The common room has the aura of an abandoned freezer with how quiet and cold the mood is.
Only Bruce seems to be attempting any semblance of normalcy as he tries to convince the others that they should order food to eat.
"Guys, we need to order from that new pho place… Or maybe the burger place down the next block isn't too busy? I know you loved their shakes, right Clint?"
Clint makes a noncommittal sound from his position sitting on the kitchen counter, an arrow twiddling between his fingers absently.
Steve isn't in the room and he's been suspiciously absent as the day for their session had been getting closer. Bucky had informed them all of his suspicion and it had sent an arrow through any amount of relief they felt about getting it over with.
"GUYS." Bruce shouts, his neck turning the lightest shade of green, "I need you all to listen to me." Somehow, the calmest guy in the bunch (other than when he Hulked out) was now shouting at his team, "We either need to call Ross and tell him we're not doing it, or we better shape up, because tomorrow is going to be rough and we shouldn't do it with no sleep or food." No one speaks, or moves, he's about to shout again when Natasha stretches, effectively breaking the spell. His breath slows as Natasha looks at him with a bit more spark in her eyes.
"He's right, we should eat something and go to bed early." No one says anything to the oppposite, so a silent agreement is reached.
They decide on burgers and fries, ordering enough for a whole party of people.
"Can someone call Steve up?" Bruce asks calmly.
"I'll do it." Clint says, jumping down and stretching his neck back and forth. Bruce nods and Natasha sends a message through FRIDAY to Tony. Bucky, who is sitting in a chair, starting out at the skyline, turns towards the two.
"Did Steve ever mention his sense of smell?"
The question, one of many many random questions he's been throwing at them for the last couple of days, doesn't throw them off anymore.
"No."
"No, not that I can think of. Should he have?" Bruce queries.
Bucky doesn't respond. He never does once he's gotten his answer, just files away the information and continues staring.
Natasha and Bruce eye each other, say nothing. Sometimes the questions are simple: "has Steve mentioned that he hates blueberries?" And other times it's a question so personal like: "Does Steve ever mention that he wakes up screaming from nightmares he has about the ice?" that they have to keep themselves from rushing straight to Steve to accuse him of keeping things from them and then hug him fiercely.
Natasha has been keeping a list. After the first three questions came and went, she began writing them down so that she could bring them up to Steve if they're was ever a chance. Something about the way these specific questions come from Bucky told her that they are vital pieces of Steve's story that they don't know. A man who had his brain wiped, still knows more about the guys they've been sharing a home with for over 3 years…
She writes the question down in her phone, adding it to the list as the elevator dings open. A somber Steve steps out, dark circles under his eyes and a worried looking Clint following a step behind.
"Hey Cap," Bruce says lightly. "Got your favorite, Bacon cheeseburger."
Steve looks ready to say thank you and grab it from him when Bucky's voice, colored with genuine confusion, cuts the room.
"Since when do you like bacon?"
Three pairs of eyes whip towards Bucky but Steve's close as his fingers halt in the direction of the burger.
"Cap?" Clint asks slowly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you like bacon?"
He wants to lie, to say that it's great and Bucky is just confused, mixing up memories, but he's made a promise to himself that to help Bucky define what's real and what's Hydra that he has to be honest. He doesn't want to screw up Bucky's memories even further by not confirming that what he remembers is accurate. He sighs, knowing the reaction he's about to get, "I mean… It's fine." Then when he feels Bucky's eyes boring into him, he corrects himself. "Actually I really dislike the texture of it. Bucky brings that up because I always gave mine to Dugan whenever the commandos got the chance to eat it. The guys ribbed on me, but I never liked the way it crunched."
The relief on Bucky's face for knowing something correctly almost makes the three accusing glares staring at him worth it.
"We thought you loved it!"
"You said you liked it when you first tried it!"
"Why haven't you said anything!"
Steve scrubs the back of his neck and glares at Bucky, not any real heat in it. "I felt like you guys expected me to like it, and I didn't want to let you guys down…"
Even as the words leave his mouth he knows they're unhappy with the answer.
"Steve, how can we know what you actually like if you aren't being open with us?" The small accusation from Bruce makes him wince a bit.
