He knew before anyone said it. You went dark over comms. The silence wasn’t technical, it was final. He felt it like a cold wave under his skin. “No,” he said, even before they confirmed it. “No, no, no-„

He replayed the mission over and over. Watched the footage. Read the debrief. Listened to comms. He memorized the moment you were lost, tortured himself with it. “If I had taken that shot first. If I’d gone left instead. If I had just-”

He stopped talking for a while. Not just about you, about everything. He showed up to missions, to meetings, but the light was gone from behind his eyes. They said it’s grief. He knew it’s guilt.

The nightmares change. Before, he saw the Winter Soldier. Afterwards, he saw you - dying, reaching for him. Sometimes you spoke. “Why didn’t you save me?” He woke up gasping.

He didn’t delete your texts. Reread them. Your last one said, “be safe. come home.” Sometimes he replied to it, just to feel like you’re still somewhere out there.

He went to the place you died. Alone. Every year. On the date. Sat in the dirt, didn’t speak. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he punched the ground until his knuckles split.

He was going to propose. The ring still sits in the top drawer of his nightstand. He never told anyone. Sometimes, when the pain is unbearable, he put it on - just to feel what it might’ve been like.

The worst part was that they never found you. Your body probably disappeared in the explosion, nothing left to bury.

They had no idea that you were taken from Hydra. Held captive since two years. Been experimented on. To form the perfect device to torture the infamous winter soldier once he found out.