denial
“Good morning, James.”
He shifted uncomfortably in the seat. “It’s Bucky. Please.”
The therapist’s mouth formed into an unconvincing smile. “My apologies. May I ask why you prefer that over James?”
No, not really. He sighed.
“James died in 1945.”
She gave one short nod. “I see.”
Bucky hated the colour of the walls in her office. They were drab and reminded him of his apartment in Bucharest which he tried to push from his mind at all times. It was one of those nightmares that never actually haunted him at night – he found it in everyday items. A mattress, the refrigerator. These walls.
Dr Raynor's voice pulled him from his head. Something he was now thankful for. “How are you doing, Bucky? What have you been up to this week?”
“Can we skip the formalities?” He replied, placing his hands together in his lap. “You already know all the answers.”
He thought he saw her stifle a laugh, but she just widened her eyes slightly instead. “Just doing my job. Which is why you called me, no?”
All Bucky could offer was silence. He didn’t really know why he’d called her. He’d been trying to bring himself to do it for days but chickened out every time. She always asked the same questions, always about things he never wanted to talk about, and the things he did want to talk about were nowhere near the surface. That, or he never knew how to bring them up.
“Is there something specific you want to talk about today, Bucky?” Dr Raynor asked, prodding at his attention again. Focusing away from the noise in his brain was still hard, even after Wakanda.
He shifted again. “This was a waste of time. I’m sorry.”
“That’s your tell, did you know?” She replied, a small smirk playing on her lips.
Bucky frowned. “My tell?”
“You shuffle around the couch a lot. I’ve noticed that it happens when there’s a question you don’t want to answer. Which,” She laughed, “Is a lot of the time.”
Bucky felt himself begin to shift again, but out of stubbornness, he stayed still. “That’s creepy, don’t you think?”
“It’s common.” She answered, a softer smile on her face this time. “Shall we try again?”
He kept his eyes on her own, trying to force his heart to stop pounding. Dr Raynor didn’t rush him, and he swallowed, taking a breath. Bucky eyed the glass of water she always gave him, and his throat ached for it. Instead, he forced himself to speak. “I had a dream the other night.”
Pen and notebook out, she began to write. He hated that. “Can you remember the last time you had a dream?”
Bucky shook his head firmly. “No. That’s why I can't stop thinking about it.”
She nodded. “What happened in the dream?”
The dream was personal. Bucky didn’t really want to share it, because it was something so full of hope that he wanted it all for himself. It was normalcy. He didn’t want to give it away but he had to. Maybe she’d know how he could keep dreaming after a century of nightmares.
“Steve was there.” He choked, scratching the stubble at the bottom of his chin.
“Does Steve ever feature in your nightmares?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the notebook.
“No.” Bucky answered, shaking his head. His thoughts jumbled, and there was a fog clouding over his mind. It panicked him. “Maybe. But only ever on the bridge. Only ever when I was… Him.”
It was the same nightmare every time. Steve recognising him on the bridge, Bucky not being able to tell him he recognised him, too. The screaming and thrashing that his own voice did inside of his head. Telling him to stop fighting Steve. To stop and remember. Eventually dying due to the inner combat. Losing Steve. Again.
Dr Raynor nodded. “I understand. Why do you think you dreamt about Steve?”
Again, Bucky was silent. There were a number of reasons he dreamt about Steve, but none that he wanted to share. He didn’t know how these things worked; he didn’t know what she would do with his feelings once they were out there on a piece of paper in her notebook. He was afraid of it.
“Do you think it’s because you miss him?” She asked, grounding him once again.
Bucky nodded, feeling the lump grow in his throat. “He was always a constant. He was always there. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now that that part of my life is empty.”
Taking a breath, she spoke. “It’s perfectly normal to be lost within grief–”
“This isn’t grief.” He snapped.
Dr Raynor frowned. “Then what do you think it is?”
Bucky scoffed. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me that?”
“No.” She replied. “You are the one that talks to me, Bucky. I may ask questions, but only to find answers that come from inside of you. Therapy isn’t about fixing people and sending them back into the world cured, because nobody is ever cured. Trauma is unavoidable; it’s about how you manage it that constitutes the feeling of being fixed or cured.”
In all absurdity, Bucky snorted. “Philosophical.”
Dr Raynor smirked, shaking her head. “I’m glad someone sees the humour in it.”
Bucky took a long breath. “I guess I never really thought I was grieving. I’ve lost Steve so many times before, and each time he has come fighting back. I don’t know how to tell myself that this time, he isn’t coming back.”
