Notes:

I really wanted to explore Bucky's state of mind as it was at the end of Civil War. He'd recovered his memories (according to the Russos), carried out normal conversations for the most part, and was surviving on his own, and yet he was still dealing with the fallout of all that was done to him.

She spent two weeks reading his files, studying him. In truth, she didn't need that much time, but she was more than a little bit nervous about getting back into things, especially with such a sensitive client. Client. Right… like she actually felt that professional about this situation.

She'd settled into a routine of sorts at the Wakandan facility. Making breakfast of toast and coffee in the kitchen (she was a terrible cook), reviewing files, reading in the library, jogging on the treadmill in the gym, shower, lunch, more reading, internet TV, dinner, bed. Rinse, repeat. Sometimes, when a file or footage was especially bad (all the video was hard to take, to be honest, even as grainy and blurry as some of it was), she'd have a drink or five. Just because she knew better than to self-medicate didn't mean she didn't do it. Hell, the shape she was in, she shouldn't be counseling anyone, but she couldn't argue that James Barnes was way more damaged than she was, and she'd set a pretty low bar. He needed her help, and she'd delayed long enough. Tomorrow they'd begin. Besides, if she waited much longer, she'd have to add Steve to her client list.

Hilly settled into the recliner and propped her laptop up on her knees. She took a deep breath and pressed play. Tonight she was watching all the cryo footage again to prepare for tomorrow, and she doubted if it was going to be any easier to watch than it had been the first time around.

There Barnes was, enclosed in a cylindrical glass cage, his eyes wide open and staring, muzzle in place. Oh, god. They didn't even put him to sleep before they froze him. She took a sip of the top-shelf Bourbon T'Challa had gifted her to make her feel at home and steeled for the next part. Two guards stood watch as he began to thaw. The monitors lit up as awareness returned. His muscles seized and twitched, sweat beading on his skin, pouring from him until his skin shone with it and his hair clung wetly to his face.

He was afraid when he woke, that much was clear. Afraid and weak. She winced as someone in a lab coat ripped out his IV and roughly disconnected him from his cryo tank. The pair of heavily armed guards dragged him out, barefoot, half blind, and terrified while others stood ready, weapons armed and pointed at their Asset. That's what they called him in the files. The hell with that, and the hell with professionalism. He would be Bucky to her, unless he told her differently.

Hilly downed a hefty swig and squeezed her eyes shut as the liquor burned a warm path down her throat into her belly. She needed to watch, but she wished she didn't have to. Bucky was placed directly from cryo freeze into the chair. Evil device. Again, such fear, as he was sat in the chair and the restraints locked him down. His chest heaved, his hands clenched, and the screams, oh, the screams. The pain he'd endured, over and over as his mind refused to stay broken. What had it been like for him? No memories, no familiar faces? Being brought out of cryo after years had passed with no idea who he was or what he was or anything more than obey and pain. And every time something started to break through, there came the wipe. More pain.

She had to help him.

She'd broken conditioning in others with not an ounce of his stubborn will. She could do this, if he was willing. If he did his part. She tossed back the rest of the liquor, poured more and cued the next recording.

She wasn't in the room when they brought Bucky out of cryostasis. Steve was afraid he might turn violent, and as she was a soft, squishy human, she was to wait on the other side of the lab behind a foot thick wall of reinforced bullet-proof glass. She was able to listen, and had a com link to the room, at her insistence. After watching the footage of previous extractions, they were all in agreement that this one would need to be as different as they could possibly make it.

Hydra's methods made it clear that Bucky was a tool to them, and his care or comfort was never a consideration. If she saw something she didn't like, saw him reacting in a way she didn't like, she could intervene. Steve had her back, insisting she be a part of the process. She believed Steve's presence was going to be the biggest help. If anything would reassure Bucky Barnes, it would be seeing Steve's face when he awoke.

The scientist in her was fascinated as she watched the techs manipulate fluids and the computer feeds, bringing Bucky back into the world as gently as possible. Steve stood sentinel. She'd been warned Bucky may be violent as he awoke, and Steve was one of the few who could subdue him, if it became necessary.

It wasn't.

As gentle as they tried to be, Bucky woke in a panic, eyes wide, heart pounding so hard it set off the alarms on his monitor. As soon as Steve's voice calling him by name broke through the fugue, he calmed. There was no unnecessary pain, no restraints, no dragging him out for a wipe. His oldest friend was the first thing he saw once his vision cleared. He was helped, not dragged, into a reclining bed to recover, soothing voices in his ear as he was swathed in a warm blanket. She approved. They were treating him as he deserved. It would help, when they began piecing his mind back together.

Steve sat with him for hours, watching him carefully as clarity slowly returned to Bucky's eyes. Hilly asked the techs to bring food for them both as the time stretched on. She didn't want to leave either, not until she was sure Bucky knew he was safe. Not until he was speaking.

"Is the programming gone?" Bucky asked, his voice rusty and so soft Steve had to lean in to hear him.

His first question. Of course it would be.

"No," Steve answered, "but we think we found a way. Probably. A person that has broken programming before. She's good. The best."

"I'm not a normal case, Steve."

"I know. I know that, but what the Wakandan scientists can do, and what she can do, has done— I think it'll work."

Bucky shook his head, "If it doesn't—"

"Look. There's no way to just pull the programming out. I wish there was. It's going to take time, and your cooperation. Full cooperation, Buck."

Bucky nodded, giving Steve a small smile, "Okay."

She couldn't help but think he was just agreeing for Steve's sake.

