Deciding to talk to Sam and actually doing it are two different things, and for a few days after his incident in Stark's lab, he doesn't make good on his decision. Every time he thinks of approaching the subject with the man, the words seem to get stuck in his throat, and he chickens out.

But. He needs to do it. He knows he needs to, because, if the flashback in Stark's lab had taught him anything it's that his flashbacks don't just affect him, and he needs to make sure that he's safe.

Especially if he ever wants to go visit Peggy or his sister.

Eventually, he decides that it's unlikely that he's ever going to figure out the right words to say. Even Steve seems to have a hard time talking about it, so the odds of him figuring out how, and what he wants to say, and then being able to actually say it, are pretty low. So, instead he writes a note.

It's easier, writing it down, and he tears the page out of his journal once he's finished and folds it up carefully in his pocket with an air of deliberation. Now… now he just has to actually find Sam, and give it to him.

Right.

The note stays in his pocket for another day and a half.

Eventually, the fact that the edges of the paper are getting a little worn and frayed finally pushes him into forcing himself into trying to find Sam. He doesn't exactly know how to best set up the conversation. He'd rather do it in private, without any of the other Avengers around, but in order to do that… he kind of needs to specifically ask to meet Sam.

He hasn't intentionally sought out any of the Avengers except for Stark, so the concept is a little daunting and he finds himself baulking at the idea. Instead he asks JARVIS to alert him if Sam is ever in the common room by himself so that he can talk to him.

He supposes he's rather lucky that he doesn't actually have to wait that long for that to happen (a very small part of him wonders if JARVIS had any hand in orchestrating it), because only a day after his request, JARVIS informs him that Sam is reading alone on the common room couches.

Despite his decision to get this all over with, his mouth goes dry at the announcement, and it takes several seconds for him to work up the words to respond. "Thank you, JARVIS," he says, swallowing as he feels the paper sitting in his pocket. He breathes in once and sets his jaw. Time to go.

He makes his way to the elevator and waits while JARVIS takes him up to the common room, his heart in his throat and his right palm sweating against his leg. The doors open and he tries to breathe in deeply – although that seems a little harder than usual – before he steps out, turning to look towards the couches.

Sam is indeed there, and he looks up at the sound of the elevator, a book nestled comfortably in his lap. Bucky swallows once and begins to march stiffly over towards the couches. Sam must see something in his face, because he doesn't go back to his book, instead he watches him come closer with a look of slight puzzlement in his eyes.

For his part, Bucky stops and stands stiffly in front of the couch, his tongue working in his mouth as Sam stares at him. After a moment he manages to reach into his pocket and pull out the slightly wrinkled note. Without a word, he thrusts it out towards Sam, his pulse loud in his ears and his heart heavy in his chest.

Sam reaches silently for the paper, and Bucky drops his hand as soon as he takes it, wiping it nervously on his pants as he waits. Logically he knows that there isn't much to be nervous about really, if he'd understood Steve properly, then Sam is used to this kind of thing, but… But he's never done something like this before, and he doesn't exactly know what will come of it.

Sam, at least, seems willing to roll with the strangeness of the situation, accepting the paper without comment and unfolding it to read quietly. Bucky presses his hands into his legs and breathes in through his nose, trying not to think too much about the ramble of words he'd written down. He hadn't exactly known where to start with the note, but it all eventually boils down to the fact that Steve had spoken to him about PTSD, and that he should talk to Sam about it, and that Bucky is beginning to think he might need some help in that area.

His mouth is dry when Sam looks up at him and— and smiles. The expression is more comforting than he'd been expecting, and his knees feel suddenly weak as Sam pats the couch next to him, prompting him to sit down. "I'm glad you decided to talk to me about this," he says as Bucky settles. "That was very brave."

Bucky flushes slightly and finds his head ducking so that his hair swings in front of his face. "I just don't want to hurt anyone," he mumbles, his hands tight in his lap.

