Dreams of another life

II

Bucky sat in his therapist's office for the second time that week. Two out of three state mandated appointments a week done. One more to go.

His knee was bouncing animatedly, ankle resting across his other knee and his arms crossed against his chest as he kept a stern look in his face.

"How many more people have you crossed off your amends list?" Dr Raynor asked, tapping her pen against the edge of her clipboard in a very annoying manner.

"Five" he answered plainly.

"Good. That's good you've nearly finished it" the doctor nodded. "Still having nightmares?"

Bucky scoffed, pissed about the same line of questioning they always went down.

"James" she probed.

Bucky only fixed her with a hard glare. The therapist began writing notes.

"Seriously?" he uncrossed his arms, throwing them wide. "The passive agressive writing doc?"

"If you won't talk, I'll write" Dr Raynor stated, the exact same thing she always said when he protested.

Bucky sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, palms landing on his thighs. "Fine. I still have them, just not as often."

"Oh?" the pen stopped moving, "and what do you dream of when you don't have a nightmare?"

Bucky squirmed and looked anywhere but the woman across from him, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. When the doctor raised a thin brow in his direction, he conceded.

"Sometimes nothing, it's just blank. Other times..." he trailed off.

"Other times what?"

A pause.

"More recently, it's been a woman. One I used to know, used to work with. Haven't seen or heard from her in a while though" he explained, watching his therapist jot down notes un-spitefully.

"A woman?" she questioned. "Care to give a name?"

"Maximoff...uh Wanda Maximoff" he scratched his stubble.

"What, like Bond, James Bond?" she joked.

"Very funny doc" Bucky narrowed his eyes.

"I remember her, she was the one with the magic right?"

"Yeah. Yeah she had these...powers" Bucky looked at his fingers, wiggling them slowly, picturing the awe inspiring magic he wasn't soon going to forget.

"And in your dreams, what happens? Are you scared of her?"

"No. I was never scared of her" he answered without hesitation.

"Then what?"

Bucky began to fidget with the black and gold metal plates that made up his arm. "It's different every time" he started, deciding that if he was going to tell anyone this, it might as well be the woman who was paid to listen.

"At first, when the dreams started, they were rare. But they'd be of us, either just the two of us in a house, or a cabin, somewhere or us still with the Avengers in the compound, no one dead no one gone" he spoke seriously, his words ringing through the quiet space.

"And now?"

"Now?"

"You said that your dreams were like that at the start. What are they like now?"

"I-they're- it's like she's reaching out to me. Through my dreams, which is insane, I know. They always start somewhat normal, sometimes they're in black and white like my kind of time television. Other times they're modern but still just weird" Bucky tried to explain.