Hi everyone, sorry for the long wait. Without further ado, let's dive into the next two sessions. Enjoy!

3.

"Team Delta."

"Okay," Natasha nods. I have a whole little speech prepared on why it would be crucial that we talk about the time she spent working with Clint Barton. And she just… agreed to do it.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Why, that's great. So Clint told me some things about it. As far as I understand you started working together because there was no other agent Fury could have put you together with."

"That's the official story, anyway."

"And what is your story?"

"Nobody was brave enough to have me."

"Except for Barton?"

She sends me an amused look. I am pretty sure she already regrets having accepted my topic suggestion.

"Barton had to make it up to Fury. So obviously he got me."

"Was it difficult to learn to work together?"

She rolls her eyes at me.

"Stella, here is a suggestion: get your fucking thigh pierced through by an arrow and start working in a team with the guy who did it. Do you think it will be difficult at first?"

"It depends. Am I eternally grateful to him for having rescued me from my evil organisation?"

"Probably. Up to the point you realise SHIELD is not perfect either."

"So you have regrets?"

She shrugs. "I would be dead if I had stayed with the KGB for much more."

"Yeah, that was a yes/no question."

"Yeah, one I am not answering," Natasha retorts thrusting her chin forward. I wonder if it is an unconscious move. But honestly, I don't think any of her moves is unconscious at the therapy sessions.

"Did you have a choice when the Avengers initiative came up?"

"I never really have a choice, Stella."

This sounds overly dramatic for Natasha. Therefore there are two options: she is either playing me again or she is opening up.

I am sure she can see I can hardly contain my excitement.

"And how do you feel about that, Natasha?"

She smirks at me. "Why would I have any feeling regarding that fact? Does the fish have a feeling about living underwater?"

"Right. So you started working together in Team Delta. How was that?"

"Team Delta was a good project. We had exciting missions, Fury cut us some slack so we had bigger autonomy than STRIKE teams usually did. I think he did it to accommodate me. Clint says he did it because I was his best agent. I still am."

She looks at me expectantly.

"It is not my place to judge that," I say.

"You can ask anyone. They will tell you."

"I'm sure of that. Now tell me about your relationship with agent Barton."

She seems irritated as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"We are colleagues."

"For how long?"

"Eleven years."

"Eleven years. And whenever you are not assigned to a mission together he spends all of his time training."

"Are you trying to say something here, Stella?"

"You are clearly more than just colleagues. I thing there must be some kind of attachment between the two of you."

I don't mention the sex deliberately, because then she will shut me out. I don't want to say we're making a progress, because that would be an exaggeration, but if I am not careful enough she will make sure this session goes to waste as well as many others before.

She shifts in her seat. She seems uncomfortable. "Attachment?" She echoes.

I nod and she goes on.

"Like… love?"

I raise my eyebrow. I sat here on numerous occasions listening to her rant about how love was meaningless and useless, and on some particularly dark days about how it didn't exist at all. And now she offers the topic on a silver plate? This is suspicious.

"That can be a part of it, yes."

She remains silent.

"Okay," I sigh, "I'll bite. Are you in love with Clint?"

"Obviously not. Why would I be?"

"Because you just brought it up."

She bites her lip and casts her eyes down. It makes me the slightest bit uncomfortable.

I have been through many things during therapy sessions with the Avengers (and others, like trickster gods and aloof directors), and while I felt many different emotions during them, uncomfortable is rather special.

"If you don't want to talk about—" I start but she shakes her head.

"I just don't know how. I mean, what is love in the end?"

"An illusion for children? According to what you said four weeks ago at the session."

"Yes. But…" she shrugs. "I don't know. It sounds silly."

"It is a therapy session, Natasha. Nothing you say here is silly."

She groans. "Maybe. I mean, perhaps I can feel some kind of… love for him."

And she giggles.

Natasha Romanoff giggles talking about Clint Barton.

I raise my eyebrow and she stops.

"So about that attachment…" she finally says. "I don't—"

"…want to talk about it," I finish and rub my forehead. "I get it. You thought it was fun, right?" I lean forward. "Just a quick feedback, Natasha: the giggling was a bit over the top. Next time just tell me you don't want to do it and walk out of the door."

She bites her lip again. If I wasn't so upset with her I would probably consider the possibility that it is a genuine gesture.

"Well, I don't want to do it."

"Fine. See you next Monday."

4.

I admit I have been getting desperate.

Natasha does everything to sabotage my work. Even Tony talked to me about his father last time, proving that I am getting somewhere. But Natasha… she carefully avoids anything remotely constructive.

So I have to take out the big guns, so to speak.

I have a lump in my throat when I place the coffee mug on the table. I drank it very slowly to temporise.

