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Chapter Text

Pain. That was the first sensation that Wanda felt. One moment, she had been standing in the parking lot of the Leipzig Airport, holding up a large, falling tower of debris so that a certain Captain and Winter Soldier could escape to safety, and the next moment her senses were completely overloading. Squeezing her eyes shut and clamping both hands to the sides of her head, she could just barely register a high-pitched scream. Her own. This sound, this sensation, was causing a complete and utter sensory overload, unlike anything that she had ever experienced before. Wanda felt her knees buckling, her head spinning, her torso hitting the pavement before she felt herself fade away into nothingness.

—

Her eyes opened slightly, allowing a sliver of light from the bright sky to swarm her vision. Wanda felt herself groan in pain and exhaustion as she forced her eyes to open the rest of the way, breathing heavily. As her vision cleared, she tried to make note of her situation and surroundings. She was sprawled out in the middle of the parking lot outside of the abandoned airport, a mild, throbbing pain occupying the left side of her torso. I must have collapsed, she thought to herself.

“Wanda?”

Slowly turning her head to the side, she blinked heavily, trying to focus on a red and blue figure that was descending from the sky to land quickly next to her.

“Wanda, can you hear me?”

The voice rang out again. It was like she was underwater- everything sounded a bit muddled together.

“Mhm.” She groaned in response, shutting her eyes once again. She heard someone kneel at her side and felt a large hand cup underneath her head. Another hand reached over her torso to pull her onto a lap, the bottom half of her body still sprawled out lazily upon the tarmac.

“Vizh…” She drawled, dragging out the “z” sound as she blinked and looked at the face above her. Wanda sent a reassuring smile to the worried face above her.

“Are you okay? I came as quickly as I could. It appeared that you were unconscious for a short amount of time.” Vision said, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. Wanda smiled up at him once again, moving her right arm to prop herself up on her elbow.

Vision placed his left hand upon Wanda’s right cheek as she looked up at him. My Vision, she thought to herself as she tenderly placed her left hand on his thigh.

“I’m okay now that you’re here.”

Wanda saw Vision sigh in relief as his thumb softly grazed her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

“Me too.”

“It is as I said, catastrophe.”

Wanda looked towards those bright blue eyes that she knew like the back of her hand and nodded slightly, a tear making its way down her cheek. She closed her eyes and felt her lip tremble. They had lost the battle- what would happen to her now?

Blinking the ever-so-annoying tears away from her line of sight, Wanda tilted her head up to see Vision staring intensely at a person in the sky. Sam. Wanda watched as a beam of light traced a line through the sky, from the stone in Vision’s head all the way to… Rhodey.

Vision gasped before swearing under his breath. “I-I…” he stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words. Wanda sensed the concern in his face. She slowly moved to a sitting position, trying to ignore the spinning sensation in her head. Vision stood up himself, offering a hand to help Wanda stabilize herself as she stood up as well. The pair caught the sight of Rhodey crashing onto the hard ground, dirt being thrown up around him. Tony sprinted over to him while Sam slowly descended from the sky.

Wanda looked up at Vision, who had placed his hands on her shoulders. She caught his eye, looking over her left shoulder, and turned her own head towards where he was staring. Seven black, armored vehicles were making their way down an airport runway, headed straight for the parking lot. She looked back at Vision’s face and gasped softly, her breathing quickening up.

“Wanda, listen to me. Everything will be okay, but you need to run. Now. I promise I will find you as soon as I can.” Vision said to her, his grasp on her shoulders firm.

Wanda looked back at the cars, which were quickly approaching the tarmac. “B-but I can’t-”

She was cut off by Vision. “You must. I love you, now go.” He responded quickly, placing a soft kiss directly onto her forehead. Wanda hesitantly moved away after his embrace and took off running towards the collapsed tower from earlier, which was the opposite direction from the approaching Army vehicles. Her breathing picked up as her legs propelled the girl as fast as they possibly could, her heeled boots pounding against the cement with a “click-click”.

Wanda was approaching the wreckage of the fallen tower when she heard the screech of tires against the pavement come from her left. She turned over her right shoulder only to see another black car. “Shit!” She scolded herself, looking back and forth from vehicle to vehicle as men in black suits filed out of them. Another car screeched behind her, cornering her between three large Army vans and the mountain of debris from the airport tower.

“Put your hands up!” Rang over a megaphone. Wanda was pretty sure that she was hyperventilating now. Here she stood, surrounded by at least thirty guards, all with guns pointed straight towards her. Her head whipped from left to right to survey her surroundings, her hands beginning to glow red. Without thinking, she hurled a scarlet ball of magic towards the soldiers to her right, knocking down four of them.

The click of the safety of a gun, a gunshot, a shriek.

Wanda looked down at her left arm, surveying the damage. Thankfully, the bullet had only grazed her. She stared at the newly-formed hole in her jacket, a small but steady trickle of blood pooling on her bicep. In this split second of observation, five soldiers somehow had managed to run up behind her and tackled her to the ground.

The girl fell forwards as the weight of the guards slammed into her back, sending her chin downwards, colliding with the pavement. “Let me go!” She cried out, attempting to squirm under the weight. Before she could free her hand to send a crimson explosion of magic towards the dogpile, Wanda felt something cold be placed around her neck with a “click!”. She frowned as the device beeped loudly in her ear. One by one, each soldier stood up and moved away as the collar began to buzz.

Wanda could only process the feeling of white-hot pain as the piece of machinery sizzled and crackled, leaving her limbs uselessly convulsing. She let out a scream of agony until the shock finally resided after what felt like hours, but was probably only ten seconds.

She lay face down on the pavement, panting heavily. Wanda turned her head to the side to see more guards rushing up to her and holding her hands behind her back.

“We need to control this one. Rumor has it she’s a bit feisty.” A voice above the young woman called out as she felt a pair of handcuffs being clicked around her wrists. Before Wanda could respond, she felt a prick in her neck and the world around her faded to black.

---
Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter Text

Hi guys! Thank you so much for the love on the first chapter :) this is my first time in a very long time writing fanfic and my first time writing Avengers-related stories! Here's chapter 2!
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“Hey Wanda, wake up.”

Sam’s voice. “Nngh.” Wanda groaned, feeling a continuous pounding in her head. She opened her eyes expecting to see the brightness of the daytime sky once again, but to no avail. Instead, her eyes were met with the dim exterior of an armored van.

Wanda forced her eyes open and tried to prop her elbows up underneath her shaking frame, but she couldn’t. With a confused furrow of her brow, the young woman tipped her chin down to examine what was hindering her movement. A straitjacket?!

Feeling her breathing beginning to accelerate once again, Wanda attempted to move her arms sporadically to free herself from this prison of straps that was encasing her entire torso but with no success. She felt a pair of hands be gently, but firmly placed onto her shoulder.

“Wanda. Wanda!” Clint called out until Wanda finally looked up at the man, her bottom lip quivering in fear. She noticed Clint’s hands, held together by a set of handcuffs that were much similar to the ones that had previously been clipped onto her own wrists. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Not very convincing.

Clint took a deep breath. “Tony made a call to Secretary Ross. The Army came to arrest us. We are in an armored van. I don’t know where we are going.”

Seeing Wanda’s confusion, Clint continued. “They tackled you after trying to shoot you and put you in a shock collar and handcuffs. I think they drugged you with something and then put you in a straitjacket before throwing you in here with the rest of us. Scott tried to fight them back.” Clint explained softly. Wanda turned her head towards the back of the van. Scott, who was sitting near the door, lifted his cuffed hands to wave at the girl. She noticed a faint purple bruise beginning to form around the man’s right eye.

“Are you all okay?” Wanda asked the group around her, her voice small and shaky.

Sam nodded slowly. “We all just got escorted into this van normally. Minus Tic Tac here, who got punched in the face by one of these goons.” He gestured towards Scott.

“I’m okay, though. At least I didn’t get shot at, tackled, drugged, and put in a shock collar.” Scott responded gleefully, earning glares from Clint and Sam. Wanda felt her face flush and laid it tenderly onto the van floor once again.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked tediously, raising an eyebrow towards Wanda.

She blinked twice. “I guess- can you help me sit up?” She directed towards Clint quickly. The man hesitated and then nodded before placing his handcuffed hands onto the teen’s arms. Wanda felt Clint’s foot hitch behind her back, attempting to scoot her up against the wall. Not-so-gracefully, Clint helped Wanda scoot until she was in a sitting position with her back against the interior wall of the vehicle.

Wanda took a deep breath before continuing. “I guess I am okay. I mean, as okay as I can be while restrained like a dog.” She looked towards the group to see the concerned looks from all three guys. “My head hurts. And my arms stings a bit. I think I got grazed by a bullet. I will live, though.”

The rogues sat in silence for a few minutes, the only noise around them was the shaking of the van as it traveled down the road, going who knows where.

