A/N: Hi! I would love to hear some feedback about how we feel about the story so far, any things you want to see/don't want to see. Please be careful and read at your own risk. If you are suffering with self-harm, eating disorders, or any kind of trauma, please seek help from someone you trust. Even if it's just so that someone else knows what's going on, you should not be alone. My messages are open if you need to be directed to resources!

"Hey beautiful," he said, gently shaking Natasha awake from her sleep. She blinked rapidly a few times, looking around the room and considering where she was.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long, maybe 20 to 30 minutes. Was your sleep alright?"

"It was pretty nice, actually. How are things going next door?"

"Well, it turns out that SHIELD knows more than we thought."

"W-what do you mean? About me?"

"I'm not quite sure. They said…" he hesitates.

"What did they say?"

"Let's just go talk to Fury, okay?"

"Clint," she says, not moving from the couch. "I'm not going in there if he already knows everything. He can fire me from over here."

"Nat, he doesn't know anything about all of you, as far as I know."

"Okay," she responds hesitantly, staggering to her feet before black spots begin to form in her line of vision and she sits again.

"Nat," he sighs. "What can I get you that you will eat?"

"I'm fine."

"Tasha, if you pass out here, they will take you to the SHIELD med bay and I won't be able to do anything a damn thing about it. Please just eat something so you won't pass out."

"You need to eat, too, Barton."

"I do. What can I get you from the cafeteria?"

"Uh…" She stammers. "I've never actually eaten anything from there before.."

"Sure you have, I've been with you and we've gone a few times, plus when you first came. Just anything that sounds manageable."

"Clint," she sighs. "I usually threw it away or cut things up so it looked like I was eating and threw little pieces on the floor or up my sleeve. I've never eaten here before."

"Oh," she does not miss the disappointment that crosses his face. "Well, why don't I just grab you a PB & J and some fruit?"

"That's a bit… heavy, don't you think?" Peanut butter, potatoes, pasta, and most meats were the foods that the Red Room would give them just before missions when they would need to be ready to expend energy without passing out or becoming weak. She knew it had to be high in calories based on that and she had no interest in eating something that would make her fat and useless at a time like this. "Do they have any salads? Or light granola bars?"

"I will look when I get down there. Will you be okay for a little bit on your own?"

"Of course, Hawkeye." She winks at him and stumbles her way across the room as soon as the door shuts behind him. On her first day at SHIELD, she had learned how thin the walls were and, in her opinion, it was the stupidest thing about the organization. They make so much talk about protecting the citizens of the United States and being a secure organization, yet they can't soundproof their briefing rooms. Although she missed a few words, you could generally hear the whole conversation just by pressing your ear against the wall.

"-the other one … issues. They did some kind of … that made them … She killed herself even after we … her and made her … We haven't seen any of … in Natasha in the field. Have you noticed … else?"

"She … fine. We are helping her … everything."

"She seems weak, has she lost …?"

"We're monitoring the … She is eating more and … working with her."

"Nat, what are you doing on the floor?" Clint eyes her suspiciously, arms full of food.

"I fell?" She tries weakly.

"Nice try," he extends his hand, offering to help her stand. "What did you hear?"

"They're talking about my weight," she says flatly.

"It's a bit of a top concern right now, Tash." He sets a tray on the small coffee table next to the couch and helps her sit back down before perching next to her. "It's pretty bad. Your heart is slowing down, you're growing hair all over your body because it can't regulate temperature in normal ways, and you are barely strong enough to make it through the day."

"I know," she admits quietly.

"Then why don't you do something about it, Nat?"

"I can't gain weight. I'll be too fat for the team and this is a terrible time to not be useful because so much is going on. I'm not on missions anyway, food is for when I am on big missions."

"You're allowed to eat even if you're not going on a long mission, Tasha. Right now, you aren't useful because you're too thin. We can't put you on missions or even let you in on certain things because you're too weak."

"Call me weak again, Barton," she laughs lightly.

"I'm serious, Nat. You've done too much damage. And I'm sorry I didn't notice before, but you have to gain some weight. You can't go on missions again as a combatant until you're at least 105 pounds."

"105? That's insane, Barton. I don't think I've ever been over 100 pounds, even at my heaviest."

"Tash, when you came to SHIELD you were 107 pounds. It was barely enough to be healthy, but even the Red Room wasn't doing this much to you."

"You're lying."

"Do you want to see the files? Because you were, Nat. You were not as unhealthy as you are now, even when you had just left the Red Room."

"Well they always fed us a bit more before missions, so we would have strength. I'm sure that's why…"

"Nat, you know that couldn't be more than a pound or two extra. The facts of the matter are that you are being crueler to yourself than the people who tortured you and we have to work on that. Because there are only two ways that this ends, Nat: either you recover or you die."

"I already told you, I want to die. You should have let me."

