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On a cloudy day at the beginning of spring, everyone wore black.
Steve had passed away about a week before. He had been in critical condition, and fighting, all the while with Bucky at his side.
But eventually, when he couldn't hold on any longer, he whispered his final words.
“Please don't leave me,” he had said, his cold clammy hand wrapped around Buckys
“I won't. I'm with you to the end of the line,” Bucky choked out, before Steve let his eyes close, and the monitor let out a long, slow beep. It bore into his head, as he leaned over Steve, and sobbed into his chest.
He stayed, as doctors came in, and tried to remove him.
“Please sir, we need you to step out for the moment being,”
Bucky didn't dare move. He only continued to mourn the loss of the love of his life, and everything that died with him.
After a few minutes, Natasha came in. she placed her hand on Bucky's shoulder, and gently pulled him back.
“James, please,” she pleaded
He looked at her, eyes red, olive skin flush.
“Please,” she repeated, feeling a lump in her throat as she swallowed.
Bucky stood up, still holding Steve's hand. He let go of it, as silent tears began to stream down his face.
He and Natasha had a momentary embrace, before she guided him out, and into the hallway.
Everyone in the tower had been informed the moment Steve had passed away. They had all known it was coming for days beforehand, as he came home from a mission, severely wounded. He had been shot just right of his heart once, and three times in his lung. They had all held hope that maybe, he could make it.
It was impressive how long he was able to fight, and to stay alive. They had all been telling themselves that he could make it out.
Who were they kidding?
As Natasha walked with one hand over Bucky's shoulder down the hallway, she couldn't hold her tears back anymore.
They seated themselves by the elevator. Nat leaned into Bucky, who in turn, leaned into her. Bucky felt bad, because he was shaking so hard from his sobs, that he couldn't have been very comfortable.
Nat didn't mind though. She just needed to be close to someone. She needed to be held, and be able to let her emotions go unjudged.
The elevator dinged, and a few avengers came out, from their various places in the tower.
Tony, Sam, and Bruce sat across from the mourning pair. Unconsciously, Bucky had thought he saw Steve walking out with them.
Natasha gained control over herself, if only momentarily. She grabbed the back of Bucky's head, and petted it gently, as his sobs picked up.
“Shh,” she said shakily, as she quietly comforted him.
Everything from that next week was a blur. Bucky spent all of his time in his room, not even leaving for food. He only left to go to the wake, and then the funeral.
Tony had paid money so that no one would show up at the burial site, or at the funeral home, but the funeral was still large.
Most people hadn't even learned that America's Star Spangled Man had passed away. He had been on a mission, only two weeks before it made the news. Most channels held kind obituaries, and sent condolences to his friends and family, the morning of the funeral.
But that didn't help any of the avengers feel much better.
As Steve was lowered into the ground, and the hole was filled, most people filed away. Only bucky remained. He stayed, sitting in his black suit, in front of many other graves.
After a while, when everyone had gone, all that was left to remember Steve was a small rock, with a sad attempt to sum up his legacy.
‘Steve Rogers
Sgt World War II,
Beloved friend,
Hero
1919-2024’
It hardly did him justice. Bucky sighed, as he walked slowly towards it. He sat down on the freshly settled pile of dirt, and pulled his knees to his chest. He sighed heavily, as he was left alone only his thoughts, and the memory of Steve.
He thought he could hear Steve's laugh echoing in the back of his mind, as he recalled all of their happiest moments together.
When they would sleep in the same bed before the war, to keep Steve from getting sick.
“Stevie, you look cold.” Bucky had sighed, grabbing all the blankets from his bed.
“I'm not,” steve said, his teeth chattering
“Move over, I can't have you getting sick. We’re supposed to meet up with some dolls tomorrow,” Bucky had smiled, climbing into bed next to steve.
When they first went out together.
“Maybe we could go hang out? Like as a couple?” Steve had said awkwardly
Bucky had smiled, and agreed.
When they had gotten married, only a year and a half before.