“Hey, do you guys want to hear about the last time that I went to jail?” Scott asked suddenly, earning groans in response. Wanda rolled her eyes and tipped her head back towards the shaking wall of the van. “Great!” Scott called out before beginning his long story.

It felt like hours, and Scott was still talking. Small snores made their way into the air, which Wanda observed were coming from a sleeping Clint, seated directly to her left. Sam sat across from her, his knees pulled up and his head laying in his crossed arms. Scott, who was diagonal from Wanda and closest to the back of the van, was saying something about the worst prison food that he had eaten. All of a sudden, another noise filled the van. A steady beeping.

Sam’s head shot up and his eyes went wide as he saw the blink of a red light coming from Wanda’s neck. Wanda’s eyes went wide following the first beep. “Wh-what do I do? It’s going to happen again and I-”

She was caught off by the sizzling of the contraption around her neck, followed by her own high-pitched wail. Clint shot awake at the loud noise, reaching over to try and comfort the screaming, convulsing teen. Wanda squeezed her eyes shut and continued to scream in pain as her shaking frame slowly slid down the wall, her head smacking the floor of the van. The pain was unbearable and the electric shock just continued for what seemed like forever.

“Wanda!”

“Oh my God!”

Voices swarmed around her as the shock ceased. Everything hurt so much. Her body felt leaden, her nerves on fire. As the swirling voices around her finally swarmed back into coherent noises, the young Sokovian opened her eyes. Clint, Sam, and Scott’s faces loomed above her, all showing identical expressions of concern. It was then that she realized that she had been sobbing, finally feeling her warm tears dripping down her chin and stinging against her tender neck.

“Hey kid, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Clint soothed, placed his hand on her shoulder, his other hand chained in place. Wanda let out a quiet sob. Wherever they were going, was this how it was going to be?

“I-I’m okay. I’m okay.” Wanda choked out, sniffling. “It just hurts. It hurts.” She repeated.

“I don’t know why the hell they shocked you. I’m sorry, Little Red.” Sam said softly before moving his hands to help Wanda sit up slowly. “There ya’ go,” he said as he helped move her frame to its previously sitting position against the wall. She took a deep breath, still feeling her legs convulse involuntarily.

Scott shook his head. “These shitheads. They put the teenage girl in a straitjacket and shock collar? I’m sorry, Wanda.”

Wanda smiled sadly at his sympathy. She didn’t know Scott that well, but she appreciated his presence at that moment. She noticed Clint’s hands still resting on her shoulder. “Clint, I’m okay now. I promise.”

Clint hesitated for a moment but then nodded before scooting back over and staring at the opposite wall. Wanda saw him take a breath and shake his head quickly, almost as if he was trying to forget the sight that he had just witnessed.

“I wonder where they’re taking us. It feels like we’ve been driving for at least two hours already, the nearest prison should have been over an hour ago.”

Just as Clint said this, the van stopped abruptly. Wanda yelped as she slid into Clint, not having any control over her upper limbs. The back door to the van opened up and outside light flooded into the small compartment. Wanda squinted her eyes and saw a crowd of soldiers standing outside of the door.

“Let’s go. Hurry.” One of the guards commanded, gesturing towards the ex-Avengers. Scott made his way out of the van, followed by Sam, and then Clint. When it came to Wanda, the absence of her arms to propel herself out of the vehicle proved to be troublesome. She used her legs to scoot slowly towards the opening of the car, but it didn’t seem to be fast enough as she heard that familiar beeping from her neck. She screamed as the metal sizzled against her neck for the third time that day, falling backward from her sitting position. Her head hit the floor of the van with a loud SMACK, causing her to grunt in the midst of her wailing.

“She’s just a kid!” She heard from someone outside the van. Clint.

As the shock subsided and her vision swarmed, Wanda felt a large hand grab hold of her skinny ankle and yank her convulsing frame towards the door. Another hand grabbed her hair and pulled her into a standing position. Wanda groaned as she blinked her eyes slowly and tried to steady herself. Two large hands grabbed onto the straps of the straitjacket.

“We told you to hurry.”

As she blinked, she saw a tall figure in a suit and tie step in front of her and the other rogue Avengers. This must be the Secretary Ross that Clint mentioned earlier, she thought to herself.

“Get them to the helicopter.” The man commanded, looking at the four Avengers. His eyes paused when they raked over to Wanda. “Oh, and be extra careful with that one. I heard she doesn’t like to follow directions.”

“Let’s go.” one of the men holding onto the straps of Wanda’s straitjacket said, moving another hand to place a firm grasp onto the girl’s shoulder. It was uncomfortable how tightly his hand was squeezing her left shoulder, especially since that was the shoulder that had been injured when she was captured earlier that day. Wanda quickly bit the man’s hand, making him yelp. She was swiftly met with the force of a black baton to her right cheek. Breathing heavily, the young girl looked up at the culprit’s face glaring. She could taste the metallic flavor of fresh blood pooling inside her mouth.

“Boss, this one’s acting up.” The man to her left shouted over to Ross. He tightened his grasp on her straitjacket. Wanda watched as Ross jogged over in her direction. The other Avengers were already being escorted over to a large helicopter that was about fifty feet away.

Ross slipped something to the guard holding Wanda’s right arm. “Give her this. It won’t knock her out but it’ll at least keep her quiet for a bit.” Wanda heard him whisper into the guard’s ear. He didn’t even care to acknowledge that she was standing right in front of him.

Wanda struggled against both of the guards as she saw the needle of a syringe approaching her neck. “Hold her still.” The guard on the left of her said as Wanda grunted and continued to struggle against the jacket. Another soldier ran up in front of Wanda and roughly grasped both sides of the girl’s head, stabilizing her to stare straight ahead.

“Help!” Wanda yelled to anyone that could possibly hear her. No luck- of course, no one would be there to help her.

She felt a needle being plunged into her neck for the second time that day. Instead of this drug knocking her out instantly, it felt like weights were slowly getting placed on all of her limbs as she was practically dragged over to the helicopter. By the time she made it there (which took much longer than the other Avengers, as they hadn’t been sedated), her brain felt like it was moving at one frame per second. Wanda felt the soldiers drag her into the helicopter, but she had no control as she slid towards a wall inside, her legs sprawled out at random angles in front of her.

A man crawled over to her quickly as the door was slammed shut and locked. Wanda couldn’t figure out who the man was- her head felt like it was spinning. All she could think about was how she had gotten into this mess in the first place. It had only been a few hours.

How much worse could this get?

---

Hello! Thank you for reading, once again! I know that these first few chapters are pretty slow, but it's going to pick up really soon! I really wanted to go in-depth with the whole captured aspect!

Chapter Text

“Wanda,” Clint said, taking his now-freed hands and placing them on the girl’s shoulders. The guards had shoved the Avengers in a smaller room that was in the giant helicopter before locking the door. She looked awful; her eyes were lidded halfway shut, her hair was tangled around her face, and a large purple mark was beginning to form on her right cheek. “Wanda, can you hear me?” He asked, placing his left hand on the teen’s face as if to check her temperature.

He looked back and forth concerningly to Scott and Sam, who were making their way towards Wanda as well. They had all been escorted into the helicopter and released from their handcuffs. This carrier was pure vibranium; there was no way that they would be escaping, especially without their gear. After sitting down near Scott and Sam, Clint had turned to see the door sliding open as two guards slid Wanda in slideways, still in the collar and straitjacket. Clint had noticed that something was off right away just by looking at the girl’s face. Her pupils were rolling around uselessly, not able to focus on anything.

Sam scooted closer to the sprawled-out Sokovian. “Wanda, it’s Sam. Can you hear us?” He asked firmly, staring intently into her eyes.

Wanda opened her mouth slightly as if to respond, but all that came out was a small gurgling noise. Sam and Scott looked at each other, confused. Clint knew almost instantly what was happening, and placed one hand on each side of Wanda’s face, careful to avoid the newly forming bruise on her cheek, and tipped her face to the right. She coughed and a small stream of blood dripped from her mouth onto the ground.

Clint then tipped her head back forward and reached around her shoulders to pull her up to a sitting position against the wall. Her head bobbed up and down.

“Thaaankkksss…” she drawled out, still not able to directly meet anyone’s gaze.

“Wanda, what happened to you between the van and the helicopter?” Scott asked, frowning.

Wanda licked her lips and opened her mouth once again. “Needle… neck.” She annunciated each consonant sound, almost as if she was trying to figure out how to speak for the first time.

Clint looked at Sam and Scott. “They drugged her.” He turned his head towards Wanda. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Wanda couldn’t find the strength to reply. Her vision was blurred together and everything sounded like she was underwater. Her limbs felt like they were being continuously pulled further into the ground. She curled up the right half of her lip, in what looked to be a sad attempt at a smile.

—
Wanda despised this feeling. Whatever had been pumped into her blood by that syringe must have been strong. Almost two hours had passed since they had boarded the helicopter, and her brain still felt like it was in a washing machine.

