Chapter Text
You can do this.
He kept the words cycling around his head as he began the session, and soon enough he felt in control again. He didn’t have to make any life threatening decisions in an instant, didn’t have to think twelve steps ahead and know a hundred different outcomes. He could breathe, think over his group’s questions and respond when he was ready, and as he did he heard real therapist’s answers coming out, not the answers of some scared, uninformed guy saying whatever came to his head.
He really could do this, he could be of service in a new way, help people for real. And when it was over he could go home, rest, be with his husband, and come back the next day feeling refreshed and ready to help again. He checked the time on the clock opposite him, only five minutes to go. He could do this for five more minutes.
“How do you get back to normal after everything? Stay... you?”
The question had come from a young man who’d been quiet for most of the session. He was around the same age Bucky’d been when he was drafted, and Steve could tell from the way his hands trembled and the dark circles under his eyes he’d only just come back from service.
Steve took a moment, dropping his gaze to his own hands and holding them still, before responding.
“I don’t think there is a real ‘normal’,” he said carefully “not like it is for people who haven’t served, but then again there are plenty of people who haven’t served who’ve been through their own version of hell.”
Steve thought of Peter Parker, who he’d had to bring down from a panic attack during a game of hide and seek at the compound after Kamala had dragged him to hide under a pile of junk in Tony’s old lab. He thought of Bruce and his story on the helicarrier, saved from ending it all by the Hulk’s pure survival instincts, of having to almost force feed Tony smoothies and protein bars - making him eat something - after wrestling a bottle of whisky from his hand on his worst nights.
“I think you find your normal,” he continued “whatever that looks like for you, maybe it’s work, or drinking coffee with your friends, maybe it’s just getting dressed for the day. Those are all things to be proud of. I think you recognise what triggers you and you have things in place to help you handle that, and you keep putting in the long work in sessions like this.”
He thought of Bucky, gripping Steve’s hand tightly as they walked through airport security when they visited Shuri after her brother died, dropping down into a ball in a secluded corner of the airport and running his hands over the floor and calming his breathing, just like Sam had taught him.
“And you find the things that make you feel like you again, even if they’re the smallest things, you take the time out to notice them, or you spend time with people who will help you. Maybe it’s doing your favourite things - maybe they’ve changed since your service, and that’s OK too -“
He remembered sitting in the park, Bucky laying across his lap and just looking around, and Steve sketching quietly.
“Hey, check out those flowers,” Bucky said.
“They’re beautiful Buck,” and they were, vibrant colours all mixed up together in one flower bed, they reminded Steve of a paint palette.
“Maybe we should stop by the florist on the way home and get some. They’d look real nice in our kitchen.”
“OK, doll,”
“Stevie look,” it was mere moments before Bucky spoke again, his voice excited and childlike. Steve smiled, setting his sketch pad aside as Bucky sat up “That woman’s walking her cat.”
So she was; Steve followed Bucky’s gaze and found a woman with a fluffy white cat on a harness, walking by the fountain across from them. The cat caught sight of a butterfly then, and jumped up to bat it, but Steve’s eyes had gone back to Bucky, his heart aching pleasantly at the gentle happiness on his husband’s face as he watched, not a hint of worry, not even when a car door slammed beside them, and he found his breath was coming a little easier.
Perhaps they needed to stop past the animal shelter as well as the florist.
“You spend time with the people who make you feel like you, when you’re ready, you learn to enjoy what’s around you and you forgive yourself when you can’t. Some days you just make it through the day, and that’s OK too. It’s not easy, and no two journeys are the same, but with time and patience you can find who you are again. You can find your place in the world.”
The young man nodded then, a small smile flickering on his face, and when the group dismissed he hung back to thank Steve, telling him through a watery smile that that was exactly what he needed to hear.
Huh, maybe his friends were right, maybe he really could do this - help other people, teach them how to get through their trauma, to find themselves, find their place in the world again.
After all, he had.