It's been one day since the funeral of Tony Stark when Steve asks Bucky if he'd like to go for a walk.
They walk for sometime in silence; Steve's hands loosely by his sides, Bucky's fisted and buried in the pockets of his jacket. Bucky looks sidelong at Steve, lightyears away from when he'd found him in the midst of battle.
Back then he'd been filthy, bloody, but wielding the hammer of the Gods like an avenging angel, lightning crackling over the surface of his skin. The fight was brutal, the cost high, but ultimately they were victorious.
He'd stayed back when Stark died, not wishing to intrude on the Avengers' grief over the fallen. It wasn't until Steve, tears in his eyes, had snapped himself out of the heartache and scanned the assembled fighters frantically. He stopped looking as soon as his gaze rested on Bucky, and Bucky had taken that as an invitation.
They'd come together then, and Bucky had used the opportunity to fling Steve's arm around his shoulder, and help him off the battlefield.
Since then, he's spent some time with Steve and Sam respectively. Death, as it turns out, has remarkably warmed Sam to Bucky's presence. Or perhaps, it's them both tacitly agreeing to be there for their mutual friend, who had seen and been through so much while they'd both been, well, dead.
But to Bucky, what was one more instance of being dead to him?
The last few days have been so intense, so fraught with emotion, now things have stopped, Bucky sees the wear marks the last seven years have left on his friend. Ever since the splintering from Stark, it doesn't seem like he's had a chance to stop.
From the battle, through the aftermath and the funeral to this moment, not once has Steve asked for Bucky's time. It's been given freely.
To ask now seems... significant.
Their stroll takes them to the edge of the lake. There's a stone bench overlooking the pristine view. Steve sits on the left of the bench, leaving plenty of room for Bucky to sit on his right. For some reason, it feels strange to have Bucky's metal limb between them, though he doesn't mention it.
"What do you think you're going to do?" Steve asks out of the blue, eyes fixed on the water, "Now you're back?"
Bucky lets out a sharp breath. "I don't know," he murmurs. "Saw Ross at the funeral and he didn't immediately try to arrest me, so there's that."
"He wouldn't have wanted to," Steve says firmly, a hint of steel showing in his voice, and yes, Bucky's petty enough to have wanted to see the outcome of the Secretary of State trying to arrest him in front of Steve, T'Challa and almost every other Avenger and ally there is.
Bucky sighs.
"T'Challa said I'm always welcome in Wakanda, but..." he winces, squeezing the back of his neck. "I don't know. With everything that's happened, it feels a little too much like hiding now."
"Buck," Steve chastises gently, "you've fought for so long, and so hard to build a new life. You can choose to rest, it's more than deserved."
"You first," Bucky laughs, glancing at Steve's profile.
He's not sure what it is in Steve's face that gives him pause, but there's something. The hairs on the back of Bucky's neck start to stand up. "Steve, what are you going to do?"
"Well, first of all, I need to return all the Stones to their correct places in time," Steve says. "Did anyone fill you in on the quantum realm science?"
"Lang did. And the mouthy space raccoon." Bucky shakes his head. "You know, I was just coming around to the idea of aliens from outer space, and then you have to throw time travel into the mix."
Steve laughs softly and shakes his head. "I feel the same way, pal." Bucky returns the smile easily.
They sit there in silence for a moment, before Bucky clears his throat. "So. Stones to their rightful places in time. Then what?"
Steve's gaze is inextricably drawn back towards the lake. "Then... I thought I might rest for a while. Live a little."
Bucky nods. If anyone deserves that, it's Steve. He has given, and given and given, sacrificed until he has nothing left. "That sounds good." He waves one hand vaguely. "So many super people are back, Captain America taking a break shouldn't be too much to ask."
"About that..." Steve says, and Bucky has that strange feeling again. "What d'you think of Sam?"
Bucky blinks at the non-sequitur. "He's okay...? I mean, for a fly-boy, and all."
"Not quite what I meant..." Steve says with a tinge of amusement, "what do you think of Sam for Captain America?"
Bucky's eyebrows arch to somewhere close to his hairline. "What, as a replacement?" When Steve nods, Bucky chews on his bottom lip. "I believe... he would do you proud," he answers truthfully. "You think you're going to be away that long?"
Steve gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Going back into the past might be tricky. Could take a while."
"But the way it was explained to me was that it might take a while in the past, but here it would only take a few moments..." Bucky trails off, frowning. "What's going on, Steve?"
Steve leans his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. Those interlaced fingers come to rest in front of his mouth in a pensive gesture. Bucky's stomach starts to flutter anxiously. "The science has been made pretty clear to me. The important part of not changing the timeline is to get the Stones back where they should be. Other than that... whatever I do... doesn't change the future. This future."
There's something in the way he phrases that so carefully that raises Bucky's suspicious hackles. He's trying to tell Bucky something without telling him. He searches Steve's face and body language for clues.
There's nothing immediate, and Bucky's frustrated. It eventually comes, however, with Steve straightening up, left hand absently going to his jacket pocket. It doesn't go inside, just taps it, as though checking an object inside is still there.
