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Dr. Raynor sighs, rubbing her temples. “You broke the first rule.”
Bucky shrugs. “Wasn’t illegal.”
“Stealing from the U.S. government–”
“Would we consider it stealing if I was just returning it to its rightful owner?” He grins, because he knows it’s going to annoy her; to her credit, she only stares blandly back at him.
“And the second rule?”
Well. She may have a point there. It just happened that this was a fantastic outlet to vent all of his considerable frustrations. A complete coincidence.
Dr. Raynor rummages through her stack of papers, unamused. “Broken nose, fractured left wrist, concussion, fractured vertebrosternal rib, fractured vertebrochondral rib, patellar fracture, and a broken kneecap.”
Another shrug. “He decided to take the serum. He’ll recover.” And if Bucky went out of his way to make sure the experience was particularly painful for Walker? Well, no one ever had to know about that.
“The news reports are saying Walker cried.”
Bucky makes sure to give her an especially wide grin at that. He really hopes the government is paying her handsomely for this job because she looks even more put-upon than usual today.
“Do I even want to ask about rule number three?” she says with a heavy sigh.
If he’s being perfectly honest, the list of amends should extend beyond murder victims. As far as Bucky sees it, he owes Wilson for the whole steering wheel thing and the rather unfortunate business of knocking him off the helicarrier. He tells Dr. Raynor as such and she freezes.
It takes her several moments before she speaks, and when she does, her voice is so terribly soft. Bucky can feel the hairs on his neck stand at attention and he feels like a caged animal unsure exactly where the threat is coming from but knowing that there’s one present.
“And have you considered what Mr. Wilson wants in all of this?” she finally asks.
“Steve chose him,” Bucky says easily. “The shield is his now.”
More rummaging and papers shifting. “You talk about Mr. Wilson a lot,” she says. “I believe he told you, and I quote, ‘I don’t feel I’ve earned the right to it, and I’m afraid the whole country will think it’s just being handed to me because of Steve.’”
Bucky scowls. All of that is bullshit and he’s not sure how Sam can’t see that.
“Have you considered that plucking the shield out of Walker’s hands and ‘giving it back’” – Dr. Raynor uses actual air quotes here – “is feeding right into those fears that Mr. Wilson confided to you? That this is the narrative he was trying to avoid”
“I–”
It feels like he’s been thrown under the ice again and the session has veered completely out of his control. Even worse, he fucking hates how lost and tiny his voice sounds, even to his own ears. And the damn pen scribbling across her notepad again–
“I was just trying to help,” he says, mortified to hear the crack in his voice.
“It’s not your choice to make,” Dr. Raynor says gently.
“I want him to see that he’s worthy of the shield,” Bucky says, unable to stop now that he’s really gotten going. “And that – that he doesn’t need anyone else’s approval before he picks up the damn thing. And Walker’s stupid, smug , punchable face was just asking for it...”
“I know,” she whispers under her breath.
He’s vaguely aware that he’s been wringing his wrists to the point of pain. Part of him wants to scream. Sure, Sam had mentioned off-hand right after Stark’s funeral that he was hesitant to take on the shield’s legacy, but Bucky had assumed it was just nerves talking. He’s just so, so exhausted and tired of trying to make amends but never being able to quite get it right, and then he immediately feels awful for thinking that, too. Fuck. He’ll be lucky if Sam even texts him again after this.
He’s not sure how many minutes pass before he can muster the energy to even look at Dr. Raynor again.
“You turning me in to the feds, then?” he asks, but there’s no bite to it.
She sighs. Bucky really ought to start keeping count. “I’m not obligated to report crimes that have already happened. On one condition ,” she adds sternly.
Bucky blinks.
“For your next appointment, you’re going to bring Mr. Wilson with you and we’re going to start working through some of the interpersonal conflicts you two have.”
“Interpersonal–”
“It’s not up for debate,” She snaps her notebook closed and looks entirely too gleeful to be seeing the both of them next week. “Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.”
Outside of Dr. Raynor’s office, Bucky lets his head thump against the closed door behind him. He can’t imagine anything more hellish than a joint therapy session with Wilson.