Steve watched through a large window as Natasha dozed under the controlled sleep of sedatives in the Medical Unit at SHIELD. Barton stood beside him, arms folded over his chest. They were waiting for the arrival of a hand surgeon from Georgetown University Hospital to evaluate the fractures in her right hand and Dr. Moses to evaluate everything else. Steve hadn't quite decided how to feel yet, beyond confidence in his unshakable love for Natasha and varying levels of frustration in the people around him. Including her. How could she possibly think he would leave her for someone else over…? He shook his head. This was all too much coming at him at once.

Rather than entering the room to try and hold one of Natasha's heavily bandaged hands, he spoke to the problem standing next to him, "How long as she had an issue with mirrors? Because this is the first I'm hearing about it."

"Hasn't happened in years. When she first came to SHIELD…she had a lot of trouble…adjusting." Barton scratched his forehead. "She used to say she could see her old self in her reflection and she didn't like what she saw."

"So she went around busting mirrors? And no one said anything?"

"Well…no one really wanted to risk it. For the first few months she was confined to the Triskelion. She was part incredible new asset and part rampaging hellbeast. For a while she wouldn't even talk to anyone but me without a gun pointed at their head or the occasional knife to the throat."

"And this was okay with everyone?"

"Rogers, before you and she developed tunnel vision for each other, you may have noticed that, in spite of being gorgeous and single, Natasha wasn't fighting off the men of SHIELD with both fists. The people that remember what she was like when I brought her in pass that knowledge along like an angry, redheaded flu."

Steve laughed mirthlessly. "I thought you two were supposed to be friends."

"Friends don't shy away from the truth. Nobody liked her when she first got her and a lot of people still don't, regardless of how much she's done to prove herself. Besides, she likes being feared by everyone beneath her. It's part of the whole Black Widow mystique."

"And the mirror-smashing, what? Made her scarier?"

"Most people thought it was just destruction for the sake of destruction. She was a KGB mini-Hulk." Barton's voice dropped to a growl, "Tash-smash."

Steve wondered if the Army could ever have operated as sloppily as SHIELD. "So everyone was okay with it?"

"I think Fury ordered her to see the shrink."

"Is that when Dr. Fleischman told her he refused to see her?"

"Mmm. Guy's a quack. Won't see me either, not that I have any desire to subject myself to his pompous ass-hattery. She got over it on her own, though. I can't remember the last time she smashed a mirror. Maybe it's got something to do with you, Rogers."

Steve cocked his fist for a blow that would likely fracture Barton's skull when a light touch stayed his hand. He turned to Hill, who had just arrived. "I think it's more likely that it has something to do with the KGB. She punched out six in the women's bathroom down the hall from the conference room just before we left for the Kazakhstan mission." Both men looked toward Hill, who shrugged. "I looked back through the maintenance logs and that was apparently the first time in several years. Also her first KGB-related mission in years. Is she going to be okay?"

"Some fractures in her right hand," Barton said with less concern than Steve thought appropriate.

"Good thing she's left-handed." Hill gave Steve a tight smile that told him she was actually concerned, even if she was demonstrating it via sarcasm. The three watched Natasha's still form in the hospital bed in silence for a short time before Hill said, "She told me about a training exercise called 'The Game' where they had to kill political prisoners or be killed. Semipalatinsk was one of the places it was carried out."

Steve closed his eyes, able to pull up an image of the scoreboards with very little effort, Natasha's, no, Natalia Romanova's name topping them all. He wondered how many other scoreboards like that existed throughout the KGB's sphere of influence. During his interrogation Vasily had mentioned a site near a lake. Steve wondered if there were a similar scoreboard there, or any number of other places the KGB had forced Natasha to kill in order to survive. She had told him about The Game, of course, the night she had told him everything about her past with the KGB – or almost everything. He was once again struck by the contrast between the person who had done enough to earn a hit from SHIELD's top assassin and the one who slept beside him, who could do the most delicious things with chicken, who gave him neck rubs and…other things. He was seized by the urge to rush into the room and collect her in his arms; he resisted only with some extra effort.

Silence once again reigned in the hallway until an angry argument – or one side of it – echoed through the hallway. Steve recognized Dr. Moses' voice, raised to an infuriated pitch. "…which is, furthermore, a direct violation of your obligations as a psychiatrist. Do I have to remind you primum non nocere? It's the first damn thing you're supposed to do! That includes patient evasion and…Steve!" Dr. Moses held out her hand, which he shook. "I came as soon as I got your message. Or as soon as someone was smart enough to give me security access. Remind me to find Agent Hill and thank him later."

"Uh…" Steve felt like smiling since the first time since this morning, seeing Dr. Fleishman cowering and Agent Hill awkwardly pursing her lips. "This is actually Agent Maria Hill."

Dr. Moses was unflustered, proffering her hand to Hill. "My apologies. You just get so used to dealing with men in the DOD and…well, thank you for allowing me access to my patient."

"Your patient?"

"You must be Agent Barton." Dr. Moses didn't extend her hand this time. "I thought you'd be taller."

"You should see me in stilettos," Barton quipped.

"Inappropriate humor. Interesting. But I'm more concerned about Natasha right now. May I…?"

"I'm afraid they sedated her when we brought her in," Steve said. "She beat the bathroom mirror to powder before I could stop her and cut up both of her hands, broke a few bones in the right one."

"And they had to sedate her to stitch her up?"

"She was…agitated," Barton said.

