"Dear O,

        You have been gone for two days and it feels like my world doesn't make sense anymore. I'm trying to wrap my head around it, but nothing adds up. You weren't supposed to be there, you weren't supposed to ever get that close to the situation. And as much as I tell myself that, I have to also remind myself that I brought you there to fight a worse battle than the one that was fought. I'm glad it never came to that, I don't know why I let you leave the jet in the first place. Maybe it is because I always thought you would be safest by my side, but I was wrong.

       The truth of it all though, was that you were never safe by my side. Not entirely. Today I decided I was going to go back into cryogenics, because of everything in my head. Not everyone knows how to save me from my own mind; you were the only one who was able to do that. Before the war, I was a carefree person without the idea that my own mind could be used against the ones I loved, or had fought to protect. In seventy years of being used, the only time I had ever felt human was when I first met you. We didn't see a lot of each other in those years, and I understand I hurt you, a lot. But when you said that you were going to be by my side through thick and thin after those few days in the motel, I knew that my biggest fear was losing you. Like a lifeline, you could always bring me back to the center when I started to lose it.

        And now you're gone.

       When we left Washington I started writing alongside my own memories; I wrote the current ones I would always want to remember, regardless of what happened. If you left, I would have those memories. If I was lost in my own mind, I could look back at those. I wanted you to read them, eventually. Those two years we had together were the most carefree years I had with you; we looked over our shoulders a lot, we were always worried about what the next day would bring us, but there were key moments that made me realize that we almost had what others would call normalcy. And for that, I thank you. And for that, I love you.

        Steve, if you're reading this, which I suspect you will have given that Ophelia isn't alive to read it, thank you. Thank you for not only what you did for me throughout the years I was both coherent and not, but for what you did for Ophelia. She told me everything about how you helped her, trusted her, protected her when I was the menace she was running from. If things had turned out differently and she had survived, I would have loved for you to show her the world while I am in cryo. You would have been the only person I would trust to help her understand this world, to show her the kindness she deserved. Don't feel bad, this was never on you. I know you're going to be losing sleep over it; you were always the better man. I'm sorry you're a fugitive because of me; the others too. I know that you heard me say she was all I had, and I need you to know that it was not entirely true. I look forward to the day I finally leave cryo, and I'll still have a friend in this world.

       You can read the journals if you ever find them, though I suspect they are locked down in the Berlin CIA headquarters where, because of me, you can never show your face again. Call her. Sharon, right? You deserve to feel the happiness that I got in the two years I had with Ophelia. As I said, you're the better man, and you deserve someone who will make you feel like that. Maybe I never deserved a friend like you, or a girl like O, but I can't change that I had both of you. Maybe it was all a big joke, to give me Ophelia as the lifeline she was, and then to take her away when I finally had you back. Either way, I know I will survive this, but for now, cryo seems like the best option.

       Thank you, O.

      Thank you, Steve.

      Bucky."