When Thor gets up again, Steve can't bring himself to notice, let alone care. Not in that moment, not when Bucky's lifeless body is in his arms. His grip on the body is crushing, pulling the man to his chest. There's an almost imperceptible warmth coming through from the ice soaked clothing, something that tells him of just how marginally late he was. If he got here sooner, even a little sooner, maybe Bucky would be alive.

Steve failed him. Again. Always over and over, Bucky will keep dying and Steve can't do anything, fingers that brush as he falls away.

A sound of anguish escapes his throat before he can think to stop it, something quiet and personal.

But quickly interrupted as he feels the airshift with movement and is thrown back into action before he thinks better of it. Letting go of Bucky's body, he's already pushing himself to move with the kick, unable to dodge it, but attempting to lessen the impact. It's too last minute, still sending him tumbling to the side, pain exploding behind his eyes.

He acts on instinct, throwing out a kick as he jumps to his feet, more to keep distance between them than to hit. The ice doesn't give him the stable footing he needs to take on Thor - not that he even wants to fight the man, though his blood boils for Bucky's death, he knows he can't blame him, only the Capitol - but part of him knows he can't leave Bucky behind. Not again.