I don't care
What you've done
Where are you now?
No use holding a grudge
For a past that keeps you down

...

I am here for you
And I've always been
Waiting by your side

- "Here for You" by Devin Williams

To say that Bucky was dreading January 1st would be a massive understatement. Christmas was a welcome respite from the cloud of impending doom, a day to simply relax with Steve and not let himself worry about anything. Even in the days leading up to Christmas, it was relatively easy to keep his mind on other things. Steve and Sam both knew what he was dealing with, and they were experienced with distracting him and helping him cope.

But then the other Avengers started showing up, in preparation for their New Year's party and the training they would start afterwards. First was Natasha, who greeted Steve and Sam with big hugs and gave Bucky a smile and a handshake. It wasn't too bad to have her around; Bucky could tell how comfortable Steve and Sam were around her, and she never forced her company on him.

The next day, Wanda and Vision showed up from their time spent on the Bartons' farm. Bucky mostly just listened to the others' conversation and watched their interactions, much as he had done over Thanksgiving. Wanda had a nice smile, and she always seemed very calm. He could tell that Natasha was often almost hyper-aware of everything going on around her, much like he himself was. Wanda, on the other hand, seemed much more relaxed somehow. Maybe it was because she was still a kid, used to trusting the older authority figures with her safety. Maybe it was just her personality, or her confidence in her own abilities.

Vision was also easy to get along with. He wore mundane collared shirts and sweaters, as if to offset his odd skin tones, but only succeeded in looking more bizarre than ever. But he was almost excessively polite, and there was something...butler-ish about him, Bucky thought. Maybe it was just the British accent. The only issue he ran into with Vision was one morning when he got up early to start the coffee, then jumped a mile high when Vision silently came up behind him and said, "Good morning, Sergeant Barnes." Before Bucky realized what he was doing, he whirled around, knife in hand. But even though he stabbed the blade right where Vision's kidney should be, it just phased right through him. Vision graciously waved away Bucky's stammered apologies, seeming no more bothered by the incident than if Bucky had gotten jam on his sweater.

Once Clint arrived, bringing his wife and kids for the party, it was starting to feel more crowded. The Avengers compound was a big place—especially with the extensive grounds—but when everyone gathered together in the same room, for meals or for anything else, it felt a lot like Thanksgiving had. Bucky tried to engage in the others' conversations, tried to smile and laugh along with them, but it was hard to focus sometimes. He kept on thinking of one particular person who had yet to show up.

Often, he found himself slipping away to go for a walk down by the river or to retreat to his room. Maybe if he kept his distance, if he didn't forge friendships with any of them, he could somehow prevent his secret from tearing them apart. Or at least it wouldn't hurt as much.

To their credit, Steve and Sam never left him on his own for too long. They didn't say much or pressure him to return to the group. They knew why this was hard for him, so they simply offered their support. Bucky appreciated that more than he could say.

Rhodey showed up on the morning of New Year's Eve, but their meeting passed in a blur. Bucky tried to make himself useful with party preparations, but he kept losing focus. Every time he tried to enter a conversation or pitch in with decorations or food preparation, his mind would skid off the rails and his stomach would lurch with the knowledge that he would be here any minute.

By the time Tony and his girlfriend finally showed up, they were what could probably be termed 'fashionably late.' Tony casually said that they'd had pressing business that couldn't be delayed, but Pepper rolled her eyes and explained that they'd gotten a flat tire that Tony had insisted on fixing with his Iron Man suit somehow. While the others laughed at this or shared knowing looks as though this sort of thing was to be expected, Bucky stood rooted to the spot.

There he was. Tony Stark. Dark hair, narrow beard, a suit that looked more expensive than everyone else's outfits combined. He was...smiling. Laughing. Greeting the others. Bending down and tweaking Lila's hair as he made a joke that had her giggling.

He looked...old. Not that old objectively—mid-forties, maybe. But he was older than Howard had been when Bucky had known him. And that meant that Tony would have already been an adult when Bucky had...

Tony looked in his direction and started across the room. Bucky swallowed hard and took a step back, only to find a hand pressed against his back to stop him. He glanced over and realized for the first time that Steve stood by his side rather than heading over to greet Tony with everyone else.

Steve met his gaze and nodded slightly. Don't worry, Buck. I'm right here.

"Hey, Cap!" Tony called as he approached. "Long time no see!"

