Hey guys! So this is the second FF I'm publishing. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Please leave reviews and let me know what you think!

Chapter 1

Steve sat at the back of the spacious hall, listening to the man that was talking. The man's black hair was cut short to frame his bony face. Worry had drawn lines across his face that were yet to fade away. The man was talking about what he had experienced overseas. He was a veteran. Sam, Steve's close friend, was leaning his hands on the podium in front of the group, his eyes staying fixed on the man that had stood up to talk. Steve listened to every gory detail, his mind drawing vivid, blood-drenched images of what the man was describing in a trembling voice.

Had Bucky gone through something similar?

The thought made his stomach twist and he had to close his eyes to compose himself. It had been almost four years and yet the thought of Bucky still made Steve's mind spill over into a panic. He could still remember exactly what he had felt when they had told him that he was MIA and probably dead. Steve had yelled at them, telling them to get back out there and look for him. The enemy was everywhere, they had said, there was no way Sergeant Barnes could have survived. Listening to the man's story- to all the veterans' stories- he began believing the men that had told him that his best friend was gone for good. How could Bucky have survived in a war? Yes, he had been an incredibly able man and yet there was no way he could fight off an entire army on his own. He forced himself to stop thinking about Bucky and bright steel-blue eyes and a charming smile. He tried not to think of Bucky's lifeless body lying in a trench somewhere, drenched in his own blood. He tried to tell himself that Bucky was better off now, happy wherever he was. A movement yanked him back to reality and he realized the man had finished talking and was now taking a seat again.

"Thank you for your honesty." Sam spoke in a level voice and the other veterans nodded in agreement, "I think we'll end our meeting on that note. I'm really proud of the progress you guys are making. Keep it up." He made a dismissive hand gesture and the group dispersed. A few veterans stayed behind to talk to Sam who smiled at each of them as they spoke. Sam really cared about these people, being a veteran himself. Sam had once told Steve about his wingman, his comrade Riley who hadn't made it back home with Sam. The loss of Riley was what got Sam into counselling. Steve watched quietly, studying the facial expressions of the veterans and Sam's reaction to them. Steve had always been extremely good at reading people. Being an artist, he tended to pay attention to the small details that other people missed and as a result, picked up on small, hardly visible changes in body language. The SWAT team had greatly appreciated that skillset of his. They had also appreciated his leadership qualities, his loyalty and his amazing physique. Steve hadn't always had broad shoulders and toned muscles that could make pretty much any guy jealous. Before Bucky enlisted, Steve had been a skinny, frail kid who would always get sick. Bucky would have to wrap him up in his arms and hold him all night to keep him warm during the winters.

Steve forced himself out of his thoughts again, smiling at Sam when the latter made his way over to him, having finished his talk with the veterans. "Today went really well." Sam noted, taking a seat next to Steve and crossing his arms across his built chest, "What do you think?" He added when Steve failed to give him a satisfactory response. "I kind of spaced out somewhere along the line." Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Sam eyed him for a moment, his black eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I know this ain't easy for you." Sam dropped his arms and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, "I know most of it reminds you of him." Steve felt a knot form in his stomach and he cleared his throat in an attempt to swallow the lump in his throat. "It does." He admitted openly, "But I guess it also helps me work through things."

"And you're sure you wanna do this?" Sam had asked Steve to assist him in working with veterans with extreme cases of PTSD. Steve had something special that made people warm up to him immediately. He was good for people and he was sensitive enough to be able to deal with PTSD patients without Sam having to supervise the whole time. At first Steve hadn't been sure whether or not he was the right man for the job. Sam had invited him to sit in with some of his sessions and with time, the thought of being able to help people had grown on Steve, so much so that he actually started to come out of his apartment more often just to visit the centre where Sam worked.

After finding out that Bucky was gone, he had tried to throw himself back into his work, follow orders, do the right thing. It hadn't been that easy though. After one and a half years of pretending that he was still capable of working under such high demands, he resigned, becoming somewhat of a hermit. The only time he would leave his flat for a longer period was to go out for a drink with Natasha, Sam and Clint. That is, until Sam asked him for help.

