He had been waiting for a long time when he finally heard voices drawing closer. Voices, plural. Two, his advanced hearing told him. That was not ideal, but still doable. He wouldn't postpone the mission.

The target burst through the door then, all wide smiles and charming laughter. His suit jacket was askew, his tie undone, and his dress shirt open. A woman with long dark hair clung to him, giggling and stumbling. The room was dark, now illuminated only by the light from the hallway. Even from across the room, the assassin could smell the alcohol on the pair. He pressed himself further back into the shadows.

The target tugged at the woman, picking her up and immediately tilting on his own unbalanced feet. They laughed as he hurriedly and ungracefully walked to the bed and fell on it. With clinical scrutiny, the Winter Soldier watched the two meet in a rather loud kiss, their hands wandering. The target separated only to snap his pants open and hike her dress up before he began sloppily thrusting himself up into her. A rather sufficient distraction for both.

He moved forward, positioning himself to have a clear line of access to the target. With the ease of many years of training and practice, the assassin pulled the Beretta from the holster on his thigh and took aim. The woman screamed at the sound of the shot and the sudden weight and blood that covered her. A second shot silenced her. No witnesses. The soldier checked that no pulse fluttered in either of their necks before making a hasty exit. There were no neighbors close enough to have heard the shots, but heading back to rendezvous with his handler swiftly was the safest option.

Bucky shot up in bed, breathing hard. He groaned, face falling into his palms as tears fell from his eyes. There was movement beside him and he quickly remembered that he had fallen asleep beside Harper.

He felt her sit up and then heard her gentle voice ask, "James, do you want me to give you space?"

"No, not this time," he rasped, trying to calm his body. "I'm not the Soldier anymore."

Was he trying to reassure her or himself? Both? Did it matter?

"Can I touch you?"

"Yeah."

A tender hand threaded through his hair, undeterred by the sweat at the roots. She pushed the long strands back from his face before gently pulling his hands down. He looked at her, let himself stare into the cinnamon brown eyes that spoke of her love and concern for him.

"Flashback?" she questioned lightly, sweeping her thumbs across each cheek to stem the flow of tears.

He nodded once. "They had me kill an investigative reporter. He was close to discovering that one of the Virginia senators was HYDRA. But he wasn't alone so I had to…"

Harper bobbed her head in understanding. She entwined her hand with his flesh one, pulling it up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"How many more people am I going to remember killing?"

His question hung heavily in the air. He knew Harper would understand he wasn't looking for any sort of reply. But his desperation for the blood to end needed to be voiced. Would the rest of his life be spent thinking he could move on only to be knocked back by a new memory of murder at his hands? How was he supposed to live like this?

"How do you keep going, knowing at any moment of any day you could be hit by a cluster?" he asked.

It took a moment for Harper to figure out his train of thought and the parallel he was trying to draw. Then she leaned back, eyes rolling upward to the ceiling as she thought. Finally, she said, "Some days it's hard. But I've come to a point where I've accepted that they're part of me. I never asked for them, I wish I could have gone my entire life without ever experiencing that kind of pain, but reality is that they're here to stay. Part of me holds out hope that I've had my last and I just don't know it yet. Or that someday they'll stop. But if they don't, enjoying the people I love and the things I love doing has to be priority, or else it won't feel worth it."

"I don't know what I love doing," he admitted lowly. "You're the only person I have left that I love."

"I know, hun," she whispered. Carefully, she removed the silver dog tag that was ever present at her neck and placed it around his instead. "To help remember who you are."

Bucky trembled, buried his face against her neck, and sobbed.

Harper: Good morning, hun! How are you today?

James: Dreading therapy in a couple hours.

Harper: Still not clicking with her?

James: Decidedly not.

Harper: Do you want to talk about it? We can talk while I get ready for work?

James: No, it's okay. She's just been asking about you and about us a little bit. I don't ever know what to say.

Harper: Why is that?

James: You work in the same system and you seem to already be doing amazing things. What if she knows who you are? I don't want to make things weird for you with whatever I might say to a colleague.

Harper: James, you should talk to her about whatever you feel safe talking to her about, and certainly about whatever you feel you need to talk about. She's ethically bound not to discuss what happens in your sessions with anyone else, except to report on specific things relevant to your pardon and your mandate for therapy. So if she has any integrity, you don't need to worry. Okay?

James: And you really don't mind?

Harper: My therapist knows who you are, and about parts of our relationship. I had things I needed to process and I let myself do that. I hope you can too, if you feel like there's a need there.

James: Okay. Thanks, doll.

Harper: Feeling better?

James: Yes. Still dreading it though.

