/Probably should update my other stories but things are rough and hey I always do good when I write out some stuff in my head instead of forcing myself to write things when I don't feel like it's time to write them. Anyways TW's for ptsd, flashbacks, panic attacks, unintentional self-harm (very minor), mentions of murder and death, mentions of past sexual/mental/physical abuse (because yay Red Room). Also the mentions are happening to a child so bare that in mind. Take care 3

Russian translations:

Da, madam- yes madame

Nichego, madam- nothing madame

sestra, eto prosto my seychas- Sister, it's just us now

pochemu by nam ne uspokoit'sya i ne pogovorit'? – why don't we calm down and talk?

davay vstanem, da? – let's get up, yes?

Izvinite, mne ochen' zhal' – I'm sorry, I'm sorry

Izvinite, izvinite. YA budu khorosh. YA budu luchshe – I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll do good. I'll be better

YA budu khoroshim – I'll be good

Pozhaluysta - please

/

"Romanoff, take a seat." Fury's voice cut into Natasha's internal screaming and she rather calmly pulled her chair out and sat down, hands clasped on the table.

On the outside, she looked relatively put together despite the dirt and blood still staining her skin and clothes.

The inside was a whole other story.

She'd known the moment medical had cleared her and she'd been paged to come to the office, that it was in no way good news.

Fury wasn't the only senior there; Phil sat opposite her, Maria on one side and Bobbi Morse sat a few seats down.

Not just a debrief then. A talking to.

Most of what Nick said went in one ear and out the other, or really, not into her ears at all.

Natasha knew he was talking, was probably saying something of importance, but she couldn't even focus or hear the words over her own thoughts rising and getting louder and louder with each passing second.

"Romanoff." One sharp word cut through the chatter in her head and she slowly lifted her gaze from the table, her expression one of complete blankness.

"Are you listening to a damned word I'm saying?" Fury's tone indicated anger and Natasha nodded, swallowing the bile that rose on her throat at that tone.

You better fucking listen to me, Natalia, or your last beating will look like utter childs' play.

I told you to lay on that bed and spread your fucking legs so that's what you're going to do.

Natasha flinched, just slightly, tilting her head in a way that would usually indicate the words came from directly behind her.

Though they were just memories, and were actually coming from inside her head.

Fury's tone in itself was not the problem, nor was it even really the words.

It was where she was that was the problem or more accurately, where she had been.

"Yes, Sir." Natasha responded, gaze meeting his as she straightened her posture even more.

Back upright, chin high, gaze focused on the wall behind Fury to show both attentiveness and submission.

The small flinch had been tiny really, but the other four bodies in that room were trained to notice actions just like that.

But Fury continued; if they stopped talking every time an agent flinched at Fury, they would never have any conversations at all.

Though it was rare to see Natasha Romanoff flinch at…anything really.

For now, Phil filed the action under 'slightly worrying but nothing too bad' and kept watch on his agent instead of his superior as the man spoke.

The gist of the rant was that something had gone very wrong on mission, and Natasha had to answer for the fuck up.

"Well?" Fury's voice demanded an answer and Natasha reflexively swallowed as her gaze moved from the wall to him.

Her lips moved as if to speak but nothing more than a whisper came out.

"Romanoff?" Nick's voice rose and the next thing to leave the redheads lips was both worrying and something seldom heard from the woman.

"I'm sorry-" Her voice, barely more than a whisper cut through the silence of the room and then all four pairs of eyes were on her.

Then followed something that moved the others' thoughts from concerned to full on alarm.

A soft whimper and the screeching of the chair as Natasha moved abruptly from her seat, it toppling and crashing to the floor behind her.

In seconds Natasha was moving.

Phil closest to the door, moved to block the path it would take to get there.

Something was wrong and he couldn't let his agent leave without figuring out what exactly was going on.

But Natasha wasn't headed to the door.

