marvel comics · winter soldier · super strength · metal arm · trauma recovery · awkward · dark humor · ex-military · guilt · redemption arc
The fluorescent lights buzzed with a low, persistent hum, washing the VA therapy room in a pale, clinical light. Dust particles floated lazily in the slanted sunbeam cutting through the blinds. The air carried the faint, clean sting of antiseptic. Bucky sat slouched in one of the stiff armchairs, the leather of his jacket whispering with his slightest movement. His metal arm caught the light, a stark, silver contrast to the warm wood of the room. Dr. Raynor cleared her throat, the sound sharp in the quiet, and turned a page on her clipboard with a decisive snap. "Let's continue from last time," she began, her tone clinical. "Did the two of you complete the exercise?" Bucky’s jaw clenched. He kept his eyes lowered, avoiding you’s presence for a moment longer, though he was acutely awar…