Sam smiles at him again and shifts slightly on the couch. "I'm sure you don't," he says softly. "But this is often hard for people to talk about, so you made a big important step today."

Bucky relaxes slightly and breathes in, looking up at Sam. "What… happens now?" He asks, his eyes flicking to the note still in Sam's hand.

Beside him, Sam sets his book aside and crosses his leg over his knee, setting the note on the couch cushion between them. "I don't know how much you remember of PTSD and mental health back in the 40s," he says, watching him. "But there's been a lot of improvement, research and advancement in those areas over the last 70 years."

Bucky nods, because he can remember Steve saying something similar to that, and Sam clasps his hands in his lap as he looks at him. "There are medications that help with PTSD," he says. "But with your serum, that probably won't be a viable option. But," he gives him a smile. "That's okay, because talk-therapy is one of the best treatments for PTSD."

Talk-therapy, as Sam explains, seems to be exactly what it sounds like, and Bucky knows that that must be what Steve does with Jason, but— "I don't–" He swallows and glances up at Sam. "I don't know if I'm ready for that," he admits, his stomach squirming. "I don't—" He hadn't even been able to tell Sam about his problem directly, he'd had to write it down first, and he'd hardly been able to talk to Steve about what Hydra had done to him, and Steve already knows most of it, the idea of talking to a stranger about it…

"That's okay," Sam says gently, his eyes understanding. "Everyone moves at a different pace." He shifts and glances over him. "Talk-therapy is something you should keep in mind, because it really is very helpful, but there are some other things we can do until you're more comfortable." He smiles slightly. "Do you have a phone?"

He does – thanks to Stark – but he isn't in the habit of carrying it around with him, so it's back in his room. That isn't a problem though, because… he can… he can invite Sam back to his room if he wants. The thought makes him a little more excited than most people probably would be, but it is the first time he'd invited anyone but Steve into his room.

He collects the note and they head to the elevator, standing next to each other as JARVIS brings them up, Bucky mulling over their recent conversation. "Couldn't I talk to you?" He asks after a moment, looking over at Sam. "Instead of a different therapist?" Talking to Sam would be a lot easier he thinks, than talking to a stranger. He'd be a lot more comfortable with Sam than someone he doesn't know.

Sam doesn't look very surprised by his question, but he shakes his head. "As your friend, I shouldn't be your professional therapist," he says (and Bucky can't help the flare of warmth that shoots through him at the word 'friend'.) "I can of course help you and offer advice," Sam continues. "But something important with therapy is professional-distance. Once you're comfortable with a therapist, you might tell them things you wouldn't want to tell your friends, and you don't have to see your therapist everyday, like you would a friend."

Bucky nods in understanding. Sam's explanation makes sense, after all, being close to Steve is the whole reason he hasn't talked to him much about Hydra, so it stands to reason that something similar would happen with Sam. (And now that he thinks about it, he doesn't think he could bear trying to talk to Sam about Howard.)

Not that he really feels ready to talk to a different therapist though.

Either way, even if Sam can't be his actual therapist, he's glad that he seems willing to help him, and once the elevator stops, he leads them both down the hall to his room. Once inside, he leaves Sam to wait in the living room as he goes into his room to fetch his phone.

He has no idea what Sam has in mind, but he sits next to him on the couch and holds out the device, curious despite his lingering nerves. "Awesome," Sam says as he leans towards him. "Have you ever downloaded an app before?"

He hasn't, and Sam shows him the application to push, the phone lighting up to show an online store to buy other apps. "Okay," Sam says. "So, there's lots of online resources and stuff now that are available for PTSD," he explains. "I was thinking you could start looking into those, until you're ready to try a therapist."

Bucky nods in agreement, and Sam shows him an app that had been created by the VA. PTSD Coach, it says, and Sam clicks on it, letting Bucky put in his password so that the app can begin to download. "This is a really great tool," he says, once it's ready. The new app shows up and Bucky clicks on it, letting it open up on his screen.

