Bucky doesn't know that is true. It feels good to hear it, but Steve knows that it's just words. Let him say how much all of this wasn't his fault when he's still trying to wash spilt blood off his hands. Let him comfort Steve after he sees the carnage other people used him for. Context is everything and Bucky has none. The words might as well be a nursery rhyme for all they can soothe the ache inside Steve.

At Bucky's other questions, guilt claws at his stomach. It's not the first time he's thought about the Barnes' and what became of them. Steve follows them from a distance as they live their lives under new names. Sisters married and having kids of their own. Bucky even has a great-grandniece as of last month, not that he's been able to know that.

Steve hasn't reached out to them once.

"The guys all make it," Steve answers finally. He sits back on his heels to put some space between them even though his hands can't let Bucky go. It practically has him tugging Bucky along.

"And your family... God, Buck. They did so good. You got a nephew they named James who's an honest to God rocket scientist. Niece named Stephanie after yours truly. Her kid just had a kid. Enough to make you feel old..."

He shakes his head a little, the smile on it worn but there.

"Everyone has a real good life. No scraping for food. No cold winter nights. Everybody after the war gets all the things we coulda dreamed of for them. You and I couldn't hope for more. 'Cept maybe JB Jr. going to the White House." A ghost of teasing washes out some of Steve's weariness.

"All those president names wasted twice..."