Clint, Scott, and Sam were trying to lift everyone’s spirits by keeping a conversation going. Wanda did her best to participate, but could only muster enough energy to respond in short, slurred answers. Scott was doing most of the talking.

Wanda groaned mid-conversation. She tried to indicate her need to speak, but the drugs coursing her bloodstream were making the task of speaking especially difficult.

Another groan. Sam turned to look at the girl.

“What’s up, Little Red?” He asked, using his nickname for her. Wanda slowly opened her mouth.
“Where… we… go…” She breathed out. Even uttering those three, one-syllable words took so much effort.

Sam seemed to understand her question as he sighed. “I honestly don’t know. I thought they were going to throw us into some random prison in Germany but seeing how long we’ve been traveling today, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Also considering the fact that we’re over what I think is the Atlantic Ocean, I would guess that we’re heading back to the U.S.” Scott chimed in, craning his neck to look out a nearby window constructed of bulletproof glass. Wanda nodded slowly and frowned. Where the hell were they being taken to?

“We’re not heading back to the U.S.” Clint solemnly said, earning confused glances from Scott and Sam.

“Where… then…” Wanda’s slurred words cut through the air.

“Canada? Mexico? South America? Maybe they’ll take us to-” Scott was cut off.

“We’re not going to any of those places. I think they’re taking us to the Raft.” Clint cut Scott off, raising his voice as he did so. Clint seemed to notice Wanda’s confused expression as she turned her head to directly face Clint. The Raft?!

Clint looked at her and then back towards the wall. “It’s an underwater prison. Tony told me about it once. It was created to hold the world's worst criminals, especially enhanced criminals. If they didn’t take us somewhere in Europe, I don’t know why they would bring us back to the United States. They must be taking us to the Raft.”

Wanda wanted to ask questions, but couldn’t muster the strength to utter more than a couple of words at a time. The drugs were incapacitating. After her fellow teammates fell silent, Wanda let herself slip into a dark, dreamless slumber.

—

Wanda awoke suddenly, from what, she was not sure. The small stream of sun that had previously been casting a beam of light into the carrier had now vanished, leaving the interior dark except for the dim light of the moon. How long had she been asleep?

Wanda felt relieved that the effects of whatever had been in that syringe had seemed to wear off, for the most part, only leaving her with a bout of drowsiness. She was still slouched against the corner of the carrier, leaving her with a clear view of her three teammates. Wanda stretched her legs outwards and awkwardly began to scoot over to Clint, who was sleeping soundly against the wall adjacent to her. He opened his eyes slightly as the teenager scooted next to him and looked straight at him.

“Hey kiddo.” He said, flashing a small smile towards Wanda. She smiled in return. She wanted nothing more to hold onto him as tight as she could, but the straitjacket prevented this. Wanda didn’t exactly know what the Raft was or if the living conditions would be anything better than pure misery, but at least she had her team by her side.

“Come here,” Clint said softly, raising his left arm. Wanda shifted up against Clint’s side and leaned her head into his lap, laying on his left leg. He placed a protective hand on her arm, careful to avoid the straitjacket and the newly forming scab that occupied her bicep from the gunshot wound. Content with the physical contact, Wanda smiled and fell asleep once again.

—
Beep. Beep.

Wanda startled awake, her heartbeat racing. She was still on Clint’s lap. Breathing quickly, the teen launched her trembling frame as far away from Clint as possible, landing with a loud BANG on the ground a few feet away, her head colliding with the smooth, metal wall. The guys’ heads shot up at the loud noise, their eyes widening at the sight. Wanda let out a piercing scream as the contraption encasing her neck sparked to life, sending white-hot pain coursing through her body.

“Wanda!” She heard Sam call out over her screams, but kept her eyes squeezed shut. The sizzling subsided, leaving the faint smell of burning flesh wafting away from the girl.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Clint said in a soft tone, brushing a thumb against the girl’s right cheek. She lay on her right side, faced towards the corner of the carrier, breathing heavily. Wanda felt the throbbing aftershock of pain in every limb as well as the involuntary twitching of her neck and legs.

“Mmm.” she groaned, turning her face towards the cold, metal floor. A hand patted her back comfortingly.

“I don’t get it.” She heard Sam’s voice say. “Why did they put the literal teenage girl in a shock collar? It’s not right.”

Wanda took a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s because they’re scared of me, scared of what I can do.” She replied, shaking her head slowly. It was at that moment that she realized that the shaking of the helicopter flying through the air had subsided.

They had landed.

After a few seconds, the click of a lock being removed was heard and a large door slid open. Wanda craned her neck towards the open hatch, squinting to adjust her eyes in response to a new, piercing beam of light. This wasn’t daylight- it had to be no later than 1:00 in the morning. This was the unnatural lighting of a building.

Secretary Ross stepped in front of the open hatch, smiling with his arms outstretched.

“Lady... and gentlemen, welcome to your new home.”

Chapter Text

Secretary Ross stepped in front of the open hatch, smiling with his arms outstretched.

“Lady… and gentlemen, welcome to your new home.”

Before anyone could respond, the rogue Avengers were being dragged out of the carrier by prison guards who re-clasped the handcuffs back onto their wrists. Wanda squealed as a hand grabbed her foot and dragged her towards the open door, once again. She hoped that this wouldn’t become a routine- it was humiliating.

As Wanda was pulled into an upright position by heavy hands grasping her straitjacket, she took in her surroundings. The helicopter pad that they stood on was inside of the large, cylindrical building. Surrounding the perimeter of the large room sat four jail cells, three of which had white walls. The other cell was a bit farther away and had dark gray walls similar to the hallways that stood across the perimeter from each other. Despite the dark demeanor of this building, the adjustment from the dark carrier to the bright spotlights placed around this building caused Wanda to wince and squint as she surveyed the environment around her. A harsh, chemical-like smell filled the air. Wanda scrunched up her nose and looked towards the floor.

“Before you all get settled in, we have a few more things planned. Firstly, you will all need to change into Raft-provided uniforms and go through an initial interrogation. No funny business will be tolerated.” Ross articulated, glancing at Wanda as he finished his sentence.

Wanda saw Clint scoff out of the corner of her eye, where he was being grasped onto by two guards. “You’ve already got us in your underwater hellhole, what more could you want from us?” He scoffed.

Ross took a couple of steps closer to Clint. “Did you forget that a certain Steve Rogers, James Barnes, and Natasha Romanoff are still on the loose? Barton, I wouldn’t try and talk back too much if I were you. It would make your time with us a lot less pleasant.”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Ross began, clearing his throat. He took a step back to his original position in front of all four Avengers. “Uniforms, interrogation, then you will be taken to your new cells. Barton, Wilson, and Lang will be housed in our standard cells. Bed, table, the bare necessities.”

“And what about Wanda?” Sam chimed in, raising an eyebrow at the man in the black suit.

Ross chuckled. “You Avengers really have an issue with interrupting, don’t you?” He said, earning a frown from Sam and Clint. “Maximoff will be contained in a high-security cell. There is a small table that is bolted to the ground. She will be kept in the lovely Stark Industries choker and containment vest that,” He paused and looked directly at Wanda. “I’m sure you’ve begun to become acquainted with by now.”

Wanda gulped and lowered her brow in frustration. Stark created this?

“It’s a shock collar and straitjacket. Don’t try and sugarcoat the way you’re torturing people, asshole.” She replied coldly, squirming against the guards that were holding her in place.

Ross squinted as the guards’ holds on the girl tightened. “I don’t like that tone of voice. You will receive shocks every time you try to use those powers of yours OR whenever we feel that you’ve stepped out of line.”

“She’s just a kid.” Clint cut off the man in charge.

“Last time I checked, you became an adult at age eighteen. My files read that Maximoff turned eighteen almost three whole months ago, isn’t that right?” Ross responded. “I don’t need to explain myself to any of you. Gentlemen, take them to get changed into uniforms.”

With that, Wanda felt the guards on either side of her begin to walk, tugging on the straitjacket. She stumbled to regain her footing, but eventually got her legs to cooperate and walked with the guards towards a hallway, just past the line of cells. Clint, Scott, and Sam were being pulled along in front of her.

They were escorted down the hallway until reaching a small room with a heavy door. After being brought inside, Wanda saw the handcuffs being removed from each of the guys. A guard stood in front of her and grabbed onto a clasp on her straitjacket, releasing the fabric straps from her torso. Wanda breathed in relief and wiggled her sore arms as the straps fell to the floor. She turned and looked behind her to where the guards were leaving the room, closing the door behind them. “Get changed.” one said before shutting the door, pointing at a pile of blue fabric on the ground.

After the door was shut, Clint jogged over to Wanda and engulfed her in a hug.

“Hey kid, how are you doing? I’m here,” he said, placing a hand on the back of her head which she had buried into his chest. Wanda let tears run down her face, staining Clint’s shirt. Her small frame trembled as she cried, balling a fist onto Clint’s sleeve.

