"I did. Probably because of what Zola did, before Steve came for me the first time," he replies quietly. His smile is a little sad, as he ducks his head. "Hydra, yeah. And the Soviets. But you know," he glances up, flashing a warm smile. "Steve did end up finding me again, eventually. Took him seventy years, but he came for me. Like he always does." He knows that won't make much sense to her. If she's real, then whatever pulled them to this train grabbed them from different points in time. Maybe it's unkind to confuse her, but better that she know someone did find him than to live with all that guilt.

He takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds. "You know," he lifts his flesh hand, runs it over his hair as he sighs. "He's on the train with us. Steve. I guess falling couldn't kill either of us."