Despite his decision to get help, Steve still can't help feeling guilty as the Avengers around him prepare to face off against Hydra. Clint and Natasha disappear for a few days and return smelling of smoke and looking triumphant, declaring the Washington base and Zola's bunker to be neutralised.
Tony and Bruce work steadily at producing a sedative for Bucky (although it's more Bruce than Tony on that one), and Tony lets himself go wild on improving Sam's Falcon equipment.
Steve, on the other hand, waits patiently (albeit nervously) for Sam to get back from settling his things in D.C., because once he returns, they can finally start the process of getting Steve one of these therapist people.
They go to the VA NY Harbor Health Care System Manhattan Campus first and get him registered there to see a doctor.
The process isn't insanely complicated, but he's glad he has Sam to help him navigate the system. He's fairly certain that without Sam's help, he'd probably give up on this whole thing before he even started.
He hasn't seen a civilian doctor since waking up from the ice, and it's awkward having to admit things to a stranger that he's just barely come to admit to himself, but once he's finished talking to her, she formally diagnosis him with PTSD, and for some reason, it's more of a relief than he'd expected.
It's nice, in a way, to be reassured that what he's going through is normal, understandable, and treatable.
Medication isn't really an option for him, so his doctor recommends therapy and Sam helps him complete the process in finding one that would suit him.
"I know this guy," Sam says as he hands him a business card. "He's a vet too, so he'll be able to relate to your situation better than some other people, and he can sign an NDA so that you can talk about SHIELD and Avenger stuff no problem."
Even though he's made up his mind to get help, it still takes him several days to convince himself to finally make the appointment with 'Jason Davis'. And once he does, he finds himself growing both nervous and excited as the day approaches.
Jason has an office in the Manhattan VA centre, where he does most of his counselling, and Steve's fingers tap together restlessly as he sits in the waiting room. Today marks the longest time he's been away from Bucky since taking down the Helicarriers and it feels… wrong not to have him hovering by his shoulder at all times.
The feeling leaves him jittery and tense even though he knows that Bucky should be fine. He'd left him watching movies with Clint, and while Bucky hadn't seemed happy about him leaving, he hadn't freaked out either. And he had specifically scheduled his first session in the afternoon so that he could feed Bucky before he left, since he wasn't sure how Bucky would react if someone else made him food.
So, things should be fine.
Steve sucks in a breath and tries to keep his foot from tapping against the floor as he waits to be called in.
This is good, he reminds himself. This is what you wanted.
That doesn't make him any less nervous though.
"Mr. Rogers?" He looks up to see an African-American man with short dreads and a button-down shirt stepping towards him.
"That's me," Steve says, standing up and offering his hand. "But please call me Steve."
The man smiles at him and accepts his handshake. "I'm Jason Davis," he says, before gesturing behind him. "How 'bout we head to my office."
Steve swallows and nods, subtly trying to wipe his sweaty hands on his jeans as he follows Jason out of the waiting room and down the hall, into his office. The room is decorated in warm tones of wood and leather, with bookshelves lining the walls and a wooden desk in the corner by a window, and two comfortable looking chairs facing each other in the middle of the room, with a coffee table sitting in between them.
As Jason motions for him to sit in one, Steve notices that they are both situated so that both the window and the door to the room can be seen from either chair, neither occupant having to sit with their back to an exit. That very fact makes him feel a little more at ease as he settles into his chair, choosing to set the pillow it comes with on the ground beside him.
"So, I know you've already gone through the paperwork at the desk," Jason says as he sits across from Steve. "But I wanted to go over it with you, in case you have any questions."
Steve nods and listens carefully as Jason goes on to explain the confidentiality agreement between the both of them and its few exceptions. "I also usually take notes during my sessions," Jason explains. "They help me remember what we've talked about, but if that makes you uncomfortable then I won't do that."
Steve's eyes drop down to the pad of paper and pen sitting on the coffee table and he crosses his leg in front of him. "That's okay," he says, his eyes focusing on the back of Jason's chair. "I don't mind."
Jason nods easily and Steve reminds himself to breathe deeply as the man reaches for the pad and rests it on his lap. "So," Jason says, his posture open as he looks up at Steve. "What brings you here today?"
Steve blinks in surprise because he kind of assumed that Jason would already know somehow, but then, maybe he just wanted to know what he was willing to share.
"Well." He licks his lips and clasps his hands in his lap, rubbing his thumbs together. "I… have a friend and he told me… well actually a few of my friends, they kind of implied that I should see a therapist." His eyes dart up to meet Jason's for a second before he looks down at his hands again. "I looked into it and I saw a doctor and… apparently I have PTSD."
