It takes Bruce over 2 hours to calm down enough to fully de-Hulk. The longest time on record as far as the others are aware.

The boat is a mangled mess at the end of it, and he lays panting and sweaty on a bed below deck as they travel back towards shore.

Natasha and Bucky take Steve's body and bring it to the Captain's quarters. Tony and Clint hover but run back and forth, helping Bruce and waiting to see if Natasha or Bucky need anything.

They park the boat just off-shore, not wanting anyone to see them offload Steve's body. Tony had started to offer that he could fly him to the Quinjet in the armor, but the way both Natasha and Bucky had clutched at Steve's hands and glared at him had him stopping mid-sentence.

Bucky is sitting in a chair next to the bed Steve is on when Bruce comes padding into the room, wrapped in a blanket. He takes one look at Steve's body and grimaces.

"I'm really sorry." He says with a whisper staring at Steve.

Natasha's brow furrows, "What are you apologizing for?"

"The cuts, and some of the bruising, and I think I broke some of his bones, it was really hard to make the other guy do anything calmly when he saw Steve down there."

"Bruce?" The question comes from Tony who is leaning against the door frame. Natasha can see Clint standing behind him. "What do you mean?"

Bruce takes a deep breath and settles himself on the edge of the bed. He rests a hand on Steve's ankle and shivers at how cold it still is.

"When I got to the part where my human body couldn't swim anymore, the transformation was fine, normal, and when he kept swimming deeper, it was like I was starting to get fuzzy, but I tried to stay as conscious as I could to help guide him and not hurt Steve." He grimaces and his eyes screw shut, "But then I saw what contraption he was in."

Bucky swallows thickly, "What do you mean 'contraption'?"

"You know when you were a kid and you swam in the pool, you could take a bucket and flip it over, and if you were quick enough and at the right angle you could trap air in it and go below the surface and stay longer because you could 'breathe underwater?'" He looks at them, when no one speaks, he continues, "It was an open bottomed metal box, and Steve's neck and chest were chained to the inside of it, in the air pocket. But his legs and feet hung out the bottom, and weighed down by the anchor. He was at the sea floor, anchor stuck among the rocks, even though it looked to me that Steve had tried to swim up and managed to drag the anchor partially free.." His face flashes red and they can hear the fury in his voice. "Zemo had purposefully stuck him down there with a certain amount of oxygen. If I had a guess? Steve could have breathed for hours with the amount, and he'd have been freezing cold, all alone with those horrible memories, and in pain from the weight of the chains and anchor the whole time. Especially when he would have started to breathe in his own carbon dioxide and unable to escape the stale air." Bruce's skin tinges green for a moment and he has to clench his fists against his blanket and breathe deeply for a few minutes to avoid the change. No one speaks, they all stare dumbly at him, trying to process the horrific nature of his words.

Bruce's voice is brittle when he continues, "When the other guy got there, he had no thoughts but to rip Steve free. I did everything I could to keep him level, but he began smashing at the box and I think some of the cuts and scrapes are from him ripping the metal box apart." He winces as his fingers brush against the dark mottled bruises where the heavy chains had pulled Steve down. "Once the box was in pieces, I was able to see Steve sinking there, wrapped in chains and unconscious. But soon he must have breathed in, because he began flailing and panicking, making the other guy even more angry and anxious. He tried to rip the chains off Steve, but his hands are too big, and he just ended up snapping Steve's wrists and I think femur in the process."

He stares at Natasha who nods curtly in confirmation. After they'd brought Steve's body to the bed, they'd assessed him, and found water in his lungs, all manner of cuts and bruises, two broken wrists, a shattered ankle, and a snapped femur.

"So, I'm not sure how, but I just kept thinking over and over 'bring him up to the boat', and eventually the Hulk listened, dragging the anchor with us because he couldn't figure out how to get rid of it without hurting Steve more."

"It's not your fault." Bucky says, his voice a whisper as he stares blankly. Natasha knows by now that he's fighting off the programming. What Zemo did to Steve was enough to send anyone over the edge, but Bucky was on the brink of fight or flight.

"It's not yours either." Natasha adds, staring meaningfully at Bucky. He reaches out and places a finger under Steve's nose, hoping for something, anything. But when no air is felt his jaw sets like stone and he leans back, eyes fixed a million miles away.

"He's gunna be okay… right?" Clint asks, slipping under Tony's arm and into the room. He sits down next to Bruce, nudging him on the shoulder. He glances at Steve's blue tinted face and turns away, unable to look, "We've seen what he can survive, he can make it right?"