“I will love you, always and forever. Your smile, and your humor make me feel alive,” Steve had said, with tears rolling down his face, and the biggest smile bucky had ever seen him wear.
when they would hold hands, like every moment of their life was a romantic date.
“Buck, I need to take the food out of the oven, you need to let go,” Steve had chuckled, as Bucky reluctantly let go.
Steve had barely had time to set the chicken on the top of the stove, before Bucky was holding his hand again.
And in Steve's final moments, when he had looked into his eyes.
“Even death can't stop me from loving you,” he had said with a sad smile
“Please don't leave me…”
Bucky snapped back to reality, with warm tears streaming down his cheeks. He sucked in a large gulp of air. He trembled as he tried to keep his emotions in check.
As he let his breath out, it started sprinkling.
And all Bucky wanted was for the sky to sob with him, and to match his tears. To sympathize with his pain.
“Barnes,” he heard a female voice speak from behind him
“Yes sir?” he asked, not turning, knowing Natashas voice
“Please,” she hesitated “Stay strong, you've made it so far from Hydra. Please don't go back,” she said sadly, recalling when he first came to the avengers tower.
He had been starving. He would apologize, and flinch at every turn. He would only take orders, and it nearly took him a year to be able to form his own opinions.
He had been in such a low point, and Natasha didn't want him to go back.
“Yes-” he cut himself off. He had been slowly reverting back into his old self since Steve had passed.
It became harder for him to fight the abuse he had suffered, and the reactions that had ingrained in his mind. He stopped believing that he deserved to be alive. It only felt like a punishment.
“You've been out here for over an hour since everything ended. You need to get home.” she said sadly, holding her hand out to him.
He looked at it for a moment, before taking it.
They walked together, out through the cemetery under Natasha’s umbrella. She guided him in silence to her car. He got into the passenger's seat, which he almost never did.
He always preferred to drive himself places, so he knew that he was in control of his own fate. He only let people he truly trusted, drive him places.
Natasha smiled sadly at him, when she got into the driver’s seat. His head was hanging down, limp.
She gently grabbed his hand, which was habitually in the centre console for Steve to hold.
“it's gonna be ok,” she whispered, squeezing his metal hand a little.
Unmoving, he stayed with his eyes closed, looking down.
Natasha let go of him, before pulling her car out. She began the long, slow drive from the secluded cemetery. As the city started growing around them, people walked, unbothered, and unburdened.
It felt uncomfortable, seeing all these people who didn't understand. When you aren't close to the person who has died, it doesn't feel like they’re really gone. And maybe, some of those people didn't even know yet. So in their minds, he’s still around.
But eventually, they’d get home from their shopping sprees, and their days full of kicks and giggles. They’d turn on the tv, looking for something interesting. And maybe then, they’d understand.
Maybe then they’d stop, if only for a moment. They would feel their throat tighten up. They would feel their eyes burning.
They’d blink it all away, change the channel, and smile again.
And their lives would move on.
But some people wouldn't. The pain would stick to them, like a dart to a dartboard. A small twinge of pain, persistent and saddening.
And others, it would stick like a fly to a flytrap. Holding them captive, and keeping them from moving on, trapping them in the past, until they too, die.
Eventually, Natasha pulled into the parking lot inside of the avengers tower. The car swiftly took over for her, and parked itself in the perfect position.
“Bucky,” she grabbed his arm “It's time to get out of the car. Were home,” she gently shook his shoulder, trying to draw his attention.
He looked over, still looking lost in his mind.
“Yeah, sorry,” he laughed in an empty way.
He climbed out of the car.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Natasha told him kindly, before walking with Bucky towards the elevator.
Once they were in, and the door was closed, she spoke again.
“Hey, I have a little request from you.” she said, looking at the sad man, slumped against the wall, in dirty mourning clothes.
“Hm?” he hummed a response
“Can you look at me, so I know that you are listening?”
He looked over at her, sadly.
She felt a wave of sadness and grief wash over her.