Jason nods and crosses his legs under his pad. "What did you think about that?" He asks. "Your friends, and the doctor's diagnosis?"
Steve shifts and looks out towards the window of the office. "At first… when Tony brought up therapists, I was…" He presses his lips together and looks up at Jason. "You know about my history as Captain America?" Jason nods and Steve looks to the side, taking in a breath.
"In the Forties, 'mental health' was treated differently," he explains. "And when Tony brought it up the first time, I didn't know things were different now, so… I was… I was scared, I guess. I didn't want to go see someone."
Jason makes a mark on his paper and tilts his head. "What about now?" He asks quietly.
Steve sits back slightly and breathes out a little. "I'm still… nervous," he admits, rubbing his hand on his leg. "But… but I'm glad that I can do this. I'm glad that things have changed since then."
Jason smiles at him and Steve feels himself relax slightly. "It's completely natural to feel nervous coming into therapy," he reassures. "Especially for the first time. But you've made an important and difficult step forward in your own health, and I'm proud of you for that decision."
Steve breathes in and ducks his head slightly, feeling both proud and slightly embarrassed at receiving praise from someone he's just met.
Thankfully, Jason doesn't let them linger too long like that, shifting in his seat a little as he asks his next question. "So, why are you here? What do you want to get out of therapy?"
Steve's brow furls in surprise. He hadn't really thought about that. "I… I want to feel better," he says after a moment. "I want to be able to sleep peacefully and I want… I want to be able to… to be in a place where I can help my friend, Bucky."
Jason tilts his head and gives Steve a curious look. "Tell me about Bucky," he says.
Talking with Jason isn't as hard as he'd thought it might be. Over the course of his session he recounts Bucky when they were kids, the war, Bucky's death, and his discovery of Hydra and subsequent reunion with Bucky. The words seem to spill out of him and, it feels… better, in a way, to be able to line up the events of his life like that, to show someone how quickly things have changed.
As they near the end of their first session and Steve finishes explaining the situation with Bucky now, Jason sets down his pad of paper and clasps his hands.
"Thank you for telling me all that," he says, his eyes warm as he looks at Steve. "It helps me understand your situation. Now, I'd like to keep seeing you, if you feel we're the right fit." He smiles slightly at Steve's confused expression. "Sometimes it takes a while to find the right counsellor," he explains. "And if you don't think I'm the right one, then that is perfectly fine."
Steve rubs his hands on his pants and sits back, feeling drained now that he's finished talking. "I'd… I'd like that," he says slowly. "I'd like to come back."
Jason smiles at him. "I'm glad to hear that," he says warmly. "Will the same time next week work?" Steve nods and Jason copies him, lifting up his pad of paper. "For next week, I'd like you to keep a list of your PTSD symptoms and triggers," he says. "I'd like to start discussing them next time, will that work?"
Steve breathes in and nods. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I can do that."
oOo
Steve returns to the tower feeling inexplicably tired, and he rubs a hand over his face as he takes the elevator up to the common room where Bucky should be waiting.
Talking with Jason had been… good. At least he thinks so. He's actually a little impatient to go back, a part of him feeling like he'd barely just gotten started by the time the session had ended.
These kinds of things take time, he reminds himself. That's what Sam says.
Still, talking with Jason was also draining and his stomach lurches a little in exhaustion as the elevator door opens to reveal the common room.
Bucky stands from his seat on the couch as soon as he enters, ignoring the movie he'd been watching and choosing to follow Steve with his eyes instead.
Steve tries to smile at him, but it probably comes off more as a grimace. Clint turns to look at him too and pauses the movie, some cartoon thing that Steve has yet to see.
"Hey Cap," Clint greets him after a moment, an easy smile on his face. "We were just watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, did you want to watch?"
Steve looks between Clint, Bucky and the screen before shrugging tiredly. "Sure," he says, going over to settle onto the couch next to Clint, being careful to leave Bucky his space by the arm of the couch. "What's it about?"
Clint rattles off a quick recap on the film about a wild horse during the settlement of the West and both of them carefully ignore Bucky's stilted movements as he slowly lowers himself back onto the couch.
"We're about halfway through," Clint says as he presses play on the movie. "You'll have to re-watch the whole thing yourself sometime."
The movie is good, and the soundtrack is compelling, but Steve actually doesn't see much of it before his eyes traitorously slip closed and he falls asleep.
