It's quiet out there, but something scratches in his mind painfully. James reaches out for him, fingers resting on Steve's shoulder briefly. Sit down, it's okay, we're okay. He's not, and as long as this exists: the books, the brainwashing harness, the fucking chairs, it'll be a present fear. And after they're gone and no one alive remembers, it will follow him. But the we matters more than that.

'It's possible,' he says. It would be with the CIA. Carter seemed willing enough to help them out if Steve can place the call. If T'Challa has it, he foresees a very interesting conversation ahead of him. Steve's the one who did the talking there: James wasn't too keen on going back near a man who not a few hours earlier had been very eager to rip his throat out. 'Can we make that our priority after we break the others out of wherever they are?'