Frankie sat across from Dr. Raynor, fidgeting with her fingers twisted together in her lap and trying to work out how much to tell the woman about what had happened to her at the Hydra facility. Wanting help and trusting someone enough to open up didn't always go hand in hand.

"This won't work if you're not honest with me," Dr. Raynor told her, settling more comfortably into her chair.

When Frankie still hesitated, she sighed, "okay, let's start with something else. Tell me about your dreams."

"They're not mine," she started. "I mean, they are mine, some of them, but they're twisted. Different. I can't tell what's real from what isn't."

The doctor nodded, "describe one of them to me."

Frankie told her the one about her as a toddler walking in on her mother having sex with her boyfriend.

"But then I have another one where it's my babysitter, not my mother. I don't know which one is a real memory. The one with my mother is so much more vivid. It seems more real than the other."

"That doesn't necessarily mean it is real. The more you recall something and dwell on it, the more vivid it gets," the doctor said. "Instead of focusing on that memory, why don't you tell me about some other memories of your mother?"

"I don't have many," Frankie looked down at her hands, frowning. "She died when I was six. But I remember her making cookies while I sat on the counter and watched her."

"And?"

Frankie smiled, "she let me lick the spoon."

"Good," Raynor nodded. "What else?"

"I remember her singing to me while lying in bed. I can still smell her. She used this lotion on her hands that smelled like honeysuckle. Once, after she passed, the nuns at the orphanage took us to the botanical gardens on a field trip. There was a patch of honeysuckle. It made me miss her so much I cried and one of the nuns had to take me back to the bus early."

Raynor's pen scratched on the pad in her lap, loud in the quiet of the room.

"That's good, Frankie. Now, tell me what you remember about your babysitter."

Frankie chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking, "her name was something like Miranda or Amanda, I think. I don't remember a lot about her."

"Just tell me what you remember."

"She wasn't very nice, but she wasn't really mean either. She liked to watch TV, but not the shows I liked." Frankie shrugged, "that's about it."

"That's okay," Raynor set her pen down. "Now, keeping both those memories in mind, which matches the dream you described?"

"The one about the babysitter?"

"Why?"

"Because my memories of my mother who let me lick the spoon and sang to me doesn't really match the dream about her letting her boyfriend yell at me. She was cold and uncaring towards me in that dream. Even if she had a shitty boyfriend, she would have protected me by trying to calm the situation down."

"Maybe, maybe not," the doctor told her. "But you're probably right. The memory of your mom and boyfriend is more than likely the false memory."

Frankie nodded, agreeing.

For the next hour, they dissected her dreams, one by one, unraveling fact from fiction. Before the session was over, the doctor assigned her some breathing exercises to try when she was feeling unbalanced or panicky.

"One more thing," Raynor set her pad and pen on the table beside her chair. "If I prescribe some medication for you, will you take it?"

"It's not a shot, is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"I don't like shots."

"Let's save that for tomorrow, shall we? And no, it's not a shot; it's pills."

Frankie nodded, relieved, "what's it for?"

"Anxiety. It should help your appetite and sleep too."

"Okay, I'll take them."


The agents escorted her back to the room. When she walked in, she stopped, stunned. The room was back in order and didn't look like she had torn it apart just over an hour ago. She turned back to the agents.

Laura, who was on duty, smiled at her, "we thought you'd might like a bed you could sleep on."

She smiled tentatively, "thank you."

When her food arrived a few minutes later, there was a pill in a little paper cup on the tray. That must have been the prescription from Dr. Raynor, she thought. Picking it up, she contemplated it.

"You should flush it," shadow Rory told her.

She ignored him and swallowed the pill, washing it down with water.

"How do you know you can trust them?" Rory asked. "You've known them for less than a week and they are keeping you prisoner and spying on you."

"At least they're not fucking with my memories," she hissed.

"Are you sure?"

"They haven't tortured me."

"Yet."

"What have I got to lose? I'm already going crazy," she shrugged.

"What happened to hating them?" he asked. "What happened to holding them accountable for their actions? What about balance? What happened to saving me from Hydra? Are you just going to abandon me again? Is that it?"