“I’m eighteen and I’m in the worst prison in the world. And the collar… It hurts so bad. The pain, it’s blinding. A-and the straitjacket… it feels like I’m choking.” She let out a sob and grabbed onto him tighter. “I’m so scared, Clint.”

Clint sighed and held the young girl close to his chest. “I know, I know you’re scared; I am too. But, I know that Cap and Nat will get us out of here no matter what. I don’t know when or how, but I know that they will pull through. They always do, and we will too. We just have to pretend to be nice, follow their rules, and wait it out.”

Wanda tipped her face upwards to meet his, her eyes glistening and her lip trembling. “They’re so awful to me- to us. What do we do?” She questioned, her voice shaky and high-pitched.

“We do whatever we can do. I expect that we’re going to be spending a lot of time in those cells. We’ve got each other, despite being physically separated.” Clint reassured, nodding at her.

Sam made his way over and placed his left hand on Wanda’s right shoulder. “As Clint said, we’ve got each other. We’re here for each other no matter what. I’ve got your back, Little Red.”

The nickname made Wanda smile and chuckle a little bit.

“Yeah, I mean, I just met most of you guys only a day or two ago, but you all seem like a real family. That, and I know I can keep the spirits up with some of my world-famous stories.” Scott said, walking over to the other Avengers. Clint and Sam groaned, causing Wanda to laugh.

“We’ll be okay.” She said unsurely as if saying it out loud would convince her, too.

The teammates parted and trudged over to the pile of blue fabric on the ground. Wanda watched nervously as Scott bent down to survey what they had been left with.

“It’s all shirts, pants, and gray shoes. The only difference is that one of the shirts has long sleeves.” Scott observed, holding up the long sleeve t-shirt.

Clint snatched it out of his hands. “That’s probably for Wanda. They’re gonna put that jacket back on her, aren’t they?” He asked, holding out the shirt to the teen girl standing next to him. Wanda frowned, running her thumb over the scratchy fabric.

Scott distributed the clothes to each Avenger and they all changed into the almost-identical outfits, leaving the remains of their superhero outfits in bundled up piles on the concrete floor. Wanda was playing with the hem of her shirt when she heard the door suddenly open. She turned and directed her eyes towards the five guards that stood in the entryway. “Barton, Wilson, Lang, follow us.” One of the guards spoke. Clint looked at Wanda before following the others out of the room. Wanda frowned when she saw another guard holding the dreaded straitjacket.

The remaining two guards walked over to Wanda. One stopped in front of her and grabbed her arms, anchoring them across her torso, while the other guard began to wrap the straps around her body.

“Suck in.” One of the guards commanded.

Wanda raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What- ugh.” She grunted as the straps were tightened around her upper body. This seemed much tighter than before.

“Too tight.” She squeaked in a high-pitched voice, feeling the new hindrance to her lung capacity. The guard who had been tightening the straps shrugged.

“Gotta make sure you don’t escape, witch.”

Wanda looked down at the ground angrily and began shuffling her feet towards the door. I’ll just have to learn to take more shallow breaths, she thought to herself as she trudged towards the cell that the guards were guiding her towards.

The teen was led to the dreary cell that she had seen earlier upon arriving at the Raft. This cell, unlike the other three on the floor, had dark gray walls and floors. The only piece of furniture was a small gray table, bolted to the ground near the large metal door. The guard to her left pressed a small button located on a remote that was attached to his belt, and the large door slid open. With that cue, both guards shoved Wanda forward, letting her land on her side inside the cell. She yelped as her torso made contact with the cold ground.

“You get two meals a day, 8:00 am and 5:00 pm. Bathroom breaks happen right afterward. The boss will come to get you for interrogation in a bit. Don’t cause any more trouble.” One of the guards sneered at her.

The other guard turned towards the girl. “Step out of line, shock. Say something we don’t like, shock. Make any attempts to use those so-called powers of yours, shock. So behave yourself, witch.” And with that, the door slammed shut and the guards’ footsteps were heard traveling away from the cell.

Wanda stared at the ground, glaring. If the circumstances were any different, she would have blasted these idiots against the metal cell door right now, but these shocks were awful enough to stop anyone from lashing out.

Wanda scooted back against the cell wall behind her, awkwardly sliding her body up the metal frame. All that she felt was pure anger. Anger at the law, anger at Stark, anger at these awful guards. She could hear a man’s voice from the other side of the holding room. Clint. He must have just come back from interrogation. That meant that she would be up soon.

Wanda hoped that the upcoming interrogation would go smoothly.

She had no idea what was to come.

--
Sorry for the late update; I was on tour with the jazz ensemble I am part of. I really wanted a chapter that highlighted the family-like aspect that I imagined the ex-Avengers sharing with one another :) hope you enjoy!

Chapter Text

Clint had just returned from his interrogation. It had not gone well at all- the only things that he had gotten out of it were a busted lip and a newly forming black eye. They had asked him about Natasha, Bucky, and Steve. When he had refused to answer, then came the repercussions. He was escorted back into his cell just as Sam was escorted towards the small office that he had returned from. Clint sat down on his bed, grazing his left thumb across his bottom lip. He glanced at the digit. Crimson blood covered his fingertip. Clint sighed and leaned his head back towards the wall, shutting his eyes.

After a few seconds of sitting and processing what had just taken place, Clint opened his eyes once again, having heard a sound that was unfamiliar to him. Was that… wheezing?

Clint stood up immediately and quickly moved towards the glass panel that lined the front of his cell, craning his neck to where the source of the sound was coming from. He could just barely make out Wanda’s small figure, sitting against the back wall of her cell with those despicable straps from earlier wrapped around her torso.

“Wanda, is that you?” He asked in a clear tone, despite already knowing the answer.

He saw the teen point her head to the right, eyes searching for his face.

“Yeah.” She squeaked out at a much higher pitch than normal.

Clint frowned, moving his right hand to rest against the glass panel, his palm pressed against the pane. “Are you okay, kid? You’re wheezing and talking weird.”

A squeaky breath in response. “The jacket… It's too tight. It is making me breathe really quickly.”

“Take as deep of breaths as you can, okay? Hopefully, it’ll stretch out over time…” Clint trailed off in a not-so-convincing tone. He rested his forehead on the glass and sighed. He was glad that Wanda was too far away to see his own injuries. Clint knew that Wanda’s interrogation would NOT go well, based on his own experience. He didn’t want her to panic anymore than she already was, especially with the straitjacket limiting her already-shaky breathing. The guards had it out for the enhanced teen much more than they did for the archer, who had not returned unharmed himself.

“I will.” A squeak in response, followed by a spell of coughs.

—

Wanda had not moved since she had been placed in the cell almost an hour ago. She knew it had to be around 3 or 4 am, judging by the tiredness that she felt clouding her brain. The only sounds in the room were the steady snores of one of her teammates (Clint, she assumed) and the soft ticking of a fan in the hallway adjacent to her cell. Sam had returned almost twenty minutes ago, mumbling something about his wrist hurting.

Wanda’s heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest as she heard Scott returning, two guards behind him. She spun her head to glance out of the small glass pane next to her cell door, seeing a guard's hand collide with the side of Scott’s face, causing him to yelp. Wanda felt anger building up inside her chest, causing the irises of her eyes to turn a bright scarlet color.

Beep. Beep.

“Shit!” The Sokovian said aloud, squeezing her eyes shut. A strangled scream made its way up the girl’s throat and out her mouth as the collar sizzled to life once again. She fell onto her back, her legs seizing in front of her. Still screaming, she slammed her head against the cement floor.

When the shock finally ceased and the ringing in her ears began to dissipate, Wanda was able to recognize the sound of her door being unlocked. She groaned and cracked her eyes open.

“Come on witch, you’re up.” A guard said sternly, yanking the teen up by her hair. Wanda groaned in pain, her head already throbbing from its previous impact with the cell floor.

“Walk.”

Another command was barked as a guard took hold of either side of the girl, her footing on the ground unstable as she was pulled out of the cell.

After being practically pulled down a winding hallway, Wanda suddenly found herself in a gray room, seated in front of a large table. A gray lamp sat perched on the right side of the table. Two guards stood at each end of the table, to the left and right of Wanda. She saw Ross walk into the room, shutting the door behind him. He looked at the bundle of papers that he had carried in.

“Maximoff,” he stated, raising an eyebrow at the girl. “This is how we’re going to do this. I have a list of questions for you. If you answer them truthfully, you’ll be let back into your cell. However,” he pulled a small gray remote from his left pocket, taking a seat opposite of Wanda at the table. The man placed the remote onto the table and slid it closer to the girl.

“You see this remote? It has direct control to that choker of yours. I’m sure you had already figured that out by now.” Ross pointed to a small red button on the remote. “This button, it triggers electric shocks,” he moved his pointer finger towards a dial, just below the red button. The teen’s eyes followed the man’s finger like a moth following a source of light. “And this dial, it controls the voltage. The more difficult you decide to be, the higher I will turn this dial.”

Wanda gulped and forced her head to nod. Ross grinned.

“Let’s begin.”

