Dr. Raynor was good at her job, but more often than not, Bucky came out of his sessions with her more pissed off than he was when he went in.
You were seeing your own therapist, too. It was a rough five years without Bucky. You had met him working back in DC with Steve and Nat. Granted he had almost killed you then, but he apologized and once you found out his story, you forgave him.
Then he was framed for the bombing at the UN. You were not on Tony's side of the Accords so that landed you at the raft. Of course Steve broke you out and you went on the run.
You got hurt taking down a Hydra base and Steve took you to Wakanda to heal and you were there when Bucky came back out of cryo. It took him a long time to let his guard down with anyone, but you were there with him every step of the way, all the nightmares, the deprogramming with Shuri, the minute he realized the words couldn't control him anymore.
That was the day he said he loved you.
And you loved him too.
That's what you were sure Dr. Raynor was talking to Bucky about in there right now. Nightmares. He'd had another one last night. You woke up to him whimpering and on the floor. He hated the mattress, and after one particularly bad nightmare where he had sprained your wrist, he slept on the floor most nights. He'd deny he had the nightmare of course, and he wouldn't tell you what it was about.
You wished you could do more to help him yourself, but lately? Lately it had started feeling like he was icing you out more and more. Your own therapist told you that it was natural for him to want to keep parts of himself from you when he was being forced to share so much with Dr. Raynor but you weren't sure how much more you could take. You used to feel so close to him, but now...now you felt a million miles away.
You popped another fry in your mouth and looked down at your phone, smirking when you saw the obnoxious falcon picture you had placed for Sam.
"What do you want, Wilson?" You said in a sing-song voice.
"How's Buck today? He still won't return my calls." He said. You sighed heavily and sat your food on the dash, sliding down more comfortably in your seat.
"I know Sam. I'm sorry. You know how he gets. He had another nightmare last night."
You could hear Sam sigh. "He tell you what it was about?"
"What do you think?" You asked. "I just wish he would talk to me. I know he's not telling Raynor what's going on, and it's not helping him. He denies having them, but he ends up on the floor in the living room every night and I can hear him screaming." Every time you asked him about it, he'd brush it off. You knew he was better than he'd been, but losing Steve really messed him up.
"You have to let him come to you. You know he won't tell you if you ask." Sam was right. If you knew anything at all about Bucky in the 7 or so years you'd known him, it's that he didn't like to be told what to do, or how to feel.
"I know Sam. I just don't know what to do for him anymore. I'm so tired." And you were. Tired of waking up in bed alone, tired of him not talking to you, tired of wanting to tell him about your therapy and how it was going, but couldn't because he didn't talk about his. Ever.
"You still going to therapy?" He asked. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back.
"Yeah. Twice a week."
"Good. You need to talk to someone about everything. I know you're trying to be strong for him but you've been running since SHIELD fell. You ran to the army, you ran to the Avengers after you got out and we all know how that worked out. I know Barnes relied on you a lot in Wakanda too, and you relied on him, but, Charlie, one of these days, you're going to be forced to put yourself first. Don't let it come to that."You sighed. You hated when Sam was right.
"I know. Thanks Sam." You told him. You looked up and saw Bucky opening the door of the therapist's office. "Hey I gotta go, talk to you later." You said, barely hearing his goodbye before you hung up and dropped your phone in the center console.
The door opened and Bucky plopped in, leaning over to kiss you softly. "Hey doll." He said.
You smiled at him, handing your bag of fries over, turning the car on and pulling out of the lot. "How was your session?" You asked.
"Good." He said. Well, you could tell how this conversation was going to go.
"Did you tell her about the nightmare?"
"I didn't have a nightmare." He said, popping a fry in his mouth. You huffed and looked back forward, gripping the steering wheel. You knew that you shouldn't take it personal, but you did. You loved Bucky, and you wanted him to trust you enough to tell you anything, no matter what. But there was so much from his past that he wouldn't share with you.
You rolled to a stoplight and Bucky was looking out the window, and you followed his gaze. Your neighbor Yori was in the alley, arguing with another one of your neighbors, whose name you didn't know.
"I'll see you at home okay? I love you." He said, leaning over to kiss you before getting out of the car and heading into the alley. You headed home, trudging up to the fourth floor where the apartment you shared with Bucky was.
After he came back from the snap, it only took days before he was begging you to get a place with him. The process to get him pardoned had already begun and although he loved Wakanda, he wanted to move home, and you did too.
So here you were, in this two bedroom apartment, where your boyfriend slept on the living room floor, and every day felt like he was drifting farther away from you. You sighed, leaning back against the door, silent tears streaming down your face. You tossed your keys in the bowl on the table and went into the kitchen to order dinner for the two of you, even though you had no idea when Bucky would be back.
You were lying in bed a little while later, watching Shameless on Netflix, when your phone started ringing. Thinking it was Bucky, you automatically picked it up.
"Hello?"
"You'll never guess what just happened to me." A voice said on the other end. A voice that you knew all too well.
"Walker?"