In fact, she moved with stilted steps to the nearest corner of the room, shakily sliding down the plaster until she was on her arse, back pressed firmly to the wall.

Her still dirt covered fingers moved up until they were covering her eyes, her teeth tearing through the thin skin of her lips so fast that fresh blood already dripped in a rivulet down her chin.

"Shit-" Maria muttered, taking a couple of soft steps towards the woman, stopping when the redhead flinched so violently the back of her head hit the wall with a dull thud.

"Okay, okay Natasha, you're okay." Maria held her hands up, glancing back at her colleagues.

"Get lower," Bobbi murmured, "it may be less threatening."

Maria nodded and crouched down low, trying to get her head into what would have been Natasha's point of view if her eyes weren't covered with her hands.

"Natasha, can you hear me?" The deputy director kept her voice soft.

When she got no reply, the woman tried something else. "Can you look up for me?" Her tone indicated that whilst it had been a question, it was still wasn't really open for argument.

"Da, Madam." Natasha quickly lowered her hands into her lap and looked up at Maria.

All four of the other agents had basic understanding of a lot of languages, and the simple words Natasha had said were easy to understand at this stage.

Ah shit.

"Flashback or PTSD episode?" Bobbi asked quietly.

"Both." Phil answered, running a hand through his hair.

"I thought this was under control. Didn't we have this under control?" Fury said from his position sitting back in his seat.

"We do. We did." Phil shook his head. "As much of a shit show as that mission was, it must have been even more of a shit show for her."

Maria exhaled and nodded, turning her attention back to the woman huddling against the wall.

She had to choose her words carefully because from experience, Maria could easily command the woman to do whatever she said, which wasn't something she wanted to happen.

She didn't ever want to take advantage of Natasha.

"Okay, Natasha, can you maybe tell me what's going on right now?" The older agent didn't make another move towards her.

"Nichego, madam." Her voice was chilling to say the least and as Maria managed to catch her gaze, she got back only a glassy stare.

"Natasha, where are you?" The woman tried again to get more than one word out of her.

"Russia, madam. Red Room." More than one word, but still abjectly terrifying.

Natasha was looking right through her.

Realising they would never get anything out her that way, Maria sat back of her heels and looked back at her fellow agents.

She had no clue what to do.

Phil had seen this before, and had dealt with it too.

But Bobbi spoke the most Russian and after a quick glance at the others, the blonde stepped forward to take Maria's place on the floor.

She didn't dare take the 'madame' angle so she got closer than Maria had, almost whispering with how soft her voice was.

"Sestra, eto prosto my seychas." She tentatively waited for any response.

She knew from Natasha's file that some of the girls had been close, using nicknames to comfort and reassure the others.

"Pochemu by nam ne uspokoit'sya i ne pogovorit'?" Bobbi implored further, reaching her hand out and when Natasha didn't move away, the blonde settled a hand on her shoulder.

"Da, Natalia?" Bobbi murmured.

"Da, sestra." The redhead nodded, glassy eyes sliding to the woman's face.

"Davay vstanem, da?"

"Da." Natasha nodded, very slowly getting onto her hands and knees before standing, her shoulders hunched over and her expression one fear and submission.

Bobbi glanced over her shoulder at Phil, who smiled tightly and nodded.

It seemed like things were maybe going to be okay, if they could only get Natasha out of her head.

But then things went south very very quickly.

Natasha had been standing for less than ten seconds when her expression changed again.

Her eyes clouded further and her posture stiffened.

Her eyes filled with tears that would never be shed, no matter how powerful what she was feeling was.

The girls could never cry, not in front of anyone other than the ghosts that roamed the halls of the Russian base and it was clear from the sudden change that Natasha wasn't in front of the girls right now.

She was slipping further and further back and now instead of seeing the other agents as the people from her past, she was seeing people that weren't there.

Natasha seemed to shrink as her head moved to the side abruptly, as if she'd been hit on the other side of her face.