Left pocket. Bucky must've seen Steve do this ten times a day, back in Europe. It became a habit, one Bucky picked up on quite quickly. His left pocket, or left pouch, always contained the same item; his compass.
When the realisation comes, it's a cinderblock in Bucky's stomach, with the dust reaching up into his throat to choke him.
"You're not coming back," he says with finality. "You're going to be with her."
There's no denial, no explanation. Steve gets a wistful smile on his face, making eye contact briefly with Bucky. "I saw her, you know. In 1970, while Tony and I--" he pauses for a brief moment, before continuing. "--we were getting the Tesseract. She must've been forty-nine? Fifty?"
Steve's face is overcome by an expression that Bucky has so rarely ever seen on his face, no matter what time period he recalls.
Hope.
Bucky's heart sinks, even as he wants Steve to keep that expression forever. He'd hoped, maybe after Thanos, they could finally catch a break.
Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable, on both schoolyard and battlefield.
"--know that we could be happy, finally," Steve continues, oblivious to Bucky's mental tangent.
Bucky takes a moment to exhale shakily, and seriously thinks about the prospect. "What about her husband? You told me she got married, had kids."
"She will still. I'm not taking that away from her... If I go... I create something new. It won't change now, that part will just be... different."
Closing his eyes, Bucky frowns. "I- okay." He hisses, frustrated. "Time travel's gonna give me a fuckin' nosebleed."
Steve chuckles gently. "I know, pal. Been discussing this with Pym and Bruce getting it clear." He scratches his blond head. "Still a little confusing--" At Bucky's arched brow, Steve is quick to clarify. "--but I have the basic science right."
And isn't that just like Steve, jumping feet-first into a situation, unknowns and variables be damned. Almost like jumping out of a plane in enemy territory to rescue a man you weren't even sure was still alive.
They lapse into silence again. Bucky swivels on the bench to face Steve, scrutinising him carefully. Steve accepts the examination with serenity. "You've thought about this a lot," Bucky offers hesitantly.
Steve nods once. "Loki once called me 'man out of time'. I wish he'd been lying, I wish. But as far as I've come, as much as I've learnt..." he rubs his right hand over his chest absently. "that's still me. I will always be the man out of time. I've put everything before myself for so long, now I can... now I can take back the life that should've been mine, been ours."
Bucky nods absently, more than agreeing that Steve has sacrificed enough for the world, until the last words catch up with him. He frowns. "What do you mean 'ours'?"
Shuffling closer on the bench, Steve reaches out to grasp Bucky's metal hand. "I want you to come with me."
He's so shocked, Bucky barks out a laugh, before giving pause to Steve's very serious, very earnest face. "You can't be serious."
"It wouldn't be strange for me to ask for your help with the stones. And after we just... go back."
He makes sound so blase and easy. "To when? Before '45? There's still a you and a me running around Europe in the mud. After? You're meant to have gone down with the Valkyrie, and I'm--" he stops himself short, and Steve squeezes his fingers. "I'm not there. How d'you explain that?"
"After '45," Steve says decisively. "And I know that if we spoke to Peggy, it would work out. Could tell her I was fished out of the Atlantic and you were found in Austria--"
"--or the truth," Bucky snarks. "That woman is smarter than the both of us by half. You think she wouldn't smell a lie?"
"Or the truth," Steve concedes mildly, "the point being, I'm not going back to be Captain America, I'm going back to be Steve Rogers."
"And what about me? Who'm I meant to be?"
Steve looks at him like he's the stupidest man alive. "Bucky Barnes," he says, name soaked in infinite fondness. "It's what you deserve, too. We could go home. You could see your sisters, your ma--"
He stops speaking when Bucky jerks violently, face blanking. "No. Absolutely not."
The confusion on his best friend's face is enough to break his heart. "Why not? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Steve," Bucky says gently, tugging at Steve's hand until he looks down to where flesh grasps metal. "How'm I going to explain this? Carter might be able to come around and believe the truth, but my ma?" He clenches his fingers involuntarily, hearing a small intake of breath from Steve at the force. "How can I show my face to them? After what I've done, after what was done to me?"
"They would understand," Steve insists.
"But I don't want them to have to. I'm not the same, Steve. And there's no way I could lie to them, so the truth would come out, and it would kill my ma," Bucky tells him firmly. "It would break her heart, and I can't--" he stops, feeling emotion bubble in his voice. "Better I died a hero. For her, for everyone."
Steve has a stubborn set to his jaw, even as he tries to bargain. "So you don't see them. You come back and you... you live. For maybe the first time in your life."
It sounds so simple when he says it like this. As though it takes no effort at all. "I do want to live," Bucky tells him slowly, watching Steve watch him enunciate every word, "but I want to move forward."
"You can--"
"When I was in Wakanda," Bucky gently interrupts, "one of the most important facets of my recovery, of the de-triggering process, was an acceptance to leave the past in the past, and to move on. It was... integral to my recovery, as Shuri explained, to strip those words of their power. When you were frozen... it was like no time passed for you at all. You were unfairly ripped out of your life and deposited into a new one.
