A few notes which I couldn't put in the summary:

This story starts at the end of Avengers: Infinity War (Part 1) and features time travel all the way back to the days of Captain America: The First Avenger. So there will be spoilers for all the movies in between.


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"You know he knew you . . . your pal, your buddy, your Bucky."

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- 1 -


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Bucky hadn't reached out for him.

Steve rewound the moment, in his head, as he touched the spot where Bucky had collapsed into dust. What had just happened? How was this possible? He didn't even have time to scream, Steve realised. Maybe it hadn't hurt? But, no. That was too much to hope for.

Steve collapsed onto the forest floor. "Oh, God."

The gun, Bucky's gun, was still there. Bucky was gone. Steve wanted to get up, willed himself to get up, and for a moment though he was really doing it. Instead, he reached for Bucky where he'd last seen him, falling forward into nothing.

"He called me dad." There was a raccoon sitting on a tree trunk to his right. An actual talking raccoon. How far down the rabbit hole were they now? Talking raccoons walking on two legs, talking trees and oh, God. Bucky. Bucky was gone.

"I never knew he saw me that way. I thought maybe older brother, or cool uncle, ya know." The raccoon was still talking, choking back tears, which was a bizarre image Steve never thought he'd see.

"I don't even have a twig, this time. He's just . . . gone."

A shadow fell over him, but he didn't look up. He was consumed by the ridiculous, impossible feeling that if he sat there long enough, Bucky would come back from wherever he'd vanished to, that he'd just come back. He had to come back. It couldn't end like this, it just couldn't. Why had he wasted all that time, roaming all over the world, while Bucky had been right here? They could have been safe here in Wakanda all along, could have spent some time together before the end, because nothing he'd done had changed a damn thing.

What's the matter, you gettin' sweet on me or somethin'? Bucky's voice was as clear as a bell, in his head. Steve didn't look up. It wasn't real. That was the old Bucky, the pre-Winter Soldier, devil may care ladies' man, not the laconic man he'd become, weighed down by all the people he'd killed, all the lives he'd destroyed. And Steve could have talked from dawn till dusk to convince Bucky that it hadn't been him, that he'd been brainwashed, but Bucky would never accept it.

"Steve? Steve! Snap out of it, we have to move!" Of course, that wasn't Bucky. It was Natasha. She was his only remaining friend, besides Sam, but he couldn't help feeling resentful – who had she lost?

"Have a heart, lady, his boyfriend just died!" The raccoon, who, inexplicably, sounded like he was from Jersey, was starting to piss Steve off.

Bucky hadn't been his boyfriend, had never been anything more than his greatest friend, because . . . Steve had never told him. He was not only the oldest living (human) Avenger, he was the oldest cliché. He'd let the only man he'd ever loved hide himself away, instead of helping him face his demons, and for what? For nothing.

Steve forced himself to look up into Natasha's puzzled face. He realized he was being unfair to her: she looked devastated. There was Okoye at her side, eyes red with tears, but still gripping her lance in a way which suggested it was the only thing still keeping her sane. He passed a hand over his face and levered himself off the ground, feeling every one of his hundred years in a way he never had before.

Steve cleared his throat, afraid that his voice would sound as cracked and weak as he felt. "Okoye, gather whoever's left of your army and find Shuri. I don't know how it works around here, but if she's the only one of the royal family left . . . " He trailed off with a questioning look, but Okoye seemed to understand what he was getting at. She turned and strode off in the direction of the battlefield, and he could hear her calling to her compatriots in Xhosa. At least, that's what he thought the language was. Bucky would have known, he thought, blinking rapidly to control the stinging in his eyes.

"Nat, I . . . " He stared down at her and didn't know how to continue. He's gone, he wanted to shout and yell at the sky. He's gone and I'll never see him again, never speak to him again. I thought we had time.

"I think we should go to New York." The voice came from behind him, and he started. He hadn't heard footsteps. When he turned his head and saw Sam, blinking at him, calm, he couldn't help the sudden relief that washed over him.

"Thank God you're alive!" Sam didn't react, though.

He turned back to Natasha, who was looking past him, brows furrowed. "Steve . . . who are you talking to?"

His face froze, his blood, turning to ice. When he turned around again, there was no-one there. Sam had been . . . just there. Where did he go?

