Steve tried for a smile, not sure he had much success. "Isn't that the same thing?" Being fierce and honorable. Finding courage when you were afraid. Being for another person even when you had nothing. His mother had taught him that, and so had Bucky: they were the two best examples Steve could think of for how to be strong. He was capable of enduring a great deal of pain, but there was something about seeing Bucky so ruined that was worse than nearly anything else. The things that had been done to him defied imagination. Steve didn't know where his own strength lay in the face of it, what power he had to help his friend.

But then Bucky reached for him and brushed his cheek with his fingers, and Steve caught his hand as it began to draw back and held it at his jaw, looking at him. He might well be dangerous; Steve didn't care. Bucky could reach into his chest and pull his heart out if he wanted to. He was welcome to it.

"I'll take you home," he told him quietly. "I swear to you. I'll keep you safe." He meant it in every sense. Steve didn't know what strength he had for this, how to shoulder Bucky's pain, but he knew that the choice was already made; that as long as they both lived, Bucky was his to care for. He nodded towards the machine. "Let me get you out of this."