She seems unaware of my movements but when I clear my throat she shoots a glance in my direction. It seems like she knows I am about to say something she does not want to hear. Then again, I say something she does not want to hear more often than not at the sessions.

"Today I am going to ask you questions about the Red Room," I start.

She stares at me. "What?"

I soldier on. "if you don't answer I will ask another question."

"And if I don't answer to any of them?"

"Then my throat will get raw by the end of this," I reply.

"All you have to do to avoid that is not take too big words in your mouth," she winks.

I almost choke on my coffee.

"Wow, a blowjob joke. Amazing," I reply.

She is clearly more eager to talk about sex than the Red Room, and I am too, to be honest. But we really have to do this now.

"You were very young when you were placed there."

"That is not a question."

"it is an implied question."

"What is its content?"

"How do you remember those early days?"

She sits still for a long moment with the slightest frown on her face.

"Stella, I am an excellent spy and a master assassin. But I just can't wrap my head around the fact that you just said two totally different things and you are acting like they were the same sentence."

I can't help but roll my eyes at her. She is being difficult on purpose because she wants to get away without actually saying anything.

"Right. How do you remember the early days? This is my question."

She raises her eyebrow.

"I was six years old. I only remember the pain and the hunger."

"The hunger?" I repeat stunned.

"In the Red Room you have to earn food."

"At the age of six?"

"No, not right away. Some years later. But still, that's all I remember from my childhood."

The fact that she uses the word childhood makes a shiver run down my spine. I can tell she noticed.

I clear my throat and continue.

"You said you were thirteen when you first killed someone."

"I did say that," she responds.

"Who was it?"

"The person I killed?"

I nod.

"Someone in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Do you know why they were there?"

She leans back and crosses her arms. "Stella, here's the thing. What you are trying to do now is try to find a reason for why it happened. But what I am actually grateful to the Red Room for is having learned there that the world does not work that way."

"Did you just say you were grateful? To the Red Room?" I ask leaning in.

She nods. "Yeah, I suppose you can say that. See, people like to think bad things happen to bad people. Or at least people who made mistakes. That actions have consequences, that there is some kind of karma which will get back to you in the end."

"But that is not true, is it?"

"No. It is not. The truth is, Stella, that bad things happen to good people, regardless of how much of a cliché this sounds. You might live a good life but perhaps some high ranked mafia member finds your wife pretty and you end up as a test kill in front of a thirteen year old girl."

"Is that what happened?"

"It is what happens all the time. I never found out who that person was. Maybe he was a monster who murdered children. Maybe he blew up a hospital. Maybe one of the trainers at the Red Room held a personal grudge towards him. I don't know." She twists a strand of hair around her finger. "What I want to say is that I learned this much about life there. That it is unfair."

"Everyone learns that," I point out.

"And then everyone forgets about it when it is easier. They talk about talent, hard work, about how they deserve to have that big house, that expensive car. But I have seen many big houses and expensive cars that were paid for with the blood of the innocent. Is that fair too? Talent is talent and hard work is hard work in the end."

The discussion about human moral would be interesting, but I want to concentrate on something else.

"You just used the word grateful."

She leans back against the couch. "Yeah."

"To the Red Room."

She shrugs. "Yes. You did ask me last time if I learned anything while with the KGB that I could use later. Well, most of what I know I learned in the Red Room."

"So you are not hurt, angry, disappointed, ashamed… you are grateful."

She nods again.

I take a close look at her form. She sits with one knee crossing the other one, her hands are clasped together and her jaw is set tight.

"Natasha," I sigh.

"What?" She all but barks.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask softly. "You are clearly not grateful for this. If anything, you are angry. Maybe vengeful. Probably. But grateful for having ripped your innocence from you just like that? Clearly not."

She takes a deep breath. "I thought maybe you'd let me be if I could surprise you. You are getting better at this, Stella."

I try to be angry with her but I can't. She is clearly upset.

And even though this is not how I planned this session to turn out, I do believe we took a step forward. She was lying, but she wrapped the lie in truth and I got more information out of her than I hoped for.

And now she is upset. Which is a real emotion from Natasha Romanoff.

I feel bad but I am close to asking her if it is Christmas. I hold back though because it would just upset her more.

"Well, that was it for today, Natasha. Thank you. See you next Monday."

She mumbles something and leaves.

I get an email from Fury a couple of hours later.

Apparently Natasha wanted to get her frustration out of her system and had a training session with Captain America. Steve wanted to humour her but then she got brutal and he switched to self-defence mode. They both ended up with bruises and her with a nastily cut lip. Only Steve healed in an hour.

Natasha refused to go to the med bay.

Clint Barton did show up there for a first aid kit and a painkiller injection though.