Dr. Moses looked at him skeptically. "Were you there?"

"Rogers called me for backup after she smashed the mirror. It wasn't something he'd seen before so…"

"This is something that's happened before?"

"I didn't know about it either," Steve said.

Barton scowled. "We didn't think it was something that was relevant to the present."

"Leave the psychiatry to the psychiatrists not named Fleischman," Dr. Moses chided. "Is the room soundproof, at least?"

Hill nodded. "We're waiting on the hand surgeon, though."

"Larsson from Georgetown?"

"How did you know?"

"I assumed you would get the best. Now, if you'll excuse me. My patient appears to be waking up."

Steve felt slightly better as Dr. Moses took a chair beside Natasha's bed, though he would have felt even better if he had been the one sitting beside her.


Natasha opened her eyes slowly and took in one of the rooms in SHIELD's medical wing. The morning slowly came back to her in glimpses and…damn.

"Good evening, Natasha."

She didn't even bother to question the presence of her psychiatrist. "Where's Steve?"

"Outside. I was assured this room was soundproof, though I can understand your reluctance to talk here. SHIELD hasn't exactly proved themselves trustworthy in the past, have they?"

"This has nothing to do with…" she paused as she realized she couldn't ball her fists. "SHIELD probably already knows, anyway. I wouldn't put it past Fury to have set it up that way."

"Set what up?"

"Another woman told Steve she loves him. She's the kind of woman who could fulfill all his potential desires, and I think he should…"

"No, you don't. And you know he won't leave you, no matter what you tell him."

"You're awfully confident for someone who doesn't know what I told him."

"Regardless, I've seen you two together. He's never leaving you. You could cut out one of his kidneys and leave him in a bathtub full of ice and he'd probably rationalize it away. You need to stop being so intimidated by the depth of his love for you."

She sighed. "He's the all-American ideal. And he won't want to fight forever. Eventually, he'll want the wife and 2.3 children and golden retriever and house in the suburbs."

"And what's stopping you from…"

"Legality and biology."

Dr. Moses raised an eyebrow. "I can make some educated guesses about the first, but I'm afraid your file didn't include anything about the second."

"The KGB didn't keep thorough medical records? Shocking. Although now that you mention it, that was a hole I should have noticed in the file you gave me. Was it just that good of a fake?"

"The file was authentic, but please don't change the subject. I'm afraid you're going to have to do some voluntary sharing, provided you want to talk about it."

Natasha shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it, but she had probably surrendered that option when she'd told Steve they could never have children after destroying the mirror in their bathroom. She made eye contact with Dr. Moses and spoke quickly, "They removed one of my ovaries when I was seventeen with the intention of putting it on ice, just in case they could use my eggs for in vitro fertilization or cloning or something. Two years later, I was wounded during a mission. I didn't have the option of pulling out, so I went a week without any treatment. The infection and the resultant scarring…I can never have children. And I told Steve and he said everything would be okay but…"

"Was this before or after you hit the mirror?"

"After."

"And why did you smash the mirror in your bathroom?"

"I…sometimes I just don't like looking in mirrors. I look the same in spite of how much I think I've changed and…"

"But you have changed. From what I gathered from Dr. Fleischman, you were completely out of control when you first came to SHIELD. What made you stop smashing mirrors?"

"I don't hear…I don't listen…she isn't me anymore."

"Could you clarify that a little for me?"

"I…" Natasha hesitated, wondering if talking to a responsive reflection was grounds for involuntary commitment to a psychiatric ward. "Sometimes when I look in the mirror, it's like I can see myself as I used to be, and I start hearing all my doubts and fears and…it doesn't happen often, especially not anymore and…I'm not crazy, am I?"

"You did serious physical damage to yourself destroying a mirror that was talking to you."

"That wasn't an answer."

"I think it's a good thing that you're in therapy, Natasha. A brief rest may be the next step."

"You want to lock me up."

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying it's an option that's available, should you wish to take advantage of it. I won't force the issue, but I feel like I should mention that Steve seems very concerned."

"Can I talk to him?"

"You know he'll promise to take you home and take care of you."

Natasha considered for a moment. "Yes."

"Okay." Dr. Moses stood and motioned toward the window.

Steve was in the room a moment later, pulling her into his strong embrace as he sat on the bed beside her. Natasha wrapped her arms around him as best she could, given the circumstances. "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry."

"Shh. Shh." Even his breath passing by her ear was comforting. She heard the door close again, indicating that Dr. Moses had left. Steve still held her. "Natasha…I love you, Natasha."

"I should have told you," she murmured into his neck.

"No, I should have figured it out. How long have we been together without you having a…a feminine issue? And I should have been more responsible about…"

"I still should have told you there was nothing to worry about. And why."

"Can I ask…why didn't you tell me?"

She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I like the way things are now. I was afraid if I told you…you would start to think about the future and realize that you wanted something more than me in it."

"No matter what I think about the future, you are always in it."

"Maybe your life would be better if I weren't."

Steve was prevented from answering by the entrance of Hill. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but the hand surgeon is here and needs to see Agent Romanoff."

He stood slowly, leaning down to give her a soft kiss on the lips. She whispered, "Think about it."

"Don't have to."

"Please, Steve. For you."

"Nat…"

"Miss Romanoff, I'm Dr. Larsson. It appears you've done quite a job on your right hand."

She listened quietly to the surgeon as Steve left the room. When she glanced at the window, only Hill and Clint were watching now.