"Sorry."
"Is it true you don't like blueberries either?" Natasha asks before she can stop herself.
His eyes widen in surprise and he and Bucky stare at each other. "You still remember that?"
"'Course I do. You almost gagged when you ate them the first time, 'member in France?" Bucky's eyes fade a bit as he recalls. "We thought maybe you were actually allergic or something, the way you reacted, but that didn't make sense cuz of the serum, but turns out you just hated them so much. I wondered if that was the same."
His nose wrinkles at the memory. He remembered being excited to try a new fruit he'd never had the opportunity to eat before, and the small French village had been so kind to them, feeding and giving them shelter. But when he'd popped the first one in his mouth, he'd almost vomited right then and there.
The others were looking at him curiously so he decided to fill out the details.
"Yeah, like Buck said. I'd never tried them before and with my new taste buds—" he pauses as they look at him questioningly. "I mean…" he tried to think of a way to explain it that makes sense, "I can taste things really strongly? Like, If you gave me a cookie I could probably tell you the ingredients in it…" Their eyes widening made him sigh and roll his head back. The commandos had been much the same when he'd tried to tell them. "So blueberries just felt like eating tiny eyeballs, and the bland flavor made it worse, and I've hated them ever since…"
"You're telling me-" Clint interjected, "You can't even enjoy food the same way?" The more he'd been learning about the super soldier serum the less he'd been envious of its recipient.
"Well," Steve sighed, trying not to sound too droll, "I can enjoy food like everyone else, but I try to turn my mind off to the strength of flavors or textures if it's not one I particularly enjoy."
Bruce hands him a new burger, one with no bacon and they begin to eat in earnest. Bucky seems a little bit more lighthearted after learning that some of his memories are solid info. Tony strolls in a few minutes later, sweeping two burgers off the counter and plopping down besides Natasha. The coffee table groaning as he rests a foot on top of the wood.
"What'd I miss?" He asks, his mouth full.
"Steve hates bacon and blueberries. Didn't think to tell us. Barnes ratted him out."
Bucky looks affronted at the accusation, but then just shrugs and continues munching on fries.
Tony's eyes widen and he glares at Steve. "You drank that fruit smoothie I made and didn't say anything."
"Blended is fine, Tony." The exasperation in Steve's voice is palpable.
The calm atmosphere lasts until they peel off to their bedrooms, a reminder of what is to come hanging over their heads.
—
The door in front of them slides open to reveal a completely white room with 6 chairs in a circle.
Ross stands behind them, motioning for them to enter.
They stiffly walk forward and each take a seat. The door shuts and a voice over the loudspeaker makes Tony jump in surprise.
"Okay, you can each take the metal band that's on your left and place it on your head." The voice is Maria Raymond, the agreed-upon therapist who will be present through the sessions but from behind the wall, giving them a bit of space. Her voice is pleasant enough, but every single person is a tense coil of energy and the motions are stiff.
"How would you like to start today?"
"What are our options doc?" Tony quips.
"Well, unlike your-" She pauses and considers her next words carefully, "unlike how you were tortured using negative memories, this machine pulls up any memory you can think of, including positive ones. It does not however include the technology to reframe something." The group is nodding, and something very brief flickers over Bucky's face as he looks at Steve. "You can start on a pleasant memory if you wish, or perhaps go every other? It is entirely up to you as a group. However we do have a goal, and that is to work through not only the memories you have all already been forced to experience, but others that you think should be explored so they can not be exploited in the future."
That was it, the big point of contention. Would going through these memories make them less painful? They'd agreed to try, so Bucky sure hoped so. He shuddered at the thought of what he knew he was going to end up sharing eventually, but took a deep breath and stretched his fingers over his jeans. It would all be okay, this wasn't forced, and it was supposed to help.
"Ross gone yet?" Bruce questions with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"General Ross has left the viewing room." Her answer was succinct but the implication was clear, he's physically gone, but could he still access these later? No one knew.
Tony had allowed them to set up on the 12th floor of the Tower, and had gone over it with FRIDAY to make sure it was all up to snuff. But that didn't eliminate the possibility that Ross had put protocols in place. They just had to trust.