"Good to see you too, Tony," Steve said, shaking his hand. "Um...I'd like you to meet my friend Bucky..."

Tony gave Bucky a nod. "Trying to bring emo back, I see. So, how's life been since My Chemical Romance broke up?"

Bucky could only blink in confusion, trying to make sense of what Tony was saying. It was like a foreign language. Was that just because his secret was burning against the inside of his lips? No, Steve looked just as confused...

Tony hesitated a moment, but when he realized his joke had fallen flat, just shrugged. "Okay, never mind. Nice meeting your boyfriend, Cap!" He raised a hand in farewell and headed over to the snack table.

Steve dropped his head into his hand with a groan.

Bucky stared after Tony as he walked away, the jokes barely even registering in his mind. His heart was still pounding, his stomach twisting so much he knew he wouldn't be able to eat any of the snacks they'd prepared. Not even those stuffed mushroom things Sam was so good at...

When a warm hand closed around his own, Bucky started. It was Steve, of course, watching him with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky said shakily, his eyes trailing back over to Tony. "Fine."

Such a feeble reassurance wouldn't have convinced anyone, let alone Steve. "What do you need?" he asked, as gently as if Bucky had been truthful and said he felt like his heart was breaking in two.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky turned away from the sight of Tony talking animatedly, gesturing with a carrot stick. So happy...so carefree...blissfully unaware that his parents' murderer was in the same room...

"I can't do this," Bucky whispered. "I'm sorry...I can't."

"That's okay," Steve said, still not letting go of Bucky's hand. "Do you want to go for a walk, or should we just go back to the room...?"

"Actually..." Bucky slipped his hand from Steve's grip. "I...kind of just want to be alone for a bit."

Even without looking up at his face, Bucky could detect disappointment in Steve's posture. He bit his lip, trying not to feel too guilty about that. "Okay," Steve said reluctantly. "Text me if you need anything?"

Nodding, Bucky slunk away from the bright, happy center of the party. As he edged toward the door, he overheard Tony saying to someone, "Hey, where's Barnes?"

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder, but he was hidden from view behind a large potted plant next to the door.

"Funny," Tony continued idly, "in Dad's stories, he always seemed to be the life of the party."

"Oh yeah," another voice said. Bucky's heart was pounding too loudly in his ears to identify it. "Your dad knew them from the war, right?"

"Yeah," Tony said with a rueful laugh. "My dad talked way too much about them. Captain America. The Howlies—why were they called that again? I can't remember. He basically couldn't tell a story about Rogers without mentioning Sergeant Barnes." The eye roll was practically audible. "He just loved those guys..."

Bucky flinched away as if Tony had flung a dagger at him. He left the laughter and music of the party behind him, striding into the shadows instead. He walked silently through the darkened, empty halls where he could curl up alone with his shame and remorse.

"I'm going to tell him today."

Steve slowly straightened, looking in the mirror at the reflection of Bucky standing in the bathroom doorway. He took his time rinsing off his razor and drying his chin before he turned to face his best friend. "Are you sure?"

Bucky bit his lip, hugging his arms to his chest as if to stave off a chill. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then pressed his lips together again and nodded.

Steve had kept an eye on Bucky in the day since the party, and he found himself focusing on Bucky every time he'd tried to think through the training schedule he'd be introducing to the other Avengers today. Any time Bucky came face-to-face with Tony, he would immediately turn around and leave, or at least avert his gaze. Steve wondered what Tony or any of the others thought of this. Hopefully, they just saw it as a sign that Bucky was shy or afraid of being teased or something.

As silly as it might seem, Steve had been almost as apprehensive as Bucky had been about that first meeting. It wasn't as if Tony knew the truth about Bucky—that was the whole problem. Steve could only imagine how Tony would respond once he found out. But no matter what he did or said, Steve knew Bucky would take it hard.

Crossing the room, Steve reached out and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You don't have to say anything until you're ready, Buck. You know...I mean, it's not going to...change anything."

Bucky shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "He deserves to know," he said in a choked whisper. "And I...I can't just...keep quiet anymore, Steve. Every time I look at him, all I can think about is...what happened. It's...eating me up inside..." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "But that shouldn't matter; it doesn't matter what I feel, when he's the one who..."

Steve pulled him into a hug to shut him up. Trembling all over, Bucky clutched at him desperately. In the weeks since Bucky had admitted the terrible truth, Steve hoped he'd managed to convince Bucky he wasn't a heartless monster for what he'd been forced to do. Or at least that he still had some value despite what had happened.

