The first thing that Bucky realized while walking inside the office was that Christina Raynor was late; which was surprising. The cynical woman was practically always the one waiting for him, but not this time. Still, he had to stay — governmental orders or something — so he sat down the couch.

He sighed while playing with his gloved hands, remembering the nightmare he had last night; it was always the same thing. Always remembering his victims as the Winter Soldier. Always remembering all the pain and fear he had given to orders.

Bucky hated that more than anything in the world.

The brunet got pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the door closing and with furrowed eyebrows, he lifted his eyes up. You were there; awkwardly standing in front of him, a file in your hand — his file.

You weren’t Christina Raynor, so he understood.

“Are you my new therapist or something like that?” he asked you, grumpily and not sure if he wanted to stay anymore.