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Every time he looks at Gordon, Barney feels his guts twist painfully.
Barney’s not even sure Gordon’s doing it on purpose, honestly. He’s just got this look in his eyes. It’s not anger, no, because for some reason no matter what he does Gordon just can’t be mad. It’s not fear, either, because why would The One Free Man be afraid?
It’s love. He can see it plain as day. And the longer he stares, the harder Barney’s heart clenches.
“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He mutters, grimacing. Gordon’s expression sinks but it’s still there. That adoration. How can he still look at him like that, right now? He doesn’t get it.
It’s not like he can change what he’s done, what he’s going to do. He made a deal with the devil, shook his hand while looking right into his pale blue eyes and said he’d do what was needed. He can’t imagine how Alyx must feel, or Kleiner. They’d be angry, hurt, hissing out insults and trying to escape.
But they aren’t here. Gordon is.
And Gordon won’t look away from him, won’t spare him the gaze of those big, green eyes.
His hands are free from chains (except for a pair of strong handcuffs) but his legs aren’t. Barney wanted him to be able to talk but not get away, just so he could see every jab Gordon would send at him and really feel that guilt.
(Maybe then, he’d find the strength to give this up. Right this wrong.)
(And he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s on the wrong side here, but… this is the only way he can keep them safe. Keep them all safe.)
But instead, Gordon just stares. Stares and stares and stares and he won’t fucking stop and Barney--
“I said stop !” He snaps, baring his teeth down at him. “For pete’s sake, Gordon, would’ya just quit it? ”
Gordon blinks, but looks down. Barney huffs, tightening his grip on his gun.
He watches Gordon clench and unclench his hands, the material of the HEV suit creaking as he does.
“No matter what ya say, I’m not…” He pauses, wets his lips. “I can’t go back. Not anymore. So just… don’t.” Please, God, try to snap me out of this, Gordon.
Gordon stops, lets his arms hang heavy. There’s a lull where nothing happens, just the two of them sitting there listening to the heavy whirr of the HEV suit vents.
Barney wonders what’s going on in Gordon’s head, what complex physics calculations he’s doing to determine how he’s gonna get out. Maybe he’s deciding if he wants to kill him or not. Maybe he’s given up.
He doesn’t want him to. Barney desperately wants Gordon to keep going, keep winning. Even if it means… even if it means he dies.
(Even if it means Gordon is the one to kill him.)
Gordon’s hands move up and Barney prepares himself to fall into his words, fully believing every single thing Gordon says while still putting on a show for the cameras. He can’t find his own willpower to do it without Gordon’s help. That’s all he needs.
(That’s all he’s ever needed.)
“I’m sorry,” Gordon signs, movements slow and jerky. He looks up again, meeting Barney’s eyes. “I love you.”
Barney inhales sharply. A flood of emotion washes over him and he does a little gasp-laugh, surprised and trying not to burst into tears. Goddamnit. Damn it all. Leave it to Gordon to do the exact opposite of what he wants.
He expected Gordon to call him every horrible word under the sun and demand for him to give up and he would’ve done it. He swears he would have.
But now Barney swears under his breath, clenching his jaw and muttering curses at himself and God and that son of a bitch in the suit.
Twenty years. Twenty fuckin’ years he cried himself to sleep while drunk off his ass, dreaming of seeing those words again. Those three tiny, giant words.
It’s not the beautiful hallmark movie moment he wanted. He doesn’t feel ecstatic to see those words. He’s not about to stand on his tiptoes and kiss Gordon in the middle of a summer rainstorm. He doesn’t feel sparks flying, doesn’t have hearts in his eyes.
It's a pain he feels. God, it hurts so fucking bad. His chest is about to rip itself open and he still, still can’t find it in himself to undo this huge goddamn mistake. Gordon just said he loved him and he’s still fucking standing here, pointing a gun at him.
Gordon reaches a hand out, not quite managing to bridge the gap between them. Even as distracted as he is, Gordon isn’t even trying to escape. He’s trying to comfort him. Him, his captor, his enemy, the one who betrayed him and who has betrayed everything he’s ever stood for.
Barney looks to him, anger and guilt and pain mixing into a cruel concoction in his head.