He clicked a switch on the lamp, shining a bright light into the girl’s eyes. Wanda squinted and grimaced.

Ross shuffled through the papers sitting in front of him. Wanda could almost hear her own heartbeat, fast and anxious.

“Wanda Maximoff, born in Sokovia to Irena and Oleg Maximoff in February of 1998,” Ross looked up at the girl. “Am I correct?” He questioned in a snobby tone of voice. Wanda bit her lip and nodded quickly.

“Use your words, girl,” Ross warned.

“Y-yes, that’s correct.”

Ross nodded and glanced back down at the papers. “Twin sister of Pietro Maximoff, deceased in 2015 following the Avengers’ battle against Ultron in Sokovia?”

Wanda looked down. “That’s correct.” She blinked twice, not wanting to think about this topic for much longer.

“Okay Wanda, let’s move on to my main questions. First off, following the Avengers’ silly little tussle in Leipzig, we arrested you, Sam Wilson, Scott Lang, and Clint Barton. Our main questions have to do with the locations of the other members that escaped. Where are Steve Rogers and James Barnes?” Ross asked, staring directly at the teen.

“I don’t know.” She responded quickly.

Before she could process what was happening, the collar around her neck beeped twice and began sparking to life. Wanda bit down on her lip, hard, groaning as her body screamed in protest. After the shock subsided and her shaking limbs started to recover, she felt a dripping sensation on her lip. She looked towards her lap, breathing heavily.

A single drop of crimson blood fell onto her pant leg, turning it a dark violet.

“I didn’t like that answer. Now tell me again, where are Rogers and Barnes?” Ross asked again.

“I told you already, I don’t-” Wanda was cut off by another shock, the voltage slightly higher this time. She let out a sob as she tipped her chin upwards, groaning in pain.

With a couple of deep breaths, she looked directly ahead at Ross, her limbs screaming in protest. “They ran off after your goons captured us. I do not know where they went. I was busy fighting these idiots!” She seethed, glancing at the guards at each end of the table.

Ross glared. “Well, since these shocks don’t seem to be helping your temper, maybe these ‘idiots’, as you say, can.” He gestured towards the guard on her left, who keenly raised his right fist and punched Wanda squarely in the cheek.

“Ah!” she yelled, breathing heavily. She looked back towards Ross. She was going to make sure that this man got no information out of her, even if it was the last thing that she did. She cared about her friends’ safety more than her own.

Ross took a deep breath and stood up, his arms crossed behind his back. “How about your good friend, Natasha Romanoff?”

Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise. Nat was one of the first people to make her feel at home when she first became an Avenger, despite Wanda having hurt her. Nat had checked up on Wanda every day when the young girl had first arrived at the compound, providing the older sibling-like support that had been lacking in the girl’s life since Pietro’s death. Natasha had forced Wanda to leave her room, gone on long walks with her, trained her to be an Avenger, and spent many hours holding the younger girl close as she had sobbed. Most people did not expect the infamous Black Widow to have a soft spot for anyone or anyone, but Wanda learned to know otherwise as her relationship with the assassin had grown over the past year.

“Answer the question.” Wanda was shaken from her thoughts by Ross’ piercing voice.

“What makes you think that I know that? She was on the other side of the battle. Why do you need information about her anyway?” She quickly responded with the raise of an eyebrow.

“Your little friend, Clint Barton, informed us that Romanoff sided with Steve Roger’s towards the end of the battle and helped him and Barnes escape. Barton was stubborn at first, but gave us this information after we threatened to test out the higher levels of your little neck contraption.” Ross responded coldly, causing Wanda to shudder.

“Well, I don’t know where she is,” Wanda responded quietly, looking down. She couldn’t believe that Clint would give up information like that just to save her from further pain.

Wanda glared directly at the man staring down at her. “You won’t get any information out of me. I don’t owe you or your goons anything. You are all the villains here; the Avengers have done nothing wrong.” She spat.

She glanced back and forth at the two guards, and then to Ross, who gestured towards her. Both guards surrounded Wanda, one on each side of the chair.

“Wha-” Wanda was cut off from her question by the sudden impact of a baton colliding against her side. She wheezed, trying to regain control of her breathing as the guard on her left lifted her up by the straps of her straitjacket and threw her to the ground. She felt the cracking of ribs as her torso made impact with the ground, squeezing her eyes tightly shut in pain. A boot made contact with her stomach, causing the girl to grunt and squeeze her knees as close to her chest as possible.

More kicks and punches were sent towards the girl’s body, making her sputter and sob. Everything was so loud that Wanda failed to notice the beeping of the collar on her neck, signaling another shock.

Suddenly, a bolt of electricity was sent through her body. Wanda let out a painfully loud scream as boots and fists continued to slam into her shaking frame. She felt something wet dripping down her face as she continued to be jostled around on the concrete floor, her head continuously smacking into the pavement. She couldn’t tell if the shock was still going or if the residual currents were just showing their after-effects in her nerves.

The pain and screaming carried on until a black baton smacked her square in the face, causing the girl to fall unconscious.

Chapter Text

Clint sat on his bed, leaning his head against the wall. He couldn’t see Sam or Scott but felt relieved to know that their cells were next to his, separated by a large white wall.

“She’s been in there for a long time now, do you think she’s okay?” He heard Sam’s voice ring out into the room.

Clint shook his head and shut his eyes. “I doubt it. They’ve got it out for her much more than they do for us. It’s because of her powers. They take away our weapons and technology, and we’re no more than ordinary people with interesting day jobs. They can’t just take that mind stone energy away from her, though. That’s why they’re keeping her cramped up in that collar and jacket like a dog.” He responded dryly.

“I hope she’s okay. They didn’t do much to any of us, so maybe it will be the same with her. All I walked out with were a couple of bruises and a bloody nose. How about you guys?” Clint heard Scott ask.

“My wrist hurts pretty badly. I don’t think it’s broken but it’s definitely sprained. My head hurts, too.” Sam’s voice responded into the echoey room.

Clint grazed a finger across his lip slowly. “Busted lip, black eye, the standard. Maybe a broken rib too, but nothing I haven’t experienced before.” Clint replied slowly.

“God, I hope they bring her back soon. After her brother died last year, I promised I would protect her. He saved my life, you know. A seventeen-year-old saved my life.” Clint leaned his head back towards the wall once again. When Wanda had first become an Avenger, he couldn’t barely look at her without feeling immense guilt. He had gone back to the farm for a bit to recover from Ultron but soon returned to the compound to continue training after Nathanial had been born. Instead of avoiding the girl that was fueling the guilt that he felt, he decided to take on a more nurturing role. She had been seventeen years old; only seventeen.

Clint remembered the first mission that they had been on together following Ultron. A terrorist attack had been taking place in Berlin; Hydra had been the ones behind it, but that piece of information was unknown to the Avengers at the time. He remembered how ready Wanda had been to finally be on a mission as an Avenger, despite the fact that it had only been two and a half months since her brother had died in Sokovia. She had been eager- too eager -to prove herself to the rest of her team. After hearing her scream on the comms, Clint and Natasha had run from their positions to find the girl huddled on the ground, surrounded by seven unconscious Hydra soldiers. Her hands were stained red, positioned on her left thigh. At that point in time, her battle outfit consisted of a much shorter red jacket than her current uniform.

Clint remembered the fear plastered on the girl’s face when they found her backed up against the stone wall.

---

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He had said, placing his hands on top of hers to apply more pressure to the wound. She had let out a high-pitched squeal and shifted uncomfortably, pointing her head towards the sky and shutting her eyes tightly.

“Wanda, you have to stay still, okay? We’re going to get you to the jet, everything is going to be okay.” Natasha had said to the girl. He remembered how Natasha had untied the thick ribbon that had been holding her hair in a ponytail and began to tie it around Wanda’s leg as a sort-of-makeshift tourniquet. Wanda had raised her bloody jacket sleeve to her mouth and bitten down on it, tears falling from her eyes in pain.

Clint had looked at Natasha as she had tied the ribbon around Wanda’s thigh quickly, blood oozing out from underneath the ribbon. He had turned back towards Wanda and slipped an arm under her right arm, Natasha following by doing the same on Wanda’s left.

“Let’s get you to the jet, come on.” He and Natasha had pulled the girl off of the ground. Her left foot had touched the ground as she cried out in pain.

“Come on, we have to get moving. There are still Hydra members out here.” Natasha had urged, tightening her grip on the young girl and taking another step forward.

Wanda had shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. “We need to get the rest of them. I have to do it. For Pietro.”

Clint and Natasha had glanced at each other from either side of the teenager, exchanging confused glances as they continued slowly making their way in the direction of the jet.

“Wanda, what do you mean?” Clint had asked, worrying about the girl becoming hazy from blood loss.

