Ana POV

Bucky stormed into the kitchen glaring daggers at Tony, with Steve right behind him. "Who told you, Stark?!" he roared, "Was it that damn robot?!"

"Bucky, no, that's not what happened." I tried to calm him down before things got out of control, and did something he'd regret.

Bucky completely ignored me as he closed in on Tony. "Is this all some kind of joke to you?! Meddling in her personal problems for your own entertainment. Are you going to rat her out now?" Bucky's fists were clenched at his sides, but I knew they wouldn't stay there long. I knew Tony and Bucky still weren't always on good terms. Even though they worked together as teammates, and they were normally civil to each other, neither one trusted the other. Bucky's knuckles went white as he aimed his hand to strike. I shot Steve a desperate glance, begging him to get Bucky to back down.

"Buck… " Steve started, "I think you should give Tony a chance to explain."

"I don't want to hear anything he has to say." Bucky snapped. Tony backed farther into the corner, eyes wild with fear.

"Bucky, please." I pleaded, "Tony was trying to help."

Bucky slowly lowered his arm, "Alright. Explain." he spat.

Tony sighed in relief, and briefly explained how he had noticed something wasn't right for a while now. I explained what happened on the main floor, between Nat, Tony, and I, knowing Bucky would rather hear it from me than Tony. I told him Tony had come to check on me after I stormed out and how I had decided to tell him what was going on. Bucky glared at Tony through my entire explanation. After I was done, he turned and left the room. I heard the door open and slam shut again, meaning he had also left the apartment. Tony, Steve, and I exchanged concerned looks.

"Ana, Steve, I'm sorry." Tony started "I never meant to… "

"It's fine, Tony. I'm just going to make sure Bucky's alright." I said.

…

3rd Person POV

Tony and Steve were left in Ana's kitchen. Steve stared Tony down silently. "So you knew?" he said, "Even before I did?" he looked down. Tony would almost say he looked ashamed. "Don't feel bad about it, Steve." Tony said, "She was trying really hard to hide it. It's not your fault. These things can be… hard to understand."

"Cause I'm from the forties and don't know how the world works?" Steve asked, almost a little bitterly.

"Because unless you've experienced it, you can't always see it. And trust me, this is an extremely taboo subject even in the modern world." Tony replied. It was true. There was no need for Steve to beat himself up over this. However, being the good leader he was, he wasn't going to accept any consolation while a member of his team was hurting; and being the good friend he was, would never sit by and let her suffer.

"Then what do we do, Tony? I have no idea what to say or how to help."

"Yeah, she mentioned you were a little hard on her."

Steve looked down again, "I like to think I know the world now, but this? I still don't quite understand this."

"Do you mean just cutting, or anxiety and depression as well?"

Steve sighed, "I guess none of it really. I mean, I've had my own experiences with PTSD, but I don't know what Ana's going through. I want to help her, but… "

"It's not always a bad thing to ask someone else." Tony pointed out.

"I guess you're right." Steve admitted. He thought about Tony's statement. Could Ana benefit from outside advice? He had to admit he felt helpless in this situation, as a leader and as a friend. He hated to admit it, but Tony was right.

…

"Bucky?" I asked quietly, stepping onto the roof of Stark tower. He was looking out over the city, and didn't acknowledge my voice. I went to his side, poking it when he didn't answer me, "Bucky?" I asked again. He turned around to face me, "I'm sorry." he said, hanging his head. "For what?" I asked, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I know I overreacted a bit." He mumbled, "But I… I thought he would hurt you. "

"He didn't. He was very understanding." I said.

"I know, I feel bad for blowing up like that, I mean this isn't about me it's about you."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. I'd never had someone care about me so much and as much as I wanted it, it wasn't easy for me to accept. Bucky must have noticed the change in my face.

"What's wrong, doll?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said rubbing my arms to create warmth, I shivered, and my teeth started chattering. "Do you want my jacket?" Bucky offered. I nodded quickly. Bucky wrapped his sweatshirt around me. I pulled the hood up, burying myself in its perfect scent. "Now, tell me what's wrong." Bucky said. I shrugged, "I've just kept this a secret for so long, and the other time it ever got out, it turned into a mess, and I don't want to relive that. It's why I find it hard to talk about."

Bucky look at me like he understood. He probably did, given his background. He hates talking about HYDRA, and will avoid killing or talking about killing whenever possible. He wrapped his arms around me, "You don't have talk about it if you don't want to." I hugged him back tightly. I didn't say anything, but I hope my gratitude was implied.

"We should get back downstairs." Bucky said, "Just to warn you, I think Nat may have figured out as well."

