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“Excuse me.”
Bucky came back online, glancing toward the source of the voice, seeing a short brunette woman with glasses and a light blue beanie walking toward him, her eyes downcast. He remembered then that he was standing in the way of the exit, the leather of his gloves flexing as he dropped his hands and stepped aside.
“Pardon me,” he murmured.
She seemed to be in a similar state to him, lost in thought. It was good that she was leaving, wherever she’d come from. Bucky had just finished up with Dr. Raynor and got to the hallway outside only to stop again, though he’d been so keen to escape minutes ago.
He was glad no-one witnessed him do that, freeze in the middle of the hallway and block a stranger.
“Don’t worry about it,” the woman said.
She disappeared and Bucky gave her another half a minute head start before he followed her, pushing the backdoor open. The parking garage echoed with his footsteps, and he spotted her immediately, lingering by a car that must be hers. Bucky was planning on taking the subway or even walking home to kill the time, since he hadn’t got a car in the last few months. He didn’t know if he really needed one in the city. The woman must be from somewhere else.
“Goddamn it,” he heard her mutter, and she put a hand in her handbag, fishing out a little plastic box and shelled out a couple little orange things she shoved into her mouth.
Bucky knew he should make himself scarce, but she turned a little on the spot, seeing him there.
“They’re not pills, I swear,” she said, chewing. “They’re Tic Tacs.”
He didn’t know what those were but he rose a hand, shaking his head. “It’s fine-”
“You from Westview, too?” she said.
Bucky propelled himself forward, until he was standing close enough to not have to yell, seeing the woman give him a once-over.
“I can’t place you, but…”
“I’m not,” he said. “Uh, from Westview. Where’s that?”
“Jersey,” the woman said, swallowing, her brows hiking. He must have made a face, since she gave a little smirk. “Trust me, I wasn’t there outta choice. I’m not supposed to talk about it, but… they got me this therapist and I don’t talk to her, so…”
She rolled her eyes.
“I tend to babble.”
“That’s fine,” Bucky said. “Bad day?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Do I know you?”
“No,” he said, and he stepped forward, offering his right hand. “I’m James.”
She glanced at his gloved hand, hesitating for a second before she took it.
“Darcy.”
A silence fell between them and Darcy kept looking at him. Bucky gave a little frown, her smile returning.
“Is that your real name? Sounds like you rehearsed it a little,” she murmured. “In which case, hey, no judgement. Maybe you’re not cool about being seen leaving the headcase level of this particular establishment.”
She was fascinating, mostly because Bucky couldn’t predict where she was going. It was as if each sentence was coming at him from different directions.
“Unless you’re actually a therapist, leaving for the day. That would be interesting, in like, a super unethical kind of way-”
“I’m not a shrink,” he cut in, and Darcy narrowed her eyes slightly.
“I think that’s not what a therapist would say, it’s not like a cop, cops have to tell you whether they’re a cop.”
A beat, and Bucky watched as Darcy closed her eyes, giving a little sigh.
“You wanna try that again?” Bucky said, and she nodded, passing a hand over her face. “Hi, I’m James.”
“Darcy,” she said, clearing her throat. “I am mentally ill.”
Bucky mimicked her solemn nods, a smirk forming on his face. “I am also mentally ill.”
They both grinned then, Darcy ducking her head.
“Uh, so… not a Westview resident but definitely here on the basis of government mandated treatment?” she said.
Bucky’s gaze averted, perhaps giving himself away. “Yeah.”
“What do you do, James?” Darcy said.
“I am unemployed.”
She didn’t seem to react badly, humming. “Right on.”
Bucky nodded, drawing in a breath. He thought about going home, taking the scenic route, making dinner alone and then trying to sleep. It all felt a little too unappealing, and although it was probably the worst idea he’d have that day, she was funny, and cute.
“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee?” he asked.
She looked surprised, lips parting before she pressed them together briefly.
“Uh…”
“It’s fine,” Bucky said, putting up his hand. “Really. You said you’d had a bad day, I’m probably adding to it now-”
“No, I just- I don’t know why, but I… wanna call bullshit.”
Bucky paused. “Okay.”
He couldn’t say how he understood that without it getting too heavy too fast, but he did.
“I’d like to, though,” she added.
“Okay,” he said again. “We can walk, if you wanna leave your car here.”
