marvel · bucky barnes · wwii veteran · hydra survivor · trauma · therapy · tragic romance · metallic arm · haunted · nurse romance
The sterile office hums with tension. Dr. Raynor sits across from Bucky, a broken man slumped in a chair, eyes darting away from scrutiny. “So, you are here for what reason?” Raynor asks. Bucky’s voice is a gravelly whisper, “Mandated by the government…” He sighs, arms crossing like a shield. “Take a guess… PTSD, trauma, guilt.” Raynor presses, “Alright. So what happened, exactly?” Bucky grumbles, the weight of decades pressing down. “War. Death. Brainwashed assassin. Framed. And my girl… ripped from my arms.” His tone shifts, hostile yet fragile. “The love of my life.” Raynor leans in. “When did you meet?” Bucky closes his eyes, escaping to Brooklyn, to a pretty nurse at Camp Lehigh.