(Trigger Warning! This story has triggering content related to: self harm, anxiety, panic attacks, and violence.)

Chapter 1: The Darkest of Secrets

Everyone has secrets. I happen to have many. The first is I am a member of the Avengers. I try to keep my identity hidden from the public as much as possible. My own family has no clue what I've been doing for the past three years. Want something darker? I used to be a gun for hire. That's how I came to be in my current line of work, if you take my meaning. I was on a rooftop in D.C., overlooking a crowd of people, scanning for my target. I positioned myself with my rifle, ready to pull the trigger on some big-name politician I'd never even heard of, when an arrow pierced my thigh. The World's Greatest Marksman himself, Hawkeye, had shot me with a tranquilizing arrow. And that was my not-so-polite invitation into the avengers. Even though the Avengers were extremely welcoming and understanding, I still felt the need to cover up anything I could of my past. I know all of us have seen more than we care to, but everyone is always telling each other they are the most normal person on the team. Even though we were all friends as well as allies, I still hadn't shared much with them, and I never intended to.

Steve and Bucky were undoubtedly my best friends in the tower; in the world, actually. Bucky had been the one to convince me to join the avengers, and Steve had been so reassuring of the benefits that I couldn't say no. When I was first recruited, I was terrified. I'd spent years being completely alone, and now I was moving in with a bunch of people I didn't know. After a while though, it became normal. Clint and Natasha appointed themselves as my Superior Officers and mentors, and even Tony showed affection in his own weird way (Mostly by teasing me or building things for me). However, Steve and Bucky formed a bond with me that was different. They were astonished that I was so young but still had more experience. They became my guardians. They watched out for me even when I insisted I didn't need it. It was amazing to me, how even though we had become so close, I still kept so much from them.

My darkest secret yet, runs in parallel lines of red across my stomach, thighs, shoulders, and sometimes my wrists. Before joining the Avengers; I hid beneath my long sleeved shirts keeping the cuts hidden from wandering eyes. After years the secrecy became natural. The very first time I cut myself, was in high school. I was angry, sad, and afraid, the typical emotions of an adolescent girl, though they came in waves and hit me all at once; each time it became harder to recover. The moment I felt the cool blade glide across my skin, I felt a release, like all the chaos was resolved in that second. The pain was nothing to the sheer euphoria of being almost absolutely free of my emotions that all but dragged me further down into the depths of depression; a place I would never escape once consumed. I found myself doing it again… and again… and again just to feel that freedom. Years later, somethings in my life began to change, while others remained constant. There I was still breaking skin to feel any kind of relief at all; my tools had gone from broken glass to metal blades of all kinds. Pencil sharpeners, razors, box-cutters, scissors, X-acto blades, anything sharp enough to draw blood. So I sat on the cold bathroom floor, making line after line on my sickly pale skin, when my phone rang. I jumped in surprised, which made the razor blade I gripped tightly pierce my skin a little faster and deeper than I wanted. "OW!" I yelped in surprise. Dropping my blade, I reached for my phone. It was Steve.

"Hello… ?" I said as normally as I could, even though tears were stinging my eyes.

"Ana, did you forget training? You're five minutes late."

"No, I didn't forget." I said, trying to sound convincing, "I'm on my way. I had to get a file to Nat."

"Okay, hurry up." Steve said. He didn't sound too upset, but he didn't like when I was late.

After hanging up, I cleaned the bathroom in record time, quickly taping gauze over the extra deep cut on my side. Then I grabbed my gym clothes and pulled my hair back into a pathetic excuse of a braid, and ran for the elevator.

When I arrived at the training floor, Bucky and Steve were already sparring each other. Bucky smiled when he saw me. "Cute hair." He said, referring to my messy braid with locks of my brown hair sticking out in random places. I stuck my tongue out at him. "Who do you want to spar first?" he asked. I shrugged, "Does it matter?" I said with a smirk, "I'll win either way."

Bucky laughed, "Okay, punk, you can fight me first."

The spar had had a good start, meaning I threw the first punch and nailed him right in jaw. He looked stunned for a moment. "You been training with Romanoff?" he asked. "Maybe." I said, aiming a swift kick at his ribs, which he dodged. He tried to knock me off balance by hitting my feet, but I blocked his foot, sending him stumbling back. I tried to get him to the ground before he could regain his balance, but he caught my arm, holding it behind my back, trying to force me to the ground. I twisted my way out of his grip, and turned to block his next swing. We went on like this for a while. He threw some kicks and punches at me, and I dodged them. Then I threw some, and he dodged them. Eventually, Bucky landed a blow to my ribs, and I doubled over in pain.

It's not that Bucky's punch had hurt me. He knows he is much stronger than me and does not use full force when we are sparring. But he had hit me right where I made the deeper cut that morning. Bucky immediately froze, "You alright, doll? Did I hurt you?" Steve was at my side in a second. "I'm fine." I told them, "It wasn't you, Bucky."

