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They could all tell when it was getting to her, when she felt like she was going to shut down. When the present and the past merged and she couldn't tell the difference. There were tells, ones they all knew; clipped answers and dazed looks, normally smooth motions turned jerky and rigid. Eye contact would end and her entire body would tighten like one of Clint's bow strings. They each had different ways of helping her, of keeping her busy and distracted.
Jane would show up with ice cream, movies and data that definitely needed to be collated at that very moment. Clint would take her to the range, challenge her to all sorts of dumb shooting contests or Mario Cart. Tasha would beat her into the mats and always tell her, "You were closer this time. Next time you might actually win." Then run her a bubble bath with her expensive jasmine bath oils and all sorts of candles. Tony would get her into the lab and make her correct his equations that he totally couldn't fix himself. And if that didn't work he would grab the good scotch and they would play monopoly or some other board game. But never Risk because, "I'm a billionaire, Darce, I have things to build and industries to topple. I don't have time for that shit." And then he would wink, flash her one of his trademark smiles and then refill her cup. Steve would take her for a drive and then they would pull off at some point and go for a run in obscure nature paths. At the end he would hug her, squeezing right and they would sit on the hood of the car and he would tell her all sorta of stories from before the ice. Thor, when he was on Earth would solemnly tell her of some Midgardian mastery that he didn't understand. And she would spend hours telling him about things like Ho Ho's and My Little Pony. He would make her hot chocolate, the Asguardian way, which was more alcohol than chocolate but absolutely amazing none the less.
Bruce had one of her favorite methods, one that she didn't get to experienced often because he was so seldom unoccupied and she wouldn't go to him unless it was really bad. When the memories overwhelmed her and she couldn't stop hearing the echoes of screams and gunshots, when she could feel the cold biting through her bones and her nerves we so frayed that the beeping of the elevator made her draw her knife. She would go down to Bruce's lab and curl up on the couch. He would make her some tea that later she would say was "..absolutely god awful Bruce. Where did you find that in a China town dumpster?" but she actually loved. And then her would wrap her in the Afghan that a medicine man had given him on one of his many travels, pull her into his arms, and sing to her until her breathing evened out, her hear rate calmed, and she didn't feel like she was drowning in something worse than memories. They would stay there until she fell asleep and then he would carry her to his room and tuck her into his bed, surrounding her in him.