“Pietro and I fought with Hydra, but before that, we were held captive by them. Yes, they gave us our powers, but no one heard about the ways they experimented on us. No one ever heard about how they would starve us until we were on the brink of death. No one ever heard about the way that they tortured us. They hurt me, but more importantly, they hurt Pietro. They brainwashed us. I need to know that they are not going to do anything to anyone else ever again.” Wanda had responded all too quickly.

Clint had looked at Natasha in shock. “Wanda, I am so sorry that this happened to you and Pietro. I had no idea. I know what it feels like to be hurt and basically held captive, and I know how it feels to want revenge. However, you are badly injured right now. We need to get you to the jet. We can’t afford to have anything happen to you.” Natasha had responded as she and Clint continued to pull the girl ahead.

“I just wanted to prove myself. To prove that I am more than my grief. That I am capable of being an Avenger.” Wanda had quietly replied, turning her head towards the ground.

“Kid, you don’t need to prove anything. You already have. You killed Ultron and his army and you’ve proven to be a valuable team player. Hell, you took out seven soldiers that were surrounding you and left with just one shot to the leg. I’m betting you took out at least two dozen more before we even found you.” Clint had responded. Wanda had just looked down and squinted her eyes.

Clint remembered how an explosion had rang out from somewhere nearby, startling the three Avengers.

“We need to go faster if we want to make it in one piece.” Natasha had hissed.

“I-I’m sorry… I c-can’t walk any f-faster. Please… leave me here and s-save yourselves.” Wanda had sputtered, tears tracing lines in the dirt that coated her cheeks.

“Not an option.” Clint had responded at once, swiftly bringing Wanda’s other arm away from Natasha and hoisting the girl over his shoulder, earning a surprised squeal from the teen. Her left thigh had smacked against the archer’s chest, causing her to groan in pain and ball up her fists against his back.

“Let’s go.” He had said, beginning to run. Natasha had been right beside him, pulling a pistol from the side of her uniform and scanning the area around them as they ran.

---

They had gotten back to the jet just fine and were able to get Wanda’s leg cleaned and bandaged and checked over once arriving back at the compound. That mission had stayed as an important memory in Clint’s mind; it was the first time that Wanda had opened up to him about her past. Following that mission, Clint had vowed to protect the young girl, unlike he had been able to do with her brother.

And now, as he sat in a jail cell in the most secure prison on the planet, he felt that he had broken his promise. Wanda was in a room somewhere probably getting the shit beaten out of her by Ross and his guards and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

A shrill scream pulled Clint out of his thoughts. He stood up quickly and ran towards the glass.

“What the hell was that?” Sam’s voice alarmingly called from the cell next to Clint’s.

“Wanda. Damn it.” Clint replied, hitting his fist against the glass.
A couple of minutes passed by and the sounds of footsteps were heard from the hallway.

“Wanda?” Scott had asked. His cell was closest to the hallway, followed by Sam’s, and then Clint’s. Wanda’s was the only cell on the other side of the hallway. The only good thing about the distance was that the curvature of the room provided a view from the three guys’ cells to Wanda’s and vice versa.

Clint craned his neck to the left as two guards entered the main room, holding the teen by the straps of her straitjacket. Her head lolled back and forth and her dark hair fell in tangled strands, covering her face. Clint saw a fat drop of blood fall from the girl’s face to the ground beneath her as the guards dragged her into the room. They turned to unlock the girl’s cell, allowing her face to be exposed in the direction of all three guys’ cells for a split second.

Clint audibly gasped. A thick, purple line ran from her right ear to her nose. Another purple bruise was forming around the young girl’s left eye. Both eyes were shut and her mouth was slightly open, a small trail of blood running from her lips to her chin. Another trail of blood ran from Wanda’s nose to meet up with the blood on her lips, painting the bottom section of her face a crimson red. Blood stained the front of her uniform in small patches.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Sam’s voice rang out. Clint could feel the heat of anger in his face as he glared at the guards.

“She wouldn’t answer our questions. Unlike you guys, she decided to sass back. You get what you pay for.” A guard mumbled in response, pulling the cell door open.

“You and your goons are gonna pay for this.” Scott’s voice called out. The guards carrying Wanda threw her unconscious frame into the cell, sending her landing in a heap on the floor with her hair covering her face once again.

“Oh and just for that,” The other guard reached towards his belt and pressed a small button on the remote that was clipped onto his belt loop. Wanda’s body began to convulse on the ground, but this time with no scream to accompany it.

Clint pounded his hand against the glass. “She’s already unconscious, what are you doing?” He yelled. He couldn’t stand seeing Wanda like this.

Neither guard replied, slamming the door shut and walking back down the hallway from which they came. After about a minute, Wanda’s figure stilled on the floor.

The only movement coming from the young witch’s body was the rise and fall of her chest.

------

Hello everyone! I am completely in shock from the amount of love and support I have been receiving from this story; thank you so much! I wanted to post a little update about some of the upcoming chapters:

Firstly, I am currently on spring break right now so I have been writing like crazy! I head back to college tomorrow, which means updates may be a little bit slower than they have been the past few days, but I should still be putting 1-2 chapters out per week!

Next, a couple of the upcoming chapters get a little dark; chapters 8-11 are going to include themes of torture and some form of self-harm. I am putting a warning in this announcement, but I will also leave a content warning at the beginning of each of these chapters as well.

I know that everything seems pretty dark right now. It gets worse before it gets better, but brighter chapters are coming in the future!

Again, I appreciate all of your comments and support. Thank you for reading!

Chapter Text

Wanda slowly peeled her eyes open. Bright light immediately filled her vision, sending her eyes to squint shut once again. She registered the pain in her body, stemming primarily from her ribs, neck, and head. Everything felt like it was pounding around her.

Wanda forced her eyes open again and groaned in response to the influx of light.

“Wanda?” She heard Clint’s voice call out from the other side of the room.

Wanda opened her mouth to respond but was immediately engulfed in a fit of coughs followed by high-pitched wheezing.

“Hey, take it easy Little Red.” She heard Sam’s voice.

“Ouch.” She replied softly, her voice hoarse. She didn’t dare try and sit up yet, worrying that she would throw up if she did. Instead, the teen opted to roll onto her back, giving her a nice view of the ceiling.

“How are you feeling?” She heard Scott’s voice ask.

Wanda closed her eyes. “Like I got shocked and kicked around the room like a soccer ball.” She replied, her voice low and crackly.

Something came to her mind and she lifted her head off of the ground ever-so-slightly.

“Wait, how long was I out?”

Silence. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“Three days.” Clint’s voice finally responded.

Wanda propelled herself up towards the wall with her legs into a sitting position. She regretted it as soon as the pain got worse and the room started spinning.

“THREE DAYS?” She questioned in disbelief, slamming her eyelids shut to adjust to the new position.

“Yeah. They brought you back unconscious and threw you into the cell. We were really worried.” Sam’s voice responded.

Wanda opened her eyes slowly and looked toward the floor. A dried puddle of blood sat where she had been laying.

“How badly are you injured?” Clint asked. Wanda smiled, recognizing his fatherly instincts that were making their presence known.

“My head hurts a lot. I think my nose might be broken as well as a few ribs.” Wanda grimaced as she took a wheezing breath. “Definitely broken. It hurts to breathe.”

She heard a deep breath, presumably from Clint. “At least you’re awake. They should be coming with breakfast soon. Scott, Sam, and I woke up only a few minutes ago.”

Wanda nodded slowly, suddenly feeling the painful hunger that occupied her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since the battle, which was about four days ago.

A few minutes later, three guards walked in, each carrying a tray of food and a cup of water. In response to a wheezy cough from Wanda’s cell, one of the guards turned to look at her.

“Oh, the witch is awake. Tell the boss we need more food.” The guard said before slipping his tray through a small slot that had opened up in the door of Scott’s cell. The other guards did the same before quickly leaving the room.

Two guards returned a couple of minutes later, heading towards Wanda’s cell door. One of them held a small bowl of what looked like oatmeal in one hand and a juice box in the other. She pointed her head towards them as they entered the cell and shut the door behind them. Wanda wondered how they expected her to eat, eyeing the guards suspiciously.

“Hold her down, I’ll take care of the food.” One of the guards muttered, earning a nod in return from the other guard. Before Wanda could process anything, a pair of large arms wrapped around her torso, their hands prying her jaw open. Wanda groaned as her breathing quickened, trying to protest. A spoon with the gray sludge was shoved into her mouth, the hands holding her jaw now forcing her to chew. The witch squeezed her eyes shut, her jaw tense.

“Gotta speed it up, witch. We don’t have all day.” The guard holding her face said a few minutes later. The guard with the spoon began to shovel in the oatmeal quicker, causing Wanda to sputter and choke. Another spoonful was forced between her lips as her coughing continued.

The hands holding her up by the head suddenly let go, sending the girl falling towards the concrete floor. Her chin hit the cold floor, earning a painful grunt in response as the girl continued to try and catch her breath from the force-feeding.

Suddenly, Wanda felt a straw being placed between her lips as she lay on the floor. She coughed and choked on the juice, having still been attempting to catch her breath. The juice box was removed, leaving the girl heaving and wheezing on the floor. She glanced up at the guards who were now standing above her.

