Rain fell all around him, turning his clothes into a soggy mess. Tears cascading down his face and grief having a tight grip on his heart, Bucky leaned forward, pulling his wounded friend into his lap. Why had they done it? Why had the government wanted to murder Captain America? What kind of cruelty was this? His best friend since childhood, the one he'd stood by through everything, was dying in his arms. A choked sob leaped out of his throat and clung to the air as he held Steve's damp face in his palms. "Steve…?" He croaked, silently praying that he'd get to see those beautiful, light-blue irises one last time.
The limp figure suddenly gave off a weak tremor, and Bucky saw him stir slightly. An agonized groan ignited in the back of his throat as he struggled to open his eyes. A few seconds later, his eyelids slowly split, revealing small slivers of blue. "B-Bucky…." Steve whispered in a low, weak voice. The winter soldier noticed that his friend was having trouble speaking; he was visibly straining. Bucky cried harder. This was so wrong. Steve is Steve. He isn't supposed to die.
A flash of lightning lit up the clouded sky above them, and Bucky could see Steve's pale, bruised face a little clearer. "Steve, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I…..I couldn't save you…" Bucky whimpered, holding his friend close.
"Buck….it's not…..your fault…." Steve wheezed. "Don't…..blame self….." He coughed, unable to speak fully. A string of red dribbled from his mouth, slowly trickling down his cheek. Steve closed his eyes, his breathing extremely labored and raspy. He couldn't breathe.
"Steve, no…don't Steve. Don't do this…." Bucky begged. "Please Steve…."
The super soldier's breaths continued to grow weaker and weaker with each passing second. Steve felt that his limbs were growing heavier and heavier; it took a huge effort to keep his head up. With a sigh, he tilted his head back in Bucky's arms, blinking slowly before licking his dry, crusty lips. "Sorry Buck….." He whispered, his voice barely there. His breathing was almost nothing. Steve's eyelids fluttered softly as they slipped closed; he managed a smile, a way of telling his friend that it was okay; that it'd be alright; to move on. "To the…to the…t-to….the e-end of the l-line, p-pal….." He sighed, then he went limp, his lungs emptying of oxygen. His heart beat stuttered weakly a few times before going still, and Steve's lips parted slightly, all of the warmth rising from his body.
Bucky sobbed as hard as he could, then he let loose a piercing wail. He glanced up at the sky, screaming his grief to the heavens. A ring of pink shone through the clouds and spread light around him and Steve, acting like a spotlight upon the two of them. The rain had become a dull splatter upon the muddy ground. Bucky bowed his head, resting his forehead against Steve's. "….to the end of the line pal," He whimpered. "To the end of the line…."
The sun was now rising, but even the warm glow of morning seemed dim, as if the whole world was mourning the death of Steven Grant Rogers, an American hero.