“In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. A soul for a soul.”
The words bounced around the soldier’s head, echoing in a mind so stuffed with memories that there shouldn’t have been any room for the sentence to sound like the terrifying beast that it did. He wasn't ignorant as to what his former enemy was spewing about. Steve... didn't want to die. But the choice was regretfully clear. Tony was a close teammate and trusted soldier. A hero, more than willing to make stupidly sacrificial plays if it helps the people around him. A family man, a beloved father figure to more than just Morgan- to Nebula, Harley, and Peter too. The most forgiving man that the captain has ever known. He knows what has to be done, and his tone is only barely acrimonious when he begins talking.
“Tony…” He hesitantly starts, before being cut off.
“Come on Steve," He scoffs, "You can’t actually be thinking about doing this.”
“Tony, out of the two of us you know it has to be me.”
“What? No it doesn’t! I’d rather die than let you-”
“I know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ve let you down… god, countless times. But what’s the saying? Die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain? It’s a little too late for me, don’t you think?” His smile is a bitter one, but one that is knowing and resigned to his fate.
“There’s gotta’ be another way…” The shorter man trailed off, seemingly at a loss.
“Here’s what you’re gonna do, okay? You’re going to let me go and take home the soul stone. You’re going to tell the others what happened and stay strong until you can see Pepper alone. You’re going to hug your family and tell them you love them because you can see them again. You’re going to kill that sonofabitch Thanos and bring everyone back. And you will retire. Officially, this time. You’ll pass on the SI to that spider kid you love so much and raise Morgan to be the lovely woman I’m sure she’ll be. You’ll live, okay? This is the first step to the rest of your life. Don’t throw it away.”
The other man took a shaky breath and brought back the faceplate to reveal red, swollen eyes and graying goatee. “Well… if I get anything out of this, at least I’m privileged enough to hear Cap-” He paused, considering, before giving a watery smile, “to hear Steve Rogers give one last speech.”
Steve tried to smile back, but it was more of a grimace. “Just one more thing, I know, but… there are some letters on my bed. Can, um, can you give them to who they are labeled to?” He took a deep, shaky breath and let it out unevenly, eyes watering. “And can you tell Bucky that I love him… so, so much? And that I’m with him ‘till the end of the line.”
The soldier nodded to the brave man in front of him, who had steeled himself and refused to acknowledge the thick tears that streamed down his face, burning trails of wet fire. The man nodded back, giving a final blessing to the one finally out of time.
The hero closed his eyes. He leaned over the side of the jagged cliff, head tipping backwards, and was overtaken by the rush of wind roaring in his ears, deafening and calming all at once. His feet followed the waving feathers of hair and, as cliché as it sounds, faces began appearing in flashes behind his closed, maya blue eyes; Tony’s awe-filled eyes as he lit up with the solution to a problem, the Commando's risqué songs and bright laughter that were flashes of hope in the midst of chaos and destruction, Natasha’s sly smirk that was rare but genuine in its affection, Sam’s honest laugh and smiling eyes, Peggy’s knowing and accepting smile when he frantically claimed he needed to rescue Bucky.
And Bucky. Dear God, Bucky. Countless images bombarded Steve’s mind as he thought of his best friend. The first time they met, as Bucky pulled him out of a fight against the Murphy brothers. Then again with the grocer’s son, and Walter Henderson, and Earl Hawthorne, and so many more scraps over almost nothing, but what to Steve had felt like everything. The captain saw Bucky the first time he tried in vain to make the smaller one dance, the boys barely twelve and thirteen. The memory of a dying fire, with smoldering embers reflecting in the mischievous light of innocent blue-gray eyes and chapped lips that were bitten as Bucky tried not to laugh at his partner’s attempts. He saw the first time they kissed, Bucky shoving him against the wall of the run-down Rogers’ apartment, quiet as to not wake the neighbors. He saw the night his love shipped off, uniform hat just slightly askew, eyes soft as Bucky gazed to the smaller man, his wide and disbelieving eyes as he took in the captain’s new body, and the haunted ones that fearfully watched him as the other fell from the helicarrier. He saw… he saw the ashes flying from Bucky’s back, one that had been subject to so much anger and guilt, and he saw the pieces of his lover scatter in the hot Wakandan winds.
The reminders of what he would see and miss faded as ashes clouded his vision. In its place was a presence, nonexistent and vast simultaneously. It was warm and reached even the furthest, most tucked-away corners of the hero's mind, embracing and covering it in what could only be described as protecting, the insubstantial touch releasing oxytocin.
The universe spoke to the captain without words, in a language unknown and familiar at once.
And the universe said I love you.
And the universe said you are stronger than you know.
And the universe said you will never be alone.
The universe disappeared from his closed eyes the same way it appeared and life abandoned the captain’s worn body. It left- not in a jolt or a shudder, but a breeze- as the hero finally let go and returned home.