Chapter Text
She was here again. She practically floated into the waiting room every Tuesday 5 minutes after he did. She always sat on the other side of the room from him, giving him a nice view of her alabaster complexion and her long, platinum blonde hair.
Today, she sat a view chairs to the left than she usually did. Bucky had memorized everything about her, not because she was beautiful, which she was, but because that’s just what he did. As a former Winter Soldier for Hydra, his super soldier senses were trained to pick up on everything.
And his senses did pick up on everything.
She wore the most amazing strawberry-scented perfume. Every week, it was the same. Bucky thought she wore it in her hair, because when she turned and her hair flew behind her, that’s when it was strongest.
This week, Bucky had to close his eyes at the scent. It enveloped him, begging him to reach out and touch the woman’s hair. He wondered if she put it in her hair on purpose. She probably did. Her innocent eyes said otherwise, like she didn’t want any attention drawn to herself. Her eyes flitted around the room, only stopping to stare at something for a little over a second before moving away to something else. If Bucky wasn’t mistaken, she was in the psychologists’ office to be seen for some sort of anxiety disorder. There was something else though. Something he couldn’t explain.
“Mr. Barnes.” A woman stood over by the doorway to the pychologists’ offices—Dr. Christina Raynor, his therapist. She held a clipboard with a large pad of paper. Bucky despised that clipboard.
He stood up, eyeing the girl on the other side of the room out of the corner of his eye as he did. She was watching him. Her eyes were focused for the first time since he had first seen her weeks ago. She was staring right at him, and she smiled with a confused look in her eyes. She watched him confidently until he turned around to follow Dr. Raynor into her office. He felt her eyes still watching him even as he left the waiting room.
“Now, James.” Dr. Raynor sat across from him on a couch. “How have you been since our last session?”
“Fine,” Bucky said, swallowing his spit. He hated every minute of this. Every week it was the same. How are you, James? Have you had any nightmares?
Bucky mumbled a ‘no’, an obvious lie. Of course he had had nightmares. You don’t go 70 years being Hydra’s pawn and not have nightmares about what you did. It wasn’t possible.
“Mr. Barnes,” Dr. Raynor said, sounding frustrated. “How do you think these sessions are supposed to work if you keep lying to me?”
Bucky didn’t say anything. He just stared at the painting of a tranquil meadow behind the doctor’s head and wondered if he had ever been anywhere that looked like that. If he had, he wouldn’t remember. He probably hadn’t. Hydra likely wouldn’t have sent him somewhere so peaceful, unless there was some government official he had to kill standing in the middle of the wildflowers.
“Mr. Barnes?”
“Of course I’ve had nightmares, Doc. Just like every other time we’ve met. I close my eyes and I’m the Winter Soldier again.” He practically spat at the title. He hated it more than anything. He hated how it sounded on his lips, how it followed him everywhere. He had taken to wearing long-sleeved leather jackets and gloves so the people in the streets would stop staring at him and whispering the name Hydra had given him after they thought he was out of ear shot. Bucky was a super soldier. ‘Out of earshot’ for him was way farther than it was for other people.
Bucky ran his right hand through his long hair and sighed. He tapped his foot on the ground, waiting for Dr. Raynor to say something. She was busy noting something down in that cursed notepad of hers.
Finally, she looked up at him.
“James,” she said, “do you have anyone that you talk to?”
“What, other than you?”
“Yes, precisely.”
Bucky just laughed. Ever since Thanos, he hadn’t really had a conversation with anyone. Steve left him, he hadn’t gone back to Wakanda, and the Avengers didn’t particularly welcome him due to his history. Bucky didn’t really have any friends.
“Well then.” Dr. Raynor wrote something down on the notepad, flipping a page over. Bucky could see that it was filled with miniscule scribbles that he assumed were words. “Mr. Barnes, I want you to make a friend this week. Choose one person and get to know them. For real, this time.” She eyed him carefully, knowing full well that Bucky would agree to whatever she said in order to leave the appointment early without any intention of actually fulfilling her requests.
Bucky pursed his lips. He didn’t do “friends.”
“Fine,” he said under his breath.
Dr. Raynor made a show of writing him a prescription note that read: “Make a friend”.
Bucky sighed and took it from her.
“I’ll see you next week at the same time,” she said, standing up.
Bucky stood up and made for the door, grumbling an agreement as he did.
“And Bucky?”
He paused.
“Maybe that blonde girl in the waiting room would be a good start. I think you two would get along.”
Bucky was glad he wasn’t facing the doctor, because his face was an uncharacteristically bright shade of pink.