Which for a group of highly paranoid superhumans or trained spies was no easy task.
"Let's start light." Clint offered, closing his eyes. The room lit up and the image of a small blonde boy, lit up the room. They all glanced around in awe. With Beck and Zemo the visions had been in their individual minds, now it was as if they were living in the memory, as the memory filled the walls and 3D holograms filled the room.
"Feel free to move around if you would like." Dr. Raymond's voice prompts.
Clint stands up, pointing at the younger version of himself as he slides down a tree trunk and goes leaping over a fence. A dog comes bounding into view and the two set off into the woods, disappearing from view. The memory shuts off and Clint grins.
"I loved that dog."
"Looks like he loved you too." Natasha says softly before closing her eyes and the room lights up again. A girl, bicycling wildly, blue tipped hair flying behind her, as she pedals. The wind feels warm and humid against her cheek and she smiles as she turns into a driveway, a little blonde girl playing on a play set. Someone's voice calls them for dinner and they run into the house, Natasha grabs her sneakers, whistling as she goes.
Bucky surprises everyone by going next, his eyes stay open as he watches the scene form in front of him, A schoolyard full of kids screaming and playing and laughing. His younger self has a lightness on his face that no one but Steve has ever seen on his face and he's playing tag with someone they can't see. A groan is heard and Bucky's eyes go towards the sound. A group of kids have gathered and a sudden fear of what might be happening has him running over.
He steps forward, pushing his way in when another sound hits his ears, a grunt and then coughing followed by the sound of flesh hitting bone.
He finally spots the source and his young eyes widen as he takes in the scene. A boy, probably an 8th grader, has a scrawny Steve held by the scruff of his neck, blood on his lips and eyes glaring at the bigger kid.
"What did you say, Rogers!" The bigger kid shouts, spit flying from his mouth.
Steve huffs a deep breath and speaks evenly even though he looks like he might snap in half.
"I don't care how much money your daddy has, you can't just—" the words are cut off as the bigger boy grasps a hand around Steve's throat, squeezing.
Bucky reacts in an instant, shoving through and pummeling the bigger kid to the dirt. The kid releases Steve in surprise and he coughs and rasps on the ground as Bucky and the other kid tussle, trading young and inexperienced fists before teachers are there breaking up the fight.
"You should have stayed out of it, Barnes! You won't always have your guard dog to protect you, Rogers. Watch your back." The bigger kid shouts as he is being pulled to the school building by a teacher.
Bucky helps Steve off the ground, and Steve wipes at his face, smearing the blood onto his hand. "I had him on the ropes." He rasps, his breath still catching up.
"Sure you did, Steve." Another teacher is standing there, waiting for them to follow her as they walk towards the doors.
The memory ends and Steve is staring at Bucky who is smiling softly.
"What grade was that?"
"I think we were in what… 5th maybe?" Bucky answers, scratching at his temple. "I can't tell you how many memories I have of that same scenario, pulling you out of a fight. That's how we met right?"
"Yeah Buck. That's how we met, and you've been saving me ever since."
The others in the group are smiling softly as the two reminisce.
Dr. Raymond speaks quietly, "This is good. It's good to be able to have positive associations not only with memories but with experiencing them again. And also, not every memory has to be positive for it to be a positive growing experience. Captain Rogers getting beaten up is not exactly a positive situation, but it can be viewed as a positive memory when you retrospectively are able to see it as a moment of growth for their friendship."
The words settle over them and Steve finds himself nodding in agreement.
Bruce goes next, showing them a snippet of his life in Brazil, playing soccer with some of the local children there.
Tony makes a quip about not having a positive childhood but then pulls up a memory of making his first iteration of DUM-E and the fond smile it reveals makes the others laugh.
They all look to Steve, not pressuring him, but everyone else has shown a happy memory, so they hope he will as well. Dr. Raymond does not speak so he thinks for a for a moment and then closes his eyes.
The lights in the room fade off as the scene shifts. Darkness envelops them as two figures appear, sitting on a roof. The view becomes clearer and Sarah Rogers sits on a small quilt, holding a young Steve, probably around 5, on her lap. The roof is illuminated as the first burst of fireworks go off. Steve's eyes light up in wonder as they send rocket after rocket in the sky, colors cascading through the darkness. He squeals in delight and his mother rocks him softly.