Harper: Well, I hope it goes better than you're expecting. I love you!

James: I love you too.

"So, you've been in the city for a month," Dr. Christina Raynor drawled, looking at him from across the blandly decorated space. "Other than people on your list, have you met anyone yet?"

"No."

The woman huffed a laugh and said, "Seriously? So then when you're not out tracking down the people you're making amends with, you just sit around in your apartment like a lone wolf?"

"I talk to my girlfriend," he protested. "I visited her last weekend."

"Tell me about her. Or are you still taking up a vow of silence where she's concerned?"

"What do you want to know?" Bucky asked cautiously, the text conversation he'd had that morning still at the front of his mind.

The therapist rolled her eyes. "Her name would be a good start."

"Her name is Harper."

"How old is she? What does she do? Where is she that you communicate mostly by phone? Give me some more, James."

Bucky grimaced. "She's thirty-three. She lives in Boston. She's the only person I've ever wanted to use my first name."

Dr. Raynor ignored the last comment and asked, "So how did you meet if she's in Boston and you're hiding here in your apartment?"

"Don't you have my file with all the information I gave the committee that pardoned me? She has to be in there."

"Didn't read it. I want to hear your story from your perspective, not some court scribe's reports."

Bucky sighed and looked out the large windows to his left. At least he got to enjoy the nice view of the city when he came in for appointments. "After D.C. and coming out of the Winter Soldier, I fled. I ended up settling in Bucharest, Romania. A few months later, I met Harper. She was twenty-five then. Or, I guess maybe she was twenty-four but rounded up a little? I don't know exactly. Things started off weird between us."

"How is that?"

"I was walking around her neighborhood by myself late one night. She was out alone too, looking for her cat. It was a bad neighborhood, so a tall, built, male stranger wasn't exactly a comfort."

"And yet you ended up together."

"I helped her find her cat. Then later we ran into each other at a coffee shop. It just progressed from there. But I was fucked up, she had her own issues she was dealing with… We were cautious strangers making nice for a while. And then we were friends for nearly a year. It was when Ultron happened that we became more than that."

"Been together ever since?"

"As long as I've physically and consciously been around, yes." He didn't know why, but he added, "She never had anyone else while we were apart."

"So how does it feel, having had a woman willing to be with you for so many years?"

"Harper saved me."

"Explain."

"By being herself."

The doctor huffed her annoyance and changed tactics. "You didn't pull a fast one on me, by the way. I noticed you didn't answer my question about what she does."

Mild heat rose to his cheeks. "She's a therapist."

Dr. Raynor actually barked a laugh at that, darkening Bucky's blush. From working with the woman for a month, he had anticipated her finding this detail humorous. She asked, "And like a moth to flame, you found someone to fix you?"

"It's not like that," he argued, anger rising over her attitude toward the bond he had with Harper. "Clearly, she didn't 'fix' me. I still have issues."

"Maybe not a great therapist, then," the woman joked.

He knew it was meant to rile him up, but he allowed it to anyway. "From my understanding, she's great at what she does. Her work has already made some waves from the news articles I've read."

"Oh?" she asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

Bucky smirked. He had piqued her interest and thrown her off. He sat silently, deciding he'd give her no more about who Harper was. If she was going to insult Harper and their relationship – his literal lifelines – then she would get nothing more out of him.

James: You up, doll?

Harper: I am. What's up?

James: Can't sleep.

Harper: Same. What's going on for you?

James: I've been having a lot of nightmares lately.

Harper: Have you started journaling again? That helped in Bucharest, right?

James: It did, and I have. It's not working as well this time.

Harper: Do you think it's because you've been working so hard on reconnecting with people from your past to make amends?

James: Probably.

Harper: You could slow down if you needed to, hun. There isn't a time crunch on any of this.

James: I want to make progress. I want to move forward with my life finally.

James: Why are you having a hard time sleeping?

Harper: Very subtle redirection.

James: Thank you. I tried.

Harper: My reason feels obnoxious next to yours.

James: What is it?

Harper: I'm horny as fuck and can't orgasm.

James: Tell me about it. What have you tried?

Harper: My trusty bullet, the wand, and my fingers of course.

James: And nothing?

Harper: Just an ache I can't soothe.

James: What're you thinking about?

Harper: What I'd want if you were here with me.

James: Fuck, darlin. What would you want me to do for you?

Harper: We haven't been together since the bunker. I want your mouth on me.

James: I haven't tasted you since Wakanda. I'd eat you in a heartbeat if I could.

Harper: Because you like it?

James: Fuckin love it.

Harper: Tell me why.

