In Bucky's estimation, simply looking at Steve is more painful than any of his own injuries. Everything considered, he's come off pretty lightly; save for the bruise that's already forming along the strong line of his jaw, there's nothing he won't be able to cover up with a shirt, nothing that won't feel better after a few aspirin. He's left easier fights than this one with worse injuries.

But despite being a mess, Steve's grip is still strong -- stronger, maybe, than it has any right to be. A million counterarguments are on the tip of his tongue -- that Steve never failed him, that Bucky grew to appreciate the responsibility of the shield and the flag, that he's done plenty of questionable things while in his right mind -- but none come out. Bucky's breath catches in his throat, the abrupt end of a sob, and all at once, his legs give out from under him. But he's a fighter, just as Steve said, and he won't go down so easily. With loathsome, betraying tears streaming down his face, Bucky tries to pry his hand away from Steve's.

"You're wrong."