A/N: This fic has been resurrected and revamped in light of the events of Cap 2. There shouldn't be that many spoilers for the first couple chapters and I will mark when the spoilers start at the beginning of the chapter which contains them. Enjoy!

Doctor Teresa Hayes taps her fingers on the arm of the chair, studying the man across from her. Clint Barton. A SHIELD agent, archer, assassin, Avenger – one of the six people who had saved the world just six months ago. A definite hero.

Yet, this man, who had faced more dangerous people in his lifetime, refuses to look her in the eye.

She sighs. "Why are you here, Agent Barton?"

His jaw clenches, his hands stilling their idle movements. He stares at his lap.

"You know damn well why," he replies tightly.

"You've been in this room for thirty minutes and you've barely said a word." She leans forward. "If you're this reluctant to receive treatment, why did you attend this session?"

He looks toward the door. "Director's orders."

"And do you know why Director Fury ordered you here?"

He raises a hand, rubbing his palm over his eyes before looking downward again.

"My mental condition has been hindering my performance during missions and is creating an increasingly tense environment for the team," he speaks dully, as if reciting a passage from a text.

"Thank you, Nick," she says lightly.

This causes Barton to look up finally, frowning in confusion. Probably the first time he has heard anyone refer to the Director by his first name, she muses. But she has his attention.

"This is about you, Barton. Nothing leaves this room. I don't want to hear Fury's thoughts, or Stark's, or anyone else's. Just yours. If you can't share them, then you might as well leave now."

He stares at her for a moment and then settles back into his chair. "Well, that can't happen."

She relaxes slightly. "Alright. Now that we're on the same page, just why are you so reluctant?"

He snorts, rubbing his forehead. "I could really use a drink."

"I need an answer."

He sobers immediately, biting his lip.

"I'm not overly fond of being picked apart."

She nods. "Okay. So you're equating this conversation to what Loki did to you."

When he looks at her this time, it is a sharp glare.

"Subconsciously or consciously, that is what you're doing, is it not?"

He shakes his head. "You're nothing like him."

Hayes raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Because I'm a woman?"

He gives her an exasperated look, appearing as if he is trying very hard not to roll his eyes. "No. Because you have no control over me."

"I don't have control over you? A minute ago, I ordered you to answer a question and you obeyed."

"That's different. That's following orders. That's not..." he trails off, releasing a deep breath.

"And how is 'following orders' different?" she asks, curious to see where his logic would lead.

"I don't have to follow them." He sighs. "It's a choice."

"Whereas Loki didn't give you a choice."

He nods.

"So you feel helpless."

He frowns. "No. Not helpless. I'm not desperate."

"Interesting. You seem to have a strong disapproval of that word."

"What? Desperate?"

"Yes," she replies. "What about desperation upsets you?"

"Desperation doesn't upset me. I'm just not desperate."

"Then what are you?"

He swallows, looking away with a pained expression. "You mean, what do I feel."

"Yes."

"Guilt," he says softly.

"Why do you feel guilty?"

His eyes flick up to hers. She can see the grief in them.

"I killed people. Good, honest people. I killed agents."

Hayes would give him a reassuring touch at this point, but Barton would not appreciate the gesture. Barton is closed off, almost an introvert. Any sign of affection would be reacted to defensively, enlarging the distance between them. She wanted him to trust her on some level. Her hands remain in her lap.

"That was not your fault."

Judging by the content in his file, she was expecting an angry or violent reaction, but he only chuckles.

"Yeah. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard that," he snaps derisively.

"Why don't you believe it?"

He gives her a serious look. "Why should I?"

"Because you weren't in control."

"I was in control," he counters.

"Alright. Let's look at this objectively." She pauses. "What exactly did Loki do? Simply."

"For lack of a better term...he brainwashed me."

"To believe what?"

"To believe in him."

"Believe in him how? As a god?"

"As a commander," he clarified.

"Ah. Okay," Hayes says in understanding. "Loki replaced your loyalty to SHIELD with a loyalty to him."

Barton's eyes betray his passive expression. She can clearly see his shock and wonder.

"Well, I definitely haven't heard that before."

She smiles. "That's why you're here, Barton. I'm going to help you understand and eventually accept what happened to you. So you can move on from this guilt."

He nods. "And how soon will I be able to continue field work?"

"As soon as I sign off on it," she replies.

Barton gives her a bland look. That is not the answer he wants.

"There is no way to project the duration of your recovery," she explains calmly, scanning his features for any negative reaction. He remains silent and still. "It's a learning process. I'm teaching you look at the situation far differently than you have been previously. This isn't going to be easy and it won't happen overnight. But if you attend your sessions and cooperate with me, this process will be a little easier."

He only nods in response, reverting his gaze to his lap.

"I understand your need to fulfill your duty as an agent, but your mental health is more important."

He stands. "I believe the hour is over."

She stands as well, knowing he wouldn't leave until he was dismissed. "Would you beg to go in the field if you had a serious injury?"

"Of course not." He looks baffled.

"This is the same, Barton. Only the problem isn't immediately visible."

"And there's no projected recovery time," he adds sullenly.

"Just work with me," she urges. "Be patient."

"I'll do my best."

"Good. That should do for today. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

She watches him exit the room and releases a sigh. This was going to be a difficult case.