"I... I died. And I came back. And bad things happened to me, but I lived through them. I saw the decades pass, in one way or another, and I arrived here at this time." He smiles wryly at Steve's serious face. "Maybe somewhat worse for wear, but I got here. That place, that time... it's not me anymore, Steve, and I don't have the energy in my body to start over."
Steve is uncharacteristically silent, brow deeply furrowed. "You might be a man out of time here," Bucky says quietly, "but if I went back, that's who I would be."
It's that moment that Bucky will remember forever; the moment where a blazing fire in Steve's eyes dims. Time hasn't allowed Steve Rogers to be accepting of failure, no matter what he's had to endure in the last five years.
Using the metal appendage still in his clenched hand, he pulls Bucky forward, enveloping him in a bruising hug. "Buck," whispered next to his ear, his name is dripping in sorrow. "I never really expected you not to come."
"I know, pal," Bucky returns. For the ease of the decision, it still hurts. It hurts like he's being sheared in two. They cling to one another, fingertips bruising, but neither willing to loosen the hold. He can feel Steve's pulse thrum beneath his cheek, steadier than Steve's breathing, which seems to come in hitches.
Eventually, Steve loosens the death grip he has on Bucky's shoulder and waist, but only draws back enough to look him in the face. One hand comes up to gently tangle in his hair. Steve's eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and Bucky's are surely no better. Crying or not, Steve is still going, and Bucky unequivocally knows that while he would be sad to leave, Steve would be sad to stay.
"I know you said your piece," Steve says, his voice a little gravelly from crying, "but are you sure you won't come? I just. I don't want to lose you again."
Bucky chuckles fondly, hand coming to rest on Steve's nape. He leans until their foreheads touch and Steve's eyes slip shut. "Steve, you have never once lost me in your entire life, not where it mattered."
Steve shudders again, and Bucky's grip tightens.
Eventually, Bucky's fingers loosen and he deliberately begins letting Steve go. Steve takes his cue, and does the same, though he can't quite let go of Bucky's hand. By mutual silent agreement, they both turn to look back out to the lake.
"So... Sam as Cap, huh?" Bucky breaks the silence.
"Yeah... unless you want the shield? I didn't ask because--" Steve stops abruptly, not wanting to fill in the gap.
Because I thought you were coming with me.
Bucky shakes his head adamantly. "No way. Wilson can have that dubious honour all to himself." He smiles wryly, bumping Steve's shoulder with his own. "I'm better as a sidekick."
"The best," Steve confirms.
"Someone has to keep things going here though, right? Make sure nobody's getting into too much trouble."
"You didn't seem able to stop me," Steve remarks.
"Don't remind me," Bucky says in a faux-scathing tone, "That's because you're a stubborn-ass punk."
"Jerk," Steve shoots back with a grin.
The grin fades as he looks at Bucky, countenance growing serious again. "I'm not going to tell the others, they'll only try and talk me out of it."
Bucky sighs, not relishing the explanations that are going to follow, that will likely fall to him to provide. "I figured." He looks to the lake, where the sunlight is shimmering off the water, making it look unfairly beautiful. "When will you go?"
"Tomorrow," Steve says. "The Stones need to be returned as soon as possible."
Tomorrow. Bucky tamps down on the automatic ache in his heart that screams not enough time. Time is something they've both had so little and so much of.
Steve runs his thumb rhythmically over Bucky's metal knuckles. He looks regretful. "I guess.. I guess this is the end of the line."
"Steve," Bucky implores, voice cracking. "It's not the end, it's not as long as you remember me, and I remember you, okay? And I will never forget you," he says fiercely. With all that has been taken from him, with how unreliable and sometimes fragile his memory and brain have been, the promise is a poignant one to make. One Bucky would make again and again to Steve, and Steve only.
"Just... maybe do me a favour?" Bucky asks, and Steve nods fervently.
"Anything."
"Look me up when you get there?" he asks, ashamed at the hitch in his voice.
It's selfish, of course. Steve knows where he'd be; the files are quite comprehensive on the subject. Somewhere in the past there is a one-armed James Buchanan Barnes kept in underground bases in Russia, on the start of an incredibly painful journey. Knowing it's not going to fuck up current events... he's asking Steve to go into the belly of the beast to get him out. It may seem egotistical, but it's nothing Steve hasn't done for him befo--
"You're crazy if you think you had to ask that, Barnes," Steve tells him. "Already on my list."
The relief that flows through him is so self-aggrandizing, he should feel bad. Instead, he just feels relieved that somehow, somewhere, there will be one version of James Barnes that can be saved, even if it's not him.
He's already saved, he just went the long way.
"Thank you," Bucky says in a whisper, and looks out to the water. Eyes turn red again, but Steve doesn't cry. The decision is made, the tears are done. He shuffles closer to Bucky on the bench, and wraps an arm around his waist, bending to rest his head on Bucky's shoulder. It's achingly familiar, and calls to mind past summers past on fire escapes hot enough to scald skin, or planks of wood beneath bare legs on Coney Island.
"So. What d'you want to do with the rest of your day?" Bucky asks, putting a hand on Steve's thigh. He has to relish this contact, remember it. Commit it to memory and never, ever forget.
"M'already doing it," Steve replies, shuffling closer.