A/N: Not dead, just an actual adult still writing fanfics with no free time, lol. Thanks for the love! The reviews remind me to keep writing when I can.
She was home within the space of a few hours, against Bruce's better judgement and absolutely surrounded at all times by the teammates who were at the Tower. Tony had been off on business most of the day, accompanied by Pepper and Peter as they completed the paperwork to transfer Peter's guardianship to the power couple of Stark Industries. Thor did not appear to be lurking around the kitchen cabinets, so she could safely assume he was not present either and she had seen Steve going into the hospital wing as they left SHIELD headquarters. Which left Clint and Bruce, the latter of whom was making himself busy programming all sorts of monitoring equipment so she wandered aimlessly up to her floor, but was stunned to find that it was completely empty. Not in the "we removed anything you could use to hurt yourself" way, but in the "your lease is up and the U-Haul is packed out front" way. Panic rose in throat quickly and she wrapped her arms around herself, remembering that she had begun to tell Nicole the smallest bit of information about the Red Room and that it had now been more than a week since she had punished herself in any way. If she was being kicked out of the Tower, she was absolutely and truly fucked.
"They need the space for Peter. He might be a little fucked up right now, but he's nowhere near as useless, stupid, fat, and absolutely irreparable as you are," the voice in her head had come back to taunt her once more.
"Nat, hey," Clint breaks the inner monologue coming up behind her. "Hey, listen to me. I can explain this."
"If he's kicking me out, he should have told Bruce so he wouldn't have to bother setting everything up in the la-"
"Who's being kicked out?" Peter asks, rounding the order and looking at Tony confused with a duffel bag on his shoulder.
"No one is being kicked out!" Pepper exclaims.
"Nat, we had to move you to share a floor with someone since you can't be alone for the time being," Tony sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. "You couldn't wait 5 minutes to come up here?"
"I can't share a room with one of you. You're guys, what if… No, I'd rather be out on the streets, thanks."
"Calm down, Nat," Clint says reassuringly.
"Why, so I can just become a personal whore for one of you?"
"What?" Peter exclaimed, a slight crack in his voice, looking accusingly at Tony. "That's what goes on here?"
"Oh my god, no!" He responds exasperated. "Pepper, can you show him the rest of the house while I handle this?"
He surveys Natasha in front of him as Peter and Pepper walk toward the stairwell where Nat had fainted only a few days before. She is being supported, damn near held up by, Clint as her eyes flit in random patterns around the room.
"Anyway, crazy, you will still have your own room, bathroom, and space. You'll just be on the same floor as Clint with one interconnecting door between your rooms. Any time it is opened, JARVIS will announce that the door has been opened on both sides to ensure that Clint can't enter and hurt you without you having some notice."
She takes a deep breath and visibly calms at his words.
"We also moved you because I'm sure I haven't found all of your hiding spots and this will keep you away from anything harmful until you can be trusted again."
"And when will that be?" She asks sarcastically.
"There's Nat!" Tony smiles slightly. "That is up to your therapist, but I would assume you would need to be at least 100 days clean first. You're a tenth of the way there, by the way."
Her mind began racing again as she considered that this was the longest stretch she had ever gone without harming herself in one way or another. It was a somewhat freeing feeling as she considered that the Red Room had not had a hold on her for 10 whole days, but the panic rose as she realized ten days without training would be punished tenfold if she was found out. Her nails subtly dug into her arms as she grimaced and faked a smile. If they wanted her to get better, she could surely fake that for a few months until they gave up watching her again.
"Let's go look at your new living arrangements, shall we?" Clint says, glancing down at her from behind and reminding himself that her recovery was more important than the stiffness growing from seeing her chest at such an angle.
When they made it to her new room, it was nearly bare. Her bed, desk, and basic toiletries were there, as well as most of her clothes, but all mirrors, medicines, breakable items, and even most of her books were absent. Most notably, her Black Widow suit was missing from its place of prominence in her closet and she turned to the men behind her, expecting an explanation. Clint nervously rubbed the back of his neck and Tony simply stared back at her.
"Where is it?" She asks simply.
"You've been put on a… leave of absence," Tony responds carefully. "Indefinitely."
She sighs again. Truthfully, she had known it was coming and had resigned herself to that fact.
"Conditions of reinstatement?"
"At least 80% weight restoration, no reported suicidal ideation for at least two weeks, and compliance with all treatment." Clint responds clinically, as if he had memorized and rehearsed the line, which he had, afraid his voice would break if he didn't. "Including," he continued, "seeing your therapist, nutritionist, psychiatrist, submitting to vital monitoring, daily medication, and participation in all therapeutic activities."
"You are, essentially," Bruce chimes in, walking onto the floor with an iPad in hand. "Participating in a residential care program, just with us rather than going away somewhere. You'll have a schedule each day, you will be monitored, and you will need to gain certain privileges, like using the bathroom with monitoring, leaving the campus without an escort, and exercise."
"So I'm a prisoner," she complains, voice flat and monotone. Her team members exchanged glances and she turned away from them, walking over to the bed and lying on her back. "Anything else?"
"Yes," Clint says slowly.
"What now?" She cries.
"You will be monitored in shifts while you sleep for the first week. It's called one-to-one, where you have to have someone with you 24/7."
"Peachy," she rolls her eyes. "What's the schedule for the rest of today?"
"Dinner, a team activity, then bed at 10 PM," Bruce reads off the tablet.
"Dinner isn't for another 2 hours," Clint responds hopefully. "So you could draw, journal, or maybe go for a walk with me?"
"I think I'll just take a nap," she sighs and rolls onto her side, facing away from them.
"I'll take first watch," Clint tells the other boys, disappointed.