Dear Bucky.

Do you remember the last time this day came around? Do you remember how we bought that new radio and the first song that came on was "You are my sunshine"? Do you remember how we danced, how offbeat we were and continuously trodding on each others toes? Do you remember how my asthma started to act up and I had to sit down? You always used to look after me so well. Do you remember how you said that song would be ours forever? Do you remember how you told me that you be with me till the end of the line?

I sure hope you do.

Living alone has been quiet. Nothings ever the same. There has been the odd time when I'll call for you, but then I remember, and it hurts more than anything when I remember.

Its winter at the moment. I remember how you used to always wrap me up in an extra jacket, even though I already had two others on. The skies are often grey here, and after a while that starts to wear on you. I remember though, you could always make me happy, even when I was having a hard time.

Peggy's still around, but I fear not for much longer. I visit her as much as I can, but her Alzheimer's is getting worse. Take care of her when she gets there, okay? Don't act like a jerk.

I miss you, my sunshine.

-Steve.

He stands at the foot of his former best friends grave. The surrounding grass is overgrown, the tombstone itself suffering from a slight lean. Another side effect from being forgotten for all those years. Just like the many other stone markers surrounding it, it stands forlorn and forgotten, the remains of a time that has long since passed.

Steve looks down at the small folded paper held carefully in his strong hands, taking extra care not to crumple it. He fingers the name freshly written in inky black. He let his thumb roll over the curves of the capital "B", to the smaller "u", then around the "c". He stops for a moment remembering a time when he had done this before. He continues, up the spine of the "k" then back down to go over the curve of the "y". His hands begin to shake as his fingers falls off the edge of the "y".

He feels his grip tighten around the delicate letter. He goes to speak, his pink lips starting to part to let out a sentence. Nothing but a weak moan escapes his throat. He feels his eyes begin to well, tears threatening to spill. He knows if he continues like this he'll be in pieces soon. Steve closes his mouth tightly, along with his eyes. Breathing in through his nose he lets the fresh air sooth his quickly beating heart. He holds it for a time, hearing Bucky's voice in his head.

"Keep breathing Steve. When you breath, it's like ya' tellin' life you're in charge."

With that in mind he lets out the breath, slowly and steadily, his eyes remaining closed for a second before fluttering open. Regaining confidence, he spoke.

"Mornin' Buck."

Bucky's silent as always, especially at this time of day. He was never much of a morning person. Steve's eyes moved from the grave back to the letter.

"I, uh, I brought you another one."

Bucky remains quiet. Steve cleares his throat.

"I'm sorry I didn't visit you earlier, S.H.I.E.L.D's been handing out missions like you wouldn't believe. I may be a super soldier but I'm still human."

A small wind brushes over Bucky's grave, the grass below him shivering in response. He lets the wind blow over him, whilst he wonders over what to say next. He never used to be so picky about what he said to Bucky, but now Steve feels like needs to, for his sake. He sighs, his eyes welling up again.

"I should have been able to save you Buck. I thought that, maybe, just this once I could do something. That finally, you'd be able to rely on me just as much as I relied on you."

Steve doesn't bother trying to stop them this time and finally. After months of being strong, he lets it all go.

"Buck, I-I'm so sorry. I...I just want you back."

He blinks, drops of salt falling rapidly from his eyes and onto the letter, smudging the black letters. Steve lets himself fall to his knees, eyes placed firmly on the now tear stained letter in his hands. His eyes move to the gray stone, its corners tinted with the lightest covering of green. The groves and crevasses on the stone are shrouded with thick, black mold.

His clouded eyes focus on the engraved letters, worn down from time. But it doesn't matter that they are barely visible. Steve already knows what they say, he's come here often enough. Time and time again he's felt a lash of pain rip through him as he reads those words, those brutal sentences that cement the fact that Steve couldn't save the one he cared about most. Those horrid sentences that refuse to leave him.

R.I.P

James Buchanan Barnes

SGT. of the 107th inventory

March 10th 1917-1943

K.I.A.

Steve's eyes grazed over the fading letters in Bucky's name, just like he had done with the letter. He sat there on his knees for a time, just starring at Bucky's name. After his tears had run dry, Steve felt an anger building inside him.

"Why? Why us? Why?!"

His screams fall on deaf ears, tears streaming from his face again. His fists curled around the grass at his feat, yanking. Tearing, ripping it out, huge clumps at a time, Steve was really letting it all out. Everything he'd kept inside, the anger, the sadness, the confusion, everything. All the emotion he'd kept under wraps for months on end was rushing to the top.

"We were supposed to be together till' the end of the line! Why the hell did they have to take you away?! Why'd it have to be you Buck?!"

He kept going, more and more grass beginning to pile up around him. Steve's rapid pace started to slow, once again letting the depression take over him. He released his hands, letting the letter fall. Steve wiped his eyes. Noticing the tattered letter amongst the grass, he frowned. Picking it up with gentle hands, his voice came out as a whisper.

"Why'd they have to take my sunshine away..."

Steve shut his eyes, sitting up he soaked in the quiet of the cemetery. Breathing in, once again like Bucky had taught him, he calmed himself. Trying to regain control of his emotions. More breaths, in through his parted mouth, out through his nose. Steve opened his eyes, a sheepish smile spread across his face.

"Sorry Buck, I've made a bit of a mess...that wasn't what i came here for."

Steve began to rub the letter on his leg, trying to wipe away some of the grime that had accumulated.

"I, ah" Steve sniffed "I know you think letters are stupid but, sometimes we need a bit of the old fashioned, ya know?."

Steve smiled to himself, realising what he had just said. Steve stopped working on the letter to check his handy work. The once crisp and clean letter was now wrinkled and slightly damp, the ink still smudged.

"Well, I know you didn't like me making a big deal about it, but Happy Birthday Buck."

Steve smiled as he finally let go of the letter, placing it underneath a small pebble Steve had used for the others. He pats the headstone and smiles again as he gets up.

"I hope there are many more to come." he whispers.

He stands looking over Buckys grave once more, before turning to look at the other stones scattered across the stretch of grass. The sky isn't as grey as it was when Steve first arrived. He can even see some of the golden sunrays as he looks at the moving clouds. Steve lets his head fall as he sheds one last tear, turning to leave.

"I'll see ya soon sunshine..."