Here We Go Again

post date therapy

A few days later, James woke, his TV still on. He rolled over and groaned realizing that he had a therapy session today. Therapy had become a mandatory condition of his release. Even his return from the Blip couldn't erase the laws he had broken and he realized that his freedom meant therapy sessions that he begrudgingly went to every week.

It's not that he didn't appreciate having someone to talk to, he just didn't think he was worth the energy. There was so much red in his ledger that he didn't want to relive the memories let alone share them with anyone else. Steve and Natasha were the only ones who really understood his background. His nightmares were more than enough for him. He didn't need to spend his time awake remembering the events from his past.

It also didn't help that his therapist frequently wrote in her notebook, analyzing everything he said. Notebooks had become a sort of trigger for him and seeing her write in one didn't help. It seemed like she always had a response that may have been encouraging to others, but not to him.

He had had his own experience with notebooks, and they weren't positive ones to say the least. The last time someone had one in front of him, it had had a black star on the front and they were reciting Russian words. He shook his head at the memory of that. He had had the notebook destroyed during his time in Wakanda.

Despite his therapist knowing that, she still assigned him homework in one with the hopes that he would forgive himself. His latest assignment was making amends to the families of the people he had killed as the Winter Soldier. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but realized it was the only way to move forward.

It didn't take him long to get ready, even with his vibranium arm. He had gotten used to showering with it and doing every day things with it. He was grateful for his time in Wakanda and having Shuri, create a new arm that functioned as well, if not better than a regular arm. The hand though was still difficult to use at times, so he used his right hand for everything.

When he got out of the shower, he placed the towel around his waist, and looked at himself in the mirror his skin still glistening with the leftover water from his shower. His examined his shorter hair - a reminder of his old life, a life before the experiments, torture, and the murders. He had cut it shortly after Steve's funeral hoping that it would him start over. He had left the stubble from his five o'clock shadow though, the smooth skin just didn't seem to fit him anymore.

The scars, on the other hand, were faintly visible and a reminder of the side of his past life he wanted to forget. He wasn't proud of them, each one with it's own story. Each of them representing death. His eyes slowly shifted to his left shoulder where his worst scar was - the one where his shoulder met his metal arm. HYDRA had really done a number installing his death machine to the point where there was little that Shuri could do to fix it, but she had done her best at cleaning it up.

After examining them, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, slipped on his fitted motorcycle jacket with gloves and was out of the door.

His motorcycle jacket covered the metal arm, and he was thankful that it wasn't exposed anymore. He had always hated how visible it was whether it was seeing it reflections or out of the corner of his eye. Every time he saw it, he was reminded of how he had been used as a weapon.

He decided against taking his motorcycle, the one that Steve had left him, and chose to walk the way to his therapist's office. He didn't mind walking though, as long as no one stopped him. He remembered living in Bucharest, constantly looking over his shoulder, in fear that HYDRA agents would find him and wipe his mind again.

SHIELD had also been looking for him, but he had been less worried about that. Only one person had been able to catch him, his old friend Steve, although he didn't realize it at the time. They had eventually had a laugh about it. Sam on the other hand, wasn't as amused and still kept him at a arm's length.

This all changed after Steve's death. Sam began reaching out to James after the funeral trying to build a relationship with him. He figured that the best friend of his best friend would be good enough for him.

James on the other hand, didn't see it that way - a point his therapist liked to bring up during their sessions. She was always telling him to branch out and find ways to connect with people. She didn't like how alone he often was and the fact that he had only two other numbers in his phone; Sam being one, and Sharon Carter being the other.

When he finally arrived at his therapist's office, he already wanted to leave. He hated the smell of the place even though it was better than the facilities he had previously been in. He had been sitting for a few minutes when the door to her office opened, and she invited him into her space.

"It's good to see you today, Mr. Barnes." The doctor said.

"Good to see you today too, Doc." James mumbled as he took his seat on the couch.

"So, last time we met, you were telling me about a young lady you met online and were going to go on a date with. Tell me, how did that go?" Her question was sincere, but James still didn't want to answer it.
James took a moment, stared at Dr. Raynor, before answering flatly, "It was fine." He paused, "We're going to run off to Vegas and get married tomorrow."

The doctor lowered her glasses, and began writing in her notebook, patient seems to use sarcasm as a way to deflect from dealing with emotions.

"Now James, you know I can't help you, unless your honest with me."

"Fine," James said through gritted teeth, "It went well. She didn't ask me any  questions I didn't want to answer."

"That's really good James. Do you think you will see her again?"

"I dunno. I haven't gone out with a dame in a really long time, Doc."

"Well, why don't you think about that and get back to me by next session?"

"Fine, Doc."

They spent the rest of his session talking about his own notebook and the progress he was making with his list.

He left the session feeling slightly less annoyed than when he arrived, but now there was a new feeling inside. A gnawing sensation of what to do about Rebekah.