The ground shuddered as War Machine landed close by. "Cap . . . I can't find Falcon." Steve saw the faceplate retract and there was only Rhodey, looking shaken. "I can't . . . where is . . . "

Steve pulled himself together with an effort, even though he felt his teeth grinding together. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Not Sam, not Sam on top of everything else. He saw a grey-blue body lying on the ground a few steps ahead, and barely recognized Vision, who'd died as soon as Thanos pulled the Mind stone out of his forehead.

He stumbled towards the body, and nearly hit Wanda, who put her hands out to catch him. "Steve, you need to go to New York."

Steve pulled back, shaken, but Nat kept walking, right through Wanda, who winked out instantly. He was losing his mind. Somewhere, in his head, a memory flickered - he'd seen this before, but where? What was happening to him?

Seemingly out of nowhere, Banner appeared, and Steve couldn't resist knocking on the Hulkbuster armor, which remained reassuringly solid. The faceplate opened, revealing Bruce's worried face. Natasha looked straight at him, and Bruce returned her pained smile; so at least some of them were still real.

Steve wasn't finished hallucinating, though. He was striding towards the quinjet as fast as he could, but whatever was affecting him had no problem keeping up. T'Challa's gravelly tones insisted on him going to New York, that kid from Queens said the same thing in a painfully earnest (and young, so very young) voice, and finally the tree appeared directly in his path, although all it said was: "I am Groot."

"Come on! I don't even understand what he's saying!" Steve sensed rather than saw Nat and Bruce exchanging worried looks, and for a few seconds, all the apparitions vanished. But whoever was doing this clearly wasn't finished with him yet.

"Steve?" His blood ran cold. It was the exact same tone, the exact same word, the last thing he'd heard Bucky say. He knew that if he turned around he'd see Bucky standing there, fading away, flaking off into nothing. He refused to turn around, glaring at Bruce and Natasha instead.

"Nat, tell me you can see something, please!" His voice cracked on the last word. She shook her head.

"Show yourself, damn you! Who's doing this? What do you want?" He turned around in a circle, bracing himself for what he'd see, but there was only Bucky, a faint smile on his face, the way he'd looked on that last day. Steve shook his head. "The real you, dammit. I know he's dead."

"I'm so sorry, Captain Rogers," the thing said, even as it changed into a figure in green, with long black hair and a knowing, wicked smile. "I thought you'd accept this message more readily, coming from your friends."

"Loki, you piece of shit!" Steve yelled, as he lunged at the figure, passing straight through it, and was only kept from hitting the ground by Bruce's quick reflexes.

Natasha stiffened and produced a gun out of nowhere as soon as she heard the name. She looked around her, but it was clear she couldn't see anyone there.

Loki's expression just grew more mocking. "Language, Captain!"

Steve shook his head and staggered off, rubbing his forehead. He couldn't deal with this, on top of everything else. "Should have known you weren't really dead, no matter what Thor said."

"Oh, I have many more tricks up my sleeve, Captain, more than any number of power-mad titans can imagine." The trickster was keeping pace with them as they walked, even though Steve didn't know what they were walking towards anymore. Possibly, his very own padded cell.

"I do think I am dead, though," Loki said, thoughtfully, and this stopped Steve short.

"How the hell are you doing this- no. I don't want to know. Just tell me what you want. Why do I need to go to New York? What's so special about New York? And why am I listening to you at all?" Steve knew that Nat, Rhodey and Bruce were exchanging an infinite number of concerned looks, but he couldn't think about that now.

"I believe you mortals call it a 'fail-safe', Captain. And how it works; well, magic, of course." Loki smiled, and Steve realized that he could have lived another entire lifetime without seeing that joker's smile again. But still, what harm could it do? They'd already lost everything. "All I can tell you is that you must go to New York, to a place called the Greenwich Village. Truly, a strange name for part of a city. Once you show yourself there, events will be set in motion. And now, my work is done." With that, he faded away, exactly as B- as everyone else had died.

Steve rubbed his eyes with a certain vigor. "God, I hate that guy so much."

There was a muttering behind him, which stopped as soon as he turned around. Nat, Rhodey and Bruce looked at him, pretending they hadn't been talking about him the entire time. They had their 'humor the lunatic' expressions in full force. The talking raccoon fellow wasn't going to hold back, though.

"Sorry about your husband, pal, but that's no reason to start acting like a crazy guy. Though he did have a pretty sweet gun. And arm." The raccoon seemed to notice the other three staring at him. "What? I offered my condolences, which is more than you guys did."