"They're for you, Steven." Her voice still carries an Irish lilt, and the sound of it makes Bucky gasp. "Happy Birthday, my precious boy." Young Steve snuggles in tighter, holding the sleeve of her soft floral dress and keeping his eyes on the colorful explosions above them.
The scene fades but Steve's eyes remain closed, savoring the memory for just a moment longer.
"I can't believe how small you were." Tony chuckles, breaking the moment. Steve laughs out loud and nods.
"It's hard to believe but I've still been smaller for a lot longer than I've been this size." The amusement in his voice makes everyone smile a bit and Dr. Raymond take sthe chance to speak.
"I think that was a wonderful round robin of memories. Each of you shared something that was special to you in a positive light. Now, we will need to delve deeper, but just remember that life is a mixture of so many positive and negative memories. It can be easy to get lost in the negatives, but we don't want to let ourselves do that. So as we start going into the more traumatic memories, remember that that isn't all there is to life. There is pain, and sorrow, but joy and light as well."
"She's almost as good at the speeches as you, Cap." Clint teases.
"Better, I'd say." He shrugs goodnaturedly.
—
They each share a few more good memories, some making them laugh, some making them a bit emotional, but all positive. Only after Dr. Raymond kindly suggests that they start moving forward does the group start to branch out.
Bruce is somehow the easiest to work through. He's already been going to therapy for years, so his negative memories, while horrible, do not have the same affect on him as they do everyone else. Dr. Raymond applauds his mental state, and the others chuckle at the irony.
Clint asks to work through his next. He really struggles going through the memories of his time under Loki. He logically knows it wasn't his fault, but he can't help being angry that he hadn't had a choice. Steve watches as Bucky stares in disbelief at the memories. Bucky hadn't been there to witness Clint's rounds under Beck, and the clear parallels between him and Clint are jarring. As Clint works and wrestles with Dr. Raymond, going through memories and anger exercises, he hopes Bucky will take to heart what is being said.
"Mr. Barton, everyone at some point in their life feels out of control. The difference is, they usually can do something to try to change their circumstances. You however were afforded no such choice. Blaming yourself only hurts you and those who care for you in the long run. However there's no quick fix to that grief and anger. Here's why you should—"
She continues speaking, and Steve watches Bucky absorb every word.
—-
It's been 4 weeks, and 7 sessions in total so far, when it becomes apparent to Dr. Raymond that both Rogers and Barnes are hesitant about really diving in.
They share plenty of positive memories and even some darker ones, but neither of them touch upon the memories Beck forced out of them. And Romanoff had also mentioned briefly that there were more to be shared than even those.
She has been patient the entire time. Never pressing either of them for more than they are comfortable for, but she knows what Ross expects, and after witnessing the tapes herself, knows that they truly do need to confront and overcome these traumatic experiences. She sees Steve becoming comfortable with how the sessions are going but not contributing much to them himself. She decides that a different approach might pull them out of their shell, so she catches the group off guard at the end of the 8th session.
'Alright, I believe this will be the final session for Dr. Banner and Mr. Barton. Mr. Stark and Ms. Romanoff, I am happy to sign your paperwork to return to active duty, however I would like to add in the stipulation of monthly check-ins just to keep in touch and see how you are doing. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, please report back here at the usual time for our next session."
No one moves.
"Uh, Dr Raymond?" Clint asks.
"Yes, Mr. Barton?"
"Why are we being cleared?" The question of and why aren't they? h angs silently between them.
There is no anger, or attitude as she responds calmly and professionally.
"I was given the tapes of what you all had to suffer though. I watched those tapes and learned what I needed to, to be able to assess you all and help you work through that incredibly traumatic experience. You, Mr. Barton and you, Dr. Banner have been incredibly open and receptive with sharing memories and working on ways to cope and grow through those experiences. No one is perfect, but I feel safe signing the papers for you to be able to return to work. Mr. Stark and Ms. Romanoff are making great strides and I believe have come far. I feel comfortable with monthly check-ups for now. I do believe Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes prefer less of an audience to work towards their goals. I assume that was why they did not delve as deeply as the rest of you. And therefore I believe we need more time."