"Is this the way you want to go, though? Starving yourself to death or cutting too deeply on accident? Because aside from your impulsive pills move, don't lie to me, I know it was an impulse because you would've written more notes and they would have been longer, I know you. Aside from that, everything has been accidental near-death experiences. Do you actually want to die?"

"Clint," she sighs heavily. "I just can't do this anymore. I can't keep up with all of the nightmares and memories and missions where we find people and more of my past is shoved out in front of everyone. I'm tired of convincing everyone that I deserve to be here."

"But you don't have to do that, Nat. I brought you here. Fury brought you here. Hill, Steve, Bruce, Tony, everyone. We all know you belong here and I know that you think you still need to convince us, but you don't. If any one of us thought you didn't deserve to be here, you wouldn't be here."

"Still, Barton. It's too much to carry."

"It won't be if you let us help you. We talked about this in the little hospital back home, let us help you. And if, after we have tried and you've made a good, honest effort, it's still not working, then you can go back to this. But at least give us a chance."

"I don't know how to do that."

"We will help you with that too. But let's start with this salad, yeah?"

"You promise I was heavier when I came here? If I got back to that point I wouldn't be useless to the team?"

"I swear to you, Tasha. And I'll show you the SHIELD files if you want."

"Okay," she sighed, stabbing the fork into the driest piece of lettuce she could find.

After nearly an hour, Natasha had managed to finish 3/4 of the salad Clint had brought, with encouragement from him after nearly every bite to keep going. She had also managed to choke down half a bottle of apple juice to increase her blood sugar and she had to admit that she felt much better trying to stand after eating that meal.

"Thank you," she finger-spelled into his hand as they approached the room next door. He smiled at her and led the way into the room.

"You look much better Miss Romanoff," Nick said surprisingly.

"I feel better," she smiled lightly. The rest of the team gave a mixture of appreciative and surprised looks to Clint, which he responded to by telling them how a nap and a good meal can work wonders. The team seemed even more astonished at the announcement that Natasha had both eaten a meal and taken a nap that did not result in screaming, so far as they could tell.

"So, what's the situation?" She asked.

"We need your report, then the team is free to go."

"Not much to report, Fury. I sat on the plane and kept watch. Landed at 16:23 and took off at 17:57. No abnormalities to report."

"We actually need a bit more than that," Hill started softly. "Your teammates have noted that you had some prior experiences with the soldier. Steve has spoken to the man's time in the Howling Commandos, but I believe you can offer some insight into his time in the Red Room?"

Her leg began bouncing involuntarily, and Clint gave her careful pats of reassurance. She tried to focus on the burning sensation at the top of her foot, refusing to make eye contact as she recounted her experiences with the Winter Soldier.

"Thank you," Hill said, a bit shocked and unsure of what to say. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she replied automatically.

"It's not yours either, Agent." Nick Fury's voice was unmistakably the eerie calm she never wanted to experience. "He will pay for his actions."

"No!" Both Steve and Natasha chimed in.

"Now, why the hell would I not make this son of a bitch?"

"It wasn't his fault either," Natasha was beginning to scratch her skin repeatedly in the same place on the soft skin of the back of her hand.

"Like hell!" Maria voiced her opposition.

"He wasn't," she scratched harder, suddenly feeling her skin begin to peel and give way to a more smooth, shiny-feeling layer of skin that burned on contact. She let out a small gasp and touched her hadn't to it, relishing in the pain it gave her.

"Nasty little habit you have there," Fury noted. "When did that start?"

"It's a nervous tick, it's only happened once or twice that we know of," Bruce defended as Clint moved to hold her hands. "We're dealing with it. Nat, do you want a rubber band?" His tone was a warning, as if assuring her that she was being too conspicuous.

"Do you have one?" Clint asked.

"I started wearing them just in case," he replied.

"Seems like a bit more than once or twice. SHIELD medics should check her out."

"I'm keeping an eye on it, actually," Bruce replied angrily.

"Alright, calm down big guy. Would either of you," she said turning again to Steve and Natasha. "Like to explain why we shouldn't torture this guy for all he's worth and then give him the firing squad?"

"If you do that to him, you'd have to do it to me, too."

"Nat…" Tony said.

"No, it's true." She said angrily, snapping the rubber band quietly against her hand, avoiding rolling up her sleeves in front of Hill and Fury. "He's only doing these things because they brainwashed him. Whatever they did to him was a little more… insidious than how they kept the Widows in line. But it's the same concept. It's not him."

"It's not," Steve affirms. "My best friend is still in there somewhere. Can we please just have him evaluated? Medically and psychologically? See if we can reverse this first?"

"Fine," Fury concedes. "But if they can't figure it out with Stark and Banner in 7 days, we're going with my plan. You're all dismissed. Tony, Bruce, report to Level 3. And… Agent Romanoff?"

"Yes?" She briefly looks up from her hand.

"I hope you… get better soon." He says dangerously, and the urge to pull the knife out right then and there to calm herself down nearly overwhelms her.

"Let's go," she says through gritted teeth, storming toward the door.