“Someone will come and get you for a bathroom break in ten minutes.” One of them said before both guards left the cell, slamming the door behind them. Wanda laid her head back on the ground, trying to focus on the rhythm of her heavy breathing.

After a minute, the silence around her was broken. “Is everything okay over there?” Scott’s voice called out.

A wheeze in response. “They held me by the face. I tried to eat the food, but they were giving it to me too quickly. I felt like I was choking.” the teen replied through deep breaths.

“They force-fed you?” Sam’s voice responded, its pitch slightly higher with worry.

“Yeah,” Wanda replied, looking up at the ceiling above her. After being unconscious for a few days and only receiving one pitiful “meal” since the battle, she felt extremely lightheaded. She made no attempt to sit up, in fear that she would faint once again.

“I’m so tired.” She mumbled out loud to no one in particular.

So tired.

—

The next week followed a strict routine, force-feeding once in the morning and once at night, always the same food; gray, tasteless oatmeal and juice for breakfast and a slice of bread with butter dry roast beef on it for dinner, followed by a small glass of water. She knew that her teammates were receiving three meals a day with more food. She would crane her head towards the window in her cell door whenever the guys were getting their meals delivered. While she was sure that it wasn’t great- it was prison food, after all -it was always more than she had been receiving.

Breakfast would be followed by a bathroom break, which consisted of two guards dragging the stumbling girl down a hall and watching as she used the bathroom, to “make sure that she didn’t cause any trouble”. While their stares were not malicious, Wanda still felt humiliated.
After bathroom breaks, she would be brought back to her cell and pushed onto the floor as the door slammed shut behind her. The guys would always be chatting when they were awake, trying to preserve any ounce of sanity that could be lost when sitting in a dingy cell for 23 hours every day.

The residual hour left; interrogations.

Wanda dreaded this hour the most. For the others, who returned from the office with minimal scratches and bruising, interrogations were a mere inconvenience. For Wanda, they concluded with the question of whether or not she would return back to her cell unconscious. On day 4 of being in the Raft, she had returned conscious. She assumed they were taking it easy on her after being knocked out for three days straight. On days 5 and 6 however, she woke up a few hours later to the sound of Scott’s voice droning on about another story of his previous prison experience. Day 7, she was awake, but barely. After lashing out in the office and biting a guard’s hand, she had received a dose of the tranquilizer that she had been given on her initial flight to the Raft. For the remainder of that day, the only sound that filled her cell was her involuntary groaning that was produced whenever she tried to reply to the guys.

Then passed days 8, 9, and 10. The same routine continued. By the end of the first two weeks in the Raft, Wanda felt weak. She hadn’t received an actual, fulfilling meal in weeks. She was certain that her body was more purple than her natural, pale skin tone. Her brown hair sat in tangled mats around her shoulders, neglected from any brush or hair care. Small, reddish-brown stains littered her blue uniform, marking the treatment that she had received over two weeks of intense interrogations.

Day 15. The only way that Wanda knew this was because of Scott’s daily reminder. He had been scratching tallies onto the wall beside his bed, he had told the others. While Wanda had not gotten the chance to know Scott that well before the Raft, she had to admit that she appreciated his attempts to keep the mood up among the group, despite the dire situation that they had found themselves in.

Wanda found herself being shocked every single time that she did something that the guards or Ross considered “out of line”. The time that so much food was shoving in her mouth that it had caused her to throw up on a guard’s shoe, shock. The time that a guard had tripped over her foot when turning to leave the cell, shock. The time that she had told a guard to “go to hell” after he had refused to give her breakfast, another shock. And those were absolutely no match for the numerous shocks that she received every day during the continuous interrogations.

Her neck felt completely raw. When she spoke to the guys, her throat burned. By the time that three weeks of being in the Raft had passed, Wanda lay on the floor of her cell, unable to talk without immense pain as a result of the repeated shocks.

Pain was beginning to become the new normal.

Chapter Text

The guys were talking about their favorites as they waited for Scott to return from his daily interrogation; not just the basic favorite color, pet, etc. Specifically, their favorite memories from when they had been Avengers. A bittersweet topic for sure, but it reminded all of them of better times in the past.

“I would have to say that one of my favorite memories was Christmas last year. Laura and I brought the kids up to the compound for a few days. It was the first time that I had spent Christmas at the compound since Lila was born, so it had been a while. It felt nice to have my work family and my actual family all together. Do you remember that, Sam?” Clint asked, sitting against the wall of his cell.

“Of course, I remember! That was one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had. You and Laura had all your kids there, we did Secret Santa, and watched tons of movies. And when Nat got the alcohol out…” Sam’s voice called out in response. Clint could almost hear Sam’s smile.

“It was great. It felt normal. I think that when you’re doing this job, you need a little bit of normal sometimes. We risk our lives on the daily; being able to sit down with family and enjoy the holiday season is just what you need sometimes.” Clint said, smiling slightly.

“What about you, Wanda?” He asked. There was no response.

“Wanda?” Clint asked again, slightly worried. He scooted closer to the glass panel and pressed his cheek to it, craning his neck to see Wanda. She was right where he had seen her earlier that morning, laying on the ground with her head turned towards the guys’ cells. She blinked, her facial expression unchanged.

Sam had noticed the unusual silence, as well. “Hey Little Red, can you hear us?”

Clint saw Wanda nod in response. At least she hadn’t been drugged again.

“Are you okay?” Sam’s voice called out again. Clint saw Wanda’s chin point upwards slightly before stopping, almost as if she was hesitating to nod her head.

“Can you talk?” Clint asked, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. Wanda’s head moved side-to-side slowly.

“Is it the collar?” Clint asked, gesturing towards his own neck. A small nod in response. He saw Wanda’s bottom lip begin to quiver, tears forming in her eyes. Clint frowned. That damned collar had injured her and taken away her ability to speak.

“Hey Wanda, it’ll be okay. I’m so sorry I got you into this mess in the first place. You don’t deserve this.” Clint took a deep breath and pressed his hand against the glass. “I promise we’ll get out of here. Steve, Bucky, and Natasha will find us. They’re out there somewhere. They’ll come to save us soon.” He said softly in an attempt to comfort the girl. He sighed as we watched her start to cry, the only noise coming from her cell being her shaky breaths and wheezing.

“Wands, it’ll be okay, I-” Sam began but was abruptly cut off by the sound of yelling. Scott’s yelling.

Clint’s eyes darted towards the commotion. Scott, who was being led back to his cell, was arguing with the guards that were accompanying him.

“Don’t you dare say anything about my daughter ever ag-” Scott was cut off by a guard smacking him across the face.

“Shut it, bug boy! You’re almost as bad as the witch with your awful language.” One of the guards said, putting Scott into a chokehold. Scott continued squirming and yelling at the large frame that was restricting his movement. Clint saw the other guard extract a small blade from his pocket and hold it tightly in his right hand. Clint’s eyes opened wide. He hissed at Scott and tried to silently get his attention. He was sure that Sam was doing the same.

The guard’s hand raised slightly, still clutching the blade. Clint felt like his heart was beating one thousand miles per hour as he watched in suspense.

Two glowing red dots suddenly averted Clint’s vision downward. Wanda was now sitting up against the glass, an angry glare plastered on her face. Clint could see the sweat on the girl’s forehead and her cheeks turning almost as red as her glowing eyes. She was trembling. He knew that the collar had to have been shocking her by now, judging by the painful expression on the teen’s face.

“Wanda!” He hissed, shaking his head to try and get the girl’s attention. No luck. “Don’t do it.”

Before Clint could process anything else, an explosion of red light filled the room. It knocked both guards and Scott onto the ground near the hallway. Clint hit the wall with a loud THUD from the impact of the blast.

“What the hell?” He heard Sam’s voice yell. Flashing lights and screeching sirens filled the room as Scott jumped to his feet and ran towards Clint’s cell.

“Damn it!” Clint yelled as he looked over to where the guards were still laying on the ground. The door in front of Wanda’s cell had shattered, spraying glass shards next to the guards. There Wanda stood in the doorway, trembling. Her eyes were no longer red but were instead full of tears. She had somehow managed to remove her left hand from the straps of her straitjacket and was propping herself against the doorway with it. Clint watched as she took a shaky step out of the cell and towards the pair of guards, red sirens from each wall of the Raft illuminating her shaking figure.

“Wanda, stop!” Clint yelled as loudly as he could, slamming his fist repeatedly against the glass. “They’re gonna hurt you even more!”

Wanda didn’t hear him, or at least, she didn’t respond as she shakily raised her left hand and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for another painful shock. As footsteps pounded down the hallways surrounding the main holding area, a cluster of red wisps snaked out from the girl’s hand to both guards, turning their own eyes red. Clint recognized this trick; it was the same way that the girl had incapacitated the Avengers before Ultron just less than a year before.