The clear cut words slice open Steve's pride. He's been hoping he'd been giving just enough to make it seem like he was improving, but he wasn't fooling her. Bucky's face reflects his and they say nothing.
"Is that true?" Natasha asks, facing Steve with sad eyes.
"Which part?" Steve sighs.
"That you don't want us around."
"Natasha, I—"
"No, Steve. I watched and felt and suffered with you in that room. We all did. I get that you don't want to experience that again. But we're here for you, please don't push us away now that we've come so far, you watched all of ours, you stayed by our side as we went through our worst moments. Don't makes us leave. Don't do this alone." Her eyes are locked on his and he realizes in surprise that this is a very rare and raw Natasha sitting in front of him.
"It doesn't have to do with whether people are here or not." His voice comes out sharper than he means. "There's stuff Beck didn't get too… It's just… It's not going to be… pleasant." The static roughness of his voice echoes against the walls.
"And mine was?" Her eyebrows arch and he shakes his head.
"Comparison doesn't really have a place in therapy." Dr. Raymond cuts in gently. "You have each experienced horrible things, different things, but one's experience isn't "worse than" the anothers. You have each suffered trauma and you must each work through it in your own way, hopefully a healthy way. However, Captain Rogers, you are free to decide if the group will remain."
Something in the back of his mind tells him this might be a test. If he is willing to share these moments with them, then he is willing to open himself up to hurt, to treat them as he would a family. Something he hasn't done since the commandos. He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. Bucky sits quietly, waiting for Steve's decision.
"What do you think, Buck?"
"I think there's a lot of things no one should ever have to see. But I think we'll be stronger if we do. And…" He pauses and a look of confusion and blankness crosses his features before he pulls himself back. "It may be selfish, but I can work through what's real or Hydra as we go through. Maybe learn or relearn stuff. Even if it's the bad stuff." His eyes flit towards Natasha and Steve follows the look, unsure of what passes between them.
"Whoever wants to stay and witness Captain America's failures are welcome to." He says finally, with self-deprecation.
"None of that Captain Rogers." Dr. Raymond admonishes, using a much harsher tone than she has in the past. "Was Mr. Barton a failure under the power of Loki?" Steve sits back, eyes wide.
"No, of course no-"
"Was Ms. Romanoff a failure as she followed the Red Room's orders?"
"What? No I—"
"You must not put unnecessary blame on your own shoulders for your mistakes, while ignoring the hypocritical nature of it." The words sink through him and he feels a flush around his color, shame rising.
"I— I'm sorry."
"No apologies. I did not say it to punish you, I simply want all of you to see that you are not the sum of your bad memories. They are just a part of your past. Not to be ignored, but to be used as a point of growth." When no one speaks, she continues. "I will see all of you next week, or whoever decides to join."
The group shuffles quietly out of the room and Bucky stands tightly against the sides of the elevator. He breathes deeply, ignoring the sense of impending doom in his stomach. Even though he'd agreed to have the group there he knows it won't make a difference to what memories need to be shown. The longer he goes without Hydra's mind machine, the more he remembers, and the more he wishes that some memories stay forgotten.
He looks at Steve, who stands tightly at the front, shoulders tense.
A flash, a memory: Someone's on fire and running out of a burning building. They are carrying a child wrapped in something red, white, and blue.
The child is taken away by Gabe's hurried hands.
Bucky's heart already knows what his mind refuses to accept. Steve collapses on the ground. His face and chest are burnt so badly that he and Morita can only tell it's him by the color of his boots and the top part of his flame resistant uniform that is wrapped around the crying child.
Suddenly, Dugan is prying Steve out of Bucky's hands, hauling him into his arms, and sprinting towards the mountain river that's half a mile away. Bucky is yelling at someone, Jacques he thinks, to find the shield as he's taking off after Dugan, stopping a few minutes into his run in horror as he realizes the small dark debris on the road are patches of burnt skin.
The elevator dings and he's brought out of the memory. The smell of burning flesh lingers in his mind.