It had been nearly a year since the war with Thanos, and somehow, it felt like the longest year of Steve’s life.
Countless people were gone. He’d watched Bucky disintegrate with his own eyes, and he’d found out after that Sam was gone as well. They’d all lost loved ones, they were all grieving, but there was an ever present ache in Steve’s chest when he realized that he was, once again, alone. He had the team, of course, but their relationship was tenuous more often than not. There was no telling how long they would even be together.
So he threw himself into his work. It was what he was used to doing, especially when he was grieving. While the pain never went away, it gave him an outlet for the rage that simmered just beneath the surface.
It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He’d just gotten Bucky back. He was doing better, and Steve had watched him disappear again. Not die. He refused to believe that the others were dead. There had to be something they could do, some way to bring them back. Half of the people in the universe were gone, but there was still plenty to do.
The world went on, and so did the Avengers.
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Of all the people who disappeared and disintegrated, there were plenty of unsavory characters left in the world. People who felt that they could take things over, people who blamed the Avengers for all of this and thought that they needed to be taken down. AIM was alive and well, wreaking havoc where they could, and to add insult to injury, the Red Skull was back and leading a new branch of HYDRA. Steve had been forced to watch Bucky die and disappear twice, but Red Skull was free to live, and that only made things worse. The man who had taken so much from them, who had done so much damage and caused so much trouble, was somehow allowed to live.
The rage from that discovery was enough to fuel Steve for decades, but he only needed a year. A year spent fighting AIM and working to destroy HYDRA while Tony and the rest of the team focused on fixing the damage done by Thanos. Somebody needed to focus on the smaller issues, and Steve was more than happy to take the fall. There was something almost cathartic about the destruction that surrounded him, slamming his shield into technology and flesh almost indiscriminately. Every blow lessened the aching in his chest, made everything just a little easier. These were the people that had hurt Bucky, that had taken so much away from him. These were the people who had caused so much damage to the man that he loved. They were complicit in terrible things, and they deserved what they got.
This base was no different from the others. Steve was met by nearly identical groups of soldiers, and he took them out just as easily as usual. Things didn’t change until he was further into the base, though. The further into the base he got, the more soldiers he encountered. He was outnumbered, though not outpowered. Not yet, at least. They were guarding something, and he knew better than to give up during something like this. Hallway after hallway, room after room, he took them out. Until he got to the largest room. There was a group of soldiers in there, more than he’d ever handled on his own before, and he knew that he’d made a mistake. Maybe even one that could cost him his life.
He raised his shield, blocking the spray of bullets that was aimed for him, but there were things even his shield couldn’t stop. The sound of a weapon readying itself made him freeze; the specific sound wasn’t one he’d heard since the war. The lasers that HYDRA had been using were cruel and inhumane, and that sound haunted his nightmares. The weapons that had been powered by the Tesseract, that had disintegrated anyone it touched. Steve jumped out of the way, desperate to live, desperate to finish what he’d started, but he wasn’t fast enough. The beam hit him in the back, pain shot through his entire being, and the world around him went black.
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He expected to die. Part of Steve wanted to die, to join Bucky and Sam and Peggy and his mother. He deserved a break, didn’t he? He deserved a rest. He’d been fighting for so long, far longer than anybody else ever had. He was tired. And yet, he felt himself being pulled back to consciousness. His body was sore and aching, his joints were burning, his lungs were weak, and for a few brief moments, he wondered if he’d truly died. The steady beeps and hums of hospital equipment said otherwise. It was agony, just opening his eyes. As soon as he did, he knew that something was wrong.
Everything was fuzzy around him, out of focus. It was bad enough to make his head hurt. The colors were off, too, and without looking at himself, he knew. Seeing his body only confirmed his suspicions that, somehow, Schmidt had undone the super-soldier serum.
“You know,” Natasha said, and Steve looked over at where she was sitting beside the bed. “It’s always been common knowledge that you had a medical history as long as you were tall, but hearing the doctors talk about it now, and looking at you, is absolutely insane.”
Steve chuckled weakly, his head falling back to rest on the pillow, his eyes closing. Strangely, there was something he’d missed about this.
“If you think it’s weird seeing it, try living it,” he said. Try going back to it after being the pinnacle of health and fitness.
Natasha was silent, and Steve could just tell she was working up to something. Some bad news, as if his life hadn’t gone to hell enough already.