Bruce looks helpless and raises his hands in a shrug. "I have to believe he will. Because if he doesn't—" his voice cuts off, sharp as a razor and the other's have no need to imagine just what the Hulk meeting Zemo would look like.

—

The flight back on the Quinjet is quiet. Tony had given a large check to the father at the boat rental, and explained that he 'could not explain' what happened, but he was happy to pay for a new boat altogether. The man had taken one look at the check and nodded. No questions asked.

They had slipped Steve's body off the boat at night, Bucky carrying him all the way to the Quinjet. He tried to block out the familiar images of carrying Steve's dead body before, but when Natasha slips down beside him on the opposite side of Steve, he almost sees Peggy's grime covered, and worn face in the bed of that truck all those decades ago.

—

After bringing his still cold and stiff body into the medbay, they cover him in heating blankets, and wait.

It's a few hours later that Clint stutters and points. Steve's skin is noticeably less blue. They all crowd around him, but when they look at Bucky to see if his heart is beating his eyes are downcast and he shakes his head no.

—-

It's just past 3 am when Bucky shoots up from his chair, eyes wild and hands trembling. They all react the same, clambering to their feet and staring at him. He leans over Steve's chest, placing his hand there. After a moment his hands clamp over his eyes and he's crying, chest heaving and breathing shaky as he slumps back down into his chair looking defeated.

—-

It's almost 6am when it's not a false alarm. This time Bucky is at Steve's side before the rest know what's happening and his ear is placed against the soft shirt covering Steve's chest. His eyes light up and get shiny immediately. The relief on his face is palpable as he sinks to the ground next to Steve's bed and stays there as the rest realize that Steve's heart has started beating.

—

The next day is filled with small changes in Steve that have them all going haywire.

Steve's breathing resumes shortly after his heart, and after Tony is able to get an IV and a few other things hooked up to Steve, they start noticing the bruising and cuts healing faster.

They set his broken bones with care, to make sure the serum heals them correctly, but he still doesn't wake.

—

They don't set up a watch schedule this time. They all stay in the building, if not in the room as they continue to watch Steve pull his way back to life.

The bruising is almost gone, but the last stage of healing: where it's all yellow and green, gives him a sickly look that no one likes.

—-

Later that night, they all pull in multiple chairs, surrounding the medical bed and talking in low voices as if they don't want to disturb Steve.

"Did Steve always look so young?" Clint asks Bucky in a hushed voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… he looks like a kid." They glance up and stare. Seeing Steve like this, unconscious and calm, not all stoic or tense, puts on display just how young Steve really is.

He studies Steve again, the blonde hair hanging over his forehead looks longer than it has in awhile, and there's significant stubble on Steve's jaw, but it doesn't make him look older. His eyes go far away as he remembers, "When we were kids, people always thought he was way younger than he was because of his size and how frail he always looked. But even after the serum, there was this one guy, a nazi that didn't know about Steve or Project Rebirth or any of it, and when he asked why the Americans would send a child to fight him, Steve stood up to his full height and said "If I'm such a child why don't you just kill me and get it over with?" Bucky's face twists at the memory, "I was so pissed at him when he said that, but the guy thought he was just a cocky American soldier, and he pulled out his gun and shot Steve right in the chest. I remember the Commandos and I started forward, but Steve just held out his hand to stop us. He turned to the guy who now looked like he had pissed his pants, and Steve said 'you wanna try that again?' Before reaching out and grabbing the gun in the guy's hand. Steve crushed it to a metal lump in his fist and dropped it at the guy's feet. He surrendered right after that." He huffs out an annoyed shrug. "Turns out Howard had fitted Steve's suit with an armor plate in the chest and asked Steve to 'try it out'." Tony lets out a heady sigh, and Bucky nods in his direction. "I almost killed your father a thousand times for the amount of harebrained schemes he convinced Steve to go along with. But the armor plate didn't stick around long. Steve complained it impeded his range of motion." He rolls his eyes. "I tried telling him a bullet would impede his range of motion too, but he just called me a mother hen."

"What are we gunna do if—" Bruce cuts himself off, "I mean when he wakes up?" He asks, looking at each of them seriously.

"Well, we don't even know what mental state he's going to be in." Tony responds, "I think, if he's in any sort of state to make his own decisions, then we give him a choice."

"A choice?" Natasha queries.

"Yeah," Tony scrubs a hand down his tired face. An empty coffee cup perched on the arm of his chair. "Steve would want to choose, right?" He looks at Bucky who stares back. An understanding passes between them and Bucky nods.

"Yeah, it has to be his choice."

