AN: For the record college isn't as bad as I thought. But there's a lot of reading. A LOT. It's pretty time consuming, but I'm writing again! Whoo!

This chapter gets a little dark and depressing, and I suppose I should say trigger warning? Maybe? I just kind of delve into PTSD and its effects.

ALSO I just want to apologize for the last few chapters. I knew I kind of sped through them and I apologize, but I was running out of steam.

"WRITING."

"SIGNING."

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A severe infection in the gunshot wound on my right side. Extensive third degree burns on my left. Deep puncture wounds in both feet. Five broken ribs. Moderate internal bleeding. A concussion.

And those were just the physical injuries.

Following the trauma of that day – God, was it only a DAY? – I developed depression and anxiety. I was jumpy all the time and even started avoiding windows, for fear that another attack would happen. Not to mention the severe nightmares that plagued me every night, causing me to wake up screaming and covered in sweat. I knew I was suffering from PTSD, but I refused to talk to a therapist, despite most of the Avengers encouraging it. Tony was the only one who didn't push me; he seemed to understand the need to deal with things internally. Everyone worrying about me was just suffocating, so I took to hiding in my room, even going so far as to have meals brought to my door – when I actually felt like eating that is. I knew my behavior was just worrying them all even more, but I just needed to deal with things in my own way. Not even Steve and Bucky were immune to my avoidance. They had tried more than anyone to try to get me to come out of my room, Bucky even threatening once to break the door down, but I stood firm. I wanted to be left alone, and seeing them without being with them would just make my situation worse. I hadn't spoken to them at all since my return to the tower after some intense weeks of physical therapy on the helicarrier.

I began to lose alarming amounts of weight, my body growing sharp with my lack of fat and muscle and I felt like I could just blow away with the next gust of wind. My hair grew dry and brittle; my skin seemed to be dying around me, looking white and pallid. Even my eyes looked dead when I dredged up the energy to get myself out of bed and caught a glimpse in the mirror.

It wasn't that I blamed the Avengers for my capture and was avoiding them, no, I just didn't want them to see me like this. I was falling apart when they all had faced so much worse than me and were still fighting. Every time I winced at a scar I saw on my body, I reminded myself that Natasha, Clint, hell, even Tony, had three to my one. Every time I saw the fresh skin that had eventually grown to cover the burnt, I thought of how much torture Bucky had gone through and how he had made it out and kept going. I felt pathetic and useless. I knew I needed to get help. I knew I was killing myself, slowly but surely. But I was too ashamed to approach anyone about it. I had dug myself into this hole and I had no idea how to get myself out of it. I thought about talking to Steve and Bucky about it, but I just couldn't let on how weak I was to my super strong soulmates, even if they still didn't know what they were to me. What would they think if they saw me like this? They would probably be disgusted with me.

After a couple of weeks of me doing this though, Steve and Bucky had finally had enough.

I heard the distinct click of my door unlocking and then two pairs of footsteps heading towards my bedroom, where I had been lying, motionless for the past two days. I had known this was coming, and was honestly surprised that it had taken them this long. I heard a knock on my bedroom door before Steve spoke up.

"Angel, we know you're in there. Buck and I are worried about you. Please come out. I don't want to have to invade the privacy of your room, but we're at the point that we will. We're desperate here." I felt tears well up in my eyes at the concern he displayed. I didn't deserve it. I moved my hands sluggishly, signing to JARVIS slowly what I wanted him to tell them.

"Ms. Barton would like me to inform you that she is fine and that she would like to be left alone. However, having witnessed PTSD through sir, I suggest you ignore her request and enter." I gave my best glare up at the ceiling. The traitor.

"PTSD?! Jesus, I didn't realize it was THAT bad…" I heard Bucky whisper from outside my door, probably thinking I couldn't hear him.

