Cap
He was surrounded by long grass, sitting in a foreign land in a bloodied uniform with his friend’s death replaying in his head.
A solider shouted in his ear, blood and spit spraying with his hot voice.
He didn’t flinch. The time for politeness was over. Bodies piled by the hundreds. Their men were bleeding, they were clinging to life like the flies his father would trap in windows.
He bent over their old window, fiddling with it until the frame squeaked shut.
Buzz... buzz...
The boy frowned, tugging on his father’s coat. “Dad, what are you doing?”
Buzz...
His father beamed, “I’ve finally found it, son- a way to keep those nasty vermin from causing any trouble.”
Buzz... buzz- buzz-buzz-buzz...
His brow furrowed as he moved his head past his father’s waist, “Dad, what are you...?”
The buzzing of flies silenced him. Their fuzzy black bodies were trapped behind the stained window. They buzzed and buzzed and flew back and forth, their red eyes staring at him as they threw themselves against the barrier.
One fly laid on the ground, his black body twitching as yellow liquid oozed from his wings. It was paralyzed. His stomach churned as a thousand red eyes hit the glass before hitting it again and again and buzzing in terror as their tortured continued.
Buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ-
The boy startled when his father clapped him on the back. He watched the man with frightened eyes. His dad tapped the glass with a satisfied hum. He smiled at him.
“See, son? Once you stick ‘em together they’re easy to kill.”
*
Buzz buzz buzz buzz BUZZ-
He swatted a fly as it landed on his neck.
The grass was too long, his face felt too rough- he wasn’t in the 40s. He wasn’t a part of that world anymore. He was here in Wakanda and he’d lost.
He’d been alive almost 100 years and he still couldn’t keep civilians safe.
He still couldn’t keep his friends safe. Bucky was smiling just a few hours ago. He’d been happy, he has been moving, he had been talking.
Bucky’s last word was his name.
And now his ashes coated the floor.
A sick, cold part of him that he would never admit to was glad there wasn’t a body. The last time Bucky had left he’d fallen off the train and vanished beneath snow and ice and wind. Just because he didn’t see Bucky didn’t mean he was dead. In fact, the lack of evidence could give his friend a fighting chance.
But then...
He had seen Bucky’s body. He’d seen the lines etched across Bucky’s face before his weapon had slipped from his hand and his body had crumbled like sand. He stared at the brown and white flecks beneath his knuckles.
A hand was on his shoulder- purple cloth, sweat, warmth- a firm hand. Thor was cursing the gods and trembling with more rage than Steve had ever seen in him before. Loss could twist even the brightest man’s soul.
“Cap, we have to find the others,” Bruce said calmly.
“One second,” he mumbled.
Bruce opened his mouth before closing it, completely lost on how to console his friend.
“Bruce?”
He watched Cap’s face before speaking hesitantly. His blue eyes were pale and empty. Cap was still sitting on the dirt, long grass pulling at his suit as he stared at the ground. Bruce’s gaze flickered back and forth from Bucky’s molecules to the sad, blue eyes which now stared at him.
“...Yes?”
He coughed, his pale mouth twisting and shaking before he spoke.
“I...”
Cap looked up at the sky, blinking furiously before a strangled cry fell from his mouth. He shook violently. He wondered where Sam had gone, if he was okay.
He was wasting time sitting here, he wasn’t helping anyone. He was as scared and useless as a fly trapped in a window. If Bucky were here he’d say- he choked down a sob.
God, Bucky...
“I-I need... I need a jar.”