"I want to help people." Steve decided, looking Sam right in the eyes, "I really, really wanna do this." Sam smiled at that. Steve had that look on his face again- the look that let you know that he had set his mind on something and wasn't going to be deterred from that regardless of the circumstances. Steve was one of the most stubborn people Sam knew. "Well then-," Sam took a deep breath, wiggling around in his seat a tittle to sit more comfortably, "how about we start tomorrow?" Steve nodded. He let his sky blue eyes wander around the hall while he thought about working together with Sam.

It was a good thought. He was going to help people. He was going to ease his conscience.

The first few hours were awkward for Steve. It was strange to talk to people one on one. At first he had settled down beside Sam and had listened to the way he spoke to the veterans that were there for private counselling sessions. He'd try to memorise Sam's body language and his mimicry, watching the way the veterans would respond to any changes that Sam displayed. Maybe he was overthinking things and over-analysing but he didn't want to make any mistakes. He was here to help people, not make things worse. Most of the time, Sam would just listen intently, nodding when the patient would look at him for affirmation. Obviously having someone to listen meant a lot to these people. It also helped to know that Sam shared the same kind of history with them. They needed to know that they weren't alone in what they'd gone through and that's what Sam was there for. After a while Sam withdrew himself more and more, leaving more room for Steve to ask pointed questions and jot down notes diligently.

Just as Sam had expected, the patients all took a liking to Steve very quickly. His easy smile and his bright eyes drew people in and made them feel at ease. His sturdy body won him their respect and his non-judgemental demeanour made them feel safe. Steve was a natural, even managing to coax a laugh or a smile out of some of the veterans. Talking to Steve was easy and it was something all of them appreciated very much. Steve would openly tell them about Bucky, knowing that it would help them to hear about it. It didn't do him much good though and by the time he had told the story for the fifth time, he felt emotionally drained and ready to curl up into a ball and wail.

He flinched when the office phone started ringing on the desk behind their patient. He looked over at Sam who was quick to answer the phone. The elderly man they were counselling watched Sam intently, his fuzzy grey eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about sir?" Steve asked him politely, drawing the man's attention to him while Sam spoke into the receiver in a hushed tone. The man hesitated for a moment, having been startled by the sudden loud noise. Steve waited, giving him a reassuring smile while he did so. "How do you do it?" The man's question startled Steve and he sat back in his chair, cocking his head to the side in a silent question, "How do you smile like that when you've lost someone so dear to you?" The question sent whirls of pain and anxiety through Steve and his body went rigid for a moment. Images of Bucky and the wonderful sound of his voice flooded his mind and the fact that all of that was gone made him feel anxious and empty. He had to swallow, bowing his head for a moment. These counselling sessions were about the veterans. Never had one of them actively asked Steve a question, never mind a question about Bucky of all things. It threw him off completely and Sam was too preoccupied with the phone call to help Steve much.

Be honest. He told himself, steeling himself and looking up at the man who was waiting for his answer expectantly. "It's not that easy." He admitted, "Most of the time I think that I don't deserve to smile when he…" his voice drifted off and the elderly man nodded understandingly, "But then I know that Bucky would have hit me over the head if he knew how much I was beating myself up over all of this." This made the man smile gently, "So I guess I'm trying to live my life for the both of us. 'Cause you don't die for your friends- you live for them. To me, giving up on happiness and letting all of this break me down would be the same as dying." The man's eyes widened and his jaw became slack for a moment, "I know it's so easy to think that we as survivors don't deserve any happiness whatsoever but if we think that way, we're not honouring our comrade's sacrifice. They made a choice and they must have thought that dying for something or someone was damn well worth it otherwise they wouldn't have done it. I know that if I had died instead of Bucky, and if I saw him moping around, I'd come back from the dead and beat some sense into him." If only Steve could follow his own damn advice. He'd spend hours thinking about how much he wished that he could have died in Bucky's place; hours feeling absolutely guilty and pathetic for having been rejected by the army when Bucky wasn't.

"Hey Steve?" Sam interrupted their conversation and Steve had to blink a few times to come out of his little thought bubble, "We have an emergency at the police station down the road. They called us to assist them." Police station? Since when was Sam called to help at a police station?

"Us?" The word slipped out of Steve's mouth before he could stop it.

"Yeah. Colonel Rhodes said he definitely wants you there too." Steve remembered Rhodey- he had been on numerous SWAT missions with Steve. He must have found out that Steve was helping Sam.

