Hi All. This is a re-upload since my first upload got messed up like crazy and looked like alien language. After further thought (and some time sleeping) I think I'll be making this in to a story told in snippets/short chapters since my attention span right now can only write things like that.

Bucky felt the earth drop out from underneath his feet even as he urged Sam forward towards the frail figure facing the lake. Everything spun around him even as the full weight of what had happened had not yet settled in any way. All he knew was that he staring at his own grave. The quiet voice that had always been Steve's murmured in nearly indistinct words as he spoke to Sam. It whispered a eulogy that had been written for nearly a century. His heart felt like it was shredding itself in to millions of little pieces as the stark feelings of loss began cascading on him like an avalanche. It seemed to be only a few years ago that he'd been fighting the Germans in a time he understood. Now he stood in a distant future with nothing to arm him but the fear of the unknown.

As he stared at the slim shoulders and grayed head he knew he'd been outrun. Always the first to get a date and now suddenly he was decades behind his best friend. Bucky got the distinct impression that his best friend had gripped the lemon of life and squeezed out a diamond.

Turning his back to the painful scene, Bucky took in the Stark's humble abode. A quiet but modern effigy of resilience that seamlessly housed the menagerie of characters mourning in unison over the strange billionaire that had been the encompassing domino and driving force for nearly a decade. Or so he was told. Over half a decade had passed since his memories had trickled in. Babies had been born and love found. Old age had culled the select few. Among the noise of it all Bucky found himself feeling adrift more than ever before. The option to go back had not been his. With no one to go back to or old life to continue Bucky was firmly planted in the future. A dreamers paradise if you could look past the fear. If only the emptiness had been healed by the final battle. Or at least some closure bestowed upon the aching masses.

Peace was at his back. An uncertain future seemed to be resting on the divot of his Cupid's bow, blocking any chance of logical thinking. His first choice to turn to; the red headed Russian, was dead. Of course, the strange girl with the red powers was lurking somewhere close but the anger and loss in her eyes was too relatable and too near.

His feet moved themselves on their own. Moving forward in a steady march Bucky found himself wandering down the dusty driveway and on to the road with purposeful steps. Uncertainty padded the impact of dress shoe on pavement and Bucky supposed that after a while- years perhaps - he could get used to the knot of anxiety in his stomach.

Steve said his living was beautiful. Bucky wondered if his own version of life could ever even begin to compare to the ending credits of the life of Steve Rogers. A man who had taken all the stupid with him and still made the right choice.

With a red sunset ahead of him promising a long future, he could only blindly put one foot in front of the other and pray he was going the right way.