Guilt constricted her chest making her next breath hurt, "I can't save you in this condition. I need my head straight if I'm going to get you out of there."

"We'll see, Frankie. We'll see."


The next morning, her breakfast arrived with another pill, which she took despite Rory's disapproval. She also managed to eat more than a few bites of the meal, but still wasn't very hungry even though her stomach seemed to have settled down.

When the knock came on her door, she was surprised to find Clint standing there.

"I thought you might like to do something different today," he said in response to her expression.

"Like what?"

"How about a walk? It's still early so it should be pleasant."

Together, they left the building. It was the first time Frankie had been outside in days. She stopped and closed her eyes, just breathing in the fresh air while Clint waited patiently. Opening her eyes, she looked around. The area was set up like a college campus, but with modern buildings. And the ground was bare. Several of the buildings surrounding the large, open field were still under construction and there were barricades preventing access.

"You're not catching us at our best. We're still rebuilding from the battle with Thanos," her companion explained. "Almost everything was destroyed or flooded."

"I see."

As they walked along the sidewalk that marked the boundary of the field, her curiosity won out over her distrust.

"What made you join SHIELD?"

"It's a long story."

She shrugged, "I don't have anything else to do."

They walked in silence for a few yards and she began to think he wasn't going to answer. As they drew near an outdoor swimming pool, he guided their path towards it and stopped at one of the tables. He pulled out a chair for her to sit then took the one next to it. Frankie leaned back in the chair with her head tipped up to soak up the morning sunshine letting it warm her skin.

"My parents were killed in a car wreck when I was young," Clint said, breaking the silence. "My brother and I didn't have any other relatives to take us in, so we ended up in a boys' home."

He paused as a group of trainees in formation ran by. Frankie just sat with her eyes closed, waiting for him to continue at his own pace.

"We were there for five or six years before things got bad enough for us to run away." He chuckled softly, "it's kind of cliché, but we ran away and joined the circus."

She snorted, "better than living on the streets I guess."

"A lot more shit, though."

She cracked an eye and looked over at him questioningly.

"Do you have any idea how much elephants shit?" he asked her, grinning.

She grinned back, "oh, wow. That must have sucked."

"Yes," he agreed, "and no. They were amazing. I loved being around them. You could read their emotions in their eyes. All the animals were cool. It was a wonderland for a couple of kids like me and my brother."

"We had animals on the streets too, but they were the two-legged variety, and not cool at all."

"Oh, we had them in the circus too, but we learned really quick who they were and how to avoid them," he looked over at her, "just like you probably did."

"Anyway," he continued, "one of the performers must have seen something in me because he took me under his wing and started teaching me how to use a bow. I took to it. Before I knew it, I was one of the performers. That's where I picked up the name Hawkeye."

"So, what happened? I'm assuming something put an end to your circus career."

"You could say that," he mused. "I had a falling out with my mentor and had to leave."

"Falling out?"

"Yeah, I found out he was embezzling money from the circus and he had me beaten and left for dead."

"Ouch," she commiserated.

"He escaped and I stayed with them for a while longer, but the joy was gone for me. It wasn't long before I tried my hand at being a vigilante."

"I'm guessing that didn't work out either."

"You could say that," he smiled ruefully. "I'm not a good tactician. I'm more of a 'point me at the bad guy and let me go' type of person. It didn't take long for me to end up on the wrong side of the law. Fortunately for me, SHIELD swooped in and recruited me. Teamed me up with a helluva partner. I never looked back. At least not until," he quit smiling, "the universe went to shit."

"Yeah," she agreed, "that fucked up a lot of people. Not all of them turned into psycho killing machines, though."

"No," he looked over and met her eyes, "they didn't. I guess I had more anger built up inside than I wanted to admit."

"I hear SHIELD has a therapist for that."

He snorted.

"So, you got them back, right?"

"Yeah."

She sat up and turned towards him, "that doesn't sound positive. What happened?"

"Laura always supported what I do as an Avenger, but she didn't really like it. I was gone a lot, leaving her and the kids behind, not knowing if I was going to come home or not. You know, being a normal human in the company of Gods, super-humans, and billionaires with shiny suits isn't an easy gig."

