Insistent hands pulled at his kicking legs, trying to drag him back the way that he had escaped, though the rising panic in him to get to where Steve was gave him strength to squeeze himself the opposite to the hands. It was actually almost a shock when he was yanked through to Steve's side, the stone floor just as cold and unyielding as the side that he had come from, but it didn't matter either to him. He was where he needed to be, even if the bandages that had been wrapped around his upper body to keep his metal interface in his shoulder safe was exposed.

And he had a name. He almost choked on his warm joy of hearing that nickname tumble from Steve's lips, awakening grudging parts of himself. Unlike Steve, it didn't all come back but enough to have him clinging close to his friend.

There wasn't a lot of room for a fight, and he was honestly in no condition to do so. Only his fear and adrenaline kept him moving with his friend, keeping to Steve's back to prevent them from easily being pulled apart, separated. His right hand stayed at Steve's hip, allowing the touch to guide his own motions to keep close even if he didn't officially fight. It was a strange dance that had other prisoners peering, guards shouting and scientists howling about the damage being caused.

And then good things, simple though they were, came to an end. He was torn away from Steve, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, gloved hands seized him in the cacophony of their exhausted combat, and he was dragged further from the source of warmth, the one good thing in this miserable existence. He was torn away from his Stevie, and he yelled and howled until he was sedated and then there was only the cold impartial presence of guards and scientists.