“When we go inside, The first thing I want you to do is eat something. Anything. I just want you to make sure that it happens, ok?”
“Yes sir”
She winced a little at the response, but moved on.
“I also want you to have a shower, or a bath afterwards. It might seem big at first, but I want you to give it a try, ok?” She gave him a half smile.
He nodded in response, gently shrugging off the coat of his three piece suit.
“Good,” She reassured him, as the elevator door opened. “Do you know what you want to have?” she gently prodded him, encouraging conversation.
He shrugged, as he slowly walked out.
“Do you want something healthy, something you like, or just anything?” she tried again.
“Anything,” he said, not saying all of what he had been thinking. ‘Anything, because I dont matter that much anyway.’
He sighed in resignation as he sat down at a bar stool, slumping over. He felt a little bad that Natasha was having to do this, and that he wasn't helping.
But it wasn't his idea to be eating, it was hers. So she had to do the work.
“Hey Nat?” Bucky asked, something catching his eye, as she dug through the cabinets.
“Yeah,” she asked, diverting her full attention to him. She wanted more than anything, to help her friend feel better.
“Do we have any of that uh… Asgardian ale left?” he asked slowly, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, Bucky,” she said sadly, putting her hand on his shoulder from across the bar. “I know that this is painful for you. I really do. But do you think that that will help you feel any better right now?”
Bucky swallowed thickly, before letting out a sigh.
“I-” he paused “no,”
Natasha looked up, believing that he had made the right choice.
“Im proud of you. I know that I wouldn't have been strong enough to make that decision.” she said, before continuing to prepare food for him.
She ended up with an interesting assortment, from bland things, to flavorful ones. She had put some of his favorite cereal in a bowl, and she had gotten a plate, and piled different leftovers on it.
“Here,” she said, sliding the plate and bowl towards him “try to have as much as you can.” Then she filled a cup with water, and put it in front of him.
“Do you want me to keep you company, or should I leave you alone?” she asked, as he stayed, unmoving, cupping his face in his hands.
“Stay please,” he mumbled.
“Ok,” she replied quietly, pulling around a stool from the other side of the bar. She filled herself a glass of water, from her seated position.
Eventually, Bucky moved a little. He looked to see what she had prepared. He noticed some leftover sushi, and a bowl of fruity tooties. There were also some apple slices, and some grapes, along with a plain piece of bread, and some bland crackers.
“Thank you,” he said quietly to her.
She looked up, and nodded, before hunching over again.
Bucky looked at the food, and felt a little sick. The idea of eating made him feel sick to his stomach.
He took all of the food in, trying to decide what would be the most manageable to eat. After scanning the plate for a moment, his eyes settled on the table crackers.
He put one in his mouth, and crunched it. Biting it, he felt as though his stomach was full, and he shouldn't be eating more.
But he hadn't eaten in days, so it certainly wasn't full.
He pushed through, going to the difficulty of washing it down with some water. He continued the grueling process, and ate the rest of the crackers on the plate. It was hardly any food, especially for a super soldier, but it was a start.
As he scanned the plate to see anything else he found edible, he felt like he was beginning to shake. He took a moment to look at his hand, and to see if it was shaking. When it wasn't, he found himself confused. On the inside, he was shuddering, but on the outside he appeared to be fine.
He started to feel his head warming up, which made him feel uncomfortable. He started to worry that maybe he was dying, or going insane.
“N-nat?” he stuttered out
“What?” she asked, sitting up. At first she assumed that he would be crying, but he wasn't. He just looked scared.
“I feel like I'm shaking. Like I'm shaking everywhere inside of me, and I should be able to see it…” he paused, trying to control himself “And I feel really hot. What's happening to me?” he continued as slowly, and calmly as he could.
“I don't know,” she said after a pause “just try grounding yourself. Try breathing, and holding onto something solid, like the counter,” she said, as she followed her own instructions.
She put each of her hands around the smooth edge of the granite tabletop.
