Chapter 1

I could hear them arguing from the hallway as they approached fast.
"Really, Steve, I don't need to see a doctor."
"It's just part of what we do here, Bucky. Everyone gets seen by the doctor regularly. Not because we think there's something wrong with you. But just to keep an eye on everyone."
Ah, James Barnes, I took out his medical file as I waited for the men to enter the room, nerves filling my belly at the prospect of seeing the two of them together.
"Hey Cassie!" Steve and James rounded the corner and came up to me. They indeed looked as impressive together as I imagined them to be.
"Hello Steve," I smiled at them and held out my hand to the man on the left, "James Barnes, nice to meet you, I'm Cassandra Rawlin."
As he shook my hand, he smiled back, a tight smile, not a full one like Steve smiled.
"Please, call me Bucky, all my friends do."
But we weren't friends. Trying not to let either of them notice how much this man intimidated me, I released his hand and turned my attention to the file I was holding in the other.
"Really," he filled the silence, "I don't need to be checked out, I'm in perfect condition."
Before Steve could reply, I explained what we were doing.
"We just want to get a good basic idea of your physical wellbeing. You just arrived and will be coming in daily, so I can check your vitals. After a week or two, your visits with me will become less and less regular. I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes, if it inconveniences you, but if we get a good view of how you're doing when you are physically in top shape, then that helps us to better see when something is wrong with you."
"Please, call me Bucky," he repeated, causing Steve to laugh out loud.
"It took me weeks before I got her to call me Steve instead of Mr. Rogers. I doubt she'll even call you James anytime soon, let alone Bucky."
Ticked off a bit by that comment I closed the medical file.
"Could you please take of your shirt?"
"You won't call me by my first name, but you're trying to get me to take off my clothes?"
As Steve chuckled, I couldn't help but bite back a smile myself. This was the exact same comment Steve had made when he first came to my health office for his checkups.
"Alright," I countered, not willing to shy away from this small challenge, "James, will you please take you shirt off so I can check your vitals?"
Calling him Bucky was a bridge too far for me at this point.
"Ugh," he winced, "My mother was the only one who ever called me that."
"I'm afraid you'll have to live with it, Buck," Steve slapped his shoulder and backed away, "I'll see you tonight."

As James removed his shirt, I made an effort not to look at him too much until I had to. The metal arm made him even more intimidating, though I wasn't scared of him. His face had a certain softness, even with the rough edges.
After measuring his blood pressure, I attached the electrodes for monitoring his heart rate and breathing to his chest. And then turned to his back to attach the electrodes there. I couldn't help taking a good look, but I made sure not to linger. He was so. . . impressive. The way his metal arm was attached was something I'd never seen before and I really wanted to find more about how it worked. But for the moment, I focused on getting his vitals.
I didn't need to write anything down, the computer registered it all for me.
"All done," I softly said, as I removed all of the electrodes, "Thank you."
I was a bit shook, but managed – hopefully – not to let him notice that.
"I'll see you tomorrow."

Within days, it already became a routine, James coming into my office. It was the last part of my workday. For the first few days, we didn't talk a lot. He came in, I took his vitals and then he left again. Weirdly enough, the silences weren't awkward at all, I felt completely at ease with him. I didn't think the same went for him, he tensed up every time I would touch his back.
After a few days, we started talking about his training. Who he had trained with, how the training went, whether or not the person opposite him was a match for him or not – more often not, it seemed only Steve was a real contender for beating him in a one-on-one sparring session.
As he provided information, I became curious and started asking questions.
"Did you spar with Steve when the two of you were younger?"
It gave me the sound of his full open laugh for the first time, and I liked it.
"No, definitely not! Steve was this scrawny little guy, he was no match for anyone. If not for him being chosen to become Captain America, he never would've made it into the army."
As the days went by, we no longer only talked about the training sessions, but we also talked about their shared past. He opened up more and more about his life, but never talked about his time as the Winter Soldier. Somewhere during our meetings, he started calling me Cassie, like everyone else did.
I had done this same process with Steve when he first arrived at the Avengers facility, I was the one who took his vitals every day. And I felt I had become friends with Steve, but with James, it was different. Steve had made me feel comfortable, James made me feel totally at ease.
"Thank you for coming in every day," I told him on the tenth day, "I have all the basic information I need, if you could come back in three days, that'd be great."
"Two days without seeing you?" he smiled, "I don't know if I'll survive that."
"I know," I replied, going along with his joke, "It'll be hard for me too. But I'm sure we'll live."
He reached out and took my hand. I had been touching him every day, but this was the first time he touched me. I paused in my movement and looked at him questioningly.
"Will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?"
All of the charm he had was thrown into the smile he flashed. Deep in his eyes was a glint of uncertainty and worry.
"I would love to." I replied as I gently squeezed his hand.

