He lets his head fall against Dorian's shoulder, an attempt at comfort that lets him go limp enough to mentally regroup.

As soon as Dorian is finished with the injury, Steve rolls over, onto his knees, and stands determinedly free of assistance. For a moment - fingertips pressing hard against one of the unbound injuries, in the middle of rubble with the sounds of the city going mad at a distance - he could be in New York. He could be in the mud-slagged fields of Europe, or the remains of one of Schmidt's work camps.

Steve blinks the temporal dizziness away and goes to retrieve his shield. "If these things can get-" a pause as he bends to pick it up "-into the consoles..."

He needs to warn Peggy. He needs to warn others, too, but she's the closest and she can get the word out better than he can right now.