The page was yellowed and torn at the edges from age. It had been folded up and tucked at the bottom of a dusty box of old photos and memorabilia.

As he unfolded it, Bucky wondered if Steve even remembered it was in there.

The first few lines of the letter were half-finished sentences that had been crossed out. Then there was one blank line, followed by a single sentence.

Bucky, I love you.

After a few more blank lines, the writing continued, only now there were spots where the paper had warped and the ink had blurred; places where tears had landed on the page.

I'm sorry Bucky. I should have said something. I shouldn't have been such a coward. Now I suppose it doesn't matter. I was going to give you this letter when we got back from the mission, but only I got back.

They told me that they couldn't even find your body, so I have no grave to visit, no way to leave you this letter.

I'm so sorry.

I loved you.