"I'm really sorry-." Steve wanted to apologize to the veteran but the man held his hand up to silence Steve.

"Go on boy." He smiled at him, "Go live your life for the two of you."

"Okay so what is going on?" Steve turned to Sam as soon as they had let the veteran out of their office.

"A man with a severe case of PTSD was brought to New York for a rehabilitation program but it didn't work."

"What do you mean it didn't work?"

"He's wrecked. Won't let anyone close to him. He's tried to kill every man or woman they send into his cell."

"They're keeping him in a cell? No wonder he feels the need to defend himself." Sam nodded at that, agreeing with Steve's sentiment.

"I guess if he's as volatile as Rhodey said he is then they might have no choice but to keep him in a cell." He paused, watching a contemplative frown creep onto Steve's face, "They're pretty desperate." Sam added hopefully. He knew he was throwing Steve into the deep end with this but he knew he couldn't do this without Steve. "Well…" Steve chewed on his bottom lip for a moment while considering his options, "I guess if Rhodey wants me there…"

"Thank you so much man! I owe you big time!" Sam slapped him on the back before slipping behind the desk that stood opposite to the sitting arrangement in front of a large window. He fished out his car key from the top drawer and twirled them on his finger, grinning at Steve who just rolled his eyes.

Steve's body was tight with nervousness when he got out of Sam's old Mustang. The police station was bustling with officers. It was a familiar sight, one that made Steve alert and ready to jump into action. He had wondered about Rhodey's wish to have him there the entire time while they drove over to the station. What reason could Rhodey have to want him there? Was it because of how volatile this man apparently was? Did he think that Steve could put up a fight and maybe calm him down?

He followed Sam through the front entrance of the police station. Rhodey was standing at the reception, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. His face lit up the moment he saw Sam and Steve walk through the entrance and he was quick to intercept them. "Thank goodness you could make it this quickly!" He shook both their hands, "Captain." He added, nodding at Steve who wanted to cringe at the title. He had a feeling that he was going to hear that often in the next while. "So what's the deal with this man?" Sam asked, leaning against the side of the reception and eying the pretty woman that sat there. "Well he came in yesterday. Bet you won't guess what they brought him in." Rhodey paused for a moment before continuing, "It was a maximum security cuff system similar to the one used on the electric chair. It's pretty much impossible to break out of." Steve remembered what it looked like. A large metal chair was bolted into the middle of a man-sized glass case. The arms and legs of the inmate are strapped to the chair by thick, impenetrable metal cuffs. Two metal brackets are placed over the prisoner's front and two over the back, constricting his movement entirely.

"Why would they need to use something like that on a normal veteran?" Steve asked and Rhodey shook his head, running the back of his hand over his forehead while sighing. "Well 'cause he ain't no normal veteran..." Steve exchanged a wary glance with Sam who fixed Rhodey with a concentrated stare. "Tell us everything you know."

"He's a lot stronger than a normal person and well… his left arm is a prosthetic made out of metal. It isn't just metal though, it's cybernetic and extremely powerful. He managed to punch a hole right through one of our walls with that. He doesn't seem to know who he is or where he is. He hasn't said a single word since contained and, as I told you before Sam, he's tried to kill every single person that's gone in to talk to him. We've sent in our best psychologist but he came out with two broken arms, a dislocated shoulder, lacerations all over his face, a splintered leg and strangle marks all over his neck."

"Wait…" Steve frowned, "You said a veteran with an extreme case of PTSD. If he doesn't know who he is, how do you know he's a veteran?" Rhodey nodded hastily and his hand vanished into the inside pocket of his dark blue military blazer. The familiar sound of dog tags clinking together drew Steve's attention to the two metal objects dangling at the end of the chain Rhodey was holding up. "They were covered in blood and dented but we managed to clean them up nicely. He was wearing these when they found him." He handed them to Sam who inspected them first. Steve craned his neck, trying to see the name but Sam took his time to look at them. Soon though, Steve found the dog tags in his hand. He turned them over so he could see the name and for a short moment, his brain short circuited and the blood in his veins froze.

"James B. Barnes." He read the name out loud before dropping the dog tags, taking a step back and sinking to the ground.

So there you have chapter 1! I really hope you enjoyed it and I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the ff. Let me know what you think~