The visit with the psychiatrist clears him for active duty, and again Winter is pushed into training with the team as a whole, getting used to the way they all move and fight, reacting along with them as they're taken through training exercises both at base at off base. He and Natasha spend every evening together as they did in the past, and for once it feels, well, normal if Winter is honest with himself. He's familiar with this aspect, with being a soldier and a lover and while being a teammate is a little different he soon finds that he likes that bit, too. Tony's come around quite a bit more since Winter's breakdown, and Thor is always there for him to talk. Winter finds that he appreciates that near the most. Thor's brother was the one to destroy Manhattan, this Winter knows, and the two spend hours talking about whether or not one can come back from the terrible things that they've done. Thor admits that when he was younger he was reckless, seeking only glory in the battlefield, and Winter can relate, assuring Thor that he only fought for Russia because he wanted the glory of saving his land, of saying that he, personally, was able to do it without the help of any others-except for Natasha. Thor says he's glad that Winter has joined the team, and Winter finds that he agrees, returning the awkward hug the demi-god pulls him into and trying his best not to feel as though he's being squashed by an overgrown bear.

Natasha has moved into his apartment by that time, and though it's unofficial he only realizes it's for certain when she starts leaving one of her suits in his closet, just in case she needs it. The discovery makes him smile, though he doesn't say anything out of the ordinary. He doesn't want to spoil the moment. The way he sees it, though, his life has taken a turn for the far better, and even though experience has taught him otherwise he can only hope and pray it stays like that.

"So, Fury thinks he may have a mission for you and I." They're eating Chinese take out and watching terrible game shows, both of which are fast becoming two of Winter's guilty pleasures. He's never been allowed to watch television or eat what he wants before, and the freedom was nearly overwhelming when he first discovered it (he'll never forget Natasha's look of shock and terror when she found him sitting on the couch for the tenth hour straight watching reruns of Supernatural. He couldn't help it! Those poor boys made him feel like his life was some semblance of normal.)

"Does he?" Winter asks after he swallowed his mouthful of chicken lo mein, his eyes widening with excitement. He's had yet to be called into the field, always training and training just to make sure he's back to his peak condition. Heaven forbid he gets sent out at his less than best. "What would it be, undercover or surveillance?"

"Undercover. We'd go to Amsterdam and you'd moonlight as a man looking to get in on the action of the Red Light District." She says this very casually, as if there's nothing to be worried about, but Winter understands what that means. Tony showed him the internet, and though he may not have intentionally sought out the definition of a place like that, there's only so far you can search on the web before coming across places like that brought up in passing.

"Where do you play in all this?" He asks, trying to adopt her very cool mannerisms about it. He supposes if she's not worried about it then that means he can be less worried. There's no way he could be anything other than anxious about bringing her into a place like that.

"Well, you'd be attempting to sell me into the business. We'll need to do some scouting first, so we'll be there for a couple weeks. After we make contact we'll be expected to stick around for three or four days, but mostly it's to get a good, in depth look at the kind of clientele they bring in. Fury has it on good authority that they cater to Hydra officials, which means that I'll be able to get at least some decent information from them. Men talk all the time when they're happy," she murmurs this last bit, as though the justification of it will make it all better. It only makes Winter's hands clench tighter. He's supposed to whore his girlfriend out to Hydra men so they can see just what the bastards are doing, get leaked information once they're done-no.

"You're not doing it," he mutters. "Get someone else to. Hire one of the damn girls already in the business to do it-you're not going through it again."

She sighs and mutes the television; the forced laughter is a little more than either of them can take at the moment. "Winter, this is my job-."

"You did the same thing in the Red Room, and you tried doing it when we got out the first time. You're not doing it."

"And you're in any way able to dictate what I do or don't do," she seethes, her eyes narrowing as she sets down her food to glower at him. "Winter, I'm going on that mission. I'd like you by my side, to have my back. That's what you want isn't it?"

"Yes it is, but dammit Tasha I'm not going to watch you whore yourself out like that!" He doesn't mean for it to come out as a shout, doesn't mean to slam his fist on the side of the couch so hard that the wood splits. Natasha goes very still beside him, her eyes wide for a moment before she adopts her blank face, the one he's seen her take on when she was in trouble with Ivan, or Alexei. Regret swells in his chest and he's about to apologize when she rises to her feet.

"I'll ask Clint to go with me, then," she murmurs just loud enough to be heard over his apologies, which she waves away as though they're nothing but smoke. "You're not ready to go out into the field if you're going to let emotions get hold of you so easily. It's a job, Winter, and I'm the best at what I do, which is getting information from other men. You don't want to watch me work that's fine, but don't you dare call me a fucking whore again." Her eyes are bright with her words, resentful as she stares at him. He's apologizing, rising to follow her as she collects her things and when she goes to the door he slams it shut before she can walk out.

"Natasha-please, you know that's not what I meant," he repeats it so much he's not even sure what he's really saying any more. "Don't leave me, I'm sorry babe, I can't-I'm so sorry." He can't find the words to express what happened to him, why the panic and all the words he wants to say choke him, why he can't hardly seem to see straight. He tries to catch her wrist but she grabs his and twists his arms so hard that he flips over and falls onto his back on the ground. Her scowl is the last thing he sees before she walks out, slamming the door so hard the hinges rattle. Winter doesn't hardly move from his place on the floor, his head tipping back as he feels the panic intensify, singing through his veins even as he tries to calm down, tries to breathe. Can't breathe. Can't think. Natasha.

He hasn't had a panic attack since he was a kid, from what he remembers, and he tries to draw on what he knows from that experience, promising himself he's not dying-he's not dying-but all he can feel is ice and cold and the vastness of being alone closing in on him again.

When he finally picks himself up off the floor he dials Dr. Kensington's number. She picks up though it's long past her normal office hours.

"Doc?" Steve asks, voice quiet and shaky. "I need some help."

A/N: Short and [not so] sweet but GD I am proud of this. I don't know why, but I just really am. Okay, I'm gonna go now-hope you liked it! 3