“Tony and Bruce are working on a way to get you back to the way you were before,” she said. “They’ve already tested your blood, but...any sign of the serum is gone. Red Skull didn’t just negate its effects, or stop it from working. He managed to completely erase it.”
Steve was quiet for a few long moments, just laying there in the bed, taking in what Natasha had just told him. He’d done his research when he was first thawed, he knew that people with his conditions could live long, happy lives. Advancements in modern medicine were amazing, better than anything he could have hoped for. Being the way he was now wasn’t a death sentence.
He wouldn’t have to fight anymore. He couldn’t, really; he was in no shape to. Sure, Steve could offer his tactical advice, he could help behind the scenes, but he was off of the front lines, away from the action. Maybe this was a blessing. Schmidt thought he’d just cursed Steve, but he’d given him a gift.
“Are you okay?” Natasha asked. He could hear the worry in her voice, and he opened his eyes, giving her a small smile.
“I’ll be okay.”
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Strangely enough, it didn’t take him a long time to adjust. Something about it felt right, like this was the way things were supposed to be. He went to doctors appointments for weeks as they diagnosed and made plans for him. He was given hearing aids, and glasses, and an inhaler, and a bag full of pill bottles to treat his health issues. And things were fine. His body still ached, his back was still twisted, his feet were still flat, but he had more free time now than ever. He painted and sketched more now than he had in years, filling up canvases and sketchbooks. All the things he loved doing, all the things he’d wanted to do since he was thawed, but there was never any time for it. He was going on missions, and working out, and saving the world. Putting Erskine’s work to good use. People had given their lives for that serum, and he couldn’t let it go to waste, but now...now his body was his own, and he could do with it as he pleased. His therapist was happy; it was healthier than putting himself in danger, she’d said. And he had to admit, it felt better.
When he wasn’t painting, he was helping the team find Thanos and the Stones. Tony and Bruce’s search for a replacement serum had slowly ground to a halt, and Steve couldn’t find it in himself to complain. There were far more important things to do, far more important things to worry about, and he was doing just fine.
In the end, it wasn’t even the Avengers that finished things. They’d heard rumors, whispers more like, of Thanos residing on a distant planet. He’d grown powerful, they’d said. He’d transcended, they alleged. Whatever that meant, whatever Thanos was trying to achieve, the Avengers knew that they had to stop him. Shuri’s technology helped a great deal in getting them to where they needed to go. She was solemn as she handed Steve the keys to a ship, and he could almost see the weight of a nation on her young shoulders, the loss of her brother still fresh. His heart went out to her, and as he took the keys, he gave her a small nod. And then they were off, following the coordinates that had been given to them.
They weren’t the only ones that had this idea, though. Ships and corpses littered the ground around them as they landed and made their way to the throne that Thanos had built himself, and things were not looking good for them. Despite everyone’s protests, Steve refused to stay behind on the ship. They had to end this, and he had to be there to see it. His hands were shaking as they walked through the sand. They could end it all, right now. They had to. The millions of people that were gone, the casualties and injuries and effort...it couldn’t have all been for nothing.
They weren’t alone, though. There was a figure in front of the throne as they approached it, one that Steve had only seen a handful of times. Nebula, one of the daughters of Thanos. His heart clenched in his chest, his hand going to the gun that he’d been given. If she’d heard them approach, she gave no indication as she stood in front of Thanos’ prone form. He’d ascended, they claimed. Maybe he had. The gauntlet was physical, though, and Nebula pulled it easily off of his hand, slipping it onto her own. She stared at it for a moment, her head cocking to the side as she slowly flexed the fingers. So much power, in the hands of someone so unpredictable. She turned, not even watching as Thanos’ body disintegrated into ash, to face the rest of them. Her eyes were cold as she looked them over but there was...there was a pain there, one that Steve had seen in so many others. Thanos may have raised her, but he had taken far more.
“So much power,” she said, her voice empty as she looked back down at the gauntlet, slowly turning her wrist this way and that, watching the gold glint in the light. “I can see why he wanted it so badly.”
“Nebula…” Rocket spoke up, taking a few steps forwards towards her. “There’s been enough damage. We need to destroy that thing.”