I couldn't bring myself to say anything about this, either, but silently followed Bucky to the elevator, hiding my hands in the sleeves of his jacket. How many more people had to find out? Would my secret ever be safe again?

…

When I got off the elevator in the common room, I was instantly pulled to the side by Natasha. Her expression didn't say much (The perks of being an espionage master), she just stared me down for a few minutes, then asked, "Was Tony right?"

"Yes." I whispered, afraid of her response. She is one of my best friends, and I trust her a lot, but naturally, I get anxious about people finding out I slice my arms open in my spare time. Natasha's expression softened, and she hugged me. I returned her embrace and she whispered in my ear, "If you need anything, you know where to find me." We broke apart and I went back to Bucky's side. The elevator doors opened again, revealing Tony and Steve. Tony avoided eye contact with Bucky, and Steve had his captain expression on. I wondered what they had done while I was on the roof. I thought they would have talked to Natasha while I was gone.

"Ana, I think we should talk."

What more could there be to talk about? I wondered.

"Okay." I said, wrapping Bucky's jacket tighter around me. "Can Bucky come?" I asked.

Steve nodded.

We went to the small kitchen/dining area adjacent to the common room. I knew Tony and Natasha would try to listen in, but they already knew what was going on, so I didn't care.

"I think you should sit down." He said as he took a seat at the table, as Bucky leaned against the counter. I was getting a little nervous now.

"So, I was talking with Tony," Steve started, pausing awkwardly like he didn't know what to say next. "Listen, Ana, there's no easy way to say this… " His tone was softer, like he was trying to talk to a child. Now I was getting irritated.

"You can say whatever you want." I snapped. I waited, gesturing for Steve to spit it out already. I was sure I could handle whatever he could say.

"Okay, well I was thinking maybe you should see a therapist."

I was not expecting that.

"What?" my jaw dropped. I was shocked. I wasn't sure what to think. I mean, Bucky has refused a shrink since he moved in and Steve has always supported that decision. I was confused as to what would change his mind so quickly. Before I got the chance to inquire further than one syllable, Bucky did it for me. "You really think she needs a shrink?" he said. "You never thought I needed one."

"That situation was a bit… different." Steve said, "I think Ana might benefit from getting outside support."

"Why would she need 'outside support'? She has plenty of people to support her right here."

"We're not exactly professionals." Steve pointed out.

"You don't need a professional when there's nothing wrong." Bucky snapped.

"You'll never know what's wrong if we don't get her any help." Steve said.

"There's nothing wrong with her!" Bucky raised his voice.

I was starting to get tense. I don't really like confrontation to begin with, but now that it's all about me, I feel like I caused it. It's almost like the arguing is my fault. Not knowing what else to do, I screamed, "Enough!" Steve and Bucky got quiet immediately, "I am not some toy for everyone to argue over! You can't just sit here arguing about my future without even asking me!" I screamed. I was returned with four blank stares. Now I was panicked. I got up and ran from the room. Natasha called after me, but I ignored her.

I rushed into my apartment, down the hall, to my bedroom, and then locked the door. I collapsed onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while trying to process everything that had just happened. I wasn't sure how I felt about therapy, but that wasn't the worst thought on my mind at the moment. I was more upset that my friends had been fighting. It was all your fault, too, my brain told me. If I wasn't such an idiot they would all be fine right now. If I could have just kept my secret none of this would have happened. Bucky and Steve shouldn't have to worry about you. Neither should Natasha or Tony. They have their own problems. I felt tears start to leak from my eyes. I curled myself into a ball, trying to shield myself from my thoughts. It was hopeless, though. You probably are crazy, but no therapist can fix that. Eventually, I'd had enough. I couldn't take it anymore and in a desperate attempt to clear my mind, I ran to the bathroom, tearing through the cupboards until I found my blades. The relief was almost immediate as I dragged the silver blade across the curve of my hip, drawing small beads of red liquid from my skin. I'd only gone a couple days without cutting, but this still felt like the first time in years. I repeated the process on my other hip, and the upper part of both of my arms. I cleaned myself off, and cleaned the bathroom quickly, leaving no trace. I climbed into my bed, feeling like the weight of a world had been lifted off of my shoulders. I didn't think about the argument anymore, all I could focus on was the sting of my cuts. I put my headphones in and turned on some music. Putting the dread of inevitably having to face Steve and Bucky again about the topic of therapy in the back of my mind. With the familiar sounds of my punk rock lullabies, and the burning feeling of the sheets against my raw cuts, I slowly drifted into sleep.