“I’m sorry.” Gordon repeats, and Barney isn’t going to be able to take much more of that look in his eyes. “Can I hold your hand?”
Oh Lord, there’s nothing Barney wouldn’t do for this man, if only he just asked.
Barney doesn’t answer. He just reaches a hand out and Gordon takes it gently in his own, so gently.
He wishes they weren’t separated by two layers of thick gloving, wishes he could feel Gordon’s skin against his. Would it be warm? Or are his hands still chronically cold?
He remembers Gordon would surprise Barney by pressing his fingers against his neck just to make him yelp. He remembers learning how to knit just to make Gordon a pair of thick, fingerless gloves for the winter. The kind he could talk more easily in.
He remembers the first night he wore them out, how happy he was to have warm hands while still being able to talk to Barney. It was snowing while they walked and talked, and they’d stopped under an awning for a bit only for Gordon to notice the mistletoe above them.
Barney remembers all of this as Gordon presses a kiss to his knuckles before pressing his cheek to his palm. All the air leaves him at once and he can’t breathe, eyes going wide.
They stay like that for a moment. Everything else disappears. Barney keeps his eyes focused on Gordon, on the way his eyes flutter shut as he just holds his hand there. When was the last time he was touched like this? Barney doesn’t know. He just knows that he can’t help but smooth his thumb against his cheekbone.
It makes Gordon sigh and turn his face more into his palm, pressing his lips there. There’s a moment where Barney considers falling to his knees and replacing his palm with his mouth. Where he considers undoing the restraints and handing Gordon his crowbar, then kneeling before him with his neck bared and waiting for his judgement.
He doesn’t do either of these. He just holds his breath.
Gordon looks tired, Barney notices. Deep, dark bags under his eyes and hastily-healed scars covering his face. Wounds that have been knitted together too fast, making the skin around it tight and firm. He runs his thumb over one on Gordon’s lip. Even through the glove he can feel the change between scar tissue and skin.
Being the Atlas of humanity must weigh on him something fierce, he thinks. If Barney goes through with this, Gordon wouldn’t have to worry about that. Maybe he could just rest. He looks like he hasn’t properly slept in days.
How long has it been? How long has it been since the resonance cascade, for Gordon? He looks the same. He acts the same. Barney’s 20 years feels like nothing in the face of what Gordon’s gone through.
Gordon opens his eyes again, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Beautiful and just so damn green. Barney could get lost, if he wanted. If he looked for just a little too long.
But he has the look in them, again. Soft and welcoming, almost silently pleading with him for… for something.
Barney notices, like a lightning strike, that it’s not love there. Not like he thought. Not quite. Not entirely .
It’s forgiveness .
The realization makes Barney pull his hand away like he’s been burned, stumbling backwards. He balls his fist up, his entire arm shaking. He swallows thickly, his entire chest burning.
Gordon forgives him.
Barney hasn’t even done anything to show remorse or guilt.
Gordon forgives him.
Barney’s barely even been kind to him.
Gordon forgives him .
How is it enough ? How is he enough?
It’s tearing through him like a jagged edge. Barney can barely breathe as he stares at Gordon. He wants to scream. He wants to tear his hair out.
(He wants to drag Gordon up by the collar and ask why? Why do you keep looking at me like that? Don’t you see me? Don’t you see what I’ve done? Please, God, stop looking at me like that and just kill me already.)
He’s blind. He can’t see Barney’s faults, his flaws, his mistakes-- not even when they’re glaring right at him.
Barney’s not a good person, he can’t be, not anymore. Not after this. But Gordon keeps looking at him like he’s the messiah of humanity, instead. Like he’s his entire world.
(He can’t stand it. He can’t. It’s like he’s being torn to pieces.)
So Barney does what he’s always done best. He blinks, steels his expression, and carefully tucks his emotions away.
“Backup is on the way.” He says coldly, looking down his nose at Gordon. “Don’t try anything and… and you’ll be unharmed. Got it?”
He turns and opens the door to the room they’re in. He signals for one of the other CPs standing outside to come in.
Gordon doesn’t respond. He just stares. Barney can’t meet his eyes.
He sighs harshly and takes a moment to collect himself before leaving Gordon behind. He doesn’t look back.
(Not even when he hears the muffled sounds of fighting coming from the room.)