'When you try your best, but you don't succeed,'

She couldn't have killed him. She was twelve years old, ju st a child, doing her best to do what they told her to. The man stood in front of her, her gun still uselessly trained on him. She started to lower it; until his face was blown off by another Red Room agent. "Don't scream, Natalia," he ordered harshly. "Plenty of time for that later..."

'When you get what you want, but not what you need,'

The next time had been different. Still twelve years old, still too young to be doing what she was, but this time Natalia managed to complete her mission. The target was dead. The target... her grandfather. She didn't need more blood on her hands. But they wouldn't torture her today. Not today.

'When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep,'

Stark certainly knew how to make punching bags to withstand her. They lasted longer, that was for sure. Natasha's hands had been sore, bleeding, and she had kept going. She was exhausted but unable to sleep. Finally, it was her own blood on her hands.

'Stuck in reverse.'

Natalia's life had been going nowhere when he found her. She couldn't do anything different. It was just the same, all the time. Seduce them. Kill them. She was stuck, not going anywhere. No one knew that, of course. This was Natalia Romanova.

'And the tears come streaming down your face,'

The scream had been what had broken her. The woman, cowering on the floor in front of her, 15 year old Natalia Romanova, begging her in Russian to "Stop, please, stop!" A stifled sob escaped her lips, and to her horror, tears started to roll down her face.

'When you lose something you can't replace.'

He hadn't stopped. For god's sake, she was seventeen! But that didn't bother the man - old enough to be her grandfather - from doing it. Natalia never even got a chance to shoot him. He raped her and left.

'When you love someone, but it goes to waste,'

"Clint! Don't you dare die!" Natasha had growled, trying to staunch the blood pouring from his stomach. "Don't leave me, you bastard." He cried out in pain and tears started to slip down her cheeks. She loved him too much for this to happen. She wouldn't let him die.

'Could it be worse?'

Fifteen days. Natasha had spent fifteen days at the hospital, alternating between sobbing, threatening people, and sleeping with her heaad on Clint's hospital bed. The coma was powerful. They didn't know if he'd wake.

'Lights will guide you home,

And ignite your bones...'

She woke with a shriek. The radio was still playing softly, the soundtrack to the onslaught of horrible memories. Natasha sat up, shaking, the tears soaking her face and falling gently onto the bed. The man next to her stirred, sitting up as well. "Tash? What happened?" Natasha didn't move, didn't respond to Clint, and he knew what it was. "Oh, Nat," he whispered sadly, slipping his arms around her. She broke down into sobs, curling against him and weeping as if her heart was breaking. He rocked her gently, kissing the red hair. "It's alright, I've got you. I've got you."

'And I will try to fix you.'