"Hey. Bucky. Hey, pal. C'mon...breathe." Steve is moving closer to him, one large hand on the back of his neck and the other pressed against his chest. Steve takes slow, deep breaths on his own to coax Bucky into duplicating him. Monkey see, monkey do, after all. And maybe later he can say that to his friend and get the punch that comparison richly deserves. But not yet. Not until this has passed because, Christ, it's not even the worst the news gets. If anything, this is the good part of the story: your friend lives!

Lives to be tortured for seventy years by HYDRA and made into an assassin. That was going to go over great.

"Breathe," he repeats, eyes focusing on Bucky and trying to see if he's going to need to hurl on the floor as well. "Look. That was my timeline. Even though it seems real similar, there's no guarantee that the same things happened both times. Like. We never looked for you, when you fell. I begged, but they never did. You searching means...maybe I did fall in the river. Maybe I hit a stone wrong. I could have died." Which normally wouldn't be said so hopefully. Life is weird sometimes.

He reaches up with the hand not on Bucky's neck and cups Bucky's cheek.

"You did everything you could. Everything. Hear it from me, alright? I wouldn't blame you. You went above and beyond for me. If I lived, it was by luck. None of this was your fault."