Those skeletal fingers close tight around him again as his lungs burn, his limbs grow heavy, but when he opens his eyes, Sam is there with him, breathing for him. Bucky doesn't know how to fight this. A part of his rational mind knows that this is the moss he consumed, that this isn't just a flashback to break out of, but full-on hallucinations parading around as real life. But that part is far far away from him as they sink lower and lower.

Yet, Bucky doesn't feel so alone. The forms of Maria and Howard Stark, of Steve and Nick and Sam cling to him, but the pain seems minor in comparison.

Down here, there are skeletons and burning guilt, but no Pierce, no guns pointing at the back of Sam's head. There's a sort of peace in their retreat, despite the edge of fear of the water surrounding them.

You failed.