A New Kind of Army

Chapter 25: Broken Jingle Bells

My index finger tapped frantically on my thigh, as I sat in the waiting room. My stomach was churning and I thought I had broken out in cold sweat. I needed to get my nerves under control.

After Mourning Dusk, sleeping became even harder. The nightmares just wouldn't seem to end. After one day of feeling like I was going to pass out in the fields, I finally went to Christin about my troubles. I told him about the panic attack, and everything else that had been going on. He had reacted just as Arrow had said, offering his support and asking if I wanted to try therapy. I said I'd give it a chance, so he scheduled a session the family therapist.

Though, now that I was sitting in the waiting room of her office, I was kind of regretting that decision.

Christin reached out and patted my back, "You're tenser than a too tight bow string. Calm down kid, there's nothing to worry about. She doesn't bite."

"I know," I said, "It's just..."

"Unknown territory?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, it will be easier once it starts."

I nodded hoping he was right, and thankful he came with me. Though I did wish Christin could come into the session with me. Sadly, he couldn't as it went against patient privacy regulations. I also wanted Arrow to be here for some reason. We had grown closer since Mourning Dusk, and she kind of understood what I was going through, as least understood it better than anyone else I knew. However, she was currently deployed. I was going to wait to ask Christin until she got back, but after learning she wouldn't be back until Christmas (this mission being to a much farther location, and much higher risk), and three-days of no sleep, I couldn't wait any longer.

"James Barnes?" A woman called.

I swallowed and got up to follow her. She led me to room. It was mostly empty, a couch on one side and a chair with a side table on the other. A small window and clock in the middle of the wallpaper that depicted the image of cartoony swamp. Weird, but at least it wasn't a laboratory.

"Dr. Camaron will be in, in a few minutes," the woman said, "Feel free to make yourself comfortable," She stepped out the room.

The couch was closest to the door, so I just sat there. The tapping of my index resumed. Waiting by myself was worse, and the clock wasn't helping. The door started to open, and I looked towards it. A woman, maybe late fifties, greying chestnut hair tied up in tight bun that was held up with what looked like two pencils. She wore a long purple dress, with capped sleeves and a black belt, but it didn't hide the tail tip poking up from under the skirt hem. A matching mask on her face and cheetah like spotting on her forehead.

She turned to me and gave a comforting smile, no fangs shockingly, "Hello James."

"Uhm, its Bucky," I stuttered, "My name is Bucky."

"Okay Bucky," She walked over to the other chair and took a seat, "I am Dr. Camaron, I'll be your therapist for today."

"Today?" I asked.

"Well, there are others working here, and if you don't think I'm helping you, you always have the option to try someone else."

"You wouldn't be offended by that?"

"No, of course not. I would mind at all, as long as the patient is healing in a healthy way," she paused, "You feeling nervous?"

"Maybe," I knew better then to lie to her, Arrow could tell when I was lying and Dr. Camaron worked with Arrow.