2024. First therapy session.
Click, click, click, click.
The sound of a woman's heels echoed off the marble corridors, the noise becoming louder as the woman inched closer to the waiting room.
There were only three current occupants in the waiting room. One was the receptionist, a young blonde adult who was busy typing away at her computer and loudly chewing gum with her mouth open and thus was paying no attention to the rest of the room.
The second was a teenage girl who, like the receptionist, was oblivious to the world around her as she had her full attention on the small phone screen held up so close to her face it was almost touching her nose. She had sprawled herself all over the firm grey camelback sofa without even a glance at the others in the room.
Therefore it was only the third occupant that was alert of his surroundings. Part of it was because it was in his nature to be on constant alert. But it was also because he felt highly uncomfortable being in the current elegant yet sterile environment. The sooner he would be seen, the sooner this would all be over.
He was in luck. A few moments later the sound of the heels clicking stopped and a middle aged woman appeared in front of him. She had wiry blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, and purple rimmed glasses worn over her chestnut coloured eyes, a few crows feet appearing at the side of her eyes.
She glanced around the room before she spoke and her eyes immediately landed onto the only person who seemed aware of her presence. She didn't need to speak up as it was clear her next appointment was with this male, but she did so anyway.
"James? James Barnes?"
The man gave no vocalised greeting but he got up from his seat ready to follow her, giving her a quick head nod in acknowledgement. She read his broody demeanour instantly and silently beckoned for him to follow her. They silently began to make their way through the sleek white halls until they landed in front of her oak office door.
"Yes, just in here." She smiled as she indicated to the room she had stopped in front of.
Her patient still didn't speak up, as he crossed the room and took a seat on the cream leather couch. It was clearly set up for patients to sit in to comfortably spill out their secrets. His silence could be considered rude in normal circumstances, but the therapist had seen far worse in her twenty years of practice.
She sat down on a black chair, set a comfortable distance from her therapy lounge and crossed her legs, taking her purple glasses off and letting them fall to her chest on the chain in order to get a closer look at her newest patient.
"So… when you made your booking, did the receptionist tell you much about me?" The woman asked her patient curiously.
"No." He responded bluntly, sounding quite bored.
"I see. Well as you can see from my desk plaque my title is Doctor Aitken. But I prefer to be on a first name basis with my patients, so we're on equal footing. So you may refer to me by Jan," The therapist stated with a crooked smile "Do you have any nicknames you go by, or should I call you James?"
The man pondered for a second. He hadn't been called 'James' by anybody but a stranger for many, many years - since he was a child. Quite literally over a lifetime ago. In this situation if he chose to use a thinly veiled alias (such as his real name) he would be able to put up a small psychological barrier between himself and the therapist.
That was his tactic with his last therapist, the one he was mandated to see through the court system. He ensured the last therapist called him James.
But that's not why he was here. This time he was here by choice. He was here to better himself to win back the love of his life. That would involve being transparent with this therapist.
"The people in my life call me Bucky." He eventually responded.
"I see. Right." Jan mused and she was silent for a few moments as she furiously scribbled down notes on the notepad she had grabbed from her desk. The only sound that could be heard were the scratches of her pen across the paper.
This caused Bucky to silently give a small wince. He hated it when his last therapist did 'the notebook thing'. It made him feel like every word he was saying was being judged. But he supposed that was actually the truth. A therapist was there to judge every action of their patient.
"Well then Bucky. Normally at the start of the first session I talk about my credentials with my patient in order to make them feel more at ease. But I'm getting the feeling you're not really going to gain anything from me rattling on about my qualifications. So I won't bother." Jan admitted, shooting him the same crooked smile she had sent him before.
Bucky remained silent as he looked at her with a blank look. He didn't know how to respond to her statement. He felt like she was speaking to him as if he were a child and she was trying to be a trendy adult fitting in with the kids. It made him feel even more uncomfortable than he was already feeling. Not because he felt stupid, but because it showed there was definitely a power dynamic and he was beneath her.
"How...how much of my story do you know? Did you receive any of my files from my other therapy sessions?" He managed to finally croak out.
"I was hoping you'd mention you've been in therapy before. I did read your file, yes. It was very interesting." Jan mused.
