I do not own Captain America or the Avengers.
But Infinity Wars might be the death of me.
At the End
"Steve!"
He saw him take the hit, right through the chest.
Impaled, skewered.
Like meat on a stick.
Saw him crumple.
Bucky put everything he had into the punch that downed his opponent for good.
And launched himself toward his fallen friend.
He plowed through anyone who stood in his way, ally and foe alike.
Across a battlefield laden with corpses below a cloudy, desolate sky.
And slid to his knees at the side of Steve Rogers.
"Steve!"
Who lay motionless, unconscious.
"No!"
The weapon was mercifully broken off inside Steve's sternum and Bucky left it there to contain the bleeding as much as possible.
"Hang on, pal."
His voice was a guttural growl that evolved into a grunt of exertion as Bucky Barnes rose, heaving Steve Rogers up with him.
Leveraging his muscled weight up and across his shoulders.
God, this was easier when you were a scrawny little punk.
And then, lining himself up with the treeline, he started moving.
Steve was heavy, limp, and the churned-up, bloodied mud sucked at Bucky's booted feet.
But he kept moving, kept running.
Face a snarl of determination and will born of lifelong love for his best friend.
His pal.
His brother.
Somehow he made it to the forest, abandoning the warfare behind.
And lowered Steve as carefully as possible to the loamy ground.
"Steve!"
His voice was a desperate whisper, a pleading cry of despair.
To which he received no response.
"Steve . . . no . . ."
Amped healing. Regenerative capabilities.
He could be okay.
He could survive.
He could-
"Buck."
The surresh was no more than a breath.
But James Buchanan Barnes heard it.
Saw the twitch of the eye.
Felt the reoccurrence, the revival of hope.
Just before it flickered out and died.
"It's the end of the line, pal."
He tried to say no, tried to argue like always.
But he couldn't. Not anymore.
Not here.
Not at the end.
He couldn't even form the name on his lips.
Steve.
"Don't . . . don't give . . . up. Don't . . . forget who you are."
Bucky nodded blindly, tears obscuring his vision.
"You fight. For them."
Bucky didn't know who they were anymore or how or why.
"Have . . . peace . . . when you can."
He didn't know or care about anything.
Except . . .
Steve.
. . . that his friend was dying in his arms.
And then . . .
"Okay. See ya, Buck."
. . . he simply did.
Okay, before you hate me, I wrote this so I could sleep.
And, Marvel and the Russos have already made their decision either way so I'm not inventing anything new.
Maybe Bucky looks like that and is loading his weapon at the ready in such a manner in the trailer like that because his favorite episode of My Little Pony was taken off Netflix, I don't know.
Maybe everybody lives and Thanos gets sent to his room without supper without so much as a shot fired.
But I rather doubt it.
So, I guess we'll see.
In five freaking months.
*bangs head on desk, passes out*
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