The memory of smoke and gunfire, quiet stalking leading to a silent kill, the warmth of another's blood spilling over his hands, it was all too real. He could feel the sting of sweat in his eyes as they forced him to run the course again and again, the blisters and bruises where he trained, and most of all the searing pain in his head as they wiped his memories again.
"Mr. Barnes, are you all right?" a soothing voice asked. He shook his head to clear the haunting fragments.
"Yeah Doc, I'm fine. I was just – remembering. Thing is, all I can remember is the pain. I know we're supposed to be working on this memory thing and all, but I don't think it's going to work. I'm too messed up. My brain's fucked up". Bucky was only here talking to some special therapist because Steve had forced him. Literally. He had hog-tied him and asked Tony of all people to help him drive to the doctor's office. This lady didn't understand nothing. Not anything about what he had been through, what he was going through.
"Listen, I know it's hard. And in all honesty I can't promise that you will get your memories back. But that doesn't mean this isn't important. We have to process and sort out all the shit that happened in the Red Room so that you can live your life now, without it looming over you, haunting you" Dr. Cohen replied earnestly. He could see it in her eyes, she really thought she could help, could fix him. And that's what pissed him off the most.
He burst to his feet, sweeping arms wide and knocking a vase off her desk. The sound of it hitting the floor shattered his resolve and broke his heart wide open.
"There is nothing without the Red Room! They took everything from me! I don't have any memories without them, I can't walk down the street without looking for what they told me to look for, you can't fucking fix me. There's nothing left to fix. Nothing!" The last word rang out and hung in the air. Even as he dropped heavily into his chair he could hear the word ringing. Nothing. Nothing. He was nothing without the Red Room, nothing at all.
Suddenly the doctor's face came into view, her glasses glinting in the light and her smile tentative.
"That's what it feels like, when you don't have hope. When you don't believe. When you've lost your way" she said quietly.
"Don't give me that sappy shit, we all know it isn't real. You can believe whatever you want, it's not going to change anything" Bucky replied with scorn.
"That's not true" she replied with quiet conviction "there is power in believing. Bucky, if you don't believe then it's never going to get better. You will always be walking like the ghost of a man, with your real self stuck in that room. That's what they do Bucky, the tie you and hold you so tight that you can't imagine that there's another life, another way. But there is a way. Look at me!" She smiled a brilliant smile, no shadow, no tears, no evidence of the past haunting her.
"You were in the Red Room?" he asked quietly.
"No, something similar. The North Koreans have their own tactics and secret labs where they strip you of everything and slap on what they want you to be." Suddenly Bucky felt… shame, guilt.
"I didn't – I don't – I'm sorry, I judged you without knowing you. I've seen doctors, shrinks, none of them understand what it's like, to have your soul skinned alive".
"I know where you are right now, I was there too. I know you can't believe you will be healed, and that's okay. Bucky, I believe. I believe and all I ask is that you partner with me. I pull, you push, okay?"
"Okay".
Bucky still didn't believe in therapy, didn't believe in his future, didn't believe that the scent of blood would ever leave. But he would follow along in hopes that maybe, there was something special about this Doc, something that really could make a difference.