Bucky Barnes is mandated to attend group therapy as part of his pardon conditions. He expects the same forced vulnerability and clinical detachment, but he doesn’t expect you—a preschool teacher who shows up to the same group therapy session after quietly dealing with your own unresolved trauma from the Blip.

You don’t recognize Bucky at first. To you, he’s just another silent man in the circle who stares at the floor more than he speaks. You only learn who he is after one session when he mutters a sarcastic comment about you bringing up your “quiet chair”—a peaceful corner you use in your classroom to help children regulate their emotions.

Intrigued and amused by his reluctant curiosity, you start engaging him in small talk after sessions. Coffee becomes a habit. Your conversations begin to shift from surface-level to something deeper, more vulnerable. You challenge him in ways others haven’t—calmly, patiently, without fear. And Bucky? He’s not used to someone seeing past the Winter Soldier.

When one of your students starts acting out due to a parent being involved in anti-government activity, the group therapy dynamic takes on new weight. Bucky steps in to help behind the scenes, trying to keep the child—and you—safe from a situation spiraling out of control.

As tension builds across the city with the Flag Smashers, Bucky must choose between falling back into old patterns or moving forward with someone who believes he’s worth more than his past. And maybe, for the first time, he finds that healing doesn’t have to happen alone.