Chapter 8

- October 21 -

Word Count: 1522

A/N: aaaww they're bonding!

Outside the window in Raynor's office, it's pouring. Lightning illuminates the night. It's easy for him to get lost in it. Stormy nights were the only times when he could actually sleep, when he was under the control of Hydra. He feels his body relax in his chair, finding himself looking forward to getting home. Maybe he'll sleep in his bed.

"I hate this rain," he hears Dr. Raynor mutter. His eyes cut to her, still hunched over her notes but, occasionally, glancing out the window with disdain.

"I love it," he admits.

"Why?" She looks appalled. "The city reeks more than usual, you're more likely to get sick, not to mention it's depressing and soggy and…" She gives him a cursory look. "Why would you like that?"

He takes a minute before he says the truth. "It's the only thing that can drown out my thoughts."

She understands he's referring to his past. She carefully puts her pen down, like she's trying not to startle a wild animal. They stare at each other for a moment, anticipation filling the room. He waits her out, like he knows he can.

"Care to–"

"No."

She sighs, covering her face with her thin fingers. This is the most human Bucky has seen her act.

"James…" She leans into one arm of the chair, hitting him with a heavy stare. "I know this is a difficult process. I've witnessed many veterans fall apart in this room - hell, I've fallen apart in a room like this - and God knows how much more you've experienced…"

(Bucky feels panic agitate his stomach.)

"And the shitty part about this situation is the US government is expecting certain things from you. Hell, I'm pretty sure they bugged this room, even though I specifically told them I won't be recording our sessions." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Instead of you coming here to process things on your own terms, I'm here, being the bad guy, pushing you to say the right words and do the little dance around, so I can check off the right boxes, so you can just exist."

Bucky thinks about his time as a fugitive, after getting away from Hydra and before undoing the brainwashing in Wakanda. It was difficult and uncomfortable. He was afraid of getting caught, being iced, or worse - being used again. But being a fugitive felt… safer, more liberating. Everything he'd done was on his own terms, and he was learning how to just be again.

(A fleeting thought of ditching his pardoning thing and becoming a deserter again crosses his mind.)

"So, let's make a deal." His eyes fix on her. "Every other session, we talk about what you want. In the other sessions, we work on this bullshit," she taps her pen to her journal. "Let's at least try."

Against his better judgment, he says, "Okay."

/

As he leaves, Dr. Raynor leans out of the office. "You can get out of here, Ruby; I'm leaving with Dr. Paz."

Rue stops shrugging on her raincoat and gives a composed smile. "Thanks Dr. Raynor - see you Tuesday." When Raynor closes her door, Rue shares a look with Bucky. "Did you know they…"

"I suspected."

He pulls his hair back into a low ponytail. He didn't have anything to cover his head as he walked to the subway, so he'd just have to book it.

"You're not walking home in this," Rue says incredulously. To punctuate her point, a roll of thunder rattles the room. Her eyes bug out a little more dramatically.

(Bucky vaguely thinks Thor is playing a prank on him.)

"I'll be fine."

"You're gonna rust." She shakes her keys at him, several keychains on a lanyard jingling at him. He notices a mini mjolnir and a keychain taser. "I'll give you a ride home."

"Wait, I–"

She's not listening. She's hustling out of the lobby, unwrapping her umbrella, and motions for him to come closer. It's ridiculous, his wide frame crowding her under the little, hot pink umbrella, shuffling to the gray sedan.

(She loops her arm through his metal one, so he 'can't escape'. She smells faintly of cigarettes but also something deep and woodsy. He could easily bury his face in her hair from this position.)

"It's a good thing Vick didn't need the car today." He watches her go through her routine of getting settled in the car. "Victoria is my roommate," she explains belatedly. "Anyways, what's your address?"

(Bucky has a flash of suspicion but remembers not forty minutes ago when Raynor behooved him to 'open himself to trust' because it might 'help him trust himself'.)

He tells her his address and adds, "The fastest way is on FDR."

Aside from Rue asking if he'd mind the radio, they drive in silence until they get to the Brooklyn Bridge. He notices the way her fingers tap the wheel when she's annoyed, the way she sits up in her seat when she changes lanes. He hears her swear under her breath and hum along to the radio.

(Being exposed to her this long makes him feel… something.)

"Oh, Brooklyn Heights, right?" She smacks a palm to her forehead. "Duh, I saw that on the Captain America tribute." She winces, peeking at him sheepishly. "Sorry, that was weird to say. Does it ever feel not weird for people to know stuff about you?"

"Uh," the question surprises him. "It's never not weird, but I guess I'm used to it. Steve was Captain America in the '40's, so I was associated with him then. And, um, my past…"

"As the Winter Soldier," she acknowledges softly. He knew she knew who he was – a lot of people knew thanks to the media – but he still avoids her glances.

"Yeah, that guy," the mechanics of his arm whir quietly as he clenches his fist. "I had a reputation, so… I guess I'm just used to people knowing things about me."

"What's something people don't know about you?"

They're in bumper to bumper traffic on the bridge. The rain is beating down on the car so loudly, it's nearly comical. Bucky looks at Rue, a mystery to him, studying her earnest features.

"I read." Her eyebrows raise, impressed. "I read a lot in my down time."

"What kinds of books do you read?"

Bucky reaches into his inner jacket pocket and produces Steve's notebook. He'd gifted it to Bucky, on his own birthday, and told him to 'catch up'.

(Looking back, he wonders if Steve knew his time was coming to an end.)

"I read mostly fiction - Hemingway, Austen, Orwell, Wilde, Plath, Christie…" He pauses, wondering if he wants to continue. Her look is patient and soft. She's leaning against the driver's door, head resting against her propped arm. "I also went back and looked at the top books from when…" He casts around for the right phrasing, "from when I wasn't myself."

"You know, I bet that's a good way to learn about pop culture and society."

He continues, "And if there was a movie or TV series adaptation, I'd watch it."

"Like what?"

He knows she'll get a kick out of this. "Like Twilight."

He's right. She laughs so hard, tears fill her eyes, and only honks from behind them jolt her back to the present. They inch up, and she says, "You read and watched Twilight?"

"And Harry Potter and the Hunger Games." He's grinning, despite himself, at how much she's enjoying this.

"Incredible." She wipes her eyes. "I wonder what World War II you would think about that."

"He'd be confused for sure." He doesn't say that current him had been confused too. "But, at least I know what a horcrux is."

"And that vampires sparkle."

When they finally get to his apartment, the rain has finally eased. He feels strange, having talked so much about nothing with someone he hardly knows. They talk more about books and movies and television; she listens to him talk about Brooklyn and how much it's changed. She doesn't say much about herself except that she'd gone to college to study psychology - that's why she knows so much about therapy - and that she had worked a short time for the VA. She talks more about her roommate and her casual boyfriend.

(She says, "He's the first man I've dated in a while," and glances at him in a meaningful way. He gets her gist.)

She parallel parks by a hydrant and turns to him with a small smile.

"You know, it wasn't that bad of a drive." They both look at the dashboard clock. The twenty minute drive had been stretched to an hour and a half. Her eyes flit to him, almost nervously. "It was nice… talking."

"I think that's the longest I've ever talked." Warmth travels up his neck when she laughs. "Thank you for the ride."

"I couldn't let an Avenger get water damage."

He rolls his eyes and opens the door. She grabs his hand, his metal one, and they both look down at their joined hands. She folds her lips into a thin, embarrassed line, before letting him go. He wonders what's going through her head.

"Good night, James."

(His name sounds good coming from her.)

"Good night, Ruby."