Recognition
It hadn’t been difficult to find the building, a few searches on the internet at a café had given him the address.
He’d scouted ahead and found nothing suspicious. Mostly ordinary people coming and going, though there did seem to be a steady influx of teens and children, shepherded in by an odd assortment of probation officers, tired matrons and worried parents.
The third afternoon he stopped at the bench just outside the double glass doors instead of walking past yet again.
What would happen? Would they discover who he was? What he’d done?
Surely there was no treatment for people like him. He dreaded the questions, the pitying expressions. No, he couldn’t.
Just as he pushed to his feet, determined to walk away and never look back, a man opened the front door and approached him. 50’ish, thinning hair but with a sincere face and kind brown eyes.
“Hey there,” he seemed to see Bucky’s defenses rise, and he sat on the now empty bench his hands palm up in his lap. “I don’t want to scare you off, Becka just said you’d been sitting out here for an hour or so, and I thought you might like to chat?”
Becka.
Bucky hadn’t let himself think about his family, about before. Something about the man’s demeanor was so honest, disarming. It reminded Bucky of Steve as a boy. And Bucky decided, maybe he could talk to this man.
“I don’t know if I- if you can help me.” He answered.
“Well, I don’t know either. But we can try, and if you decide that its not working, you can always change your mind, no strings.”
Bucky hovered on the edge of indecision, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The door opened again, and Bucky turned to face the newcomer.
It was Elle, dressed in a sharp suit, her hair tamed into a low ponytail.
“Leaving early Elle?” The man asked.
“Library session this afternoon, see you tomorrow Dr. Greg.”
And she was walking away as though she’d never seen Bucky at all. Not a smile, not a single glance in his direction.
“So can I pencil you in?” Greg said, turning back to him.
Bucky struggled to focus, to breathe.
“Are you alright?”
He couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. He barely registered the understanding look on Greg’s face as he turned on his heel and stalked away.
The phone rang once, twice.
“Hey Bucky, what’s up?” Sam sounded a little surprised, but not unhappy.
“I need a background check.”
“On who?”
“You can’t tell Steve about this.”
“Who is it, Buck?”
“Promise me you won’t tell Steve.”
“Alright fine, I won’t tell him. What is going on?”
“New Leaf Therapy services.” Bucky listed the number and website on the card, and added. “A guy named Greg, tell me everything you can about him, and I think someone named Elle works there too.”
“Sure, of course, I’ll get back to you tomorrow at the latest, that alright?”
“Yeah. Thanks Sam.”