Steve sighed. "We weren't married, but thank you. And I'm sorry about your . . . friend, Groot." The raccoon waved it off but turned away with a suspicious brightness in his eyes. "I have to go to New York," Steve continued, and watched his friends' expressions change from understanding through exasperation into anger.

"Come on, Steve." Bruce was going to try first. Steve wondered how they'd decided on that – rock, paper, scissors? He shook his head and started walking towards the quinjet again, ignoring the clanking as Bruce struggled to keep up.

"You think you saw Loki, and that's enough to get you to New York?" This time it was Natasha, and she managed to get in front of him. "We need to regroup here, see who's still alive, and plan our next move."

Steve couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Our next move? What next move? We lost, Nat! Everyone lost! Half of everyone is dead! We threw everything we had at Thanos and we lost. If there's any chance, any chance at all, I'm going to take it, but I'm not staying here. I think we've done enough – don't you?"

He finally reached the quinjet and got on, only to find Shuri there, waiting for him. "Your highness? Or is it your majesty?" He noticed she had the panther claw necklace on.

"It doesn't matter," she said dismissively. "The White Wolf – Sergeant Barnes – you were with him?"

Steve wondered that she didn't ask after her brother. Then it struck him; Okoye would have told her already. And she was wearing the claws. God, he didn't want to talk about Bucky. But he owed her that much. "He's gone." Steve opened his mouth to say more, but what more was there to say? He shook his head.

Her lips trembled for a second, then she visibly wrenched control over herself, raising her head to look him directly in the eyes, every inch of her a queen. "You are leaving us?"

"You don't need me, majesty," Steve answered. "You don't need any of us. We've caused enough pain and terror here."

Before his eyes she transformed back into a frightened teenager. "We don't blame you, Captain! Please – " she reached out to him, and he held her hand, squeezing it.

"You don't need me, Shuri. You have your people around you, and you have to be strong, for their sake. I need to go and find mine."

Shuri allowed herself a second to wallow in her emotions, then she nodded. "Goodbye, Captain Rogers."

She walked off the quinjet, and Nat walked on. Steve started flipping switches. "Are the others coming?" He looked to the side, and Nat sighed, staring ahead.

"You seriously can't believe a vision you had of Loki. Can you?" She was looking at him now, her brows furrowed.

No-one else seemed to be coming up the ramp, so Steve closed it and spun up the engines. "If it seems like I'm clutching at straws, Nat, it's because I am." He gave her a quick look and caught her lips quirking up slightly. "But I've never been closer to giving up than right now. And it's not just because of – because of him." His voice shook, but he controlled it with an effort. "Though I can't deny that losing him . . . " He bit his lip, feeling like his calm facade would crack if he said any more. He risked a sideways glance, then focused again on the instrument panel. "You don't seem surprised."

From her tone, she was rolling her eyes. "You gave up your shield. You defied Tony, General Ross, and over a hundred countries to keep him safe. I didn't think it was just because you were soldier buddies together."

Steve had to blink a couple of times to keep it together. As Falsworth would have said, stiff upper lip, old boy. "Anyway, I thought you'd be proud of me . . . for trying to find a solution which doesn't involve punching people."

Natasha just shook her head, settling back in her seat. "Just wake me up once we're close to U.S airspace. Unless you want to get shot down."

With that, she seemed to fall asleep almost immediately, to his surprise. Though he shouldn't have been surprised – it was something he'd seen soldiers do, on the front lines. Maybe for spies, the war had never ended.

Three weeks later, Steve really started second guessing his decision. Getting back to the States, finding a safe house in New York, and trying to gather some kind of allies, all that had passed in a blur. It left him with too much time to replay the images in his head of that disastrous last battle, wondering if there had been anything he could have done to change the outcome.

The situation all over the world was mostly similar – the disappearance of half the population had not changed anything in human nature. People who lost loved ones were often paralyzed by grief, and those who hadn't lost anyone or who weren't affected took advantage of the situation. Steve found himself busy enough stopping petty crimes, or even major ones. That was how he spent his nights, while his days were spent wandering through the Village, hoping against hope that Loki hadn't been playing one of his tricks on him.

Tony had never returned. Steve had eventually spoken to Bruce about Tony's last day on earth, but what he learned made him more confused than before.

So the days turned into weeks, and Steve found himself wondering what he was going to do if it had only been a fool's hope. If being frozen in the ice for seventy years couldn't kill him, what on earth would do the trick? Lost in his morbid thoughts, trying to avoid thinking of the one person who could have got him to smile, it took him a while to realise that he was being followed.