"We should have figured though. She went through a lot." Steve responded just as quietly before speaking up and addressing me. "Sweetheart, we'd really like it if you answered the door, but if you don't we WILL come in." I groaned into my pillow and tried to drag myself up out of bed, but my limbs weren't cooperating. I hadn't eaten in days and I could definitely feel it now that I was trying to move. I collapsed back onto the bed, not even having made it part of the way up. Before I could try to sign something, JARVIS responded for me.

"Ms. Barton is unable to get up. I suggest, Captain Rogers, that you enter."

"Unable to…okay, we're coming in!" Bucky exclaimed before my door was shoved open. I curled up into a little ball as deathly quiet surrounded the three of us as they took in my state. I knew how awful I must look.

"Oh sweetheart…" I heard Steve murmur. I curled up tighter, wishing I could disappear, tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt the bed shift on both sides of me and then I was gently being lifted into Steve's lap. He cradled me too him as Bucky wiped away my tears with the thick pad of his thumb.

"Shh doll. It's alright. You'll be okay. We're here. We're not going to leave you." I heard him whisper as he moved his hands to smooth up and down my arms. I let it all out then, terrible sobs being ripped from my throat as I buried my face into the crook of Steve's shoulder and neck. Steve was silent as he held me, letting Bucky do all the reassurances and letting all of my turbulent emotions that I had bottled up escape all at once. My tears soaked his shirt, but he just held me, allowing me to slowly calm down as I breathed in his scent. I don't know how long we remained like this; me in Steve's lap and Bucky lying next to us, caressing any piece of me he could reach to calm me down. It felt so intimate that I almost began crying again in want of what I could never have. After my sobs had died down to the occasional sniffle and hiccup, Steve finally spoke, his words as gentle as his arms around my waist.

"Angel, why didn't you tell anyone it was getting this bad? We would have helped you." I shook my head and buried my face deeper into Steve's shirt before signing without looking.

"Ms. Barton says that she didn't want anyone to worry about her." Bucky sat up, and I could feel him looking down on me.

"Angel, that's crazy. All of us have been worried about you anyway. And none of us are strangers to PTSD." I looked down in shame, my matted hair covering my flaming face. Of course he was right. I felt his finger under my chin and I looked up to meet his soft eyes. "We could have helped you. We still can, if you'll let us. Steve and I have been going crazy with worry for you, doll." I averted my eyes and signed again.

"She says she's sorry." JARVIS translated immediately. Bucky's eyes suddenly filled with anger and I flinched back into Steve's chest.

"You're not forgiven!"

"Buck – "

"No! She should have let us in! Now look at her! This all could have been avoided if she had just talked to us!" Bucky growled before jumping off my bed and pacing around my room. For the first time in weeks I felt something other than my sadness and fear. Anger. I carefully lifted my upper body off of Steve and began signing, glaring at Bucky with all the energy I could muster.

"Ms. Barton asks: Why do you care? Why do you care so much about a stupid little mute girl? Maybe if you just stopped caring then this wouldn't be an issue." Bucky froze before turning to me with an unreadable look on his face. He sat back down on the side of the bed, glancing at Steve. They seemed to have a silent conversation before Steve shifted me out of his lap and back onto the bed, so I could see both of them.

"You're not stupid, doll. I'm sorry for getting angry. It's just…"

"Angel, we know." Steve said quietly, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion. Knew what? He sighed with an indulgent smile before answering my unasked question. "We know that we, all three of us, are soulmates."

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AN: I know this one's a little shorter than the others, but I just felt like a lot went on in that little amount of time. I want you to really process what Angel was going through. Depression, anxiety, PTSD, and other psychological things are major issues for a lot of people. I kind of want you to ruminate on the fact that Angel has been stuck in her head for weeks without much human contact, and now here Steve and Bucky are, revealing that they know that they're soulmates. How will she react? You'll find out in the next chapter.

I also apologize for the awkward JARVIS translating, but she doesn't have a pad of paper and Steve and Bucky don't understand American Sign Language. I suppose she could use Morse code, but I think I'm done with that lol.

R&R, tell me if this was too much or too little or what.