—

Steve starts to make noise. He groans and shifts in the bed, causing all of them to shoot to their feet and stand as if a bomb was about to go off.

When he shifts again, and makes a whimpering noise, Bucky looks about ready to snap in half until Steve takes a deep breath and falls back into unconsciousness.

On the third morning, Steve looks like he might wake up at any second and they talk in hushed voices about how he should wake up.

It's finally decided that Natasha will be the first face he sees. Bucky doesn't argue, and the fact that he isn't forcing himself to be in the room, tells Natasha just how guilty he feels about Steve being taken in the first place.

—

It only takes a few hours after their decision for him to open his eyes. Natasha sits, knees up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. She's wearing a hoodie and leggings, hair up in a ponytail, trying to convey calm.

She watches as his eyes open for the first time and they squint at the sunlight that is streaming into the room. He blinks a few times and then shifts. He moves smoothly and his muscles respond easily as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

She smiles, something akin to relief spreading through her. "Hey, Steve."

His eyes find her and his head tilts to the side. She watches as emotions flash across his face: shock, confusion, distress, and then guilt.

"Nat,." He says so softly that it's almost painful. His voice is a bit rusty from disuse, but it's full of his normal sincerity. "Nat, I'm so sorry."

This throws her off, "What?"

"I'm sorry." He pushes himself up more, leaning forward and she watches as the guilt and regret settle deeper onto his features. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have taken you to that bunker in Jersey. It was stupid and foolish of me, and I let my personal vendetta put you in harms way."

She's stunned, because it's so far from what she was expecting this conversation to be like.

"Steve, I—" But his head snaps up and he looks desperate for a moment.

"Is Bucky here?"

She's thrown for another loop but finds herself nodding, "yeah, Steve, he's here."

He winces, but then sighs in relief. "Good… good. I knew he would be. I knew it. Nothing he did was his fault." Natasha just stares, how did she lose track of what they were talking about so quickly?

"Steve—"

"Can I see him?"

"Huh?"

"Bucky, can I see him?" The door opens before he's finished his question and Bucky stands there, hands fidgeting at his sides.

"Buck!" Steve cries out. He goes to move but winces at his leg which he stares down at in confusion. It's casted, the femur bone still healing and he looks up at them with a question in his eyes but his attention turns back to Bucky who has now moved to his bedside.

"Steve?"

"Buck! Oh, Buck I'm so sorry." He grabs Bucky's arm and pulls him into a hug. Bucky feels the air being squeezed out of his lungs and he gasps. Steve releases him immediately. "Oh whoops! I don't know the rules here yet." He pushes Bucky back so he can look at him and the absolute shame and guilt across his face makes Natasha suck in a sharp breath. "I didn't know it was you. But that's no excuse, I should have known, just by your eyes, or body, or fighting style." He grimaces, "I was so mad at myself for being manipulated that I let SHIELD—" he grits his teeth and his hand snakes out to touch Bucky's chest, right where the knife wound would have been if the situation had been real. Bucky freezes, and he hears Natasha's heart stutter. Steve's voice cracks and tears are pooling in his eyes, "I am so sorry about everything." Something about the way this conversation is heading has the hairs on the back of Natasha's neck standing up. Something's wrong. But Bucky's too stunned to respond, so Steve continues,

"I can't believe I killed you." He grimaces, but then surprises them both by giving Bucky a wry smile, and Natasha watches as the guilt fades away and relief starts to appear on Steve's face. "I can't believe it. I never thought—- I had hoped but—" he smiles and looks at Bucky with a knowing look, as if he should understand. "I guess I can." He says quietly as he leans back and his eyes close. Natasha looks at Bucky who looks like he's seen a ghost. "I guess I can."

"Can what, Steve?"

Steve's eyes open and he finds her. He smiles, a real genuine and open smile, blazing with relief and something like peace, which makes his next word hit like a thousand bricks. "Die."

—

Bucky hears the response that Steve gives. And he hears the way Natasha's heart reacts to the word, and he hears the way Bruce's heart rate rises so quickly that he runs down the hallway and out the double doors out of the medical wing. He hears Clint freeze in place and Tony finger's crush the disposable cup of coffee in his hand, the liquid splashing to the ground and across the linoleum.

But his mind is shutting down without his permission. He stands there, slack jawed and frozen, staring at the face of his best friend who looks relieved at the fact that he can and believes that he has died.

Steve turns to face him, and his expression is so innocent and so vulnerable that it breaks Bucky's heart when he asks, "is my ma around?" Natasha makes a choking noise and Bucky still stands there, frozen. "Is…" Steve turns a bit pink, blushing, "Is Peggy?"

