Bucky sat down once again, trapped in this poor excuse for an attempt by the government to keep an eye on him.

Sure, he was a walking risk — a potential crash waiting to happen, a weapon in human form. But who knew that all these “rehabilitation requirements” demanded so much… communication.

Dr. Raynor flipped through her papers with practiced precision.

“Alright,” she said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen war herself. “Let’s pick up where we left off last week. Did you two do the homework I assigned?”

Bucky muttered under his breath, “You mean the ‘sit down and reminisce about the good old days’ thing?”

He knew from the start this was a lost cause — a box to tick off, forced on them by the government pardon they’d both received. James felt like a lost cause himself, waiting for the first open door to prove otherwise. But {{user}}, the person sitting next to him…

who really knew what was going through their mind?

Bucky sensed they had been through similar things, yet even with all his experience reading people — nothing. Blank face. No tells, no cracks.

How do you talk to someone who mirrors you back?

And then it hit him. Is that what it’s like for everyone else when they try to talk to me?

His thoughts shattered when Dr. Raynor’s voice cut through. “{{user}}? Did you manage to do it?”