Steve ducked into an alley, melting away into the shadows as best he could. He only realised his mistake when, behind him, a bright red light resolved into spiralling rings drawn in the air, and a door (a portal?) opened, pulling him through. Oh, Steve, he could hear Natasha saying, as he fell into the void. How did you survive for so long without a brain?

He wasn't sure if he'd blacked out or not, or for how long he lay there, or floated – eventually, he woke up, or got up, and found himself in a nightmare. He'd read the word 'psychedelic' in his research on what he'd missed when he lay sleeping, but this was the first time he actually understood what it meant.

There were two people, or beings, there with him: a short and stocky Asian man, and a huge craggy face which dominated the landscape. The Asian bowed. "I am Wong, an associate of Doctor Stephen Strange."

"AND I AM DORMAMMU, RULER OF THE DARK DIMENSION! COWER BEFORE ME, MORTAL!"

The words dropped on him like huge cinder blocks from a height, and Steve winced, expecting to feel blood trickling out of his ears. Doctor Strange, though. He'd heard that name before.

"What am I doing here?" Steve asked, hoping he looked as nonchalant as he was trying to sound, and he caught a look of approval on Wong's face. Never show them you're scared, he thought. It was then that he saw what Wong was holding: a bright and flashy metal glove, with a green stone already embedded in it.

"That's the Infinity gauntlet – how . . . ?"

"WHEN THANOS WIELDED THE GAUNTLET, IN THE INFINITESIMAL MILLISECOND BETWEEN, I SNATCHED THE TIME GEM TO THIS DIMENSION."

Steve looked at Wong for confirmation, and the man nodded. And sure, he hadn't been looking to closely at the actual stones once the gauntlet had been used. But the glove itself . . . ?

"Listen, I saw that thing drained, useless – how the hell is it here now?"

"IS THE MORTAL INFIRM OF MIND?" Dormammu's voice was even louder than before. Steve could feel the vibrations in his teeth.

Wong looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "It's a gauntlet, Captain. They come in pairs?"

Steve wanted to slap his forehead, but chose to nod intelligently instead, though he wished someone had told him all this a year ago. He took the gauntlet and stared into the Time gem, wondering if it could really be that easy. Either the big rock face could read his thoughts, or he'd spoken them out loud.

"IT IS NOT AN EASY TASK THAT LIES BEFORE YOU, MORTAL!"

Wong continued at a more moderate volume. "You need to collect the rest of the Infinity gems, Captain Rogers. You will also need to enlist the help of a sorcerer, to trick Thanos into believing he has the gems. Only in such a way can you undo what has been done."

Steve gripped the gauntlet, unwilling to believe in the hope that was growing in his chest, feeling like he was on fire, like he couldn't breathe. He cleared his throat. "Why are you helping me do this?"

"YEARS AGO, STEPHEN STRANGE CAME HERE TO BARGAIN. HE MADE MORE THAN ONE."

Steve nodded, and backed away, eager to get out of this place, and get started. He would fix it all, and much more besides, he thought. He'd save them all!

"STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, YOU MAY NOT CHANGE MORE THAN IS LINKED TO EACH INFINITY STONE!"

God, he had to leave this place, if every thought he had could be read so easily! Then Wong added his voice to the chorus. "Time cannot be controlled or altered without paying a price, Captain! The more you change, the greater the price!"

But Steve wasn't listening anymore. This time, he came to standing up, leaning against a dumpster, and recoiled from the stench of rotting garbage. He wondered if he'd dreamed the whole thing and looked inside his backpack. No, the gauntlet was still there.

So, he had the Time gem. Thor knew where most of the others had come from, so he'd need to get that knowledge out of Thor, somehow. But he already knew where the closest one was, the one which was on earth, rather than among the stars: inside the Tesseract, in the past, being used by Johann Schmidt. He'd get to that, but first he needed to be somewhere else: Innsbruck, Austria, 1945.

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Notes

The title is the first line of a poem by W.H. Auden. He meant it in a satirical way, but it's been used in movies literally, as a eulogy, so I like it for that. I also find it links well with a story about time-travel.

The description of Bucky in the summary comes straight from Captain America: Civil War, tm Crossbones. My favourite bit of meta was on tumblr, where one post pointed out that Crossbones was included in the movie just to tell the audience that Steve was in love with Bucky since he was sixteen years old.