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Bucky hugs his best friend for the last time. He’d known then, and it had made him hold on for just a little longer. When he lets go, he tries to freeze this moment in time, take a picture of it with his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy.”
Steve offers a sad smile. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” But Bucky knows it won’t be. They both know what this is. There were never any secrets between them.
Steve climbs the stairs to the platform, resolved in his decision. Bucky can tell from Steve’s overconfident swagger that he’s nervous. But he can also tell Steve’s really excited. Bucky wants to be happy for him. He tells himself that he is. Steve deserves a reward after everything he’s given up, everything he’s done to save the world time and time again. They’re old now; other guys their age retired decades ago.
Bucky folds his hands in front of him to hide the tremor, and does his best to smile. The smile never reaches his eyes, but no one seems to notice. Next to him, Sam asks Banner how long Steve’s trip will take. But Bucky already knows he won’t be coming back.
Today has been a lot. Bucky felt Pepper’s accusing eyes on him during the funeral. And every time Tony’s weird living memorial recording passed by him, it had touched his shoulder. Bucky didn’t know how it did that, but he knew it did it on purpose. He clenches the notebook in his pocket. Yet another name he will never be able to cross off his list, to make amends.
Sam asks Steve if he’s ready, makes him promise to meet them back here. But Bucky’s trying to memorize this moment so he has something to hold onto. The curve of Steve’s nose, that cocky grin, the way one of his shoes is untied underneath his brand new boot gaiters. “You bet,” Steve tells Sam, but it’s a lie. Bucky knows.
That day, Bruce had counted down to the moment Steve had disappeared from their lives. But not today. This isn’t a memory. This is the Void.
Instead of closing the quantum helmet, Steve smiles and turns toward Bucky. “I’m leaving because you don’t matter.”
Bucky closes his eyes and tries to breathe. “This isn’t real,” he mutters.
“I wanted to make it clear,” Steve continues, walking back down the stairs. “Because you always suspected–actions speak louder than words, you know.”
“Sure,” Bucky agrees.
“I don’t care about you,” Steve says. “All those years on my own–after you were supposed to be dead. They were good. I don’t need you in my life.”
“You never needed me, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, eyes still closed. “You were the strong one between the two of us. I always knew that.”
“Why did you have to come back?” Steve asks, accusing. “You’re nothing but a burden to me now.”
“Trust me.” Bucky tries to breathe through his nose. “It wasn’t my choice.” Though his eyes are closed in the dream, Bucky’s also watching like it’s a movie. That’s how he knows Steve is right up in his face, now.
“Why would I stick around? For you?” He scoffs. “I should have let Tony kill you in Siberia.”
Bucky can feel the eyes of everyone at the funeral on him now. They agree with Steve. He shouldn’t be here.
“You should have.” Bucky clenches his jaw and opens his eyes to meet Steve’s look of disgust. “At least one of us would have been happy, then.”
“Whatever,” Steve says, turning away. “I’m out of here. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression about us.” He stalks back to the platform. “I saved you because you were always mine to take or leave. No one was gonna decide what happened to you but me. Not Hydra. Not the U.N. Not Zemo. Not even T’challa. But I’m done with you now. I literally couldn’t care less.” Steve fixes him with an ice cold stare.
“Go, then,” Bucky tells him. Dangling from the edge of a cliff–-the side of a train–-the gunslinger must let go of the boy who has stayed by his side all this time, knowing he will die. The boy gives him permission to let go. Go then, there are other worlds than these.
Steve nods and turns to Sam, who followed him to the stairs. He gives Sam a firm hug. “You’re a good man, Sam. I could always count on you, and I’m grateful for that.”
Bucky is having a hard time breathing.
“Thanks, Steve,” Sam says. “Right back at you.”
Steve climbs the platform and turns to face Bucky one last time. “I’m gonna go back to 1945, to be with the only person I ever loved. Try not to be too much of a burden to everyone.”
“Have a nice life, Steve.” Bucky really means it, though the words are hard to get out. His throat has closed up, and his chest is so tight, it’s hard to keep pulling air into his lungs.
“I will,” Steve says. “Without you.” And he’s gone.
Bucky’s knees buckle, and the ground rises up to meet him. “Get over yourself,” Sam sneers. Bucky tries to get to his feet, but his muscles are sluggish. The weight of his shame is hard to fight.
Pepper runs forward and pushes him, causing Bucky to lose his balance. “You’re not welcome here. Just get out!”
When he tries to get up again, Morgan is there. “My daddy’s dead because of you.” She kicks dirt in Bucky’s face.
“Our king is dead,” Shuri looks down at him without pity. “And you weren’t there.”
The tremors are taking over his whole body. Bucky can’t push himself back up.
Natasha is somehow here at Tony’s funeral. “You didn’t save us. You promised, soldat. You promised to protect us.” Suddenly she is the little girl with copper braids he first met in the Red Room.
Behind her, Yelena is crying. “I lost my sister again, but forever!”
“I’m sorry,” Bucky tells them, blinking moisture from his eyes as he gets unsteadily to his feet. “I told him. I told him I’m not worth all of this.”
The forest around the Stark family retreat grows dark, the pine trees casting Vantablack shadows that stretch taller and taller, until they begin to engulf everything.