Bucky went completely silent as it was now his time to scrutinise the therapist. He had a very good idea of what was coming. Whenever it was revealed to someone that he was once the Winter Soldier, they always had one of two reactions. Sometimes it was disgust at his past actions and the cruelty he had inflicted onto the world, and he didn't blame them. He was disgusted too. But the normal reaction was pity. People felt sorry for him for being forced into becoming a monster, and he hated having other people's pity for many different reasons.
Annabelle Cartwright was one of the only people he had ever met who did not have either reaction. But that was too painful for him to think about right now.
"...why?" Bucky eventually asked.
"I'll give you an example using a hypothetical. When people who are affected by substance abuse enter rehab to treat their addiction, it's normally people who enter out of their own free will who are likely to be successful. This is compared to those who are forced into it by their loved ones, or by a legal avenue. I think you know where I'm going with this." Jan began to explain.
"That you think I'm abusing drugs?" Bucky asked dryly with his first smile since entering the therapist's office.
He expected her to become stern with him. His last therapist used to scrutinise his sarcastic personality as a flaw, using her damn notebook every time he said a witty comment and then she would give a chastising remark. But Jan sent him a warm smile as she put her purple glasses back onto her face.
"Somebody who seeks help on their own are far more likely to find it, compared to those forced into it. Your last therapy sessions were court ordered. But you've come to me today of your own accord. That means you actively want to resolve conflicts in your life without any undue outside influences, and you're most likely going to accept my help." She stated.
Bucky just stared at her blankly as he wasn't sure what to think. He wasn't trained to read people like she was and thus he couldn't figure her out. She seemed less intrusive than his last therapist but it could have been a ruse to lull him into a false sense of security. He couldn't have that.
"So is this how this is going to play out? We spend the majority of the session going around in circles talking about irrelevant bullshit where you let the timer run down to force me to keep coming back?" Bucky asked with a grin, folding his arms and leaning back onto the white leather couch to try and hide his discomfort.
"I try to gage my patients' reactions to decide how to structure our sessions to ensure they're the most comfortable. If you'd rather just cut to the chase, we certainly can." Jan responded as she raised her eyebrows.
"As you said yourself, I'm here of my own accord to resolve a conflict. Let's do this." Bucky quickly stated, letting out an uncomfortable sharp exhale upon doing so.
He didn't want to show weakness in front of the therapist but he began to drum his fingers nervously onto the edge of the couch. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from therapy, but he hated it the last time around. Due to his past negative experience he certainly wasn't anticipating that he would open up within the first ten minutes of his current session. This Jan woman must be really good.
"Most patients who seek therapy of their own free will do so after breaking point, normally after a single large event or a series of minor events in a short amount of time. What happened to make you seek out my services?" Jan asked curiously, even setting down her notebook and resting her chin on her hand with one painted red fingernail outstretched onto her cheek to show her interest.
If she was scratching notes and only letting out half hearted 'mmhms' he definitely would have held himself back in order to force the therapist to earn his trust more. The simple act of Jan discarding the notebook made him feel more inclined to speak up.
"Is it cliche to admit I'm here because of a girl?" Bucky began sounding quite guarded but then without realising it he began to open up the second he began to think about Anna "I-I want to better myself so that maybe she'll take me back."
"I can't make a judgment call on whether it would be considered cliche. But I can tell you that it's not unusual for someone to seek therapy to better themselves so they can repair relationships. Would it be cliche if I mention that there's added benefits to therapy other than just winning someone back?" Jan asked with a small smile.
Without any warning, Bucky felt himself relax. He stopped fidgeting with his fingers and rested them on either side of his dark jeans, whilst all the muscles in his body loosened and he felt himself sink into the white couch as he became a tad more comfortable.
He felt that he could open up to Jan. He'd still remain a little guarded and on high alert for any changes in her demeanour. But this was his last shot at winning back his girl, and it seemed that Jan was adequate for that purpose. She could be trusted. For now.
"Alright. I'll tell you my story. But you better have done your research about me and not chuck me in an asylum when I eventually tell you about my life in the early twentieth century." Bucky mumbled but then went on to explain "However, I guess I should probably start from when Steve met Annabelle. It was before I knew her, but it would eventually lead to the series of events that brought us together."