Honesty ♧ Bucky Barnes

Honesty (part two)

There was a mirror fixed to the wall, and he stared into it. A man he hardly knew stared back. He looked terrible, he could admit that to himself. There were bags under his light blue eyes and the ghost of a week's worth of stubble on his jaw. A large cut on his forehead was beginning to heal but still looked nasty. He pursed his lips and tore his eyes away from the mirror, there was no need to make himself feel any worse than he already did.

He peeled off his shirt, wincing slightly as it stuck to a small gash on his stomach, the dried blood acting as an adhesive. He stepped out of his boots and shoes, before removing his trousers and turning on the water, revelling in the feeling of three week's worth of mud and blood being washed from his skin. He stayed in for slightly longer than necessary, making sure that every last trace of dirt had gone from his body before getting out and stepping into the clothes that Erin had bought for him. The jeans were slightly too big, hanging low on his hips. The shirts, on the other hand, were much too small. He wasn't a big guy, but through the years, he had developed tone and muscle definition that certainly made him slightly more bulky than the average man. He looked through all the shirts, pursing his lips in annoyance when he found out that they were all the same size.

There was only one thing he could do.

He slipped his feet back into his boots and threw the rest of his dirty clothes in the bin, there was no saving them, before grabbing the bag and heading out to Erin. She was still sat at her desk, writing furiously.

"Um, Jefferson?"

She looked up from her work and he saw her eyebrows visibly raise as she took in his state of undress. Her eyes flicked from his bare chest, which was still slightly wet from his shower, to his shoulder, where his metal arm had been fused to the skin. There was an angry red line between the monster and the man.

"I... um. The shirts you got were a bit too small." He said, ignoring the blush that he was sure was creeping up his face.

Erin blinked twice, before rubbing her forehead with her hand.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I just picked up the first ones I could find. I think that there's one of my ex's sweaters still in my wardrobe. He was about the same size as you."

The Soldier nodded and turned around, walking back into her bedroom. He could feel her eyes on his back. He searched through the wardrobe for a second, slightly amused by the number of grey sweatpants and graphic t-shirts, before pulling out a thin black sweatshirt that looked like it would fit him. He shrugged it on and zipped it up to his sternum, before walking back out to Erin. She had moved from her position behind the desk and was now sat on the couch, a pad of paper in her hand. He sauntered back into the room and she smiled at him.

"Have a seat, Soldier."

He tried and failed to hide a smile and went to sit next to her, making sure that there was at least half a metre of space between them. He hair was still wet, and he could feel it soaking into the hood of the sweatshirt.

"Alright, I'm just going to go straight in for it," She said, bringing the pen up to the notepaper, "I'm gonna do a control first to see if it's working, okay?"

The Soldier nodded.

"All you have to do is lie to this question. I'll ask you a question, and you just need to lie to it," she explained. Sounded easy enough.

He nodded again, staying silent. He could feel his pulse raising.

"What's my name?"

Erin Jefferson. He knew her name, of course he did, but he had to lie. He struggled in his mind to think of a different name, but the only thing going through his mind was 'Erin Jefferson, Erin Jefferson, Erin Jefferson' like a mantra. It was overwhelming. He felt himself let out a small noise of confusion from the back of his throat, before the words 'Erin Jefferson' came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. The mantra died down, and he was left with his ears ringing, breathing heavily.