“Peggy,” he calls after her, somewhat tiredly but otherwise more pleading with her patience. He understands her view of things, especially with the mention of how she tries to implicate her own doings as having changed any of her worth. But he doesn’t need to know whatever details she thinks are so important. He already knows how the story ends, and nothing can erase the good she has done, all of it amounting to far more than he’d ever managed himself.

He tosses the leftover pit of his devoured peach aside, hurriedly adding a few more peaches to his satchel before rising to trot after her.

“Peggy, c’mon. You think I don't know what it's like? Knowing a guy like Steve? Growing up with him? Then seeing how once the world noticed him they put him high up above everyone else and treated him like some paragon?” A few paces back and hardly pressed to keep up, Bucky shakes his head, sorrow and that bittersweet longing for simpler times filling him.

“You think he liked that? Likes that? He’s just a guy, for Chrissakes. He knows he ain’t perfect, so don’t you start acting like he has to be too. Don't act like him crashing that plane was all selflessness. You know that's not it at all.”