Holding Bucky close, Steve let out a sigh. He didn't know how to make Bucky see that he was as much a victim in all this as Tony was; he'd already used all the words he could think of. "What you did all those years," he murmured, "it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice."

"I know," Bucky whispered. "But I did it."

And what could he say to that? He could only hold Bucky, heart aching for what he knew Bucky had to do. Because he was right. Tony did deserve to know the dark secret Bucky held. He deserved to know that his parents had died, not because of a random accident, but because they had been specifically targeted for the serum Howard had carried. But as much as Tony deserved the truth, Steve couldn't think of a single outcome that would bring anything but pain.

"I'll come with you," he finally said, rubbing his hand up and down Bucky's spine.

Bucky was silent for a moment, but then he pulled back, out of Steve's embrace. "No," he said, staring at the floor. "He should...hear it from me. Alone."

Every protective instinct in Steve's heart yearned to protest, to shield him from the inevitable pain he would face. But he forced himself to nod and say, "All right. If you think that's best. But...come see me after?"

"Okay," Bucky breathed. He stood there for a moment more, then slowly turned and walked away, dragging his feet as if walking to the gallows.

Steve watched him leave, his stomach twisting with dread.

Every step Bucky took towards Tony's private lab seemed to take an eternity, but at the same time, everything seemed to pass by him in a blur. It was one thing to acknowledge that he needed to tell Tony the truth about his parents. It was another thing to realize that he needed to do it now, while Tony was around for a few days after their New Year's party, before he headed out again. But to actually go through with it?

Steve and Sam's advice from the past few weeks tumbled around in his head.

Don't beat around the bush. Just give him the straight facts.

Make sure he understands why Hydra had them killed. That's the only way he'll get any kind of closure.

Tell him that you had no choice. That's not making excuses, that's telling the truth.

Come find one of us as soon as you're done. Don't linger behind, don't go anywhere else. Just come to us.

But those words tangled with flashes of memory—bloody knuckles, fire flickering in staring eyes, painted nails scrabbling at the back of his hand...

All too soon, Bucky found himself standing in the open doorway of Tony's lab. There was another lab upstairs, just off the living room, but it seemed to be intended more for larger group projects, while Tony had this smaller one on the ground floor for his own personal use. Screens and hologram projections shone in every direction above a horseshoe-shaped counter littered with tools and scraps of metal. A half-dismantled Iron Man suit wearing a Santa hat reclined in a chair next to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a bend in the river.

Tony Stark himself stood in the middle of the room, tinkering with what looked like one of the boots of the suit in the chair while keeping up a constant stream of chatter—to himself or to one of his AI personalities, Bucky wasn't sure.

For a few seconds, Bucky could only stand there frozen, staring at the man whose life he was about to ruin. He could see the resemblance to his father in the eyes, in the hands. He could see his mother in the shape of his nose, the set of his chin. His heart hung heavy in his chest.

He'd barely said two words to Tony since meeting him on New Year's Eve. That had mostly been intentional; Bucky felt a tearing sensation in his chest every time he'd met the man's eyes, even briefly, so he'd done his best to keep away from him. He could also tell that Steve and Sam weren't particularly close to Tony, so he'd stuck close by their side.

But now...here they were. About to begin what might be the most difficult conversation of their lives.

Tony suddenly raised his voice to call out, "Coming or going?"

It took Bucky a moment to realize Tony was talking to him, since he didn't look up from what he was doing. Bucky stepped into the lab and closed the door behind him, heart pounding. "I...need to tell you something. Something important. In private."

Tony glanced over the top of his glasses at Bucky, then held up his hands defensively. "Okay, for one thing, I'm already taken. Second, uh...you're a very handsome guy, but I don't swing that way, soooo..."

"It's about your parents," Bucky interrupted, his stomach tying itself into knots.

Tony sobered immediately. Slowly, he set down the tools in his hands and focused his full attention on Bucky. "My parents?"

Bucky licked his lips and said, "They both died...in a car crash, right? On December 16, 1991?"

With a confused frown, Tony said slowly, "Yes..."

"It wasn't a car crash," Bucky said breathlessly. "I mean...it wasn't an accident."

"What."