"Basically this was designed as a PTSD resource," Sam continues. "It doesn't replace therapy, but–" He begins to point at the four main panels of the home page, "it can help you learn about PTSD, track your symptoms, manage them, and get additional support."

He points at the 'Track Symptoms' box. "This one is good for helping you recognise your PTSD symptoms," he says. "I'd encourage you to try out the app, it can help you figure out what you need to improve on and give you suggestions on what to do." He smiles at him. "It can help a lot with managing your life, goal setting, that kind of thing."

Bucky blinks at the app, mentally chewing over the idea that it could help him take charge of his own life. "Like being my own handler," he says without thinking, only to freeze a moment later, his eyes darting over to Sam, his stomach dropping as he realises what he'd said.

He knows he's not the Asset, of course he does, but he can't help that he sometimes still thinks along those lines. Case in point when he'd accidentally started thinking of Steve as his handler not that long ago— and he knows that is not how most people think, and most of the time he's fine but—

"Yes," Sam says softly, his response entirely unexpected.

Bucky stares at him in mute confusion and Sam offers him a small smile. "If it helps to think of it that way, that's fine," he says gently before giving him a thoughtful look. "If you think about it," he says after a moment. "We're all our own handlers." He shifts and his eyes seem to stare into him. "We're all just trying to do our best to be good handlers for ourselves, and–" He gestures to the phone. "Things like this are tools to help us along the way."

oOo

His conversation with Sam sticks in his head. The idea of being his own handler… well, that is kind of what he's been doing for the past little while. Making his own food and sleeping in his own bed and making his own decisions. Those are all Handler things, because those are all people things. But… that isn't the part that sticks out to him the most.

What he can't stop thinking about, is the part about being a good handler to himself. He'd thought – hadn't he – when he'd been the Asset, that Steve had been a good handler, and at the time he'd thought that he hadn't quite deserved that.

But… but, he does, doesn't he? Because… everyone deserves good handlers (even if most of the time, they are their own handler.)

He'd been working so hard on being Bucky — and he has to admit that it had been kind of like a mission to him — and he hadn't been— hadn't been exactly punishing himself for— for being not Bucky… but… But he had felt like he'd been failing at it when he had accidentally started thinking of Steve like his handler again, and when he'd been nervous about getting his room.

But… but what would a handler, a good handler – like Steve, think of his efforts? A good handler probably wouldn't get mad at him if he sometimes forgets the right names, or if he is nervous trying new things. A good handler would understand that— that things take time, and that he's trying.

A good handler probably wouldn't hold his visit to his sister over him like some kind of reward. A good handler wouldn't make him work for it. A good handler would let him go whenever he wants.

A good handler probably wouldn't get mad at him if he has a hard time being a good handler to himself.

Can… he be a good handler to himself? What would that look like, exactly?

He dives into the app that Sam had shown him, in an effort to find out, and he spends the next several days exploring the various features. The home page has four main elements, and he first clicks on 'Learn', deciding that he should probably know a bit more about this… 'mental illness' that he has now. That section opens up to three more sections, 'Learn about PTSD', 'Getting Professional Help', and 'PTSD and the Family'.

The last one isn't super relevant to him, but he clicks on the first one immediately, the page opening up to a whole list of common questions and issues surrounding PTSD. He goes through it, almost in awe, amazed that so much information could be available to him so easily. It's immediately obvious to him that his symptoms match up with what the app is describing, and he makes his way down the list with a growing thirst for knowledge.

One of the tabs catches his eye and his heart skips a beat at the sight. What do I do if I get triggered? it reads, and he stares at it, trying to understand. He… He narrows his eyes. He'd thought that his trigger words were a sort of, unique phenomenon, other people don't… have those, right?

He clicks on the tab and lets it open up, reading over the few paragraphs several times before he understands. It's not talking about trigger words, more like… trigger things. Things that cause a PTSD reaction. He relaxes at this realisation, and reads over the paragraphs again in this new light.

