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Steve sinks to his knees as the wind blows, scattering the ashes (petals?) (remains?) of what was once Bucky into the breeze.
Somewhere, he’s sure, someone is screaming. Somebody, somewhere, needs help.
But he can’t bring himself to care.
This isn’t fair.
The utter lack of maturity in the thought surprises him, but he doesn’t care. It’s selfish, almost narcissistic to deserve something, but he can’t stop thinking it. This isn’t fair. After all that he’s done for this planet, this is his reward?
Someone is sobbing and it takes a moment to realise that it’s him.
This isn’t fair.
After all they’d done to put Bucky to rights, they’d only exchanged about six words together. It had been an embrace seventy years in the making, a couple of simple hellos, and then they were fighting again.
And then… Bucky. Dust.
He jams the heels of his hands into both of his eyes, fighting the panic that’s rising up his throat. Grief hits him like a freight train, and burrows into the very depths of his soul. It’s a heavy weight, and a painful one - one that numbs him to the very fabric of his being.
His heart hurts, because he knows that Bucky isn’t coming back.
There’s no returning from a handful of dust.
The amount of time they’d spent together since Bucky’s recovery had been insignificant, tiny, clouded with the heat and blood of battle. It had been like the writers of fate had been trying to keep him from telling the truths they’d both been waiting seventy years to say.
And honestly?
It’s bullshit.
He deserves a happy ending, dammit. Every single one of them does.
He’s not going to let this stand. He doesn’t know much about this ‘infinity gauntlet’ weirdness, but he knows that it can control time.
That’s a damn good place to start.
“I love you, Buck.” He leans over the pile of dust, fiercely ignoring the tears dripping off his face. “I always have. I’ll be back.”
And with that, he stands, wipes a heavy hand across his eyes and announces to the assembled group - all of whom seem to be going through their own stages of mourning. “We’re going to make this right. Who’s with me?”
The heavy hole in his heart doesn’t disappear as they all reply in the affirmative, but it does seem to warm a little.
He’s with Bucky until the end of the line. No regrets, no take backs, and he’s not going to let this stand.
They’re not going to mourn.
Not today.