Reluctantly, Bucky followed, grabbing the table with both his human, and metal hand. He sucked in a deep breath, before letting it out.
He did it again, and again, until he didn't feel like he was trembling much anymore.
“Thanks,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. “I think- I think I'm done,” he said, pushing the plate away from him.
“Good job,” she said, looking at the plate. Everything was left, except for the crackers. It had been a good attempt. And, he had drunk most of his water, which was more important anyways.
“Remember the other thing I asked for you to try?” she asked quietly, as she put saran wrap over the food, putting it in the fridge.
“Yeah,” he said “I'll try,” he dismissed himself to his room, and slowly trudged away.
Slowly, he undressed, and got in the shower. It was more of a rinse than anything else, because he didn't have much energy for anything more.
His mind remained mostly clear, or empty to state it better. But he still felt drained, emotionally, and physically.
When he thought he couldn't stay standing for any longer, he got out of the shower, and towelled off.
He pulled on a shirt that was too large for him, from Steve's drawer. He paired it with some of his own too-large sweatpants.
He walked over to the bed in the middle of the wall, and flopped down on Steve's side. It still smelled like him, which, for a moment, led Bucky to believe that he was still alive. He was right there, holding Bucky tight, and keeping him safe.
But one blink, and he was gone again.
Tears burned in Bucky's eyes. He pulled a large bundle of the comforter against him, hugging it. He pressed his face against it, and breathed in the smell.
God he missed Steve.
He let the tears roll down his face. He knew that Steve would want him to move on and be happy again. But Bucky wasn't ready to say goodbye. He still needed him in his life.
If Bucky had not been in retirement, then maybe Steve would still be alive today. Bucky could have gone on the mission, and he could have been the one to die.
‘Most of the people in the tower probably wouldn't even mind.’ Bucky thought ‘And Steve had other friends. He could have gotten on just fine without me.’
His tears slowly stopped, as he thought about all of the reasons it should have been him, and not Steve.
Bucky fingered the ring on his metal hand. The golden band had been modified with magnets so that it would stay on Bucky's left ring finger.
Steve had spent nearly all of his money to buy it for him.
It was simple. It had a plain, thick gold band, with a small ‘S’ carved into it on the top. Steves had matched, but it had had a ‘B’.
They had buried Steve with it. It was the only thing he had asked to be buried with.
“The love of my life, is all that I need.” he had said.
Bucky felt new tears on his face, as he gently rubbed his ring with his thumb.
He had loved Steve indefinitely. When he was around, Bucky felt like the world could stop turning, and he wouldn't even care. He would be safe, and happy as long as Steve was around.
But he wasn't around anymore.
Eventually, Bucky pulled himself out of his bed. It was the middle of the afternoon, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to stop crying. He was getting a headache, and everything was starting to hurt more than it already did.
He quickly pulled his hair back into a bun, to keep it out of his way.
He knew that it would draw more attention to his already puffy eyes, but he was beyond caring. Nobody would judge him. He had lost his husband, the only thing drawing him back to what life used to be like. He was Bucky's one connection to a life where he had not yet had his mind ripped in half, and sewn back together. It was a world where Bucky had left all of his friends, and family. The only one who had made it with him was Steve.
And he was gone now, too.
Bucky felt tears welling in his eyes as he marched down the hallway.
It felt quiet, and empty.
The only people who had lived at the tower were Steve, Bucky, Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce. Peter Parker hung out there a lot, too. He was a spunky kid, and got along with all of the adults so well, that he felt like a kid to most of them. He had been visiting less often, and hadn't stayed for longer than a few hours since Steve had gone terminal.
Tony and Pepper mainly lived in the top few floors, so they hardly seemed to even live in the same building. Tony had started coming down more frequently, just to visit Steve. But when he passed away, Tony had retreated away to his home for the whole week.
Sam visited for a little while, but only to say goodbye to Steve. And he was hardly ever kind to Bucky anyways, so he wasn't sad to hear that Sam was going home.