James: Fuckin love the taste of your pussy, the way you squirm. Love having to hold your hips down and the noises you make when I do. Love that you allow me into your vulnerable space and trust me to help you come undone.

Harper: I love having you there. I'd want you inside me after all that. I've been empty too long.

James: I want to be back inside you. You're so goddamn tight even though you get so wet. You take me so good, doll.

Harper: Do I? You're so thick for me to take.

James: God, yes. So good. Hot and tight no matter how much I've stretched you.

Harper: I'm still safe. You could cum inside.

James: Fuck, I love you. I'll fill you up til you can't take anymore. Close those sexy thighs tight to keep you full and happy.

Harper: Oh my god, James, I could cry with relief. I finally, FINALLY came.

James: I'm glad. Worked for me, too, honestly. I think I could even sleep now.

Harper: Let's do this more often. And visit soon?

James: Yes and yes.

Harper: Thank you for going there with me. I love you!

James: I love you, too, darlin.

Harper smiled, glancing over at Kat. She was immeasurably grateful to have her best friend back. Beside her was Tawny. They were chatting animatedly, their trio reunited for a girl's day out. They had already brunched and gotten tipsy off late morning cocktails. Now they were having their nails done. It was all so frivolous and unlike Harper. She never would have been interested in this sort of outing before and, even if she had been, she'd never had the money to go along with it.

Now, she was just happy to spend time with her friends. Seeing them enjoy themselves, having time and space set aside for the three of them to catch up on their lives, things going on in the world, and the latest gossip about people they had gone to college with.

"So now she's going back to school for something totally different. Like art history to chemistry?" Tawny shook her head with disbelief.

"I don't envy her," Kat agreed. "I'm glad I was so certain when we were in school about what I wanted to do long-term."

"I just feel badly," Harper chimed in. "I'd be so nervous to go back to school and make a career change. She'll be older than her classmates and she'll be older than most applicants in the entry level positions in her new field. Talk about stress and struggle."

Her friends laughed at how she was too empathetic to be a good gossip, then began talking about a new show they had both started watching. Harper was content to listen on, a smile on her face. She watched the nail artist work, pleased with the color she had chosen. This new tradition with her friends was welcome.

"Your secret's out."

Bucky met Dr. Raynor with a blank look. He wondered which secret she was talking about. Hopefully not any of the ones that would get him into trouble or threaten the status of his pardon.

"Not too many Boston area therapists named Harper. How fascinating that you're dating a VA psychologist who specializes in old people. Basically, people like you."

"What're you implying?"

"Nothing."

"Don't insult her."

"Would that upset you?"

"What do you think?"

She ignored him and asked, "So, Mr. Barnes. Are you still having nightmares?" His silence and stony expression prompted her to press, "James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?"

"No."

"We've been doing this long enough that I can tell when you're lying. You seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Bucky puckered his lips slightly in thought then answered, "No."

"You're a civilian now," the woman reminded. She reiterated the conditions of his pardon and badgered him for information on his nightmares.

Begrudgingly, Bucky explained that he had crossed another name off his list of amends. They talked about his compliance with the three rules he was given, and he conveniently forgot to mention exactly how the amends had been made or anything about his most recent nightmare. Another denial of any nighttime flashbacks earned him a skeptical look from the therapist.

"Look. One day you're going to have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted."

"I trust people," he defended.

"Yeah? Give me your phone," she challenged.

He scoffed, but reached into his jacket pocket and handed her the mobile device. She looked through it, commenting, "You don't have ten phone numbers in this thing. Oh, and you've been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you've got to nurture friendships. I'm the only person you've called all week besides your girlfriend. At least it seems you text and call with her regularly."

"Wait," he snapped jumping forward in his seat on the couch. "You can't look at my messages with her."

"What would I find, James?"

His heart skipped several beats when he remembered the most recent text conversation they had. He wouldn't want anyone to look through that window into their sex life, least of all someone who was essentially Harper's colleague. His distress must have shown on his face because for once Dr. Raynor had pity on him and tossed back the phone.

"Do you tell her about your nightmares?"

"If I was having them, I would sometimes," the former soldier answered, unwilling to totally give in on their argument.

"Do you trust her?"

"Yes," he answered easily.

"But you only talk to her sometimes?"

Bucky chuckled dryly. With more honesty than he'd maybe ever given the doctor, he replied, "You try dating someone that you need but will never, ever deserve because of who you are and what you've done and then tell me that you take every opportunity to confide in them a reminder of how undeserving you are."

A/N: Heads up: I cannot stand Dr. Raynor. What a horrible, horrible depiction of therapy. As such, Harper is also not going to be a fan. Anyway, thank you for your continued interest and support!