It was like I couldn't get away from the building where I was supposedly getting "help". Except this time my arrival wasn't to attend another therapy session, but it was because I was going to meet my... bodyguard? Whatever you want to call it.
All I know is that Steve Rogers called for someone to watch over me. I didn't ask for him to do it, nor did I know he would do it.
I don't need protecting!
My mind screamed at me.
You are more than capable of protecting yourself.
My mind gave me confidence but my heart made me second guess everything. Was I really capable of defending myself?
I sat in my white Mazda, switching off the engine as I pulled into the parking lot outside of the building, staring at the entrance. Whenever I stepped foot inside, I felt this sickly feeling swirl around in my stomach begging me to leave. My eyes flickered down to the rose gold watch that accessorised my wrist, checking the time. 3:30pm. I was half an hour early.
"Great." I muttered, silently scolding myself for being insanely early. Normally I would arrive 5 or so minutes before my appointment would commence... which is probably why the coffee was always shitty. I didn't have much time to perfect it.
I suppose the nagging anticipation to meet my bodyguard made the difference in how early I arrived. However, it wasn't just anticipation; it was anxiety. What if he hated me? Or I hated him? God, why didn't he just ask Sam? I knew why. Sam was too busy with his own line of work and I didn't even know where he was. He had no time for me anymore. It was probably why our relationship ended. Mutually of course.
Having lost my patience with time, I exited my car, slamming the door loudly as I pressed the lock button on my keys to it. However, it took a few hard presses before it properly locked.
"Bloody shit box!" I hissed in annoyance at my car before walking over to the glass door of the building and swinging it open by it's cold metallic handle before walking inside. My hands slipped my car keys into the pockets of the same jacket I wore to my last session a few days ago.
"Hi," I whispered as I walked over to the receptionists desk, the blonde woman behind it looked up at me. My elbows rested on top of the desk as I leaned forward, "Um, I'm here for a 4:00 appointment with a.. uh" I fell silent, trying to remember her name. "Dr Raynor?"
"No problem." The receptionist drawled as she tip tapped along her keyboard before turning her hazel eyes back onto me. "It's a good thing you're early. This was left at the desk by Dr Raynor for you to look through." She explained, before opening up a metal draw that was beside her and pulling out a rather chunky brown file and my Y/E/C glistened with anxiety. A file? Who was this guy?
She slid the file along the desk to me and my hands reached, grabbing the file and picking it up, holding it to my chest tightly. It had quite some weight to it because of how thick it was. I was careful to not let any pieces of paper or even photos fall out to the ground from the bottom of it. "There's a vacant conference room down the hall to your left where you can sit in private to look it over. Dr Raynor will come collect you when she's ready." The receptionist had her index finger pointed to the direction I had to walk in and I took my leave, my feet walking slowly to the conference room but on my way I stopped in front of Dr Raynor's office, hearing muffled voices.
The urge to open up her office door and bust in to see who my protector was, was strong. My hand outstretched to the door handle that was beckoning for me to twist it and push open the door to reveal the patient. No! I moved my hand away roughly, almost dropping the file out of my other hand but I caught it skilfully, not dropping any important information out of it. Just go to the conference room, (Y/N). You'll see them later.
After the minor distraction, I had found myself in the conference room which contained an abnormally large oval shaped table with black comfortable looking chairs that contained wheels so they could easily be moved. I took the chair that was the furthest away from the door, not daring to have my back towards it. It was another habit I had picked up since I was attacked by The Winter Soldier. Having my back towards the door made me fear that he or someone else would clock me over the head with a bat or snap my neck with no hesitation.
An exhausted sigh exited my mouth as I stared at the file I placed down before me on the table. I swung side to side on the chair causing it to creak quietly. My thighs clamped my hands together and my teeth were dug into my bottom lip as my mind clouded with thoughts. Do I read the folder? Or do I leave myself with the element of surprise? My hands moved out of my thighs and towards the file but they stopped, resting on the table either side of it. My thumb rubbed at the pads of my fingers as I wracked my brain for any type of thought on whether I should take a peek like Dr Raynor wants me to or not.
Just do it.
My hands moved back to the file, touching it gently which was one step further than before.
Wait no!
They moved away.
Oh for fucks sake, what are you scared of?
The constant arguing with myself annoyed me so I flipped the file open quickly before my brain could tell me otherwise. I saw the photo of my protector instantaneously and I had to blink twice because I was SURE that I was hallucinating. But to my distaste, I wasn't. Rage fuelled my veins as I picked up the photo, staring at it.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Steve?!" I shouted out to nothing, my voice echoing off the walls from the conference room.
The Winter Soldier.