"I'm sorry," I say, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice, after a while of nothing. The only reason I'm still on my feet is Bucky keeping me there, and for that I'm grateful. And something else.

"Thank you," I say, louder, if not much. As hard as it is for me to accept, especially in the wake of what-

What just happened-

The words are both an anchor and a wall. It's a weight I don't know how to navigate.

Struggling to keep my breath steady, to loosen my throat enough to speak takes effort, and I'm having difficulty concentrating, focusing on any one thing. I keep seeing Zemo's forehead crumple with the impact of the bullet under the purple fabric of his mask, and wish that had been the way of it in real life.

"I'm sorry-" I pull away from him, and start to step back.

"I have to-"