"I can imagine. Probably doesn't do anything for the ego."

"Or for a marriage. I was supposed to retire. I was at home with them when the snap happened. One minute they were there, smiling and laughing; the next minute I was alone. Like the rest of the world, I had no idea what had happened."

"You must have suspected something?"

He shook his head, "nope. And when weeks went by and none of them returned, like the rest of the world, I realized they weren't coming back. I was so angry. Angry at the Avengers for letting it happen. Angry at myself for not being there with the rest of the team. Maybe there was something I could have done to stop it. I don't know."

He stared off into the distance before continuing, "When they came back, it had been just a blink of the eye to them. This time, I was the one gone, and Laura didn't know what had happened. She was frantic. Funny thing, though, I don't think that's what did it. I think it was the fact that five years had gone by and the world had just continued without them. Just imagine, half the people in the world disappeared in an instant. It sucked, right? But the world didn't end. We picked up the pieces and carried on."

"Wait," Frankie stopped him, not understanding what he was saying, "you're saying your wife left you because you survived them disappearing?"

"You make it sound petty, but it wasn't just that. It was a little of everything that finally broke her."

Despite herself, Frankie felt a pang of sympathy for the man. Instead of being able to celebrate and be happy about his family's return, he just lost them again.

"Do you get to see them? Your kids?"

He nodded, "yeah every other weekend, but it's not the same. The house doesn't feel like home anymore. I guess I'm back to being an orphan again."

"But you still have your partner and the Avengers," she reasoned.

"My partner didn't make it this time," he said quietly. "And we lost the Cap and Stark. I'm sure we'll recover and come out just as strong on the other side, but it…," his voice trailed off.

"It doesn't feel the same," she finished for him.

"Yeah, exactly."

They sat in silence for a little longer. Frankie felt that she understood him a little better now even though she still didn't forgive him for what happened to Rory. But maybe, just maybe, she had found an ally.


In her next therapy session, Dr. Raynor was more direct than the day before.

"Frankie, are you seeing and hearing things that aren't real?"

Taken aback by the question, she sputtered, "excuse me?"

Raynor tapped her pen against her pad, "the agents watching you reported you having conversations with someone in your room, but confirmed that no one was in there with you and that you don't have access to a phone or other communication device. So, I'll repeat the question: are you hallucinating?"

Frankie looked down at her hands unsure how to answer. She wanted whatever was happening to her to stop but saying it out loud was a big leap of faith.

"It's not an uncommon problem for people that have been through the type of trauma you've experienced."

Frankie jumped up from her chair, kicking it away angrily, "Trauma? That's what you're calling it? They fucked with my head." she slapped the side of her head, "I keep seeing shit that isn't there. I can't tell what's real and what's not."

The door to the office was flung open and her two escorts stepped into the room with their weapons drawn.

Raynor half rose from her chair behind the desk and held up a hand to them, "it's okay. I'm okay here. Just give us the room."

The agents hesitated but backed out of the room, shutting the door again.

Frankie's anger had carried her to the other side of the room. Her chest heaved painfully as she fought for control. Turning her back to the doctor, she leaned her head against the cool wall and closed her eyes.

"Frankie," Raynor's voice came from just behind her, but not so close as to be invasive, "it's okay. That's what I'm here for. To help you."

When Frankie didn't answer, she continued, "take your time. When you're ready, I'm right here."

This time Frankie heard her as she returned to her desk and picked up the phone.

"Jemma, clear my calendar for the rest of the morning, please. Thank you."

As Frankie's breathing returned to normal, she forced herself to unclench her fists. She had never been one to anger so quickly, but lately it seemed like she was either angry or on the edge of being angry all the time. Turning back to the doctor, she pushed away from the wall, righted her chair, and sat down once more.

"I think they broke something in here," she pointed to her head.

The doctor smiled at her, "that's the thing about brains, they can be damaged, but it takes a lot to actually break them. The good news is they can be fixed. Sometimes it takes a while, but with time and effort, you can find your way back."

"How?"

Raynor spread her arms out wide as if embracing the room, "by doing what we're doing right now."