Try the RID tool it says,

· Relax

· Identify

· Decide

It then goes on to explain each step, and Bucky can't help thinking that these tools might help him a little bit, should he get a flashback again like the one he'd had in Stark's lab. That had probably happened because talking about his arm had… triggered… his painful memories with Hydra, but if he were able to work past that, then maybe he wouldn't have so much trouble.

He nods and stores away the RID tool in the back of his mind, before moving on to look through the rest of the app. He takes a 20 question PTSD assessment in the 'Track Symptoms' section of the app, and it's a little shocking how many of the questions he answers "extremely" or "quite a bit".

In a way it's kind of… nice though, to have the evidence of it in front of him. In a way it's like… it's like, in knowing this information, he now knows that he's not just trying to fight off being the Asset, he also has this other stuff going on that sort of helps explain why he might have trouble being Bucky all the time. It's not just his programming, it's something else too.

He's not sure if he would have PTSD if it weren't for Hydra… but Steve has PTSD too, and something about that… is sort of comforting in a way.

After the assessment, he moves on to the 'Manage Symptoms' tool. He finds that it is separated into "Symptoms", such as 'Reminded of trauma', 'Disconnected from people', and 'Unable to sleep', as well as tools for each. There is a whole list of tools and he clicks through a few of them, noting how some of them are similar to things Steve had had him do in order to calm down.

He looks through a few more things on the app, but there is such a large range of support and different resources that he can't look at them all in detail. By the end of it though, he has to admit that he feels a little more confident with the idea of trying to navigate this life he's found himself. It might be difficult trying to deal with the combination of Hydra and PTSD and trying to figure himself out, but he thinks it might be a little bit easier with this.

Probably why Steve told me to go to Sam, he thinks wryly as he puts his phone away and gets up to start figuring something out for supper. Obviously Steve has been through a similar process. Given how stubborn Steve is though, he wouldn't be surprised to learn if Steve's introduction into modern psychology had taken some time.

He wonders how good Steve is at being a good handler for himself.

oOo

It was probably a good thing that he'd managed to work up the courage to talk to Sam, because the Avengers end up getting called on a mission soon afterwards. "Natasha estimates we'll be gone about a week," Steve tells him, his utility belt spread out on the kitchen counter in front of him as he carefully sorts out what needs to be packed.

"France has agreed to let us come in and take out a few Hydra bases they've uncovered," Steve continues as Bucky pointedly nudges an extra triangle bandage in his direction. He might not be able to come on the mission, but he can make sure that Steve's first aid kit is fully stocked. Steve rolls his eyes at him, but takes the bandage anyways. "There's also been some more rumours about sightings of Rumlow," he says as he packs away the bandage. "So we'll check that out as well."

Bucky nods and swallows. The news that Rumlow may or may not have survived the fall of Hydra in DC is disconcerting. He does not have fond memories of Rumlow, and if Rumlow is really alive, then he can only be up to no good.

His hands clench under the countertop and he breathes in slowly, trying to centre himself. No one had asked him if he wanted to come on this mission, and he hadn't asked to come along. He can still remember his last conversation he'd had with Steve about this. Granted, he'd been the Asset then and hadn't understood why Steve hadn't wanted to send him out into the field. Obviously Steve had wanted to give him the chance to heal and figure out that he is, you know, a person, but he can't help thinking about what Steve had told him.

I think that once you understand why I don't want you going now, then you'll be able to go on missions. If you want.

At the time, he'd taken those words as a kind of mystery mission, something he had to figure out before he could be cleared… and he supposes that might still be true, in a way. If figuring out that he is Bucky had been the only thing he needed to do to be allowed to go on missions, then Steve would have suggested that he come along on this one. But he hadn't, and Bucky still isn't exactly sure why.

He also isn't exactly sure if he actually wants Steve to ask him to come on the mission. Yes, he hates Hydra, and yes, he thinks they should be destroyed… but he hasn't been in combat since figuring out he's Bucky. He's been fighting for years as the Asset… and he isn't sure if he remembers how to fight as Bucky.

