Jason knows he's there, and still the simple brush of fingers wraps right around his heart, squeezes until the ache is fresh and raw again, and for the longest moment, he can't speak to answer.

"He left," he finally rumbles, hardly recognizing his voice when he finds it. Even as he says it, he has no idea how he'll explain, but somebody needs to know it, even in fragments. "Bucky. Everything got all. Fucked. I don't think he's coming back."