“I can go another hour,” she said.
It was a little awkward, walking off together, but when he pushed open the door to the stairwell he usually disappeared into after he fled each session, she’d looked up at him and gave him a little smile of appreciation. They walked to the corner, to the coffee shop Bucky tended to walk straight past. They slipped inside, after Bucky held the door open for her, and then they were sitting down, facing one another by the window, Darcy reaching for her hat to pull it off. She fiddled with her hair, glancing toward the register.
It was pretty quiet, and Bucky figured it was better than having to deal with waiting in line. He watched the side of Darcy’s face as she considered the board.
“I haven’t been here before,” she murmured.
Her eyes met Bucky’s again when he began to speak.
“It’s good.”
“Okay, I trust you,” she said.
He got up, after she told him she wanted a macchiato, while he stuck with his usual black with sugar. Not that caffeine really had a desired effect on him. He returned to Darcy with two cups, placing hers in front of her, seeing the kid behind the counter had done a little flower pattern with the foam.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
They rose their cups and sipped. Darcy smacked her lips.
“So, what’s wrong with you?”
Bucky coughed, turning his head to laugh a little into his shoulder. He glanced her way, seeing a twinkle of mischievousness in her eye.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Well, I can go through my little Rolodex of trauma, pick something to begin with,” she said. Her smile faded a little. “I don’t have much of a filter.”
“You're not kiddin’,” Bucky muttered, clearing his throat. He took another sip and put his cup down, Darcy doing the same. “Why not start with the bad day you’ve had?”
“I got caught, a few months back, when I fled this… government crap that went down, back in Jersey. I was working-”
“What do you do?” Bucky asked.
“Astrophysicist,” Darcy said. “Anyway-”
“Wait, why were you in New Jersey for astro-?”
“I can’t talk about that,” Darcy interrupted.
He felt like he was trying to talk over her constantly, as if her speaking was a marathon. It wasn’t annoying, just sort of chaotic, like when he’d argue with friends on the docks in the 30s.
“I tried to skip out on medical, but they found me. The point is I got out in one piece, and I’m fine. I swear, I’m fine,” she said, putting up both hands. “I just… can’t sleep a lot of the time, and when I manage to I have- I have nightmares.”
She scrunched her nose.
“I don’t have it that bad. I lived through the Snap, I can live through this-”
Bucky got the feeling she wasn’t kidding when she was talking about her Rolodex.
“It’s crazy shit that a lot of people don’t understand unless they were in it,” Bucky said, and she leveled his gaze, starting to nod.
“And I do the things, I do the… shitty little affirmations, I take my shitty meds, I do the shitty breathing, and I get into my shitty little bed at night and feel…”
“Shitty?” Bucky said, and she nodded again.
“Yes, thank you. You get it.”
He glanced out the window, seeing a woman holding her child’s hand as they crossed the street. The sun was still shining, though the air was a little chilly.
“It’s PTSD,” she said, and his eyes snapped to hers. “Is that what it is with you, too?”
“Yeah,” Bucky said.
“Who do you have?” she said, frowning a little.
She really didn’t like to dodge anything, so it was odd to him that she had said she didn’t open up to her therapist that day.
“What do you mean?” he murmured, though he knew.
“Do you have someone, like a wife or-or a girlfriend?” she said. “Boyfriend? Family?”
“No, my parents are dead,” Bucky said, voice a little lower, avoiding the first and second questions completely.
“Same,” she said. “Not that-I mean, that was a long time ago.”
“Same,” Bucky murmured, though it actually wasn’t for him. It was a long time ago for everyone who’d been there to bury them.
They went quiet again and Darcy kept sipping her coffee, breaking the silence when she was done, Bucky waiting for her, which he found he didn’t mind at all.
“I’m still gonna go back next week,” she murmured. “I mean, legally, I have to.”
Bucky gave a little smile that dissipated almost instantly. “Me, too.”
He drew in a breath, letting it go, Darcy’s eyes still on him.
They kept looking at one another as the barista made drinks, with the people walking outside in the afternoon sun. He wasn’t afraid to look at her for so long, something else that surprised him.
She swallowed, folding her arms. A small half-smile began to form.
“Maybe not a bad day,” she murmured. “Not anymore.”
Bucky gave her a little smile back.