He was trying to make peace with his past.
So was she.
James Barnes and Anastasia Morozov were similar in many ways, and possibly the only people on the planet who understood each other. Both having a past with HYDRA and experiments, being used and...
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"So, have you spoken to anyone new?” Dr Raynor asked me, I looked to my fidgeting hands. “Anastasia.” I looked back up at her, her notebook already in her hands and a pen scribbling on the paper. “We’ve been seeing each other for long enough now that I know that silence means you don’t want to answer the question.”
“You want to hear me say it then?” I asked.
“Only if you feel like speaking.” She answered, I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. “And if you feel like blinking you are more than welcome to.”
“Fine, I haven’t spoken to anyone.” I told her, blinking just to keep her from telling me off for staring again.
“No one new or… no one at all?”
“Since I was here last?”
“Yes, Anastasia, I’m not sure what else you thought I meant.” I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes that time.
“No one at all.” I answered.
“Jesus Christ, and how many plants did you buy?”
“That’s a personal question.”
“I’m supposed to ask personal questions, or have you forgotten what we’re doing here?”
“I bought another two.”
“Two?”
“Fine, four.” I answered.
“Your apartment must look like a jungle by this point. And how are you sleeping?” She asked next, she only asked that question because she could see how dark the skin under my eyes was. I didn’t answer. “So you’re not.” I still kept quiet. “Is it the dreams again?” I just stared at her. “So it is. Are they the same or is it something new?” I played with the hem of my shirt. “The same then, which means you aren’t using my techniques-”
“Your techniques don’t fucking work.” I cut her off.
“You have PTSD, the techniques I showed you-”
“Well maybe your techniques aren’t designed for someone that let half of the entire universe disappear for five years.” I cut her off once more. Raynor sighed and put down the notebook and pen, leaning forward onto her knees.
“The Blip, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I was there, in Wakanda, and I let Thanos live.”
“This doesn’t fall to you, an entire war against an alien race and an alien psychopath does not rest on your shoulders. It never did.” I shook my head.
“You clearly don’t understand, only I was capable of stopping him but I chose not to-”
“You chose to keep yourself in control-”
“At what cost?” I asked, once again dropping my eyes to the floor.
“Anastasia, it is not your fault.” The way she said it with such finality almost made me believe her. Almost. “If the fate of the universe rested on a singular persons shoulders, they would have to be a hell of a lot more stable than you are.”
“Thanks.” I responded sarcastically.
“You have to make peace with yourself, and the only way to do that is to talk to people with a shared experience.”
“I don’t know anyone with a similar experience to mine.” I replied, looking back to her.
“Do you talk to any of the Avengers?”
“No, I can’t fight for them because I’m here so I’m useless to them.” I told her. The conditions of my pardon from previous atrocities meant I couldn’t fight and had to see this Doctor until she says I’m stable enough to go back on the field. If I’m ever stable enough to go back onto the field.
“You know, other people feel this guilt that you feel.”
“Do they? Do their shared experiences go back to brainwashing? Experiments that caused excessive changes to my body? Killing people without being in control of myself?” I asked rhetorically. Even if I could talk to someone who felt the guilt I felt, they had no chance of relating to anything else I had been through. The trauma that caused my PTSD.
“You sound like another patient of mine.” She told me, and it piqued my interest.
“Who?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Fine.” That didn’t mean I wouldn’t find out.
“Look, all I’m trying to say is that you need some friends. You’re alone, it’s not just dangerous but detrimental to your own mental health. If you want to get back on the field then you need to move past what has already happened and focus on the future.”
“You want me to make friends? I’m an assassin, raised in the Red Room, experimented on by Hydra and I have been essentially dead for five years. I don’t have much going for me.” I stated.
“You know, if all you do is focus on the shit, then you can’t move past the shit. I get it, it’s hard to switch off the killer part of yourself and be around people again, but it’s only going to happen if you actually try it.” She told me, I nodded slowly. “Now, remember, no killing people, no violence and make peace with your past.”
“Of course.” I stood up and walked out the door without a second thought. That was how she always finished our sessions, with the same sentence. Was it effective? Sure, if you discount the fact that I somehow got entangled with violence by just breathing. Walking down the stairs to exit the building I noticed someone just outside the glass door. I put my hood over my head so I could conceal myself as I walked out and they walked in. I recognised them, from Wakanda and from years before that.
James Barnes, the Winter Soldier.
He must be the other patient Raynor was talking about. I stopped walking outside of the building and turned to look back in. Raynor was usually careful with her words around me, I’m very good at twisting them to what I want to hear. It was because of this that I knew the mention of her other patient was important.
