This Gilded Cage
Natasha will never know how hard Clint had to fight to be allowed to bring her back to Stark Tower rather than having her put in a confined cell on the helicarrier until her memory returns, or a squadron of therapists declare her 'safe'. All she can see is the luxury of the cage she has been put in.
It's not a small cage, by any means. The apartment of sorts she apparently shares with Clint sprawls across an entire floor of the huge tower. Its impressive panorama windows overlook New York. It's filled with state-of-the-art technology that makes it feel disconcertingly like living in the future. The oversized fridge is filled with her favorite foods, and there's even a bottle of high-end vodka tucked away in the freezer. It should be hard to feel trapped there, but yet she does.
The first day, it's fine. They spend hours talking shared memories and memories that by rights ought to be shared but aren't. But with each subsequent day, Natasha grows more and more restless and more and more aware of the complicated lock on the door.
So, when Clint gets called away a few days into her 'stay', Natasha takes the opportunity to go exploring. The lock on the door proves too challenging, even for her. (Especially with no tools to work it with.) But, the air vent in the bathroom is just big enough for her to squeeze through after using a spoon to screw loose the grid covering it.
She wanders into the huge workshop about an hour later, drawn in by the music blasting through the doors. Her first instinct upon hearing it is to go the other way, to avoid being caught and captured. But Clint keeps insisting that she's not a prisoner here, and it's time to test that promise. Still, she slides the door open with utmost caution, and slips in quietly.
The workshop is not like any other space in the tower. At least not any of the ones that Natasha has seen. For one, it's less slick and polished. For another it's cluttered with tools and various mechanical parts. It doesn't feel as soulless and empty as the rest of the place. She trails her fingers absently along one of the workbenches as she proceeds deeper into the workshop, in search of whoever is making the noises she can just make out under the too loud music.