Steve. His throat tightens, his voice grows higher, praying, please dear god don’t let this be dream. Because he dreams every night of his old life, before the plane crash. Of Peggy, Howard, The Commandos, but not Bucky. Because if he does, it’s break his heart the most. His companion since childhood. Peggy is still alive, Howard had a son, the Commandos have children and grandchildren. But Bucky. Bucky never make it out of the war. So here he is, standing in front of Steve. And Steve doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know if this is real. But he’s desperate for it to be.
Bucky. His eyebrows come together faintly, showing slight recognition. He remembers this man. But he doesn’t remember the name the man is saying. The name is just a void.
But then, in the end, on the hellicarrier, when Steve says the line. The one they would always say to each other, does he remember.
And he cries. Because Bucky is gone, but Steve. Steve isn’t. Steve is with Bucky ‘til the end of the line, but Bucky has already let go of it.