Hey folks, this was requested by the marvelous burnyourlocalchurch. Warning, this one is mostly upsetting and deals with loss and angst (Bucky is like happy once in this story). I'll work on a happy one shot to put up after this, so you'd be welcome to skip ahead to that if you don't want to read anything sad :)

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Bucky Barnes had always wanted children. He wasn't worried about the experience it took to raise a child because, well, since they were kids themselves, he'd always looked after Steve Rogers.

Still did, even though Steve didn't need his help anymore. Even though he was a super-soldier built to withstand almost anything. Even though half the time it was Rogers saving his ass -- like when he saved him from Nazi torture.

Bucky takes a deep breath and lowers his head, aware of his shaky hands, his bouncing leg. Then Steve's hand resting over his own.

"You okay?" His soft voice makes Bucky look up and smile, albeit nervously. Today was the day their boy would be born. Today they would become fathers -- under the radar.

Although Captain America was a household name, beloved by the Nation, the two didn't dare risk revealing their relationship to the public; that was a real quick way of losing everything and everyone they loved. That would be the fall of Captain America and ruin of Steve Rogers, shamed and ridiculed and most likely killed.

Bucky hated following that thought track. He shrugs at Steve's question, aware he's taking too long to respond, and says, "I'm terrified. Steve, what if someone -- "

"We're okay," he assures just as quietly, resisting the urge to look around to check for danger; a reporter, doctor, anyone. "Stark has a handle on things and he promised he'd keep it a secret." Howard Stark had long ago decided where his loyalties lay and swore to keep their relationship a secret. He'd managed to pull a few strings to turn both the public's and the government's eye away from the famous Captain America and his very good friend and sergeant, Bucky Barnes.

"Sergeant Barnes, sir?" A young nurse pokes her head out from room 218a, a calm smile on her face. "Come on in."

Bucky smiles and rubs his face, glancing over at Steve, who urges him onward, swallowing back the disappointment he feels when it again hits him that he'll be unable to see his baby boy with his husband. He watches him step inside. Steve's shoulders sag as the door swings shut behind them and he lowers his head, waiting.

Ruth Amster, their surrogate mother, was a godsend -- as a single mother of five who couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she'd made the decision to give the child to someone who could care for it. When she was approached by Howard Stark who explained the situation, she saw the opportunity to do a good deed for the couple.

Bucky moves to her side and she smiles up at him, exhausted and drained. Bucky squeezes her hand as his eyes fall on the brunet boy, calm and wrapped in a soft yellow towel. Ruth turns to the doctors and quietly asks for some space; once they leave, Bucky beckons his husband inside.

The smile on Steve's face melts Bucky's heart and he falls in love with him a little more than before.

"What will you name him?" she asks, sounding worse for wear, hidden by the bright smile on her face. They look at each other, and Steve pipes up, "Joseph. Joseph Barnes."

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Seven years later

The photograph of the Barnes's sat proudly on their fireplace mantle. Joseph grew up a strong, youthful boy with dark hair and blue eyes, and a fire in his chest that Bucky was all too familiar with.

"Joseph, be careful-- "

Their son runs into the water, laughing as Steve runs to catch up to him, swooping him into the air as he giggles.

Bucky smiles from the blanket he'd laid out. It was just sunny enough to have a picnic at the beach, but windy enough that not many others risked going outside. All the better for the pair that there was no one else around to study and judge them.

Joseph spots him watching and waves energetically from the water, grinning at his dad. Steve does the same, and Bucky rolls his eyes warmly at his husband and mimics the gesture.

Things were happy, for a time -- and things were good.

That all changed at the drop of a hat.

It was 1953, and the Barnes's were planning on baking a cake for their friend Ruth for her 28th birthday. However, they needed candles, and Steve'd volunteered to go -- Joseph, of course, begged to tag along and Steve had agreed.

"Could you pick up some eggs as well?" Bucky stands staring around their kitchen, mentally plotting out what needs to be done. Steve snakes his arms around his waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. "I'll have the cake in the oven by the time you're back." He turns to smile at him, tilting his head. "Thanks for grabbing some," he hums.