If going on missions accidentally sends him into a flashback of being the Asset…

Well, Steve would probably be able to control him, because he would think of him as his handler again, but… But he'd rather not risk the possibility. If he were ever to go on any missions, he would need to make sure he could handle that sort of thing first, train a bit more with the team and get comfortable with himself, before he tried anything.

All of which boils down into the fact that Steve and the Avengers are going off on a mission and he will be left alone in the Tower.

He'd been left behind on missions before, except last time Stark had been there. This time, everyone is leaving, and he really will be completely alone. The idea feels a little strange, especially since it is also the first time he will be alone since he'd found out that he is a person. When he was left alone as the Asset, he'd had some sense of a set of rules that he was supposed to follow, guiding principles to adhere to while his handler was gone. But now, he doesn't have a handler, and he doesn't really have the rules either.

Well, he thinks suddenly, as Steve finishes packing his utility belt. That isn't exactly true. This time I'm my handler, and I make the rules.

Somehow, that helps him feel a little less adrift at the idea of being alone. Just because he doesn't have a handler doesn't mean he's anchorless. Even without rules… there are still Rules. Technically now he can do anything… but so can everyone else, so people live by unwritten rules and don't do everything, at least, most of the time.

And that, a little sarcastic voice pipes up in the back of his head, is what we call a society. He blinks at the thought, his mouth quirking up a little at the tone as he gets up from the counter to follow Steve to the common room. Apparently he has a sarcastic streak. Who knew?

The sarcastic corner of his head 'hmphs' at him, and informs him that if he had been paying attention to his flashbacks, then he probably would have noticed it by now.

It has a point, he has to admit, now that he thinks about it. In his memories, he and Steve had seemed to enjoy snarking at each other before. He's not exactly sure how well he's doing at that now… but considering how sarcasm had probably been strongly discouraged in the Asset… any spark of wittiness at this point is probably a miracle.

He doesn't have much longer to think about it though, because he and Steve arrive in the common room where the rest of the Avengers are waiting. They aren't in their uniforms at the moment. Those are in the process of being packed, because, as Steve explains, since their mission is official, they have to go through some red tape in France before they can get started on anything.

The rest of their supplies is already mostly on the quinjet, and Bucky helps them haul the last of it out – Clint muttering the whole time, because apparently if this mission goes overtime by only a few days, he will miss Halloween, and apparently he has some important plans for the day. The other Avengers don't seem overly concerned though, and Bucky finds his mouth twitching up as he steps back to let them pile inside the jet.

"Have fun," he tells them, and his voice drops – almost without his permission – into a low drawl, letting them know exactly how much 'fun' he thinks hunting for Hydra will be.

Steve huffs at that and rolls his eyes at him, making Bucky smirk and feel rather proud of himself—and completely forget about how empty the Tower will be once the Avengers leave until after they have all said their goodbyes, and the quinjet begins to lift off the tarmac.

He steps back inside to avoid the dust and watches it go, an unidentifiable emotion swimming around in his stomach, the goal of which seems to be to make him feel about twelve different things all at once. An emotion like that isn't exactly helpful, and he turns away grumpily, his eyes sweeping over the common room in front of him in an effort to find something to distract himself with.


He ends up making his way down to Stark's labs. He'd asked JARVIS first of course, but right now the Tower feels much too empty and Stark had said he should visit his bots more, so that is what he does.

As usual, DUM-E and U are both thrilled to see him (and he is a little relieved they don't seem to either care about, or remember his flashback incident), and they seem particularly pleased that he has free time now and they can tow him around and show off their lab.

JARVIS narrates for them, his voice tinged with distinct amusement the whole time, and it's probably a good thing he does, because otherwise Bucky would have been completely lost at most of the things he's shown.

Important landmarks to DUM-E and U consist of things like an oil stain from the time U had dropped a can all over Stark, or a tire skid from the time DUM-E had stolen Bruce's mug and engaged in a game of keep-away for the better part of 15 minutes. (He doesn't have a hard time understanding the picture Steve had drawn for Stark though, the drawing displayed proudly on the wall.)