He wakes up sometime later, the TV off and a blanket tucked around him, Bucky staring at him from his spot in a chair a few feet away. Steve stares back and blinks a little in confusion. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, it's actually quite unusual for him to take naps, but it seems as though the restless nights on his mattress have started to add up a little.
Plus, he usually falls asleep on couches anyways, so this is not actually that unusual.
Except of course, the fact that he'd done it in public, in front of Clint and Bucky.
Embarrassment colours his cheeks as he sits up drowsily and looks around. The common room is empty now, and the light coming in from the windows tells him it's definitely late afternoon.
"JARVIS, what time is it?" He asks, giving Bucky a once-over as he starts pushing the blanket away and stands up.
"The time is 5:22 pm," JARVIS replies.
"Ah." Steve blinks and stretches. "I guess we better start getting supper ready then," he says to Bucky.
He almost misses it on his way to the kitchen, but for a second it looks like Bucky gives the barest, tiniest of a nod in response.
They head back to his room after supper and Steve finds that the boxes containing Bucky's dresser and clothes have arrived and been delivered to his door.
"Oh good," he says as he lifts them up and makes his way inside. "I guess we just need to assemble it."
If only he had been prepared for what he was getting himself into.
Assembling furniture should be a form of torture, he thinks frustratedly an hour later as he glares at the piles of screws and wood spread around him. Whoever designed this was definitely a sadist.
"Okay," he says, taking a measured breath. "What's the next step again?"
Next to him, Bucky dutifully lifts up the instruction pages and reads out the next step needed to build the dresser. "Step five," he says carefully, turning the paper so that Steve can see the helpful illustrations. "Add, and screw in drawer side rails."
"Okay," Steve says again, scowling determinedly and reaching for his screwdriver. "Can you hand me the screws?"
Despite how frustrating the vague instructions are for the dresser, it's surprisingly… nice building it with Bucky. The work seems to set Bucky more at ease and it's the first time they've really been able to work together in a long time.
"There," Steve says, wiping his brow and looking proudly at the finished dresser. "You can put your clothes in the first two drawers and your bedding in the bottom."
Bucky's eyes flicker to the box of clothes next to him and nods slowly.
"Of course, you can put whatever you want in your dresser," Steve says distractedly as he stands up and stretches. "I'll let you know when it's laundry day."
Bucky's eyes scan him as he stands up slowly too and watches him gather up the bits of plastic and garbage that came with the dresser.
"I'll let you put your stuff away," Steve says as he throws the garbage away and starts heading for his room, intent on giving Bucky some space and maybe getting some sleep himself. "Let me know if you need anything."
The lights in the Vault tint everything a sickly yellow and give Bucky's skin a washed-out look. He's strapped into the chair again, but this time he's struggling, his eyes wide and his breath short as he jerks against the restraints.
Steve's breath catches as he takes a step towards him, his steps slow and heavy, as if he's trying to drag himself through molasses. Bucky's eyes snap to his and he jerks compulsively on the restraints.
"S-Steve?" He gasps out, and Steve's heart clenches as he tries to reach for him. "Steve— Steve help me, please Steve," Bucky's eyes roll back in fear and his hands clench together as he pants and strains against the chair.
A sudden presence at his side makes Steve flinch and he turns to see Pierce, a lifeless smile on his face as he reaches over to clasp his shoulder, his hand cold and unmoving.
"The Asset needs to be reset," he says, his lips thin and grey, like a dead fish.
No! Steve tries to say, his eyes widening in horror. But the word stays trapped in his throat and he finds himself stumbling towards the terminal by Bucky's chair anyways, his movements stiff and lurching, like a puppet on broken strings.
Bucky's eyes widen as he nears and his breath stutters as his pulse skyrockets. "Wait!" He begs, his limbs straining against the restraints. "Wait no! Please!"
Steve's stomach clenches and his eyes burn as he halts in front of the terminal, bile rising in his throat and the sound of his and Bucky's heartbeats merging together into a cacophony of sound in his ears.
Bucky's eyes meet his, frantic and terrified as he struggles. "Stevie." His breath hitches and he jerks helplessly against the restraints, confusion colouring his voice and face. "Stevie… please."
Pierce's hand clamps down on his shoulder and Steve shivers as he leans over him. "You know what you need to do, Captain," he hisses lowly, his breath wet against his ear as he pulls his hand towards the switch on the terminal. "For the greater good."
"No!" Bucky cries and jerks in the chair. "No! Steve please!"
