You're My Bucky- Little Bucky

Therapy

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"You sure about that?"

"As sure as I can be."

"What's on your mind?"

"I just said I was fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"Well I am."

"I'm not so sure about that."

This was the gist of what was spoken during Bucky's new therapy sessions. It was always the same; nothing new, just useless questions to which Bucky would respond with useless answers.

After all the events that he had been through since the "Captain America" poser—AKA John Walker—had originally gotten him out of his court mandated therapy with Dr. Raymor,  Bucky hadn't expected himself to have to return to practically daily therapy sessions so soon after saving the world.

What was different from his original court mandated therapy however, was that his therapy was run by agents of SHEILD. This meant that every time he went to therapy, he would have a different SHEILD agent sitting across from him and taking notes. So much for bonding with his therapist, at least Bucky had seen Dr. Raynor enough to become somewhat aquatinted with her.
With this weird SHEILD therapy program, Bucky could have a naive redhead as his therapist one day, and a stern, military-built person as his therapist the next.
And all of these therapists would say the same thing. They would ask about his day, ask if he was feeling alright, and ask a couple other general questions, all of which Bucky responded to with less than a sentence.

Today's therapy however, Bucky noticed was slightly different than usual. He had woken up at 5:00 AM sharp on a Wednesday morning due to his mental alarm clock, wrapped in the thin plain white sheets of a dark blue sofa bed that was stationed in the middle of Sam's sister's (Sarah's) living room, where he had been welcomed to stay for the time being.
As usual, after a moment of rubbing his eyes and pushing away the night terrors that had clawed at him over the less than 4 hours he was asleep (he never slept much), Bucky was up and out of the suffocating covers in less than a minute, and after making a quick stop to the restroom to get freshened up, and changing into a new long-sleeved grey shirt that covered his vibranium arm, as well as some blue jean pants, Bucky was out of the Wilson family house, and had begun his 13-mile morning run that would eventually lead him to the plain 2-story building that his therapy sessions were held in.

At first when Bucky began his run, as he ran down docks and through the small neighborhood-like area that Sarah lived in, he encountered no more than a couple stray dogs, some who were matted and seemed vicious, and others who looked perfectly maintained and wagged their tails as Bucky ran by.
This area of town was normally quiet in the mornings when Bucky ran by however. With the sun —more often than not— still hiding when he began his runs, most sensible people were still sleeping peacefully in their beds. However, as Bucky ran farther and farther into the main part of the Delacroix, Louisiana city, the bustling town began to roar to life.
Bucky saw many men and women rushing out of their apartments and flats to start their day shift. Some where in office uniforms, some in doctor scrubs, and others in simple casual clothing.
Bucky glanced around at some of the people as he ran, noticing how a couple of the fast-paced people looked like they had a bad case of bed-head, and like they fell asleep on their armchairs the night before.

Typical caregiver signs.

The farther he ran down the city streets, The more the sun rose, and the more cars began to pile up in the roads. The beautiful sounds of the morning birds chirping was quickly drowned out by the sound of car honks and tire screeches.