Steve nods and kisses his neck, holding him close. "Anything for you," he croons in an overly romantic way. Bucky rolls his eyes, grinning as he pushes Steve off of him gently.

"I love you," Bucky sighs, squeezing his hands. Steve grins and steps closer.

"I love you too, sweetheart," Steve says, as he kisses Bucky on the cheek. Joseph wraps his arms around his waist and blinks up at him with bright blue eyes.

"Don't start decorating without us," he says pointedly, raising his eyebrows in a very Steve-like fashion. Bucky nods seriously, then leans down and scoops him up into a hug.

"Of course not, I'd be lost without my best decorator," he hums and kisses his head. Joseph makes a face and squirms out of his arms.

"'Bye, dad!"

Bucky watches them go and waves, smiling at his exasperated husband as Joseph hauls him down the stairs and into the car, excited for their trip.

When they take more than half an hour Bucky pays it no mind. An hour and a half pass, and worry begins to knaw at him. Two hours, and he assumes the worst.

He just barely remembers to turn the oven off before he's running, down the stairs and into the road, looking around wildly. His heart plummeting into his stomach, he runs down the street.

As soon as he hears a commotion he goes even faster, and the urge to panic is crawling up his back. Gritting his teeth and hoping against all hope, he rounds the corner and shoves his way through the crowd of people gathered around the car accident.

Three things hit him at once. The blood on the ground, Joseph's abandoned and bloodied shoe, and the mop of unmistakable blond hair smeared with that same dark red.

Bucky falls to his knees.

When he finds himself home he slides down the wall and stares at the couch. Overwhelming emotion wells inside of him and suddenly he's sobbing, gasping so hard for air that his head is pounding. He grips his head in his hands as tears streak his face, then wraps his arms around his knees for any sort of comfort.

It felt like a hole had been carved in his chest. It felt like he'd been in a dizzying fight that left him destroyed and disoriented. It felt like he had been ripped in half, and his other half had died.

His other half had died.

////

Sixty-seven years later

Bucky Barnes, miraculously young but emotionally and mentally aged, wakes up with tears on his face.

He sits up quickly as the remnants of the dream leave him, and he covers his face with his hands -- one metallic, a constant reminder of what he'd done decades ago.

Of course the dream would come to him on the eve of their deaths. It happened every year; he relived the moment he lost everything.

He glances around his shabby apartment and is grateful, for once, that his roommate is an early riser and isn't home to notice anything.

Almost to remind himself that it's still there, Bucky looks at the photograph on his bedside table.

Although the original frame had been lost, the photo itself was still almost in perfect condition -- it would have remained in mint condition if Bucky hadn't lost himself to the Winter Soldier shortly after he lost his family. While he was gone, both physically and mentally, his apartment and his life were left to gather dust for people to stumble upon.

Bucky himself had found his photograph in a thrift store for fifteen dollars. The thought that all that remained of his family had been handled for years by strangers who didn't care about what happened to them -- and the mere fact that he had lost them a second time -- made Bucky feel lost in a way he hadn't before.

It was hard to explain to the shopkeeper why he happened to look exactly like the stranger in the photograph from over sixty years ago; however, the photo was back in its rightful place.

He starts his usual routine, all the while trying to think of how he's going to get through the day. Bucky avoided things he didn't expect he would. Like comedies, for one: they reminded him of the time he went to the movies with his son the first time. Steve was busy being Captain America, often, and Joseph was just old enough to understand some of the humour in movies.

Understandably, he hated the colour red. He walked or rode the bus, but never carpooled or drove. He'd gotten past breaking down whenever he heard about the death of Captain America, which at the time was considered very tragic, but an accident. And as far as Bucky knew, that's what it had been. An accident.

Until Sam came back home, turned on the tv, and moments later shouted at Bucky to come take a look.

"What is it?"

Sam gestures to the tv, momentarily speechless. Bucky crosses his arms as he comes to sit beside him, mindful of the sleeping snowy white cat sprawled over the couch cushion.