With a deep breath, Bucky forced himself to meet Tony's wide eyes. He tried to remember Steve and Sam's advice. Tried to remember the words he'd rehearsed, over and over again in the dark hours of the night. "I want you to know the truth about all this. You can kill me after; you can do whatever you want. I won't stop you. But you deserve to know what really happened, and why." He swallowed hard. "It was a hit. Hydra ordered their assassination. And...I was the one who carried it out."

For a moment, it didn't look like the words had registered at all. Then Tony raised his hand, and the pieces of his suit's glove whirled towards him, fitting together around his hand. Bucky had a moment to stare at the glowing circle in the palm of Tony's hand, and then something hit him square in the chest, knocking him back against the wall by the door.

Bucky fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, gasping for breath and clutching at his chest, hot from the blast. It felt as though a running bull had charged straight into him. His ears rang as he watched Tony's designer shoes march around the edge of the worktable towards him.

Tony grabbed a fistful of Bucky's shirt with his gloved hand and yanked him to his feet, slamming him back against the wall. "Why?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Still gasping for breath, Bucky looked into Tony's livid face and saw tears shimmering in his eyes. Tony was a grown man who'd had over two decades to process his grief, but in that moment, all Bucky could see was a boy who'd just lost his parents. An orphan who'd had his whole family ripped away from him in a single moment.

Tony shook him roughly and held up his other hand, which Bucky saw was now covered with the other glove. The circle on that palm began to glow with an ominous hum. "Tell me why!"

"Howard...your father...he managed to recreate Erskine's serum. The supersoldier serum." Bucky's voice began to tremble. "Hydra sent me to retrieve the samples he was planning to hand over to the government...and to get him out of the way. They used the samples to create five more Winter Soldiers. They were hoping to start a whole army, but...it didn't work out. The Soldiers were put in cryo...for good."

Tony hardly seemed to be listening to that part of the explanation. "But why did they die? Why did my parents have to die?"

"Hydra...they didn't want Howard to take away their advantage. They couldn't let him make any more of the serum."

Tony's chin trembled slightly. Bucky couldn't tell if that was from grief or anger. "And my mother?"

Bucky's vision blurred, turning Tony's face into that of a woman with blood streaming down her cheek, her eyes bulging as she desperately tried to suck in air, his hand tightening around her throat... "She was a witness," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Pain exploded across the side of his face, and he fell to the ground again. He didn't try to get up. Didn't raise his hands to defend himself or open his mouth to plead for mercy or forgiveness. He deserved this, and so much more.

He could hear Tony breathing hard, but he didn't look up or brush the hair out of his face. Tony just stood there for a moment, then let out an explosive curse and swept everything within reach off the worktable. Bits of metal, tools, and pens crashed to the floor, bouncing and scattering in all directions. One bolt bounced and hit Bucky's metal hand with a clink.

Tony paced up and down, until suddenly he grabbed a metal stool tucked underneath one end of the worktable. Gripping it by the feet, he hurled it straight at one of the screens mounted high on the wall, shattering it instantly. Shards of plastic and electronic parts rained down next to the stool, which fell to the floor with an almighty crash.

For a moment, the air rang with the sudden silence. Tony stood in the middle of this destruction, his back turned to Bucky. He drew a shaky breath, then muttered, "Get out."

Slowly, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, the ache in his ribs and his cheek nothing to the ache in his heart. "I'm sorry..." he murmured again.

Tony grabbed a wrench from the worktable and threw it with all his might at the window. It bounced off the bulletproof glass, leaving only a small spiderweb of cracks marring the view of the river. "Get out right now!" he screamed.

Bucky left, vision blurred with tears.

"...maybe if I stabilized your back..."

"...we'll be doing it a lot faster in the field, so I don't think it would be a problem..."

Steve tried to focus on what the others were saying, but his thoughts kept wandering away from the training room. He'd thought bringing everyone together to practice some group maneuvers would be enough to distract him for a while, but it only worked for a few minutes at a time. He felt restless, like he had an itch underneath his ribs that he couldn't reach. Maybe he should have gone for a run. That was just about the only thing he had the attention span for at the moment...but it wouldn't prevent his mind from wandering to a certain room on the first floor.

He wondered if any of the others had noticed that the only ones who hadn't shown up at his summons were Bucky and Tony. He wondered if anyone besides Sam could guess at the reason.

An explosion of laughter jarred Steve's thoughts back to the present. Everyone was looking at Clint, who put his hands on his hips. "Just because I have a bird in my name doesn't mean I'm made for flying around, you know."