So now, it was just Bruce, Natasha, and Bucky.
Bruce got along well with everyone, but he didn’t ever seem to fit in. And when Steve was gone on trips or missions, Natasha had tried to reach out more to Bucky, and to establish more of a relationship. It had been working very well, until Steve had died.
Everything had gotten messed up, when he had entered critical condition. People started being more distant, and the world felt more lonely.
And now, the dreary days chugged along at the pace of a snail confronted by salt.
Bucky sighed, as he walked into the living room.
No one was there.
He curled up on the couch, and turned on the TV for some empty entertainment. All he wanted was a distraction.
“-nd this afternoon, we continue to mourn Captain Rogers death. More commonly known as Captain America, Steve Rogers lived a life committed to making the right decisions, and helping others.
Although he was born in 1919, he only lived to be thirty five years old. As we continue to grieve, we send our condolences to his only living relative, his husband, Sergeant Barnes. The only surviving Hydra super soldi-”
Bucky shut the TV off, not wanting to be reminded of his past.
He sighed, and went back to his room.
His next week felt like hell. He stayed in his room, and cried for endless hours. The rest of the time he slept, or looked through Steve's things.
His mental state slowly deteriorated, and suicidal thoughts returned, like a long lost enemy.
Eventually, if he wasn't broken down in grief, he was having a panic attack.
A rush of heat would roll over him, and he would know what was about to happen. He would start trembling, and quickly lose mobility.
He would start calling out, but all his weak body could manage was a hoarse whisper. Nobody could ever hear him.
He always called for Steve first. And when he wouldn’t come and help, then he would try anything. He would ask for Natasha, Bruce, or even Tony.
But no one ever came.
Sometimes at night, he began sneaking out of his room when he knew everyone was sleeping. All he wanted was for everything to go away. All his problems buzzed around his head like pests. The only way he could kill them, or at least shoo them away, was to forget them.
So he would get the Asgardian Ale. it was the only thing strong enough to intoxicate a super soldier. And Bucky saw it as his savior.
Time became a blur, and everything became too much for him to handle. He decided that he had had enough, and he needed to die. He had never been one to believe in god, but all he hoped was that he was real. He hoped that he had been good enough to see Steve again.
He came up with a plan, and decided that he would do it the next day, when he was sober again.
Everyone had had a tough few weeks. And they were all dealing with their grief differently.
Clint had moved into the tower for the weekend, to spend time with Natasha. Bruce had been trying to figure out how they could prevent this from happening again. He was determined to find answers. Tony had been overworking himself, in all forms of the word. He had been stress patrolling, tinkering in the lab, and going days without sleep. They all knew that Bucky had been taking it very poorly. It was no secret that sometimes at night, he snuck out and took ale from the cupboards. They were all very worried, but didnt know how to help.
About a week and a half after the funeral, Tony was flying around the city to clear his mind. It was a clear midday. It was the first decent weather in awhile.
“Sir, someone is accessing the armory.” Friday's perky voice said to Tony, inside of his suit.
“Alert everyone on the premises, patch me into Nat and Clint” tony said, furrowing his brow, as he turned his suit around to fly back to the tower.
“Yes sir,”
“D’you know what's happening?” Natasha asked through her comm wristband that she wore at all times.
“Do you have Clint with you?”
“Im here,” Clint said over Natashas wristband
“Someone’s in the armory, and Friday just informed me that they have a weapon. Whether it is ours or theirs, I don't know. Be ready for a fight.”
“Ok.” Natasha said “what's your location?”
“I'm on my way back. Keep me posted, I'll comm you when I've arrived.”
“Ok” Natasha said, muting the line, as her and Clint rode the elevator down.
They had what little equipment was left lying around. Natasha was armed with a glock 19, and Clint with a compact bow.
The ride from the 116th floor down to the 2nd, always felt long when they weren't going for training. Together, Natasha and Clint stood, in their lounging clothes, awaiting for their floor to arrive.