Steve jerks awake, tears in his eyes and no air left in his lungs. His heart pounds painfully against his chest as he untangles himself frantically from his blankets and leans over the side of his bed. His lungs spasm and he drags in a lungful of air before gagging and shuddering, his hands clenched in his bed sheets as though trying to anchor him.
Panting, he swipes a hand across his wet face and tries to slow down his breathing. The sheets and the shirt on his back are cold from sweat, and the blankets on his bed hopelessly tangled, the familiar sight making him wonder why he'd even bothered going to bed in the first place.
Squeezing his eyes shut and sinking back down into the bed, he sucks in another measured breath and curls in on himself. The image of Bucky trapped and frantic in the chair threatening to overwhelm him again.
And that's when he hears it.
It's hardly a sound at all, more of a stuttered breath, and part of him is amazed he even hears it at all, but his senses are on high-alert after his nightmare and his eyes jerk to his cracked door, the living room beyond it a darkened shadow.
His own breathing quiets and drops suddenly as he freezes and listens harder, his mind frantically latching onto the distraction.
He hears it again, the barest hitching of a breath, and he realises with a jolt that it must be Bucky in the other room. Steve's breaths even out as he wipes his face again and processes his discovery.
Bucky was… was Bucky having his own nightmare?
Steve's eyes stay glued on his door as he thinks and tries to figure out what to do. He doesn't think he's ever heard Bucky having a nightmare before, and he's not quite sure what the best way to react would be.
Going out to check on Bucky might make his friend worry he's in trouble for having nightmares, or he could simply be embarrassed with Steve seeing him like that (heaven knows Steve would be.) But it could also help him realise he's safe and that Steve is willing to help him…
In the end, it's partially Steve's own discomfort in his bed that pushes him up and out his door into the living room.
It's too dark to see much at first, but his eyes soon adjust, and he can see Bucky sitting up, looking pale and cautious from his seat on the couch. He seems to be trying to regulate his breathing as his eyes follow Steve, but he can tell that Bucky is probably having the same tightness of breath that he is.
Upon catching sight of Bucky, Steve's half-baked plan disintegrates, and he hesitates for half-a-step, his body tensing as he exits his room.
Uncertainty twists in his stomach and he hunches his shoulders slightly. "I…" He swallows and looks away. "I—was just going to the kitchen." His hand shakes slightly as he runs it through his hair and he finds his heart pounding again. "If— if you want… you can come."
Gritting his teeth and ducking his head, Steve flees to the kitchen, flicking the lights on as he enters and scanning the room around him.
He actually hadn't planned this far and wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but after a few seconds, his eyes land on the electric kettle beside the stove and he relaxes.
He could make tea, that's something people do after nightmares, right? Drink warm drinks?
With a relieved breath, he fills and turns on the kettle, running a hand through his hair again as he tries to ignore the jittery energy sitting just under his skin.
A noise behind him startles him and he spins around, heart in his throat, to meet a wide-eyed and frozen Bucky standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Oh." He sucks in a breath and drops his shoulders, feeling stupid. "Sorry I— guess I'm a little on edge."
Bucky blinks at him before slowly easing himself towards the island, his eyes never leaving Steve's as he cautiously sits down.
Steve rubs restlessly at his arms and breathes out. "I'm making tea," he says, focusing on the counter in front of Bucky. "Did you want some?"
He flicks his eyes up to look at Bucky, who stares at him silently and Steve swallows uncomfortably, looking away. "I… guess… you've probably never had tea before," he says slowly before nodding decisively and heading towards his kitchen cupboard. "I'll make you some."
Thanks to his time spent around Bruce, Steve has gradually collected a modest stash of tea and he rifles through them now, searching for something he thinks Bucky will like. Eventually he settles on a gingerbread flavoured one that Bruce had given him for Christmas. It's probably his favourite kind of tea, but it's only available seasonally, so he tries not to drink it too fast.
Once he's made his choice, he sets out the mugs and tea bags, the silence in the kitchen feeling vaguely uncomfortable as Bucky continues to watch him from the island. The kettle doesn't take long to boil though, and Steve quickly gets to work, pouring the water and letting the tea bags steep for a minute before handing Bucky's mug over to him.
"Careful, it's hot," he cautions, blowing on his own tea and wrapping his hands protectively around the mug. The warmth from the drink feels like a relief after… after his dream.
His eyes settle almost cautiously on Bucky as he drinks, and he slowly takes in his friend's appearance. His face is pale and drawn, the bags under his eyes making him look worn out and tired. While not a rats-nest, his hair is tangled and hangs over his face like a shield, and the collar of his shirt is rumpled and slightly damp with sweat.