"C'mon, Clint, don't be a baby," Natasha said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Cap and I have already done it twice; it's your turn now."

With a resigned sigh, Clint turned around and braced himself. "You just better not drop me..."

Wanda raised her hands, and a faint red glow appeared around Clint's limbs, raising him into the air. He moved in a smooth arc, standing stiffly in the air with his arms raised. At just the right moment, Sam swooped through the air from one of the upper balconies to another, snagging Clint by the wrists and carrying him along until they both dropped safely onto the balcony.

"That was good," Steve said, trying to get his mind back into the training session. "We just need to practice until we can do it in the heat of battle. Wanda, how far do you think you can throw one of us?"

Wanda thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Any distance I can see, I think."

Sam, who had returned to the group with Clint, whistled appreciatively. "Really? It doesn't matter how heavy the person is?"

Wanda smirked. "'Size matters not.'"

Clint rolled his eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Cooper."

The friendly banter, which Steve would normally have enjoyed, wasn't enough to hold his interest right now. His eyes slid over to the clock above the door. How long had it been since Bucky had left? Surely, he had to be finished telling Tony by now. It wouldn't take that long to get the message across. Even if Bucky had dragged his feet, even if they'd sat down to calmly discuss every detail over tea and crumpets, Tony must know the truth by now.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, telling him he needed to run, fight, do something! He tried to take a deep breath and suppress that urge. He wasn't in danger. He wasn't even doing anything besides standing around right now.

But if he continued to stand around doing nothing, he thought he'd go crazy.

"All right, keep practicing that," Steve said to everyone, beginning to back away. "Just a few more times, and then we'll call it good for now."

"Where are you going?" Rhodey asked.

"I just need to check on something," Steve said, glancing over at Sam.

Meeting his gaze, Sam surreptitiously tapped his chest and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Steve shook his head slightly. He would need Sam's help later, but to begin with, he just needed to talk to Bucky alone.

Steve knew he was probably overreacting, but he couldn't help it. It was just too hard to stand idly by when he knew his best friend was hurting. He wanted to get to him as quickly as possible and hold him close.

At first, he debated going down to Tony's lab, but he doubted Bucky would have stayed there any longer than he needed to. So he decided to try their rooms first. As soon as he opened the door to the common room connecting his and Bucky's bedrooms, however, he could tell Bucky wasn't there. He wasn't sitting on the couch or at the desk, the bathroom was empty, and both bedrooms were dark.

He wasn't sure why he did it, but Steve walked to the right and poked his head into Bucky's room. The bed was made, the dim light behind the closed curtains illuminating the picture frames on the chest of drawers, the pile of clean laundry at the foot of the bed, the gun safe in the corner...

Steve zeroed in on the gun safe. The door was ajar. But...Bucky normally kept it locked, right? He was always so careful about things like that. Steve didn't even know where he kept the key to it. Why would it be just sitting open like that?

Heart pounding, Steve crossed over to the safe and pulled the door open all the way. The safe was bristling with guns of every kind, each one spotless and ready to be used at a moment's notice. This was also where Bucky stored all of his knives, each gleaming blade lined up in order of size.

Was one of the knives missing? Steve's gut twisted into a knot as he remembered those dark days when Winter kept stealing back his knives to cut himself. What if Bucky had gone back to that dark pit of despair? Or...

His blood turned to ice. An empty holster hung on the inside of the door. A holster that normally held one of Bucky's pistols.

Steve turned immediately and began to run.

At first, Steve threw open every door he came to, calling out Bucky's name, growing more desperate by the minute. But then one shaft of clarity shone through the fog of panic. If his worst fears were realized...Bucky wouldn't have hung around the living quarters. He would have found the most secluded corner of this enormous building, if not somewhere out on the grounds.

As he raced into the stairwell and took the steps three at a time down to the basement, Steve prayed that he was wrong about this. That he wasn't too late. That somehow, he'd misinterpreted everything and Bucky would shake his head in exasperation when he found out what Steve had thought he was about to do.

He banged through the door into the massive room that housed the furnace and various other machinery that kept the whole compound running smoothly. The basement was only lit dimly, leaving many dark corners. Perfect hiding places for someone who didn't want to be found.

Steve hurried towards the far end of the basement, peering around into the darkness as he went, trying to quiet his breathing. Was it his imagination, or could he hear quiet, sniffling gasps from the farthest corner, around the other side of the huge furnace?

