Epilogue: The Sands of the Son

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   Bucky crumbled in his arms, nothing left but dust. Even his new arm was gone. 

Steve numbly knelt over the remains of his husband. He sat there in shock and denial, his hand in the ashes of his lifelong best friend, an intense pain spreading over him like wildfire. He had never felt so alone in his life. So helpless.

   Oh god, this can't be happening...

   This wasn't supposed to be the end of the line

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   This wasn't supposed to be the end of the line...

   This wasn't supposed to be the end of the line

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

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Peter knew he was next. He could feel it somehow, deep inside him. He was frightened beyond what fear he knew existed.

   I don't want to die... I'm not ready...

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony turned to look at Peter.

"I don't feel so good." Peter felt uneasy on his feet.

"Are you alright?" Tony asked, concerned.

"I don't know. I don't know what's happening."

Peter started panicking, repeating himself and falling into Tony's arms.

Peter wrapped his arms around his one safe place. Clinging onto the one thing he could always count on.

"I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go. Tony, please," Peter whimpered. "Please. I don't wanna go... I don't wanna go..."

Peter collapsed onto the ground, his will to live the only thing saving his body from decaying quickly.

   No... anyone but the kid... please...

   "I'm sorry," Peter whispered, falling apart piece by piece, unable to look Tony in the eye as he drifted off into oblivion.

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