"Steve." Comes a voice from the doorway and Steve's head snaps up. His expression turns from relief to grief instantly.

"Oh no." He screws up his palms against his eye sockets. "No, no, no. I'm sorry!" He's crying again and no one knows how to respond.

Tony steps forward, his voice brittle and his face pained. "Sorry about what, Cap?"

"I was hoping Beck was lying when he said he had you guys. I didn't know—" he looks downcast, then his eyes pull back up, "I should have tried harder." His voice is like flint and he looks sick to his stomach but he looks around the room, not letting himself off the hook for what he believes is their blood on his hands."Did—" he grimaces, and his face falls. "Is Clint—" as he speaks, Clint steps into the doorway drawing Steve's attention. "Oh." He leans back in the bed and slams the palm of his hand against his skull. "Damn it!" He says, startling them all. He goes to hit his head again and Bucky reaches his flesh arm out to stop him, his first movement in what feels like ages.

"Steve—" Bucky rasps. "Stop."

Steve ignores the hand gripping his palm. "I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry, but I truly am." The desperation and guilt he looks at them with is overwhelming. "How did I manage to get everyone I love killed?" He closes his eyes and clutches his arms around his chest. "I'm so sorry." The heartbreak in his voice has Bucky slumping into the chair next to Steve's bed.

"Steve," Natasha says, ready to change the direction of this conversation. "There's nothing to be sorry for." She approaches the bed slowly.

Steve's brow furrows in disbelief and he stares at her. "I got you killed, I felt you die in my arms." Then he turns to Bucky, "and you… I— I remember stabbing you, your heart stopping. I felt your blood on my hands." He grimaces, "I remember it, Bucky, just like I remember—" Steve pales and he reaches out to grasp Bucky's forearm but then pulls back. "I'm sorry I gave in."

"Gave in?"

Steve sighs heavily, "Back in '44? Remember when they captured us because of that grenade under my shield? I tried to hold out as long as I could, I hoped I'd never give in under torture," his face turns red with shame, "I've always wanted to apologize to you for this, but when we got out I never had a chance."

Bucky stands up, hands clenched into fists. "What are you talking about, Steve?"

"When that scientist kept shocking me and then asked me if I wanted to switch places with someone. I shouldn't have switched. I should have stayed stron—"

Bucky is out the door before he can finish. The rest of them freeze. The implication is terrifying. Were there other memories Beck had messed with that they didn't even know about? They hadn't seen Beck mess with that memory, but he obviously had.

Steve's face crumples and he pulls his good leg up, resting his forehead on his knee. "Of course he hasn't forgiven me. That's twice I've been the direct cause of his torture." He looks at them with exhausted eyes.

"You're not the cause of anything—"

"What are you talking about?" Steve asks, a sudden venom in his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. "You don't know. You weren't there. I was a coward. I couldn't even take a few shocks, before I was blubbering like a baby and begging to switch places." The self-hatred on his face makes Clint choke. "I didn't even hesitate to give up when that scientist asked me if I wanted to switch places. I let Bucky get strung up and watched him get tortured because I wasn't strong enough." He glares at them, daring them to argue. "I've never been strong enough to save anyone." He glares at each of them, as if their very presence proves his point, which, to him, it does. His eyes darken and he shuts them, leaning back and placing an arm over his eyes. "I can't believe you guys are even willing to be in the same room as me. You guys don't have to be here."

"Steve." Another voice joins the fray and has Steve looking up. When he locks eyes with Bruce he pales,

"No…"

"Steve, you aren't—"

"How?" Steve gasps. "How did—"

"You are NOT. DEAD." Bruce shouts, cutting Steve off.

Steve reels back, as if slapped. "What?"

"You are not dead. You are very much alive, and safe at the compound."

Something about that phrase has Steve tensing. He glances around at them, watching them as if seeing them for the very first time. He narrows his eyes and speaks blandly. "Oh really. That's interesting. Safe at the compound? Hmm."

"Yes—" Bruce starts, ready to start explaining.

"Geez, I'd prefer to be dead." Steve grumbles. His blunt response has the rest of them freezing.

"What?" Tony ventures, his throat dry.

Steve ignores the question and huffs. "This is a good one, Beck!" Steve shouts out into the air, now glaring at each of them with annoyance. "Man, he's getting really good. He really committed to this one." He says to no one in particular. He shakes his head as if he's disappointed in himself. Then he looks at the four of them in the room, "You all seemed really real." A sadness creeps into his voice with his next words, "I wish you were." He flexes his fists and lets his eyes glaze over. "This is a good one, Beck. You almost got me."

—-