After She Left

the pieces

"I don't want to judge what's in your heart

But if you're not ready for love

How can you be ready for life?"

SOKO's "We Might Be Dead by Tomorrow"

"Well?" Dr. Raynor said to him as their session began. The moment that little red second hand ticked to his hour, she began. Never wasting time, because she knew that he needed every damn second for the rest of his life to properly suss through what was going on inside his head.

"Can you elaborate?" he asked with a passive-aggressive undertone to his voice that he heard her use numerous times. The exact wording she'd used before, too. He liked to get under people's skin, and Raynor was someone he could do that with who would retort with equal bite.

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. "It's been a week, have you reached out to someone? Like I asked?"

"Yes, actually," he said with a sharp nod of his head. Folding his hands into his lap, he leaned forward over his legs. "I did."

"What's their name?" Raynor asked.

"Lillian." He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as if to challenge Raynor, to see if she would demand proof.

Now Dr. Raynor actually looked shocked. Both her brows raised ever so slightly, and then she leaned back in her seat and nodded her approval, and perhaps a hint of relief glimmered in her eyes. She jotted something down quickly, then put the notebook down. From where Bucky was seated, he could see what she penned in. "Barnes has made steady progress since last week."

Bucky grinned to himself, satisfied. It felt good to be told he had done a good job, even if it wasn't directly. Surely she knew that he had superb eyesight and could read what she wrote from the way she placed it. She wanted him to read it. Why? To boost his ego?

"And you're not lying to me, are you James?"

"No," he said. "And to prove it..." he pulled out his phone and showed her that Lillian was in his contacts. He hadn't actually texted her since getting her number, though. But having her in his contacts was enough to prove that he had done something that Raynor had requested of him.

Behind the chair the good doctor sat upon appeared Ophelia. With her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. Her natural skin radiant as always, but her smile was stiff and small. She frowned over Raynor's shoulder.

Bucky nibbled his lip, stiffening in his seat. What did this projection of Ophelia mean? Of course he was imagining her, so it was really just a part of his own guilt that was creating her reaction.

Dr. Raynor looked over the phone, and then handed it back to him.

"Colour me impressed. Do keep me updated," she said.

"Hey Doc?" Bucky said, trying to keep his eyes on her, rather than Ophelia. "Just to be clear, I'm not interested in Lillian, like that... I just..." he hoped the fabrication of Ophelia he invented was listening. "Having someone to talk to who understands what it is like to lose everyone is nice."

"That's what I've been telling you," she said.

They then transitioned into his amends. Making sure he was following the rules. He was, at least, he was able to bend the truth enough to pretend like he was being honest. They plowed through the rest of the hour that way, and when Bucky left therapy to head back home, he thought about his own words concerning Lillian. He meant what he said about her to Raynor, to Ophelia. It really was about having someone to talk to. There were group therapy sessions, but he could hardly get through his own one-on-one, let alone having to announce his problems on everyone else.