"What?" he murmurs, adjusting the volume as the news story fills the screen. '... just in, decades long mystery of the tragic loss of America's fallen son...' Bucky finds himself staring into the eyes of his husband, decorated like a war hero, and he sucks in a shaky breath.

Sam stands stoic at his side, frowning at him and his reaction. "Is that -- "

"Steve," he responds shakily, his grip tight on the controller. Sam's expression shifts into one of concern and he folds his arms.

The news reporter looks up at the camera. "Information released suggests that a person under the alias Winter Soldier is accused of this crime."

His grip impossibly tightens more. The remote cracks in his metal hand, and Sam looks at him worriedly. "Bucky -- "

"Bullsh*t."

"I know -- "

Bucky slams the remote onto the table, startling Alpine from her sleep. He pays her no mind, anger and sadness clouding his vision.

"What -- I can't do anything, Sam, they're f*cking accusing me of killing my own family," he chokes and the unfairness of the situation starts to drown him.

"It's okay," he responds quietly, and Bucky's heart twists at his tone.

"No, it's not. None of this is okay." He stares blankly at the screen and feels his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. "What am I s'posed to do?"

Sam pauses a moment, then shakes his head, clearly stumped. "I don't know."

He swallows the lump in his throat. Abruptly, he gets to his feet and pulls a jacket on, scowling at how he's trembling.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'll be back, I just need to clear my head," he breathes, blinking faster as tears threaten to fall down his face. Sam's expression doesn't change, but he tilts his head.

"Okay. Be safe," he warns as Bucky leaves in a rush. Sam slowly sits once more and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky walks, and he walks, and walks a little farther, and finds himself in the cemetary. It's as if he blinks and suddenly he's in front of their graves, Steve's much more decorated than Joseph's. Bucky feels guilt that he has no flowers to lay.

He sinks to the ground and brushes his fingers over the scattered dirt of Joseph's grave. "Hey, kiddo," he murmurs and forces a smile; if Joseph can see him from Heaven he wants to convince him everything is okay. "I'm sorry I can't be with you, but just hang tight, okay? Dad's gonna be there in a few years, but know that I love you and I miss you so, so much."

The pang in his chest worsens as he reads the headstone, worn and weathered, the writing almost etched away.

"You would've loved what it's like nowadays," he continues, clearing his throat as the tears start to fall. "Everything is... different."

Bucky's head falls forward as if heavy with the weight of the loss, and he wraps his arms around himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to gather himself. "And I know the life we would've given you would've never been the life you deserved, and I -- I'm sorry, Joseph."

He falls silent and moves over to his husband's side.

"Sometimes I wonder what you'd think of me if you saw me today." The words fall from his mouth and he stares up at the sky, towards the Heavens, because he knew Steve would be there. "I'm not the man you fell in love with, not even close to the one you deserved, but damn it, Steve -- every day you made me want to be better," he chokes. His tears cloud his vision; his chest shakes with every breath.

"I've been lost," he croaks. "And -- and sometimes I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, but I do know that I'm going to see you again, and I'm going to make sure that Steve Rogers isn't forgotten." He covers his mouth, attempting to hide the sobs that are beginning to escape him.

"I miss you so much," he sobs. Everything is shaking and he feels useless. Time passes, and he isn't sure if it's seconds or hours but when he looks up the cemetary looks exactly the same and he's still alone.

Then Sam kneels down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Holding a bouquet of yellow lilies and pale pink roses, he lays them on Joseph's grave, and Bucky sniffles as he tries to clean himself up.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," Sam murmurs. Bucky's silent as he finally takes a calming breath and lets it out. He takes Sam's hand and gives it a squeeze.

"Thanks, Sam."

Maybe he wouldn't ever be the same man he was. Maybe he didn't like the hand he'd been dealt, but it was all he had, and he had to keep going. When Sam squeezes his hand back, he feels a bittersweet calm wash over him, and he closes his eyes.

He would never forget them, until the end of the line.

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Sorry this one was so sad, guys. The next one is a little shorter but it's more domestic and nice. :)