Breathe

He’d been going to therapy once a week, telling himself every-time that he could quit after the next appointment. A new notebook was filling up with notes, and the little black one that Steve had given him had a list of names in it. Names he crossed off one at a time.

Reparations.

Amends.

Progress, Dr. Greg said, and Sam agreed.

So, Bucky left the office on a Tuesday feeling, dare he say hopeful? He was even considering telling Steve as he exited the building. He stopped as he reached the sidewalk, not sure where to go. For the first time after an appointment, he didn’t have the burning need to be home, to be alone.

Before he could make up his mind, someone ran into him.

“Watch where you’re going, punk.” His tone was friendly enough, even if the words seemed harsh.

“Sorry, I-” Elle froze, held up by the quick reflex of the man she’d run into.

It took Bucky a second to realize his vibranium hand gripped her arm just a little tighter than necessary, and another to recognize her dilemma.

“It’s ok, Elle, no harm done.” His smile turned to concern as he took in the evidence of unshed tears pooling in the lower lids, the redness surrounding the warm brown of her eyes, translucent amber in the spring sunlight.

Quickly releasing his grip, still keeping his palm under her elbow in case her balance hadn’t fully recovered he asked, “are you ok?”

“Me? Yeah, rough day is all.” She seemed a little embarrassed and more than ready to walk away.

“Would one of those cronut things cheer you up?” he wasn’t quite sure why he’d offered it, but he remembered how much she’d enjoyed the monstrosity of a dessert at the park.

“You offering?” Elle asked, her eyebrow raised in a new challenge.

“Sure. But I have to admit, I have no idea where to find the things.”

Elle led the way, and the evidence of her distress slowly evaporated. Still Bucky noticed the way she kept him between her and the street, and the way her eyes scanned over each person who approached them.

They turned into the first bakery they came to, but the young man at the counter shook his head.

“They’re usually gone by noon, sorry, a new batch tomorrow morning though.” The cashier had offered other pastries but Elle had thanked him and walked out.

“Shucks.”

She looked so much better already, but Bucky didn’t want to give up on the cure just yet.

“Let’s keep looking, someone must have what we need.”

“Don’t be silly James, I’ll survive without it. Thanks for trying though.” She’d sighed, and he’d been happy to see a little more of the worry leave her previously scrunched eyebrows.

“Nothing silly about it, the lady requires a cronut, someplace around here must have them.”

It had been a bit of a goose-chase Bucky would have to admit, but when she laughed at his insistence on continuing expedition to the next place, he decided it was worth it.

Finally, an attendant at a small out of the way café said yes to her inquiry. They waited at a little table on the patio for the promised delicacy and coffee.

“How’ve you been, James?” Elle asked.

“I’m okay. Uh, kind of good, actually, today.”

“That’s great!” her voice was sincere, and she smiled a little as the coffee and tea was served.

“You?” Bucky asked in return, watching as she inhaled deeply before taking a sip from her cup.

“Me? I’m good, I’m good.” Elle seemed to see his disbelief and continued quickly. “Really, I am. It’s just been a long day.”

“Tough client?”

“No, the client is great, but the situation… The work is important, and I do enjoy it. It’s just, some days, its hard not to take it home.” Her eyes had reddened again, but she tried to cover her sniffle with a chuckle. “I’m not exactly making a case for the merits of the profession, am I?”

“I don’t know, I kind of think, well. Dr Greg is great, but it’s a little odd, I feel like I could tell him I’m an alien cyborg monster and he wouldn’t blink.” Bucky fussed with the fingers of his gloved hands.

“That’s the point though, isn’t it. You can tell him anything because you know that he won’t judge you.”

“So, you do the emotionless mask thing too?” Bucky asked in surprise, he couldn’t picture her like that somehow.

“I specialize in… younger clients. It depends on what they need, compassion is good, necessary, but it can’t be allowed to interfere with the safety a person feels when they talk to me.”

“So, all the cops and cps people?”

“It’s not unusual for clients to have a variety of backgrounds, but that’s all I can really say.” Elle smiled, “we take confidentiality very seriously.”

“So, you and Greg don’t share horror stories after work?” he was half joking, half anxious. Surely, she wouldn’t be here, with him, if she knew.

She shook her head vehemently. “No, definitely not. I don’t even know your full name, and he would never tell me anything you’ve discussed in your sessions.”

Elle looked like she wanted to say more, but the cronuts were being laid on the table and the coffee was being poured.

Bucky watched as she stirred two creams and sugars into the cup.

“Double-double? What, is that not a thing here?” Elle asked. “What can I say, you can take the girl out of Canada but you can’t take the Canuck out of the girl.”

“Canadian, eh?”

Elle chuckled. “Cats out of the bag now, isn’t it? Yes. And no, we don’t live in igloos or say a’boot.”

“How’d you end up in Brooklyn?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I always thought I’d end up on the east coast, just didn’t expect it to be south of the border.” Her face took on a wistful, far-off expression. “I went to Newfoundland on vacation when I was 15, fell in love with the ocean. I always thought I’d go back someday.” She came back to the present, and seemed to feel that she’d said too much. “That’s enough about me, what’s your story?”

“Brooklyn born and raised.”

“That all? And here I am spilling all my secrets.”

“I-” Bucky considered what he could tell her, how could he explain a part without explaining everything. Secrets. “Have you been to the Smithsonian?”

“Uh, yeah, I loved the Egyptian exhibit last month, why?”

Bucky’s eyes bored into hers, and he pushed the words out. “You should go again, see the Captain America wing.” He swallowed down the last dregs of his coffee and stood abruptly.

“You’re leaving? Well, thanks for, this.” Elle lifted the last portion of her cronut in a gesture of thanks, smiling a little, uncertain of his cryptic words and sudden shift in demeanor. “See you around.” She called after his retreating back.