She stared at him, slowly clenching and unclenching the fingers into a fist, as if getting a feel for the device. Her free hand, uncovered by the gauntlet, was just barely shaking. Carefully, she raised the gauntlet into the air.
And snapped her fingers.
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Bucky knew that something was wrong.
It was just a gut feeling, but over the years, he’d learned to trust his gut. His heart was racing, and there was a weight in his stomach that could only be described as dread. Something was happening, something that he couldn’t explain, and he looked over at Steve with wide eyes.
“Steve?”
There was a tingling across his body. No pain, no awareness, but there was a tingling that spread, ash mingling with the air around him, and he was gone.
For a moment, just an instant, there was nothing.
A black expanse.
A void.
The barest hint of consciousness.
He was, and he wasn’t.
And then, light.
Just like that, he was back again. Existing, with a gasp of air.
Steve stood in front of him, and Bucky knew that he’d died. This had to be heaven, because Steve was there, all ninety pounds of him, looking just as beautiful as Bucky remembered.
There was a look of shock on his face before the tears welled up in his eyes, his hands flying up to press against his mouth. They couldn’t hide the sound of his sobs, though, and Bucky could hear that familiar wheezing making itself known as Steve collapsed to his knees.
Bucky got there before everyone else, landing on his knees beside him, pulling him up into his lap and holding him as tightly as he could. His entire focus was on Steve, soothing him, leading him through his breathing as Steve pressed his face into Bucky’s shoulder and cried. Bucky could feel his heartbeat beneath his flesh hand, so frantic that a part of him worried that it’d give out.
There, on a distant planet with a name that neither of them could pronounce, the war they’d fought longer than they could remember had ended. It was over. They were done.
They were free.
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Bucky came to very slowly. The sound of a steady heart monitor reached his ears. A cold, small hand in his own.
“Hey there,” he heard Steve say. Bucky let his head fall wearily to the side to see Steve smiling warmly. His thumb rubbed over Bucky’s knuckles. “How’re you feelin’?”
“Sore,” he said with a smile, his voice a little hoarse.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Steve said, reaching out and pushing some of Bucky’s hair back and away from his eyes. The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled their attention away from each other. Bucky looked up to see Shuri standing there, grinning.
“Nice to see you up and awake, White Wolf,” she said warmly, moving to sit on the edge of Bucky’s bed. There was an air around Shuri, a forced maturity, but she was happy again. Her brother was alive, T’Challa was ruling, and she was free to be herself again.
“Nice to be awake,” Bucky said, chuckling tiredly. “What’s the verdict?”
Shuri snorted. “You say that as though it’d be anything but good,” she teased before grabbing his chart and flipping through it. “The surgeons were able to completely remove the metal from your shoulder, as well as the neurotransmitters that allowed you full function of the arm. Some extra tissue was removed, they saved as much as they could, and you are completely metal free. Congratulations, Barnes,” she said, grinning widely.
Steve’s smile could have powered the sun, it was so bright, and Bucky could almost feel the happiness radiating from him. From this angle, he could see the hearing aids that he’d gotten, not from Stark or from T’Challa, but from a standard manufacturer, as well as the glasses that he wore. Nothing big, nothing fancy. Not anymore.
“So what are your plans now that you two are out of the business?” Shuri asked, looking between the two of them.
Steve glanced over from her, to Bucky, then back again. “Not sure. We were talking about maybe getting some land somewhere. We’ve got enough money, and Bucky liked being able to have a garden and raise some animals. It’ll be nice, getting away from the city for once.”
“You two deserve a break,” Shuri said, nodding, and Bucky couldn’t agree more. “Just get away for awhile. Take some time for yourselves, have some fun.”
With Bucky’s advanced healing factor, it wasn’t long before they were ready to leave. T’Challa insisted on giving them a flight home, one last bit of assistance before they settled into their new civilian lifestyle. And Bucky had to admit, it was one of the most comfortable flights they’d ever been on.
Bucky couldn’t stop running his fingers along the stump of his left shoulder. There was no more metal there, only flesh. Scarred, and damaged, but healthy. Entirely his own. With the amount of tissue and bone loss, there was very little chance for a standard prosthetic, but he didn’t really need one. He’d manage just fine. They both would.
“So,” Steve said, scooting closer over to Bucky and resting a head on his shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”
Bucky raised his arm and wrapped it around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close.
“Let’s do this.”