"Well what was it?" Steve asked, "Are you alright?" Bucky looked worried "Maybe I should take a look at it." He said. I backed away from him, putting my arms up defensively. "No! I'll just go put some ice on it and it'll be okay." I said, crossing my arms.

"Ana, you're bleeding!" Steve said. I looked down at my side and saw blood starting to show through my shirt. "Steve, I'm fine." I said. "No, you're not!" he said as he suddenly reached for my shirt hem and yanked it up. I shrieked half with surprise at Steve's sudden boldness and half in pain. Then I saw Steve and Bucky's shocked faces. Bucky's face quickly changed to an odd mixture of horror and sadness. Steve was scowling, eyebrows knit together as he stared at my side. His expression was so fierce it was scaring me. I was trying to think of something to say when I was suddenly lifted up and thrown over Steve's shoulder. "Put me down!" I yelled, "I can walk on my own!"

Steve ignored my shouting while Bucky followed silently behind us. I pounded my fists against his back a few times, but it was no use against his super soldier strength. Steve walked into my apartment and set me down on my couch. He told Bucky to go get a first aid kit.

I was almost in tears. I was so scared. I couldn't bring my eyes to even look at Steve. After a few minutes I heard Bucky call him into the bathroom. When I was sitting there alone, all of my emotions caught up to me and I started to cry. I didn't even try to understand the whispers coming out of my bathroom. I didn't have to guess what they were about. All I could do wait in suspense for them to come out. I tried to stop my tears; I probably seemed weak enough already, now I was being stupid. I grabbed a throw pillow next to me and buried my face into it. A few minutes later, I heard my name.

"Anastasia… "

I lifted my head up. Steve was standing in front of me. He was holding a small box. My box. My secret. My secret was in that box.

"Is this what I think it is?" Steve asked, holding up the box where I kept my blade collection. I didn't like the way he towered over me, making me feel smaller each second with the intensity of his expression.

I stared blankly at him, hoping he wouldn't make me answer that question.

"Why would you do this?" he demanded.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I just shrugged, taking a very deep interest on a loose thread in the pillow I was holding. Some tears started to slip again as Bucky sat down next to me.

"You don't know?" Steve asked, "How can you not know?! Don't you know this is dangerous?"

I nodded.

"If you know that why are still doing it?!"

"I'm sorry… " I sobbed.

"That doesn't tell me why you would hurt yourself! I am getting rid of these!" he said waving the small box, "And you are going to stop this!"

I just kept crying, "I can't…", I whispered.

"What do you mean 'you can't'?" Steve growled, crossing his arms, "You can, and you will. Before you kill yourself!"

I cringed.

"Steve, stop it." Bucky said, "You're scaring her."

"Scaring her?! I'm not the one who's hurting myself, Bucky!"

"Steve, go in the kitchen for a minute, okay?"

"What?! No! Bucky, can't you see what's going on here?!

"Yes, and you're not handling it very well."

"But- "

"Steve. Go." Bucky said, pointing at the door. There was a serious edge to his voice.

Steve stormed off to the kitchen. Leaving just Bucky and I on the couch. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, pushing some of my brown hair out of my face before opening the first aid kit. "D-does S-steve hate m-me now?" I asked through my tears. "Of course not." Bucky said, as he started to get some clean gauze and an antiseptic wipe, "You know you're like a sister to him." I hissed in pain as he pressed the antiseptic to the gash on my side. Bucky looked at me apologetically, then continued, "He was probably just scared, and he didn't mean what he said. We'll give him a few minutes to calm down then you can go talk to him okay?" I nodded, "I'm sorry, Bucky." I whispered to him as he finished taping fresh gauze over my cut.

"Don't apologize, darling. I can't imagine what you've been through." he said kissing my forehead. I nodded and Bucky told me to go change my clothes then come back and wait on the couch.

3rd person POV

Bucky put the first aid kit away and then went to the kitchen to check on Steve. He was sitting at the table, sulking.

"You didn't need to yell at her." Bucky stated.

"I didn't yell!" Steve snapped.

"I know you're worried but this won't help. She's scared and upset and if you try to force her out of it she'll just crave it more."

Steve looked down, "I didn't mean to make her upset."

"I know." said Bucky, "but you really need to apologize to Ana."

Steve nodded, "But seriously, Buck, what are we going to do? We can't let her go on like this."

"I know, but the most important thing is that she stops because she wants to, not because we're making her. She needs to know we'll do whatever it takes to help her. Are you ready to talk to her now?"

Steve nodded, and they headed out to the living room, but when the got there, Anastasia was fast asleep on the couch, with her hair covering most of her face. Bucky smiled, "I guess we'll have to wait until she wakes up."