When Sparks Fly

Raynor

Last night was another rough one, nights like this I don't get much sleep. Constantly being woken by the sound of my own guilt, which sounds a lot like gunfire. I wake up on the floor of my studio apartment since it's all I can afford. While I don't want to take them, the government checks are what keep me afloat. I mean, who wants to hire a semi stable hundred year old man with only one real arm? I normally sleep on the floor, unless Phoebe is here then it's an inflatable mattress, which I can't sleep on. I almost always fall asleep while listening to a sports game of some kind; football, soccer, whatever's on at the time. I think I'm trying to see if the cheers will drown out the screams, but it doesn't ever seem to work.

I wake up in a cold sweat from the nightmare I just had. I don't even know if you could call it a nightmare if I'm reliving something horrible I did. I sit up and look around my apartment, noticing a soccer game is on. My small apartment only has one of the essentials, since I don't have anyone over other than Phoebe. She is the only reason I have two plates, forks, spoons, cups and all that other crap. I feel my dogtags moving around against my chest and I place a hand on them to stop them from swaying, as I do I'm reminded of Phoebe placing her hand on my chest while she tries to console me after a panic attack or a nightmare like the one I just had.

Given everything that's happened I feel like an asshole, she has been there for me through so much, even though she's only known me for a short time and now I can't even be there for her after we both lost someone so special to us. This is something that circles in my head as I sit through my weekly therapy session, "so, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" While I hear and process this question, I don't respond, "James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?"

"No," I simply state.

"We've been doing this long enough that I can tell when you're lying. You seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

"No."

"You're a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you're not gonna..." Dr. Raynor punches at the air with her right hand. I assume this is to imitate me going crazy or losing control. "It's a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

I sigh, looking out the large window of a wall in the room before looking back to Dr. Raynor, "I didn't have a nightmare." Dr. Raynor, who isn't happy with my answer, takes out her pen, "oh, come on, really? You're gonna do the notebook thing? Why? It's passive aggressive."

"You don't talk, I write."

I sigh, "okay, okay. I crossed a name off the list of my amends yesterday. Don't worry, I used all your three rules. Senator Atwood. She was a HYDRA pawn for years. Helped her get into office when I was the Winter Soldier. And after HYDRA disbanded, she continued to abuse the power I gave her."

"So, rule number one, you can't do anything illegal"

"All I did was give some intel to the aide to convict her. And I wasn't involved in anything else."

"Rule number two?"

"What was rule number two?"

"Nobody gets hurt, it's a big one."

"Then why isn't it rule number one?" I shrug, but Dr. Raynor looks less than amused. "I didn't hurt anyone. I promise," this is a lie, I may have punched a guy in the face and broke his nose, but what was I supposed to do, let him shoot me?

"And what about rule number three? The whole point of making amends is to fulfil rule number three."

"You know, you're a cynic, Doc. Of course, I completed rule number three. I am no longer the Winter Soldier, I am James Bucky Barnes... And you're part of my efforts to make amends." I smile the same smile that I gave Senator Atwood before she was arrested.

"So, you did it all right, but it didn't help with the nightmares."

"Well, like I said, I didn't have any."

"Look... One day you're gonna have to open up and understand that some people really do want to help you and that they can be trusted."

"I trust people."

"Yeah? Give me your phone." Dr. Raynor puts down her notepad, as I groan leaning over to hand her my phone. She flips it open and starts to go through it, not that there's anything on it. "You don't have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, and you've been ignoring the texts from Sam. The only person you seem to answer is Phoebe and all the messages between you two are 'yours or mine,' followed by a time. Look, you gotta nurture friendships. I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad," she closes my phone before tossing it back to me, I catch it with ease, "you're alone. You're a hundred years old. You have no history, no family..."

"Are you lashing out at me, Doc? Because that's really unprofessional, you know? I mean, when did that start? Yelling at your clients?" Dr. Raynor picks up her notebook and slams her free hand against the back of it as I continue, "oh the notebook, that's great." I sigh, shaking my head a bit, "alright, give me a break. I'm trying, okay. This isn't..." I sigh again, "this is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything, you know? I had a little... calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years."

"So, now that you've stopped fighting, what do you want?"

"Peace."

"That is utter bullshit."

"You're a terrible shrink."

"I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape."

"I'm not alone. I have..."

"An hour long booty call doesn't count as having someone. Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you've got your mind back, you are being pardoned. I mean, these are good things. You're free."

"To do what?"