A/N: Okay, I know it's been out for, like, three days, and I don't want to ruin it for anybody, so this is a SPOILER WARNING FOR INFINITY WAR. Seriously, this will spoil the hell out of the end of the movie. If you have not seen the movie yet, consider yourself warned, and turn back now. I don't want anybody reading this and yelling at me. Go away, watch the movie, come back later.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Okay, hopefully that's enough space to keep people from accidentally reading anything. Honestly, I'm not sure what I was expecting from this movie because it could have gone so many places, but it wasn't this. It was not this. I was so worried about Steve dying, it didn't even occur to me that they would do this. I know that somehow they'll bring him back, but they made me watch Bucky die. They made Steve watch Bucky die. And Steve's name was the last thing he said. And, oh, my heart feels so many things about that, and they all hurt.

So this is…this is me processing, basically. It's not speculative or a fix-it or anything. Just the inside of Steve's head as Bucky disappeared. Let's grieve together, friends.

The sudden silence was deafening. Steve stood rooted in place, shield still raised and every muscle tense, waiting for the next attack. Thanos had won, but what now? Was it over? Or was this just the calm in the eye of the storm?

"Steve?" Bucky's voice broke the silence. He sounded uncertain, but that wasn't what made Steve's heart pound in his chest as he turned around. No, what turned his blood to ice as he looked back at his friend was that undercurrent of fear in Bucky's voice, something that no one but his closest friend would have heard. Something that Steve hadn't heard in seventy-five years.

Bucky was looking at his arm—his metal arm that was disintegrating from the fingers up, flakes of ash blowing away in the wind.

Steve found himself unable to breathe, stepping toward his friend even as Bucky instinctively moved toward him, but it was too late. Bucky's legs crumbled to ash beneath him and he staggered and fell before he could take more than a step, his gun falling away from the hand that vanished before it could reach out for help. A frighteningly silent cloud of ash billowed up from what was left of his chest and he was gone before he could hit the ground.

The last thing Steve saw was his face, turning up to him even as he fell, frightened, confused, imploring, and—somehow—still trusting Steve, right up to the final blink of those steel-blue eyes.

Steve didn't remember moving the rest of the way but he must have, because he was kneeling in the dirt where Bucky had fallen. His mind had gone numb. He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his pulse in his ears. This couldn't—he wasn't—Bucky couldn't…He looked up at Thor, his expression unknowingly mirroring the last one that had been on Bucky's face. Thor could, he could do something. Couldn't he? He could…it…he'd already come in once, out of nowhere, saved the day, he could do it again. He could do something. He had to…Please?

But Thor was staring back, looking sick and shocked and as frozen in place as Steve. Steve turned back to the ground, ghosting his fingers over the pile of ash that had been his brother. Bucky? He couldn't…he couldn't be gone. Not now. Not like this. How could he lose him like this? Steve was…I was right here. I had your back. How did this… A sick weight dropped into his stomach. I was supposed to protect you. But how could I…I couldn't…I don't understand, Bucky, please, please don't be gone! Come back, Bucky, please. He should be doing something. He should cry, he should scream, he should rage, he should…anything. But all he could do was kneel there in the dirt, fingers tightening around the dust in his palm. Please. He couldn't be gone. He couldn't. He was better, he was happy, he was Bucky again. He didn't deserve this.

Steve shut his eyes as bile rose in his throat. "Steve?" That was the last thing Bucky said. He swallowed hard. That was the first thing Bucky said. Seventy-five years ago, when Steve had found him in Italy, that was the first thing Bucky had said. And Steve had saved him. And now, now, after…after everything Bucky still trusted him. And his name was the last thing Bucky said. But Steve didn't save him this time.

He was gone.

Steve looked up, saw Natasha, Rhodey. Saw their faces. Oh, God. It wasn't just Bucky. It was…Thanos said half, and he'd done it. He'd actually done it. It was so much more than Bucky. But it was Bucky, and Steve's brain, Steve's world, that was all he could grasp right now. Bucky. He'd actually lost him. Again. For good. This was…This was…

This was the end of the line.