Steve tossed his pen down in exasperation, barely holding himself back from ripping up the paper. He knew this was going to be difficult, but he couldn't even get past the first two words. He regretted assuring Dr. Charles that he was ready for this assignment, still hesitating to admit any sort of weakness when he could avoid it. There was no avoiding it now.

Dr. Charles had finally begun working on dealing with grief in their sessions, which had unsurprisingly been very hard. It took multiple days to work through what happened on the train and Steve hadn't even bothered trying to sleep alone those nights, outright asking who he could sleep with. Tony and Thor had set up multiple pillows and cushions and blankets in the living room of the common floor so there was space for everyone, and they all slept piled on top of each other.

Now he was on his floor, sitting at his kitchen table staring at an almost blank sheet of paper, trying to find the right words. Dr. Charles said one of the reasons he hadn't moved onto the acceptance part of the grieving process was because he didn't have closure. Most people got that at a funeral, but Steve had never gotten the chance for almost everyone he used to know. His mother's death was devastating, but he was able to think about her without falling apart because he'd gotten the chance to say goodbye.

He'd gotten through the letters for his Commandos fairly easily. It wasn't that he didn't desperately miss them too, but he took comfort in knowing they'd survived the war and gone on to live full lives. Their letters were full of recounting good memories and expressing regret at not being able to know the men they'd become. It wasn't exactly painless, but it was nothing compared to the two he left for last.

How did you summarize a lifelong friendship and unbearable regret onto a sheet of paper? How was writing out his failings and giving them a physical presence supposed to make him feel better? And what was he supposed to say to the woman he loved? Sorry I never took the time to tell you how I felt before it was too late, or visit you while I had the chance? Everything he thought about putting down on the pages just felt wholly and painfully inadequate. They both deserved so much more than a goodbye written on a scrap of stationery.

Steve decided to take a break for now, walking over to look out the window. It was pretty dreary outside, which matched his melancholy mood. It wouldn't have felt right for the sun to be shining while he was trying to do this.

He remembered kicking around in the puddles with Bucky as they walked home from school. And then getting in trouble with their moms. Talking about what they were going to do when they grew up. Dreaming of a better future for everyone. They sure hadn't discussed this reality though. And Steve never pictured a world without Bucky in it.

Probability alone told him that he would reach his grave before Bucky, just due to his failing health. And then Bucky got drafted and that evened the score a bit. But Steve always had faith that his friend would find a way back from war, against all odds. And he might've, if it weren't for Steve. He may have saved Bucky and all those men from that Hydra base, but he never should've had Bucky join his team. Captain America would obviously be pulling the most difficult assignments and keeping Bucky with him was just selfish. Steve told himself it would be a good way to keep his friend safe, but it hadn't worked out that way in the end.

Steve stormed back over to the table, grabbing the pen and angrily scribbling on the sheet of paper. Dr. Charles was always telling him to be honest, so he was going to be right now.

Dear Bucky,

I'm sorry I got you killed. It was all my fault.

He snapped the pen in rage, splattering ink across the paper over the angry words he'd just written. Steve quickly pushed the rest of the papers away, before they could get ruined. Somehow the only words that hadn't been obscured by the spill were "Dear Bucky" and "I'm sorry." Was the world trying to tell him something? Was Bucky? If Bucky had been there to read his letter, he would've ripped it up after the first line. He wouldn't have accepted Steve taking the blame for any of this. Bucky probably would have made him sit down and repeat that he was an idiot and it wasn't his fault until Steve started believing it.

If only it were that simple. If they'd just had one last chance to talk, to say everything they needed to while they had a chance. But they didn't really need to, did they? Steve knew how Bucky felt about him, and how Steve felt about Bucky. They were never afraid to show each other how they felt, even if they didn't always say the words. Like it was with the team now.

It was Clint always ready to greet him with his warm milk and a spot on his couch. It was Thor helping him back up whenever he got knocked down. It was Natasha brushing his hair out of his face when he was stirring their latest recipe. It was Bruce sitting silently with him when he just needed to breathe. It was Tony squeezing his shoulder and smiling at him. This letter wasn't about Steve punishing himself for being the reason he had to say goodbye. It was about being able to move on with Bucky still living in his heart.

Steve grabbed a new pen and clean sheet of paper, sat down, and wrote.

Dear Bucky,

I think this letter is long overdue, but it would've been a mess if I'd tried to write it sooner. It would've been full of guilt and self-recrimination, but that wouldn't help anyone. Most likely, it would just piss you off. You were always the best at letting things roll off your back, even in the worst of circumstances. There really aren't any circumstances worse than this one, but I still think you would've handled it with a lot more strength and grace than I have.

Oh Buck, where do I even begin. I think about that day often and what I could've done differently. It will never change anything and I think that's what hurts the most. Being thrust into the future when all I wanted was to go back in time. Back to making jokes with you before the mission. Back to headquarters where we planned everything out. Even back to sleeping on the ground between the trees, wherever we could catch a wink. Anywhere that you were by my side. But I can't, and that's the hardest thing I'll ever have to accept. I don't think I'm there yet, but I'm trying.

I think the only thing I can do now is do my best to make sure something like that never happens again. To fight everyday to make you proud. It would be an insult to your memory to take this chance at life that you gave me doing anything else. And to not try to be happy. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to feel joy, because you aren't, but that doesn't help anyone. It actually hurts the people around me to see me hurt, if you can believe it. Of course you can, you were always so much better with people than I ever was.

You would like my team now. They are the family I never thought I'd have or deserve, but they are mine. I wish you had the chance to meet them. I need to start talking to them more about you, because you should be remembered. Not just for your service in the museums, but as the amazing person you were. As my best friend.

There is so much more I wish I could say to you, but I feel like you can see it in my soul. There will never be enough words to convey how much you mean to me, and how you always will. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for every moment you gave me. Thank you for being my best friend, my brother, and everything else. I will never be able to repay you for all of it, but I'll try when we meet again. I know we'll see each other in the future, but I'll try not to make it too soon.

With my warmest and sincerest regards, I love you. Goodbye.

Steve