Wanted for Slaughter || ᴋᴀʀʟɪ ᴍᴏʀɢᴇɴᴛʜᴀᴜ

IV.

Loud.

Loud was the only word to describe the place. The bland, white walls consumed all the noise within the tight space. People here and there, shouting at the receptionist to let them see their loved ones. You didn't like it here, but you'd endure it, because you'd die for Bucky. You'd do anything to keep him safe. 

"You met this therapist?" Sam asked out of the blue, pulling you out of your daze. 

"No. But from what Bucky tells me I simply cannot wait," You sighed sarcastically, pushing your body up to sit straighter. 

The chattering around you resumed, filling your ears with obnoxious talking. The hood on your jumper provided no protection from the noise. No matter how hard you tried to escape it, it was always there. 

A woman who you only assumed was the therapist walked up to you. One hand holding a brief case, the other stretching out towards you and Sam. At first glance, she looked kind, but her voice didn't fit her face. 

You stood, reaching back to shake her hand. 

"(Y/N), Sam. I've heard so much about you. I'm Dr. Raynor. I'm James' therapist." 

"Nice to meet you. Thanks for getting him out," Sam replied, shaking her hand after you. 

That voice. His voice, called out. People gathered around him, asking for signatures and photos. 

"You have to fucking kidding, right?" You whispered, wanting nothing more than to pull out your gun and shoot John in the leg or something. He jogged over, stopping directly in front of you. A fire bubbled in your abdomen. A pure hatred for the guy who was nothing like Steve. 

"Heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I'd step in. Bucky's not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer." He smirked. 

Your brows furrowed for what seemed like the hundredth time today. 

"I don't think so. He not completely finished with therapy." He had no right to stop Bucky's sessions, even if he had the power to. Stopping session wouldn't heal him, John didn't have the charm Steve had on Bucky. Because if he was Steve, Bucky wouldn't need to go to therapy every week. Steve would fix it, he always did. 

You were much smaller than John. He towered above you, inches above the top of your head. He had to bend his neck to get a proper look at you. Asshole.

"Ah. The other Barnes. We hadn't had the pleasure of meeting." He smiled. You scoffed. 

"I don't care what you have to say," 

The sound of door unlocking caught your attention. You spun around, seeing how Bucky was being lead to the reception desk where papers were being filled. John started to say something about unfinished business but you weren't there to hear it. You walked off towards your brother, giving him a short hug before telling him how much you hated John already. 

Bucky smiled but his attention was torn from you to his therapist. 

"Condition of your release, session now." She walked on and turned around after a second. "You too, Sam. And I want (Y/N) there too." 

The session went by quickly but it was mostly because you got to listen to the two guys sneer at each other for an hour. You refused to interfere, sitting in between the pair then getting to watch them preform the soul gazing exercise. You had to be honest, it was entertaining seeing the two face each other, legs intertwined as they fought. 

John was waiting for you when you exited the building. Reluctantly, you walked closer to him and his sidekick. The cold feeling was back, but this time you were sure it wasn't your mind. It was absolutely freezing outside.