When he stepped around the furnace, he found himself face-to-face with his worst nightmare.

Bucky knelt on the dusty floor, eyes screwed shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. With both hands, he pressed the muzzle of his pistol to his trembling chin, pointed in a perfect angle to fire a bullet right through his brain.

"No!" Steve screamed, charging forward as fast as his enhanced body could move. He grabbed Bucky's hands, wrenching them aside.

BANG.

For one frozen moment, Steve's heart stuttered to a stop. He and Bucky both stared at the bullet now lodged in the wall.

Bucky's fingers limply released the gun as Steve pulled it from his grasp, clicked the safety back on, and slid it across the floor far out of reach. He drew in a ragged breath, his stomach churning sickeningly as the knowledge of what had just happened—and what had almost happened—crashed over him.

"Don't..." Bucky mumbled, face half-hidden behind the tangle of his hair. Tears dripped onto his hands in his lap.

Out of nowhere, a tidal wave of anger drowned him. He grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and shook him, hard. "How dare you?" he yelled right into Bucky's shocked face. "How dare you break your promise to me?"

Tears quivered on Bucky's eyelashes. "Wha...?"

"The end of the line!" Steve shouted, shaking him again. "You're with me to the end of the line! You think you can just decide this is the end? Who gave you that right? Huh? Tell me who said you could just cut the line short and l-leave me...alone...again..." A huge sob rose in his throat, smothering his words and his anger in an instant.

"Sorry," Bucky whispered.

Steve let go of Bucky's shoulders and wrapped his arms around him instead, cupping the back of his head with his hand and burying his face in Bucky's hair. "Buck..." He couldn't say any more. He just broke down completely.

Bucky just sat there, not moving, not even raising his arms to hug Steve back. His shoulders shook as he drew a deep breath. "I don't deserve to live," he muttered wearily.

"Nonsense," Steve choked out through his tears.

"I'm a murderer. A monster."

"No, you're not. None of that was your fault."

"It's...not just Howard. I've killed...so many..." Broken sobs cut him off, making both of them shudder with the force of his tears.

Steve could feel the pain stabbing through Bucky's heart, as if they were both impaled on the same spear of regret. "I s-still love you," Steve sobbed, holding him even tighter.

"No!" Bucky weakly tried to pry Steve's arms away from him. "You don't g-get it. I can't...can't even count the number of...of people I've killed... I've made orphans...I've killed children with my bare hands...I...I..."

Steve pulled back and clasped Bucky's face in both hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Bucky," he said firmly, "I—don't—care."

"But I—"

"No!" Steve interrupted sharply. "You listen to me right now. I don't care what you've done. I don't care what you are. I don't care what they turned you into. I love you. I always have, I always will. No matter what."

"Even if—"

"Yes." Steve didn't need to hear Bucky's question to know what his answer would be. Sniffling, he brushed his thumbs across Bucky's cheeks, drying his tears. "I need you, Buck. I will always need you. Don't you ever let anyone tell you the world would be better off without you. Because I know from experience that the world is a much darker place when you're not in it."

Bucky's lip trembled and more tears than ever spilled over Steve's fingers. He raised one hand to Steve's—not to loosen Steve's grip, just to touch it. "I'm s-s-sorry," he sobbed, crying so hard he could hardly seem to draw breath. "You d-deserve better than... S-Sorry..."

"You have to promise me," Steve said earnestly, seeking Bucky's gaze through the film of tears. "Promise me you'll never do anything like this again."

Bucky bit his lip and nodded.

Maybe it was selfish, but Steve needed the extra reassurance. "Say it."

"I promise..." He blinked and swallowed hard, then drew a shaky breath and met Steve's eyes. "I promise, no matter what happens, I won't try to kill myself again."

Steve accepted this promise with a nod, then kissed Bucky on the forehead and pulled him in for another hug. This time, Bucky hugged him back.

Behold, it was for my welfare that I had great bitterness;
but in love you have delivered my life from the pit of destruction,
for you have cast all my sins behind your back.

- Isaiah 38:17

Author's Note: Here, why don't we pass around the tissue box? :') This chapter was about the extent of what I imagined lay in the future of MMW as I was writing that fic. I didn't intend to actually write a sequel until I got the inspiration for what's to come in a few chapters, but I have always thought that, if circumstances had allowed it, Bucky would have told Tony about his parents himself. Here's hoping I got Tony right; I never feel confident writing him ^^'