Steve makes a noise like he's been stabbed in the gut, a punched out breath that chokes back sound. Habit from far too long out in the field. Not wanting the Commandos to hear him mourn. Not wanting his teammates to hear Cap struggling to cope. Not wanting Bucky to hear him sob, now.

The hand Bucky's holding trembles ever so slightly, but like an old familiar dance they both know the steps to, his fingers curl to cup Bucky's cheek without Steve thinking about it.

"No, but it was you. It's always you." It's not fair. Steve has been a living example of life not being fair for most of his life, so it's not usually something he complains about. You play the cards you're dealt. "I had...had to make it right."