Bucky was drinking a cup of coffee when she was finally cleared to meet him. He'd showered and changed his clothes since she'd seen him last. She supposed if she'd just spent the better part of a year in cryo, she'd want a shower too. He eyed her warily as she entered his room and took a seat opposite him, but he'd answered her knock with a "come in" so in theory, he was at least open to conversation. Considering what she'd read in his files, his distrust of her only made sense. He hadn't had great experience with doctors, and his last encounter with the psychiatrist-that-wasn't-one hadn't been so great either.

"Hi. My name is Dr. Audhilde Zilberschlag. Please call me Hilly. Your friend Steve asked me to help you."

"He said they haven't taken out the programming, but you can," he said, looking for her confirmation.

"We'll do our best, but it's going to be a long road. We're going to have to discuss your history. Work through your trigger words and deactivate them, one by one. The Wakandans have a device that can scan your brain waves, and a team of specialists in the field of neurology and neurophysics. It'll help to tell us when we're close to a trigger, or a trap. I'm hoping it speeds up the process somewhat."

"A trap?"

"Kill switch. Common in cases like yours," she said.

He drew in a deep breath, and she could see the thought had never occurred to him. He probably had more fail safes than Ft. Knox. Deprogramming was going to be tricky, and painful, and difficult, but from what she had learned of him, he could do it.

"There's other cases like me?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Similar, yeah. Unfortunately."

He nodded, chewing on his lip, "Okay. I'll do what I have to."

"Good," she smiled. "I'm afraid it could get uncomfortable for you."

He scoffed, "Yeah. I'm used to that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

He shrugged a shoulder. The metal one.

"How do you feel?" she asked, pointedly looking at his missing limb.

He glanced down at the remains of his cybernetic arm, "A little off balance. Brain is foggy… foggier than usual," he amended, with a ghost of a smile.

"The lab is working on a new prosthetic for you, but—"

"It's better to leave it off until I can be counted on not to kill anyone," he supplied.

"It's not ready. The technology was something different than they'd ever seen. And yes, they preferred to wait until they could perform the procedure on you without it stirring up any violent reactions."

He nodded, stung a bit at the truth behind her words.

"I won't lie to you," she said, "even if it's painful. I'd like you to do the same for me."

He pressed his lips together, considering his next words, "I may refuse to answer."

Hilly smiled, "More than fair. Answering is always your choice, and I may do the same, but we have to be honest. That's critical, or else we're wasting our time."

Bucky nodded, but she saw the strain in the set of his shoulders.

"Only question I'll ask today. What would you have me call you? James, or Bucky?"

"Bucky. My father went by James…" his forehead furrowed, searching for the memory, "his middle name."

"What was your father's name?" she asked.

Bucky gave her a true smile, "That's two, Doctor Hilly."

Wow, did his face transform when he smiled. "Hm?" she asked, trying to remember the question.

"George. George James Barnes. He died in the war," he looked down into his coffee, the smile gone, "like I did."

"Hey. You didn't die. You're still here. We all are changed by our experiences, and you've had more than your fair share, but you are still you. And I promise you, I will do everything I can to make sure that no one can take your will again."

"Yeah. I can't—" he swallowed hard, "I can't."

"I know." She reached out to lay her hand on his arm, hesitated, leaving it hanging midair a beat too long. Too late. He'd noticed her hesitation. She was out of practice. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his arm closer to her. She started, then got control of herself and simply squeezed his arm briefly and let it go.

"We'll start tomorrow, if you're ready. If you need more time, just let me know. Gym and kitchen are a floor below, or during the day you can find something to eat at the lab's café. There's a library down there too. If you ever need company, I'm just down the hall in the room across from the stairs. I've been here a couple of weeks, so I know my way around pretty well. I also don't sleep much, so don't worry about waking me. Steve's room is just directly across the hall from you."

"You're staying here? You and Steve?"

She nodded, "As long as you need me. You'll have to ask Steve how long he'll stay, but I know for the first few weeks he'll be around as much as he can. He's keeping a low profile at the moment. This is good for him too… and me. Believe me, we're here because we want to be."

"So what, we just live here until this stuff in my head is gone?"

"Until it's controllable, yes. 'Gone' is a matter of perspective."

"And I just…" he gestured to the facilities.

"Yes. Whatever you need to do. T'Challa was clear. You're a guest, and everyone that's here is here to help you. This is a secure facility. If there is trouble, it can be locked down."

"What if I hurt someone? You'll be locked in here with me."

"Do you think that's going to happen?"

"You flinched. Do you think that's going to happen?"

"My demons, not yours. It might, but I trust you'll tell me if you think it's a possibility."

He dropped his eyes to his lap, "Half the time I was out there, after I remembered who I was, I felt like I was jumping out of my skin. Still, I thought I had things under control, but I didn't." He gave her the briefest of glances before dropping his gaze again, swallowed hard, "I get confused… I don't know what I might do," he admitted.

"Fair answer. Good answer. Honest. We'll figure something out."

His lips twisted in an almost-smile, but the tightness around his eyes and in the stiff set of his shoulders told her more than he was willing to share. She didn't believe in treating patients with kid gloves. It was good to challenge them, but he'd had enough for today.

"Okay. It's been a hell of a day. I say you try and settle in as best you can, and I'll see you in the morning. If you need me, you know where to find me."

He nodded, his relief easy to read.

She spent the rest of the evening reviewing all of the footage she had of him, and true to her word, she didn't sleep well.

Notes:

Thank you for reading, and I appreciate the encouragement. :) I hope you liked this installment, and please tell me if you did... it makes my day and fuels my muse. Let me tell ya, writing in a new fandom is nerve wracking!