"Izvinite, mne ochen' zhal'." She whispered.

That the others could understand.

"This clearly isn't working, someone get Barton on the phone." Fury glanced at Phil first who nodded and pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket, quickly exiting the room.

Eyes had been off Natasha for less than ten seconds and when they fell on the woman again, a disturbing scene met them.

Natasha had slid back down the wall again, her knees pressed to her chest, her hands over both of her eyes once more.

This time she was even more distressed, muttering too quietly for anyone to pick up, rocking in her place.

Her breaths shuddered, catching in her throat in her rush to try and get air into her lungs.

They had to figure out how to help and they had to figure it out yesterday because one of the only times she'd gone this far back, she'd ended up sending at least a dozen Shield agents to the infirmary in under five minutes.

Bobbi crouched again, Maria joining her on the floor this time.

"Natasha, you need to listen to me. You need to take a deep breath and try to realise where you are. You are not back there, you are at Shield with friends. No one is going to hurt you." Maria murmured, not touching the woman but still close.

"You're safe here, Natasha. You're okay." Bobbi said softly.

The woman pressed further into the wall, her shoulders heaving and her cheeks flushed with the simple exertion of trying to catch her breath.

"You're okay, you're okay. Deep breaths, Natasha. You need to take deep breaths."

"Izvinite, izvinite. YA budu khorosh. YA budu luchshe." Natasha exhaled shakily. "YA budu khoroshim. Pozhaluysta."

The door clicked as Phil stepped back into the room.

"Well?" Fury asked, out of his seat, but staying out of the way for fear of making things worse.

As terrifying as Madame had been, she hadn't been close to Dmitry, the main man behind the whole Red Room programme.

He didn't want to risk triggering any of those memories.

"He's on his way." Phil murmured, noticing the same thing Fury had, staying by the door instead of moving forwards.

Back on the floor, Natasha's flushed cheeks had turned pale and her eyelids fluttered in a way that threatened her either passing out of full on losing control.

"Okay, that's it." Fury muttered. "Phil, the cabinet at the back, there's a sedative in the med box."

Phil took a step towards the cabinet before pausing. "I don't think that's a good idea. I've known tranqs not even faze her before, and they could lower her inhibitions further. She could see a threat and attack."

"Well if she doesn't control her breathing soon, she's ending up on the floor whether we like it or not."

"We've got this." Maria stated from the floor and as the men watched the two agents slowly and painfully managed to get Natasha's breathing under control.

The woman still looked on the verge of collapse, swaying a little as her eyelids fluttered.

"Hill? Morse?" The redhead croaked out, blinking rapidly as she lifted her head just a little.

Bobbi's face softened even more and she held her hand out, gently lowering it to Natasha's shoulder.

The 'episodes' really took it out of the woman and it was a wonder that she was still mainly sitting up.

"Come on, sestra, let's lay down yeah?" She carefully pushed the shoulder a little and Natasha nodded, moving until she was horizontal, cheek pillowed by her hand.

"You're safe." Maria murmured, fingers slowly combing through tangled red locks of hair. "You're okay."

…

That was the scene Clint walked in on twenty minutes later; Natasha sleeping on the floor, her head now in Bobbi's lap as Maria sat on her other side, still absently stroking through her hair.

Phil and Fury sat at the desk, holding a low conversation about psych evals and implementing new strategies.

Clint raised an eyebrow as he stepped forward. "Everything okay?" He asked softly.

"We handled it. But she should probably get to a real bed, and a clean-up wouldn't hurt." Maria murmured.

"You did a good job here." Clint crouched besides his girlfriend, now looking peaceful as she dozed. "Thank you."

Bobbi hummed, smiling wryly. "Yeah well, we're not all useless."

"I know, Bob." Clint rolled his eyes as he leaned forward to gently shake Natasha.

"Mmm what's goin' on?" The redhead mumbled.

"Nothing, love. C'mon, let's get to bed."