The fresh fear of nearly drowning is nearly all-consuming. Pain snakes through the remnants of his body, fangs latching into him as he shivers at the edge of the tank. He looks over to see Sam there with him and for a moment he simply looks at him. No bleeding neck, no loose wing, no open air. His fear of losing Sam rides higher, soars through him as one of the rifles at his nape moves, levels at Sam.

He's going. He's going in.

Bucky leans down, neck exposed, still watching Sam and skeletal hands reach up from the depths of the tank to drag him back in.

In an instant, he loses his breath and his ability to fight seems so much more diminished now, with sections of him missing. But he trusts that when he opens his eyes, Sam will be there and that's so much more than he had before.