DAY 1

She smoothed a hand down her tan skirt as she sat and pulled out her glasses. She placed them on the table in front of her and looked at the man in the box. He didn't look evil. He didn't even look crazy. He looked tired.

"Hello, Sergeant Barnes," she said. "I'm Doctor Spencer. I've been asked to come talk to you today, if that's all right."

He said nothing; just stared straight ahead, past her as if she wasn't even there.

"Sergeant Barnes seems so formal. Would you prefer I call you James?" No reaction. "You could call me Sasha, if you like."

There. His eyes flicked to her for just a moment before he looked away again.

"Captain Rogers tells me he calls you Bucky. Would you prefer that?"

Nothing.

"Well, then, for the sake of brevity I think I'll call you James."

Sasha put on her glasses, brushed a lock of her light brown hair from her face, and picked up her pen.

"Do you understand why I'm here, James?" She waited for a response, but didn't get one. "I'm supposed to evaluate your mental state. Captain Rogers believes your past actions were not under your control, and that you aren't guilty of the bombing. Is that true?"

After several moments of silence, Sasha removed her glasses and leaned back in her chair.

"I'm not the enemy, James. Your silence will only hurt your cause if you're innocent. Just one word; that's all I want. Were you involved in the bombing?"

Sasha realized she wasn't getting an answer, so she collected her things.

"No."

Sasha looked up. Barnes was staring straight at her now.

"I wasn't involved. And that's all I'm saying to you."

"Fair enough."

The meeting with the Accord council gave her a headache. She sat at a table before the panel and stated her case; Barnes's case. After four hours of worse case scenarios and lots of legalities, Sasha managed to convince them that the little time she had with Sergeant Barnes was not enough for anyone to make professional analysis.

"I believe Captain Rogers is correct. Barnes is not guilty of the bombing, but he's also not very forthcoming. If I'm going to help him, or learn anything about what happened to him, I need time. He needs to be transferred to my hospital."

"You don't have the man power required to hold a soldier like Barnes. He would break out as soon as you turned your back."

"Have you actually looked at him since you brought him in? Does he look like a man plotting his escape? Once he was caught, he came without struggle. He's sitting in that bulletproof box, completely bound, and the only vibe I'm getting from him is that he wants to take a nap. If Barnes was the killer you say he is he would already be out, because you never would have got him here."

The people on the panel exchanged looks.

"If we turn Barnes over to you, he is your responsibility. If anything goes wrong, you will be held accountable."

Sasha stopped breathing. This would put her entire career on a chopping block, for one patient.

"Fine."

DAY 2

Steve Rogers was allowed to accompany Barnes to the mental facility and stay just long enough for Barnes to settle in his room. Sasha knew that Barnes had to trust her. Allowing him to have contact with his best friend was a good start, but it meant nothing if he wouldn't talk to her.

After changing into the thick white scrubs worn by all patients, Barnes was escorted by orderlies to her office. She didn't usually do sessions there, often preferring to go to the patients' rooms since they sometimes became highly aggitated, but she wanted to invite Barnes into her space. It would let him get a glimpse of her, albeit a small one.

Barnes sat in a chair in front of her desk and stared straight ahead. His long hair obscured part of his face.

"Hello, James. Are you going to talk to me today?"

Silence. No movement.

"Well, at least you're consistent. You know, we don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. We could talk about life in Brooklyn... before the war. I have to admit, it's fascinating having a man from your time sitting here, not having aged. What has that experience been like for you? Are you adjusting to the modern world?"

She leaned back in her chair and twirled her pen in her hand.

"That time period had always fascinated me," she said. "Have you ever felt nostalgic for something you've never even experienced? That's how I am with that period. That must sound odd to you, since you lived it."

Sasha realized she was in for the long haul with this man. He wasn't giving her anything. Shut tighter than a clam.

"All right," she said. "I get it. You don't trust me. I don't know why, but I know that's the case. So, I'll let you talk if you want to talk. As long as we're having our daily sessions they can't take you to prison. So, talk... or don't talk. Your call."

She stood and grabbed a book from one of her shelves, then sat behind her desk with her feet up, crossed at the ankles. At first she only pretended to read, hoping her nonchalance would put him at ease enough to open up, but after several long minutes she began to read.

A knock at her door told her their time was up. She closed her book, put her feet on the floor, and sighed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, James."

DAY 3

"Good morning, James. I thought we could get our session done early today. Are we going to talk?"

Barnes stared straight ahead.

"All right. Why don't I tell you a little about myself, then? I was born in 1982, in a small town in Virginia. My dad was military. He met my mom in Russia, and they married before they came back home. That's why my name is Sasha. My mother insisted on giving me some of her culture. She taught me a little Russian, but we mostly spoke English in the house so she could learn and stay practiced." She leaned back in her chair. "I've been running this hospital for almost three years. My main focus, with all of my patients, is to help them. Now, that means something different for each patient. I don't believe in a one-size-fits-all psychology. That's why I need you to talk to me."

She leaned forward with her forearms on her desk, but Barnes didn't flinch.

"You're not comatose in there, are you?"

"No."

"Good. That's something."

She pulled her book from the shelf and propped her feet up.

"Let me know if you want to talk."

This time she didn't pretend. She began reading right away.