We probably look very similar right now actually, he realises tiredly as he leans wearily against the counter and takes another sip of his tea. Aren't we a pair.
The tea is starting to lose some of its immediate warmth and Steve sighs, causing Bucky's eyes to dart to his, his hands tightening ever so slightly on his own mug.
Steve swallows and tries to relax his stance, hoping that Bucky will follow suit. "I guess we both have trouble sleeping," he says with an uncomfortable shrug. Bucky's eyes stay pinned on his as he slowly sips his tea and Steve gives in to the urge to continue rambling. "JARVIS tells me we're supposed to get eight hours of sleep a night," he says, trying not to fiddle too much with his mug and spill his tea in the process. "I try to tell him I don't need that much because of the serum, but he doesn't believe me."
"That is because your serum can only go so far, Captain Rogers," JARVIS cuts in dryly, causing both of them to jump. "Even super soldiers need to sleep."
Steve grumbles good-naturedly into his mug and throws Bucky a smile. "There. See? What did I tell you?"
Bucky looks a little uncertain behind the strands of hair framing his face, but Steve almost thinks he sees his mouth twitch upwards for a second.
His own mouth twitches slightly and he swirls his remaining tea around in his mug before glancing behind him to read the time on the microwave. He sighs again and turns back to Bucky. "It's too early to really do anything but…" He swallows. The thought of going back to bed really isn't pleasant right now. "…I'm not really tired."
Bucky doesn't say anything back, which doesn't surprise him, but he's willing to bet that Bucky feels similarly to him when it comes to going back to sleep.
"What about you?" He asks cautiously, his eyes scanning Bucky as he drinks from his mug. "Are you tired?"
Bucky sets down his mug and stares at Steve for a second before giving his head a tiny shake. "Negative," he says very quietly, his eyes flicking down to the counter.
Steve breathes in and bites his lip, his eyes flicking between Bucky and the living room behind him. "Well…" He says slowly. "Well, I… never did get to see that movie that you and Clint were watching…" Bucky's eyes glance up to meet his, narrowing slightly as if he knows what he's doing. "If you want… if you want," Steve continues with a shrug. "We could watch it, now."
Bucky's hands remain completely still on his mug, while Steve's twists around anxiously as he waits for Bucky's response. "…Affirmative," he says after a moment, his shoulders pulling into himself as he speaks.
Steve's own shoulders drop, and he flashes Bucky as smile before finishing up the last of his tea. "Great," he says. "We'll have to watch it in the living room. Is that okay?"
Bucky gives a jerky nod, his eyes averted as he drains the rest of his own tea and stands up to follow Steve into the living room.
JARVIS is probably silently disapproving of their sleeping choices, but he queues up the movie easily enough, and soon Steve and Bucky are both sitting on the couch, their eyes fixed on the TV screen in front of them. It's a little distracting, sitting with Bucky so close to him, but Steve soon finds himself pulled into the story of a wild stallion, captured by settlers and tied up to be tamed.
He blames it on his exhaustion and his disturbing nightmare, but he finds himself drawing too many parallels between Bucky and the captive horse to be comfortable. His eyes grow determinedly wet as the horse plods tiredly onto a train car, seemingly broken.
Bucky shifts beside him and Steve can feel his eyes on him, but he keeps his gaze set firmly on the screen in front of him, his hands clasped almost painfully together in his lap.
The story continues to show the horse escaping his chains and attempting to flee a forest fire, and Bucky shifts again, his throat flexing as he swallows and clenches his jaw. "…Th…th' fire's red," he mumbles out, tensing and pulling away as he speaks, his chin ducked into his neck and his shoulders stiff as a board.
Steve blinks and feels his jaw go slack as he turns to stare at Bucky. His friend's eyes looking back at him with a mix of confusion and cautious stubbornness buried in their depths.
"Yeah… I—" His breath catches, and he has to blink away a fresh wave of tears. "I see it Buck," he manages to rasp around the growing lump in his throat.
Bucky nods decisively and turns back to the movie, his body still tense, but a glint of determinedness seeming to reflect in his eyes as they watch the horse finally get set free.
Steve swallows and thinks back to another day, another movie, and a quiet voice in his ear.
"The shoes are red Steve."
I see it Buck, he thinks as he subtly swipes a hand over his eyes. I see it.
AN: :D
So Steve has his first meeting and has a small breakthrough with Bucky. (And has a nightmare poor guy.)
Also, if you've never watched Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, I would 100% recommend, it's really good.