This is clearly time travel. Steve remembers the mission Bucky mentions but he sure as hell doesn't recall losing his friend in a bar for any amount of time. But then again, would he have really noticed? Back then there was so much to do and so many demands on his time. Steve hadn't lost Bucky yet and therefore hadn't learned that the world could be cruel enough to keep spinning with only one of them on it. He might not have kept close tabs. He might have just been confident in the fact he'd see him later.
He had taken Bucky's presence in his life for granted, back then.
Steve knows better, now.
And he knows better than to just mess with the timeline. Cosmic consequences and all, right? The chance of altering the past and making a new future? But really, he thinks to himself, is that such a bad idea? Is this future truly one that deserves to be protected? One where Bucky has been tortured out of his mind and the Earth's protectors are scattered around the world, torn apart?
What could really be worse than all of this? Death? At least that would be an end. What was the preciousness this present moment had that Steve needs to defend? Whatever it may be, he's too tired to find it. He's too tired to care.
Fuck it, he decides as Bucky's thumb dries his cheek. Fuck this future of grief and pain. Fuck all of it and the path of decisions that lead up to now. Steve doesn't care. He doesn't have it in him anymore to care.
Let this place burn.
"You... Buck, I think you got pulled forward in time," he somehow says. "I don't know how or why... But this is a long way from the bar you'd been drinking in. You've come a real long way, pal. And there's... There's so much more to it. But I just..."
He chokes out a sob and a laugh at the same time. The resulting sound is miserable and familiar to Steve at this point; it's been the only way he's been laughing for the last few months.
Steve reaches for Bucky's free hand and holds that one as well. When he looks down at the other man he can see the worry Bucky has for him. The care. Steve realizes then that he has in his grip home.
He'd forgotten such a place existed.
"I've missed you," he finally manages to say. It's three words that probably snap in pieces to a puzzle Bucky doesn't want to see about his fate. Steve can't stop himself though. The unvarnished truth is finally yanked out of his chest and he's bleeding free from the wound it left behind.
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He had taken Bucky's presence in his life for granted, back then.
Steve knows better, now.
And he knows better than to just mess with the timeline. Cosmic consequences and all, right? The chance of altering the past and making a new future? But really, he thinks to himself, is that such a bad idea? Is this future truly one that deserves to be protected? One where Bucky has been tortured out of his mind and the Earth's protectors are scattered around the world, torn apart?
What could really be worse than all of this? Death? At least that would be an end. What was the preciousness this present moment had that Steve needs to defend? Whatever it may be, he's too tired to find it. He's too tired to care.
Fuck it, he decides as Bucky's thumb dries his cheek. Fuck this future of grief and pain. Fuck all of it and the path of decisions that lead up to now. Steve doesn't care. He doesn't have it in him anymore to care.
Let this place burn.
"You... Buck, I think you got pulled forward in time," he somehow says. "I don't know how or why... But this is a long way from the bar you'd been drinking in. You've come a real long way, pal. And there's... There's so much more to it. But I just..."
He chokes out a sob and a laugh at the same time. The resulting sound is miserable and familiar to Steve at this point; it's been the only way he's been laughing for the last few months.
Steve reaches for Bucky's free hand and holds that one as well. When he looks down at the other man he can see the worry Bucky has for him. The care. Steve realizes then that he has in his grip home.
He'd forgotten such a place existed.
"I've missed you," he finally manages to say. It's three words that probably snap in pieces to a puzzle Bucky doesn't want to see about his fate. Steve can't stop himself though. The unvarnished truth is finally yanked out of his chest and he's bleeding free from the wound it left behind.
"God. Bucky... I've missed you so much."