The robots' antics are entirely endearing, and he finds himself grinning by the end of it, the strange emotion from before nearly forgotten as he finally leaves them and heads back up to his room for supper.

After supper he goes to his room and carefully plugs in his phone to charge (he'd forgotten to do that once and it hadn't gone well) before preparing to sleep in his own bed (the concept is still a little strange, but it is at least comfortable), and then… he dreams.


"We need to take out the base down there," Steve tells him, and they're standing on a ridge, Steve in his war uniform and he in his blue Commandos one, his gun held loosely in his hands, the rest of the Commandos clustered around them as Steve outlines their strategy.

"If we start with explosives around the perimeter," he continues, and Bucky follows his gaze down the rocky ridge, to the base below. "Then we should be able to catch them off guard and raid the base no problem."

He can feel all the other Commandos nod at that, but his eyes stay fastened down below the ridge, his gaze darting about as he tries to figure out what base Steve is targeting. It… he can't see a base at all. It looks like a village down there, a cluster of houses poking up from the forest around them. As he watches, a group of children dart out into the street. They are too far away for him to hear them, but he can see the leading one kick some kind of ball in front of them.

"Bucky," his eyes jump back to Steve and the pack his friend is now holding out to him. "I need you to go down and set the explosives. We'll spread out and rush in once you set them off."

His mouth opens soundlessly, and he looks back towards the village. The kids are still busy with their ball and the sound of their laughter drifts up to him on the wind. He swallows and looks back at Steve, his stomach a pile of knots. "But…" He swallows again. "But there's kids down there, Steve."

He can feel the heavy silence that settles over them as everyone turns to stare at him. He darts his eyes over them and glances back at the village. Steve had said they need to raid the base, but he doesn't see the base, it's just a village. A civilian target.

"Bucky." He almost flinches at the coldness in Steve's voice, and when he looks over, his friend's face has gone dark. He thrusts the pack at him again, his eyes sharp. "Bucky. Go set the explosives."

His mouth is dry, and he stumbles back a step, his hands tightening slightly around his gun. "But… there's… kids down there," he says again, as if that will somehow wake Steve up to the persistent wrongness of all of this.

The skin on the back of his neck crawls as the Commandos begin throwing him dirty looks, their eyes narrowed as they glare at him. And that's— wrong, that's not how it's supposed to go. The Commandos don't—

"What's wrong with him?" He hears one of them ask, and he's not sure which one, because something seems to be wrong with their voice, the sound of it twisting in and out between two different people. He can't tell for sure who the other voice belongs to, but he shivers at the sound. "Is he malfunctioning?"

His breath stutters at the question, and he watches, frozen, as Steve clenches his jaw and sets down the pack, stepping menacingly towards him, his hands curling into fists by his side. "You will do as you're told," he says, his voice hard and brittle as ice.

Bucky darts his eyes desperately between Steve and the village below. The kids are still there. It's not a base, it's not a target. There are kids down there. He looks back at Steve and shakes his head, his hair swinging around his face as he clutches his gun to himself, his eyes wide.

Steve's face clouds over at his defiance, and his eyes flash as he steps forward, his teeth clenched in fury. Bucky's heart stalls in his chest as Steve's hand comes up, sharp and solid before it swings towards his face, and Bucky can't even move, can't even breathe as he watches the blow come because Steve wouldn't— Steve would never—

He wakes up before the hit lands, and finds his jaw aching with how tight he'd been clenching it, his breath coming in thin, sharp gasps between his teeth. He sucks in a breath and unglues his teeth, his hands clutching onto his blankets as he presses his face into his pillow, trying to calm down.

His brain flashes back to Steve's face in the moment before he'd hit him, and he flinches, his breath stuttering. It's not real, he reminds himself firmly, breathing in through his nose. Steve would never.