When the elevator finally dinged, they ran out, and down the hallway to the left to get to the room the intruder was in. The door quickly slid open, revealing a slightly backlit figure standing near the one way window.
With gun and bow drawn, Natasha walked in, followed by Clint.
Natasha gasped quietly, and quickly holstered her gun, and gestured for Clint to do the same. Clint followed her order, and came a little closer, to stand next to Natasha. He looked to her, unsure what to do.
Bucky was standing, pointing a pistol at the side of his head.
Natasha knew she needed to comm Tony immediately.
“Hey Tony, no force necessary, come calmly, and peacefully. I'm turning off my comms.” she said quietly, holding her wrist near her mouth as she spoke.
“Hey Bucky,” she started calmly, putting her hands out slowly, stepping forward.
He stepped backward a little, and tightened her posture.
“I'm not here to hurt you,” she said softly “I want to help you. Can I ask you, how are you feeling?” she continued with what little knowledge she had about how to handle this kind of situation.
“I won't judge you, I promise.”
He didn't respond, he just backed up further. He hadn't thought that anyone would have come down. He internally cursed himself for not coming up with a plan for if that happened.
“Please, say something,” she pleaded, starting to feel desperate.
“Please,” Clint said, feeling sick to his stomach “I- I know it's been tough for you recently, but we want to help you feel better,” he begged
Bucky shook his head a little.
“Im sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes tightly.
There was a loud bang. Bucky went limp, falling flat on the ground.
Natasha turned into Clint, letting out a sob into his chest, as he wrapped her in a hug.
Clint breathed in slowly through his nose, holding Natasha as closely as he could. The loud noise echoed through his head. He had tried. Nat had tried. But it didn't work.
He gently placed his hand on her head, resting his head on hers.
“C’mon, let's get out of this room,” he whispered to her. She nodded softly.
He gently let her out of the hug, and started guiding her to the door. She went to look towards the body, but he put his hand on the side of her head.
“Look at me,” he softly spoke. She looked up at him, as he continued to hold his hand as a blinder for her.
“It's gonna be ok,” he said, as they walked out the door.
As it automatically closed behind them, Clint gently lowered his hand, and put it on her shoulder, pulling her close.
He put his wrist near his mouth, to speak into the comm line.
“Tony, he did it,” Clint said sadly
“Im almost at the tower. What happened? Is everyone ok?” Tony rushed, subconsciously speeding his suit up beyond the limits he should push
“No, one casualty. Barnes. He shot himself,” Clint spoke quietly, as he still held Natasha, as she tried to clear her tears.
When he was met with silence, he elaborated.
“We tried to stop him, Nat and I. I don't know why he did it. He said ‘i'm sorry’ and then did it. Nat and I are standing just outside of the armory, I figured it would be best to step out of the room for now.”
“Yeah,” Tony said quietly after a moment. “I'll get some people on clean up. You too can do what you seem fit.” he spoke, sounding tired and weighed down.
“Ok. See you later,” Clint closed the line sadly. “You ready to go upstairs?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice sounding rough, as she detached herself from his side.
They rode the elevator up to the common floor together in silence.
Clint walked out and layed down on the couch, grabbing his phone off of the counter as he walked by it.
“Can I?” Natasha asked him, as she stood next to him, holding a blanket.
Clint looked up at her, and nodded.
She climbed up, and layed down on top of him, chest to chest. She gently settled the blanket on top of herself, and closed her eyes, sighing.
Clint held his phone above his face, careful to not disturb her.
He texted Laura, letting her know that he would be staying longer than planned. His wife and kids were very important to him. They always had been, and always would be. But he knew that Natasha needed him most.
He set his phone down, and gently stroked her hair. A quiet tear rolled down his face, as Natasha fell asleep on his chest.
He knew that the next few weeks wouldn't be easy for anyone. He just hoped that everyone would be able to carry on.
The funeral was small. He had been buried next to Steve.
That night, no news stations played any sort of announcement. They did not mourn.
The city didn't grieve.