“Bucky, it’s only been a few months. In the aftermath of losing a friend, it is inevitable that you are going to experience this kind of denial.” She answered, placing her pen down and leaning forward in her chair. “You need to practise being kinder to yourself. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for feeling this way. You are a 106-year-old man who has had severe damage inflicted on his mind. You have to let it do some catching up. Even if that means thinking Steve is still here. It’s normal. It’s grief. Despite what the prosthetics say, you are human.”
“Then why don’t I feel like one?” Bucky asked, feeling his lip tremble.
“You may not feel like one right now, but you’re getting back to that place.” She answered, “Bucky, what have we been talking about this entire time?”
Bucky stopped himself briefly, feeling embarrassment creeping up on him. “Having a dream.”
Dr Raynor smiled. “That’s pretty human to me. And it’s something you should be proud of. You’re making progress. You’ve gone from constant nightmares, to being able to dream again.”
He didn’t believe her, but it was a nice sentiment. “If you say so.”
“What happened in the dream?” She asked, “If you don’t mind telling me about it.”
“We were kids.” Bucky answered, “Steve and I used to make pillow forts in the living room and kick my sisters out of them. They were just for us but eventually, we had to let Becca in.”
“Becca is your sister?” Dr Raynor asked.
Bucky nodded. “She died in 2022. While I was gone. Steve told me she was in a care facility. He used to visit her. Make sure she wasn’t lonely. Make sure she didn’t know what I was. Lucky for me, she couldn’t even remember that I’d “died” in the war. To her, I was still her big brother, Jimmy.”
A sad frown sat on Dr Raynor's face. “My condolences.”
“In the dream, I wasn’t there, I wasn’t me.” Bucky furthered. “It was like I was watching from the outside. Like I was watching someone else’s memories.”
“Why do you think that was?” She asked.
Bucky shrugged. “It feels like they don’t belong to me anymore. I didn’t even think they were still there. Hydra took over my head so many times that it felt like there wasn’t room for anything else.”
“But they are there. That’s important.” She replied. “You say your sister called you Jimmy?”
He nodded. “I hated it.”
“But you remembered it.” Dr Raynor smiled. “What did Steve call you?”
He wanted to smile, but the tears threatened, instead. “Bucky.”
“Is that why you prefer it to James?”
“It’s my name.” He answered harshly. “It has nothing to do with that.”
“Your name is James.” She responded. “You are Bucky because of Steve.”
“Am I?” He snapped. “Then why did he go?”
Dr Raynor never flinched, and Bucky’s panic didn’t even register that she might.
“I think the analysis here, Doc, is that I don’t have a home anymore. That’s why I dreamt about home, that’s why I saw Becca and Steve, because they remind me of home. There’s nothing else to it, is there?” He shouted, leaning forward on the couch. “They’re both gone, and I have no-one, and like you said, my brain is catching up. It’s just cementing it for me now. I have no-one.”
There was a short silence before she spoke again. “Are you done?”
Bucky bit back a sob, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. He stared at Dr Raynor, wondering why she wasn’t running for her life, why she was still sat in front of the monster that he had become. He couldn’t remember the last time he got angry but with an ending in sight. Hydra kept him neutral all the time. He was neither happy or sad, emotional or emotionless. This anger burst out of him like an alien, but he managed to control it. It was unfamiliar.
“I–” He breathed, “I’m sorry.”
“I accept your apology.” She answered. “Why are you angry that you dreamt about Steve?”
“Because he’s gone.” Bucky answered, avoiding her eyes. “Because that’s the only place I will ever see him now, and I can’t even control it.”
“Do you resent Steve?” She asked.
Bucky frowned incredulously. “No.”
She cocked a brow. “Are you sure?”
Bucky opened his mouth, helpless. Nothing came out. Did he resent Steve? Probably, but not with passion. Only in a way that ended in forgiveness. Steve would never know that now. He would never know that Bucky was angry but only because he was losing him. It would never last.
“I don’t know.” He answered eventually.
“It’s okay if you do.” She replied, “You lost the last person from your world. Of course you have a right to be angry with that. But it’s okay if you don’t, too. Steve was your home. The one constant, like you said. But there will be other things that provide that stability in your life.”
“I don’t want anything else.” Bucky answered, his tears finally spilling over his cheeks. He didn’t bother to wipe them away, only continue staring at the floor. “I don’t want anybody else. I don’t know how to function on my own, without him there to show me what to do.”
“The thing is, you don’t have to.” She answered. “Because you still have the memories.”
Bucky closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. Dr Raynor kept talking.
“Your dream was a breakthrough, Bucky. Steve is still here. He’s still in your mind, despite how much you think you lost it. It’s about persevering through the scarring and finding the foundations. And the Steve you knew will be there, waiting for you. He will always be alive inside your mind. It’s just about finding him.”
And with his eyes closed, he could see it. Bucky even managed to smile.