But that's part of the horribleness of it, because in the dream he had known that too, but Steve and the Commandos had been busy acting like Hydra and his handlers and that hadn't been supposed to happen.

He pushes himself up from the bed because his chest hurts and he doesn't think he can stand laying down any longer. He sits for a moment on the edge of the mattress, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes as he tries to steady his breathing.

A buzzing cuts into his concentration and he darts his head up, as, on his bedside table, his phone lights up with a text. He swallows and breathes in again, his hands feeling rather shaky as he reaches over for the device. The white light makes him squint as he turns it on, but he can see now that the text had been sent from Steve.

He clicks on it, and the message expands to show a half-awake and rather disgruntled looking Clint, sitting dully over a bowl of cereal with a coffee cup in front of him. Morning here, Steve's text reads. Clint is not really appreciating the time change.

Despite the lingering effects from the nightmare, Bucky finds himself smiling at the text, and he huffs out a small breath, shaking his head. He doesn't reply to it, because he's sure Steve expects him to be asleep right now, but the message does help him relax a little.

He doesn't feel like going back to sleep just yet though, so he gets up, taking his phone with him as he heads out to his kitchen. He still feels a bit shaky, so he sets down his phone and begins the familiar ritual of making a cup of tea. That is one thing he'd been very careful to order when he'd first gotten his room. He's not exactly sure where Steve had picked up the habit of drinking tea, but it seems to be a pretty consistent coping mechanism between the two of them.

The thought of coping mechanisms makes him remember the app that Sam had helped him download, and while he waits for his water to boil he grabs his phone again, suddenly curious to see whether the app has any tips for waking up from nightmares.

It does, and he suddenly feels a bit better, knowing there is a recommended protocol for dealing with these things. On waking up, turn the light on, take a few deep breaths, it reads. Notice the sights, sounds and smells around you.

Well, the light is already on, but he works through the sights and sounds and smells of his kitchen before working his way through the rest of the list. Avoid sleep deprivation, it says. Distract yourself for 5 to 10 minutes after you wake up.

He breathes out fully and finishes preparing his tea, sipping at it slowly as he glances through some of the other features of the app, figuring that it is a good a distraction as any. There is a tab in the 'Managing Symptoms' section for if he has trouble falling back to sleep, but that isn't the thing that catches his attention.

Instead his finger drifts up to the 'Disconnected from People' option. It asks him to rate his 'distress' on a scale of 0 to 10, and he dithers over it for a moment before entering a 6. Even though the app explains the distress meter fairly well, he still feels slightly awkward admitting the symptom. But this whole day had started off with the Tower feeling supremely empty, so he thinks it's fair to say he's on that scale somewhere.

He hits the 'Next' button and the screen switches to a suggested tool. Visit a family member, it reads. Talking to another person about your problems, or listening to someone else's problems for a while, can help improve your mood or change the way you think.

He almost laughs at that, because the whole purpose of this is so that he can visit the last of his family, and he isn't ready yet— He stops, and thinks back to what he'd thought when Sam had told him he should be a good handler to himself.

A good handler would probably let him visit his sister. A good handler wouldn't make him wait.

Is there a reason now, to wait? His trigger words are gone, the dangerous ones at least, and he's working on dealing with his PTSD so… so does he have a reason not to go visit his sister? Or is he just scared?

He swallows and stares down at his phone, the suggestion shining up at him innocently. He presses his lips together and thinks of the most important question. Does he want to visit his sister?

He blinks and knows immediately. Yes, he does.


AN: So Bucky was able to talk to Sam about his PTSD. I wanted to show a little bit of a different journey for him than Steve, so I went with the note and the app. A note is a really good tool if you have trouble asking for help, and I based Bucky's app off of a real PTSD Coach app. It's really good and free to download.

I think Bucky still has a ways to go before he would be comfortable talking to a therapist, but he at least has some tools now, and can feel more comfortable reconciling his 'Bucky' and 'Asset' self.

This nightmare is one of my favourite ones for him. It just hits really hard.