"Steve. Stevie." Bucky pulls Steve into a hug, even as the smaller man is withdrawing, holding himself. "It's not your fault. You didn't do this."

There's something off about the voice. All of the light has left it. It's empty. Rough. Tired. The voice of a man who has been through hell. His left arm is entirely gone, replaced by a metal one. His hair is longer and unkempt. His expressions are muted, but he tries to smile at Harrow and Steve. It's a twitch of his lips and nothing more. Weak. Sad.

"...It's not your fault." The Winter Soldier says, letting go of Steve. He gives Harrowheart a long stare. "He needs you. I'm not there. You are."