Devil's Pact

Chapter One

** Trigger Warnings - Mentions of PTSD and abuse - Mentions of manhood's - Mentions of inappropriate thoughts - It's nothing to bad, I just want you guys to stay safe and well **

NEW YORK – Freyja's POV

It's 6:30pm and I have watched my newest client walk into my pastel blue, green and purple therapy room. I have watched him nervously smile and blush, even though he dipped his head in an attempt to hide it from me. I have watched him mutter a few words, then remove his black leather jacket to hang on the coat rack, revealing his muscular arms and chest under his long-sleeved red Henley and then take a seat. And for the past twenty minutes, I have watched him glance around the room in silence, clearly uncomfortable to be here.

So I sat still, waiting for him to speak, not writing, not pushing him to speak. The tall, broad, silent man with shoulder-length dark hair sat on my grey faux velvet couch in front of me. His steel blue eyes looked anywhere but at me. His gloved hands clasped tightly in front of him as they rested on his dark denim clad knees, bobbing slightly as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The scowl on his face did nothing to remove the boyish good looks, though. I smiled to myself. No matter how badass he was trying to come across.
Am I allowed to say that?
Maybe, if I don't say it out loud...
He is damn fine, though. Stop it. He is your client!

The reason for the silence and him not looking at me, you're wondering?
I'd asked, "Are you having trouble sleeping?"

I already knew the answer to this, as Sam had explained.

Bucky Barnes has nightmares all the time...

I knew Bucky wasn't happy about talking to me, I'd practically hired myself when I had gone to meet them.
I'd met Sam and Bucky at a quiet little coffee shop close to my offices to discuss Bucky getting back into therapy for his nightmares, PTSD, and the whole plethora of mental and physical torture and abuse he endured. Not to mention the experiments with serum, and he'd remained stone faced, scowling and silent for most of the meeting. Despite my efforts to reassure him that I had knowledge of the serum and some of it's affects, plus my past successes with trauma victims.

That was until Sam had called him rude. Wow, did that start a fight. The pair had bickered back and forth for a good five minutes before I managed to semi-interrupt them.

All I managed to get out was
"I'll see you Monday, James, 6:30pm" with a quick glance and nod from Sam and the promise of
"He'll be there," which also came from Sam. Then, right back into bickering like children.
So, no, Bucky wasn't amused at all.

"It's ok, James, how about we try something else?" I said gently, hoping that trying a different tact would help him to open up to me. I was damned if I was going to follow Raynor's example. Sure, she got results, but at what cost? Fixing one trauma by causing another, nope, not in my office.

This question seemed to stop the wandering glances and earned me a bowed head and scrunched up face as he chewed his bottom lip.

"Sure, Doc," Bucky muttered out with a sigh and a head shake.

"Just call me Freyja, everyone else does." I smiled softly at Bucky, I wanted him to feel relaxed, like this was a space he could be safe in. This is a place he can be safe in. He lifted his head and twitched a slight side smile in my direction before sighing and dropping his head again to stare at his clasped hands.

I pursed my lips for a second, then stood up, straightened out my pale pink blouse and black pencil skirt, and then walked over to my filing draws. I removed two pieces of white paper, both with several flower outlines on them and a small basket full of brightly coloured crayons.