That first breath that Bucky drew in felt like many others, like each time he had been pulled out of cryogenic storage in time for another mission. But unlike with the others where he had been disoriented and confused, this time he was clear... clearer even than he had been when he died because mingling with those other versions of himself had given him some of who he used to be back.

His chest was sore but no longer split open, though his clothes were soaked in blood, and Steve's face made his heart ache as though it still had the blade in it.

"...Jesus, Steve," he murmured, hardly the most auspicious words. "It really worked, I'm really alive."