I couldn't say I wasn't nervous at all. Having James in my office every day was my territory. I knew how to act and what to do. This was going to be different, I would be out of my comfort zone. With my office I had also gotten access to a bathroom, so I didn't have to go home to change clothes after work. I had brought a dress from home that wasn't an evening gown, but certainly not casual either, I hoped it was the right choice.
I was relieved to see James dressed up in the same way as I was, nothing too fancy, but just fancy enough not to be casual. His gray jeans and blue blouse suited him perfectly.
Whilst I was told I was allowed to go anywhere in the facility, I had only kept to the offices I worked at. As we walked by doors, James would sometimes tell me what purpose a room served; TV room, kitchen, gym.
It was inevitable that we passed people and we received varying responses. Most of them I had seen in my office, so I knew most people by name at least. Natasha just nodded at James as she walked by, Sam greeted the both of us. Steve smiled a wide smile and seemed very pleased to see us, my cheeks burned at the attention he gave us. James was perceptive, he looked at me and then ushered me on before Steve could actually approach us.
We both laughed as we entered the room, a small kitchen. A table for two was already set and I saw hot food already on the counter.
"I don't cook," James said, following my gaze.

James held out a chair for me and I sat down. He placed the food on the table and took the seat opposite of me. For a moment we only looked at each other. Uncomfortable as I feared it could become, it was not. In my office, we had these moments as well, just looking at each other, totally at ease.
"You never told me how you came to work here," James started the conversation.
"My parents were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents," I told him, "They have always wanted for me to follow in their footsteps, but I never wanted to. Even though my mother retired as an agent after she had her children, my sister and I, my father was called into dangerous situations all the time. And after he retired as well, they both stayed on as consultants. I never knew the details of the operations, but I always knew it was dangerous. And I didn't want to do that myself. My younger sister did join S.H.I.E.L.D., I always felt my parents were more proud of her than me. After she was killed in action, my parents both left S.H.I.E.L.D. entirely. They even didn't approve of me working here at the Avengers facility."
I stayed silent for a bit, playing around with the carrots on my plate.
"I get it. I'm the only daughter they still have left. Even though none of the action going on is right here, the fact that I'm working with Avengers is enough for them to worry about me being in possible danger."

After dessert I wasn't quite ready to say goodnight and go home. James suggested we'd take a walk and since it was a warm Summer evening, I gladly accepted.
Mr. Stark had designed this area beautifully. Going outside, it felt like you were walking in a park if you had your back to the massive building.
After a while, James took my hand and we continued on, chatting about our lives.
He suddenly stopped me, didn't let go of my hand and looked at me with a serious expression.
"Did you read my file?"
I didn't understand where he was going with this.
"Your medical file, yes, of course."
"My personal file?"
"No. I didn't, I didn't have to."
He almost looked as if he hoped I had read it.
"James, what's going on?"
"I like you a lot, Cassie."
"I like you too," I replied, starting to smile. My smile didn't fully form though, he was just too serious.
"I need you to know who I am."
"I do know who you are."
He sighed, but smiled slightly. "Then I need you to know who I was."
"James, I don't need to –"
He cut through my words, "I need you to know."
We sat down at a bench and James started to talk.
He told me about how he joined Captain America's team and how he fell from the train. He told me how he had gotten captured and what Hydra had done to him. He told me that there had been triggers placed in his head, how the right combination of words would make him do anything they wanted. I heard all about how he would get wiped to 'start over again', but that he remembered. He remembered every single thing he did. Every single face of the people he hurt or killed. It would come to him in dreams, or flashbacks of memories when he was training.
It became late and chilly, but James didn't realize I was getting cold. He was completely lost in his past, telling me all about it. When I shrugged involuntarily because of the cold, he first noticed.
"I should get you inside."
We got up and he started to walk, but I stopped him.
"What you did. . ." my voice cracked and I cleared my throat, "What you did, that's who you were. And not even that. You did it, but not by choice."
"But I did it."
"Yes," I agreed, "But that's your past. And we don't live in the past, we live here, now. I'm not going to say I don't care. That would diminish it and I would never want to do that. But it's not something that bothers me or concerns me. I am here with you now. I'm not with the Winter Soldier. I'm with the White Wolf. I'm with Bucky."
"No," he gently touched my face, "You're not with Bucky, you're with James. I like that you call me James. Please call me James."
And he lowered his head to kiss me.