A/N: Thanks for checking in on me, I am actually doing much better and plan to continue this story, with as much honesty about the true nature of what healing looks like. Trigger warnings, as always.

Once the psychiatrist left her room, she was alone with her thoughts again for a few minutes. They began to drift back to the many ways she could think of to kill herself, but most of them fell short of possible given the lack of access she was facing in the hospital room. Any continued thought processes were cut short by the sudden interruption of a small, short woman with long blonde hair who was carrying a large file in her hand and had glasses hung around her neck.

"Natasha, right?" The woman seemed a bit frazzled, as if she truly didn't know if she was in the right room. Natasha gave a small nod and the woman took a seat in the chair across from her. "Right, well then, let's get started. Why did you want to kill yourself?"

"Because I wanted to die."

"Why is that?" The woman asked half-heartedly, flipping through the stack of papers in front of her rather quickly and not even glancing up at Natasha.

"I don't know," her answer matched the assumed tone of the woman in front of her: apathetic and distracted at best.

"Mmhmm, and what trauma have you faced in your life?"

"Isn't this in my files?"

"Probably, but I am supposed to ask you."

"I am not traumatized. I'm an agent and a spy, I was trained to be as effective as possible and it seems that SHIELD and I have some… disagreements about what that looks like."

"Right, well, for this to work and for us to both not waste our time, you are going to have to talk about your trauma. We are also supposed to talk about…" She flipped through the pages again. "Alternatives to self-harm? Wow, that's a first for an Agent."

"Are you sure you're qualified for this?"

"Listen here, you entitled brat," the therapist slammed her file folder shut and raised her voice in anger. "Just because we aren't all out defeating alien invaders doesn't mean we aren't qualified for our jobs."

Instinctively, Natasha shrank away from the loud noises and apologized repeatedly in Russian, straining against the confines of the blanket laid over her that had twisted around her body and kept her somewhat immobile in the bed.

"Code Scarlet," the therapist repeated into a walkie talkie. "Code Scarlet."

"What happened?" Bruce asked as he rushed into the room, followed shortly by a sweating and panting Clint Barton.

"She was non-compliant and was beginning to get violent," the woman brushed down her outfit lightly with her free hand and gave Natasha, who was still panicking but now accompanied by Clint trying to calm her, a side glance.

"Don't let-" she muttered to the archer. "Mad. I'm sorry."

"Shhh, Natasha, it's alright. Take a deep breath with me, okay? Let's breathe in," he places her hand on his chest to get her to follow the rise of his chest. "And out. Good, Nat. Let's do 7 more, okay? Slowly now."

"Okay, I think you've done enough for today. We will see you tomorrow Mrs. Cantril."

"You had better get her in line before the next time I see her. I will not condone violence against me."

"Nat? Are you okay?" He asks, closing the door behind the blonde.

"I t-think so. She's gone?"

"Yes," he hesitates. "But tomorrow you cannot chase her off like that. You need her help and you are not going to get out of therapy by threatening people."

"I didn't-"

"Nat," Clint says in a warning tone. "We all know you don't want to see a therapist, but she can really help you to get past your past. I think you need that."

"But it wasn't me! I don't like her. I want to see someone else, she didn't try to help me and she was just distracted the whole time."

"She's a SHIELD therapist," Bruce defended carefully. "She wouldn't do that. I know you hate all of this, but please just try to work with us."

"But I'm not-"

"Nat."

"Fine, don't believe me," she huffs at Clint. "Did they ever decide if I get to help with Bucky?"

"You have to have at least a week of successful sessions with your therapist, psychiatrist, and a nutritionist. Then you can help," Bruce returns to his normal, even-tempered bedside manner. He goes about changing her IVs and hands her a small cup with a few pills in it.

"What is this?"

"Lexapro, Wellbutrin, Calcium, and Magnesium. They two discussed with your psychiatrist and two supplements to help with absorption."

"Can't you just give me these through the tubes or IVs?"

"We can, but taking them orally with supervision will get you closer to be released sooner. Eventually, we will move all of your daily meds to pills you will swallow. For now, we will just do these four and do mouth checks, where you will pull back both cheeks and pull up your tongue to show us that the pills are being swallowed correctly. You will not be allowed to use the restroom unsupervised for 2 hours following medications or food taken orally."

"This is ridiculous."

"This is necessary. We have to get you better."

"Whatever," she sighs quietly and holds out her hand for the pills and a small glass of water to use to swallow them. After taking the pills, she allows Bruce to shine a flashlight in her mouth and check the areas for hidden pills.

"Than you, Nat," Clint smiles at her. "Now, you've got some visitors for the afternoon. He opens the door and Peter, Tony, Thor, and Pepper all bound in, each carry a card game or snack, with Pepper bringing in a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

"They're gorgeous," she tears up as she speaks.

"I arranged them myself," Pepper smiles at her.

"What are we playing first?" Peter asks excitedly, though Natasha thinks she can sense some sadness hidden deep behind the younger boy's smile and vows to find out what's going on with him.