James Bucky Barnes, the former soldier, doesn't think he's got any gentleness left in him. But Grace Juniper Cunningham, the former child prodigy, strongly disagrees.
;
"𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯."
"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴�...
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"I brought you a present," I told Dr. Raynor, entering her office. It was a few days after Grace had left my apartment, since the last time I'd spoken to her. I'd been shut up in my apartment since then. I'd been working in advance of this appointment.
"Do I want it?" Dr. Raynor asked tiredly.
"Yeah," I said, and handed her a piece of paper I'd ripped from a notebook.
It was a list of emotions.
Her eyebrows raised as she scanned it. "Guilty is listed multiple times."
"For different things."
"Protective is crossed out."
"I don't think that's an emotion? I thought about it and realized what I feel is scared she's gonna die. That's why I wrote scared under it."
"Same with 'possessive.' Crossed out."
"What did I write under that one?"
"'Like punching Sam.'"
"Did I cross that one out?"
"You underlined it."
"Oh."
She paused to consider. "I'm supposed to report any violent urges that you express to me."
"I meant to cross it out but I missed."
"I'm choosing to believe that."
"I definitely came to a conclusion about being possessive. It wasn't just punching Sam."
"You wrote 'exposed' under it."
"Yeah, that's it."
"Talk to me about 'exposed.' As in, people can see something you don't want them to?"
"No. I mean like when your position is exposed. When adrenaline kicks in because there's nothing to protect you. That's the feeling."
She propped the side of her head on her fist, elbow on her chair as she continued reading to herself. I sat completely still, which was really the same as fidgeting for me, waiting.
"Okay," she said when she'd finished. "What prompted this?"
"I just want to get good enough to have a relationship without ruining it. How long does that take? Is that possible?"
"'Good enough,'" she repeated. "What does that mean?"
"I meant healthy. Mentally healthy. I'm starting to think I don't see things the way everybody else does."
"Be more specific."
"I'm starting...to worry..." I spoke slowly, searching for the words. "I think...Sometimes I worry you might be right, and that it wouldn't ruin things if she saw."
She leaned forward. "Why does that worry you?"
"I was thinking...while I was making that list—Cause I want her so bad, and I was trying to get better, so I was making the fuckin'...list. Doesn't matter—I think...I feel guilty that she loves me because I don't want to be happy. I want her to...hate me because of what I did. I want it to be true, so I convince myself it is, but I can't handle it if she actually says it, so—That's why I keep...fuck. Anyway. Good session—"
