Blinking, Bucky looks down at the hand on his leg. Wait, no. Sam's touching him in real life. Focus on that, on the anchor, don't be washed away by the pain. Despite now being dry and warm in his mind, the shaking doesn't seem to stop. No, that too seems to be on the outside. He's freezing. When did he get wet?

He can hear Sam's voice so close and as he shuts his eyes, he tries to open them on the other side.

His lips are dry, mouth parched and yet filled with fluid. His eyes roll around in his head as he tries to force them to focus on the blurry overhead figure. And he shakes. He shakes and shakes as he's soaked through with what he hopes is sweat. The pain hits him next, like a wall and he groans softly. His chest aches, his whole body burns, and nausea runs rampant through his bones.

Just breathe.

But breathing brings the stench of his sick spread on the floor and goddammit, being awake sounds like the worst thing on the planet.