh and messy and it's never going back.

Even the faded colors of the farmhouse are too saturated, the weak overhead lighting nearly blinding. Tony can feel every stuttering beat of his heart through his entire body.

But standing here like this- close- touching-

It feels right.

That thought has barely settled in his mind before Tony is ripping himself away, stumbling backwards. He immediately feels off-balance, untethered, and he nearly trips over his own feet as he retreats the few more steps it takes to put his back against the far wall.

This can’t be happening.

But it is.

Tony is living a legend. He’d abandoned all of his plans the second he’d looked into Barnes’ eyes, everything he’d gone to Berlin to do. He’d betrayed his teammates- attacked Natasha-

His breath catches wetly as bile rises in his throat. He really- this isn’t supposed to-

But it's happening-

All the air has vanished from the room. He can’t breathe again, lungs closing up as he tries desperately to think of any other explanation.

There’s nothing. And even if he could find another reason, he knows-

He knows it's true. He has a-

No-

Tony has to get out of here, go-

Anywhere.

His head starts to pound, throbbing in protest, and Tony groans as he lets himself slide down the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut and thumps his head back against the rough wood, breath rattling in his chest.

He can feel Barnes watching him. He keeps his eyes firmly closed. He doesn’t- he can’t deal with this.

When Barnes finally speaks, what he says is, “Lemme know when you’re done with th’ panic attack, I call next.”

His voice sounds a little better, a little more stable, and it actually sends a bolt of relief through Tony. Followed quickly by a fresh wave of irritation.

“Fuck off,” he snaps back, the words rough and wavering.

Barnes doesn’t reply, and Tony keeps his eyes shut.