“Wanda!” He heard Sam’s voice yell. Scott still stood against the wall, afraid to get in the way of the witch and her targets.

Guards flooded into the room from each hallway. Clint knew that under normal circumstances, Wanda would at least have been able to put up a fight against the guards that were quickly surrounding her, but he also knew that she was incredibly weak after being chained up like a dog and slowly starved for almost a month straight. He watched as another shock was set off from the girl’s collar, causing her to slowly slide down the door frame of her cell, trembling and sobbing.

“Leave her be! She’s a kid!” He shouted, hitting his hand against the glass one more time. He watched as the girl disappeared from his view, two dozen guards surrounding her.

And that was when he heard a strained, high-pitched scream.

Chapter Text

Wanda breathed heavily as guards flooded into the room. She looked in disbelief at the two passed-out guards on the ground in front of her. What had she done?

Shockwaves vibrated throughout her body. She had never been shocked so many times in a row before. Gritting her teeth, she slid down the door frame of her cell to the ground, collapsing into the pool of glass shards beneath her. She gripped the door frame as hard as she could with her left hand, letting the white-hot pain course through her body.

She heard yelling. Clint? She couldn’t tell anymore. All she knew was that sirens were going off and that she was surrounded by guards.

Wanda was dragged out of her thoughts by a new, much stronger pain stemming from her free hand. The pain of a large baton hitting the limb at full force. Her mouth opened and let out a blood-curdling scream, having no regard for her sore throat. Tears flooded her vision as she sobbed.

The teenager glanced down at her hand, whimpering loudly. A thick red line covered the back of her hand. Her wrist was bent awkwardly as well as two of her fingers. Wanda let out another scream of pain as she was harshly picked up by a group of guards, two holding onto her straitjacket and two more holding her shoulders. She felt herself being dragged down a hallway, a different one than where she had normally been taken for interrogations.

Another large hand grabbed onto her free hand. Wanda shrieked in pain; it was blinding, making her nauseous and lightheaded.

She let her head loll forwards and let the darkness take her.

—

Wanda’s eyes opened slowly. She was in a room that she did not recognize; the walls were light blue, contrasting from the mostly gray and white interior of the Raft. Bright fluorescent lights burned down on her from the ceiling. She was sitting on a small metal bed if it could even be called that.

Wanda took a deep breath, sputtering. She could breathe! Her ribs ached at the sudden feeling of release after being trapped in her straitjacket for almost a month. She took a few more deep breaths, testing her newly found diaphragm space.

The young girl looked down at her arms. Both arms were trapped under giant metal cuffs, restrained from any range of motion. Her left hand was hastily wrapped in a thin elastic bandage with a small IV port sticking out of it, reminiscent of her time at HYDRA. She raised an eyebrow at the poor wrapping job. She knew her hand was badly broken- there was no doubt about it. She knew that a thin bandage wasn’t going to do shit for her.

The pain in Wanda’s hand was definitely still present, but not nearly as severe as earlier. The numbed pain in her limbs and the cloudiness in her mind made her sure of the sedating drugs that were still running through her bloodstream. Wanda turned her head towards the ceiling and blinked heavily with a sigh. She couldn’t bring herself to think about the punishment that she would be facing after her earlier fiasco.

After finding herself slipping in and out of consciousness for a while, the large metal door across the room from the teen opened and five guards stepped inside, followed by Ross.

“So,” the secretary said as he clapped his hands together. “You can imagine how happy I was to hear about that little incident that happened a few hours ago.”

Wanda turned her head towards the man and frowned.

“Not only did you break one of the most well-enforced cells in my facility, bypass our technology, and step outside of your containment cell without permission,” Ross paused, stepping closer to the girl. “But you also incapacitated two of our finest guards.”

Wanda breathed in sharply, lowering her eyebrows. “Your ‘finest’ guards were about to stab my teammate for no reason.” She hissed. The secretary’s hand collided with the witch’s already-tender face with a loud SMACK.

“Whatever your reason was, it is not good enough. Both guards are still in our medical wing, passed out. What did you do?”

“Simple. I made them see their worst nightmares. It’s how I defeated the Avengers when first meeting them,” Wanda paused and glared directly at the man staring down at her. “Would you like me to try it out on you next?”

Ross’ eyebrows raised, almost as if he was surprised at the retaliation. The confused expression quickly changed to pure rage as the man turned over his shoulder towards the door.

“Keep her locked up here for a few days. No food, just water. Bathroom break once a day. We need to keep her sedated at all times. Shocks twice an hour, higher intensity. If she misbehaves, you know what to do. There’s a camera in the corner in case the witch decides to act up. New straitjacket goes on tighter than before. Until we can get that cell repaired and reinforced, she’ll stay in this room. This is what happens when you break the rules.” Ross said as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Wanda’s eyes opened wide as she realized what she was in for. Increased shocks? No food? Constant sedation?? Solitary confinement???

Before she knew it, someone in a white coat had entered the room with a syringe, plunging it into the port in her left hand. As the cloudiness around her began to change her clear vision into blobs of black and white, Wanda heard the cuffs around her arms being unlocked. She was just able to process two sets of arms lifting her into a sitting position and sliding a new set of straps around her torso. Wanda gasped as her injured hand was shoved back into the dastardly straitjacket, the sedations not enough to numb the pain.

What Wanda didn’t realize was that two sets of chains had been clipped onto the straitjacket in order to hold her against the wall unable to move, as well as a set of stationary cuffs placed around her ankles. How could she notice? The heavy flow of drugs running through her body was dimming her senses. She could still think, but not speak. She just didn’t have the energy to.

And there she sat by herself, completely and utterly alone for the first time since Pietro’s death.

Chapter Text

Clint bit down on his lip, hard enough to make it bleed. It had been five days since they had last seen Wanda. Without knowing where their youngest team member was or how she had been doing, none of the guys had gotten adequate sleep in days. Scott’s daily reminders of how many days it had been since they had arrived had begun to spark anxiety among the group. Instead of the normal “35 days in the Raft” announcement, all Clint could process was “5 days since Wanda was taken”.

He had seen the way that her hand was bent as she had been dragged out of that room; he knew that it had broken in multiple places. He remembered how he and Sam had pounded against their cell walls as the girl was taken away, another guard wrestling Scott back into his own cell.

Clint sighed. All he could hope was that he would get to see his teammate again.

—

Clint’s wishes were granted, but not quite in the way that he had expected. The cell had been fixed early that day, now reinforced with extra vibranium and movement sensors that would set off the shock collar if Wanda did so much as move wrong. He had heard the builders discussing it, making his blood boil.

The interrogations had ceased after the incident; no one knew exactly why. While the boys were incredibly relieved that their black eyes would finally get time to heal without being injured again, they couldn’t help but ponder the current state of their young teammate.

Early that evening, footsteps were heard coming down the hall. Clint jogged over from his bed to the front of his cell to see what the commotion was.

Two guards were dragging a skinny frame into the room by the straps of her straitjacket. Clint could tell something was off as soon as he saw the girl’s face; her eyes held dark bags beneath them and her cheekbones were more pronounced than the last time he had seen her. Her lips were chapped and pale, and her eyelids were only halfway open. Her head bobbed up and down in time with the steps of the guards that were holding her.

“Wanda?” He called out worriedly. There was no response from the girl, even though she was obviously awake. Clint watched as the guards gently sat the girl down in her cell, leaning her back against the wall.

—

Wanda felt like she was floating on a cloud as she was placed against the wall of her cell. Her limbs felt heavier than ever before. Her mouth was unable to open, feeling like it was made of vibranium.

The guards had put her straitjacket on even tighter than before, which the young witch hadn’t even known could be possible. She felt completely trapped, the rough straps forcing her breaths to come out quickly and shallow.

A voice called out from somewhere in the abyss that was consuming her consciousness. Was that Clint’s voice? She didn’t know anymore.

After a few minutes of existing within the murky environment of her sedative-ridden mind, Wanda mustered up as much strength as she had left and tipped her chin forward before slamming her head back against the cell wall. She just wanted to feel something.

The voices around her continued to swarm as she continued to smack her head towards the wall. Pain, pressure, impact. At least it was something.

“WANDA!”

That was her name. Someone had just yelled it. Wanda slowly pointed her heavy head towards the door, feeling even dizzier than she had before. How many times had she hit her head? It had only felt like a couple of seconds since she had arrived back in this cell.

The blurred voices began to clear a little as she forced her eyes to focus to the best of her ability. Her pupils rapidly moved back and forth, unable to locate the source of the sound.

“You’re gonna give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that! You’ve been smacking your head against the wall for like five minutes now!”

Whose voice was that? It sounded like Sam.

“Did they drug you?”

Wanda stared in the direction of the voices. She had no way of responding.

She heard a sigh from Clint. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

That would be easy enough, wouldn’t it?

It was actually proving to be much more difficult than Wanda had expected, but after ten seconds of sitting still, she was able to shut her eyes once and open them again.

“That’s about what I expected.” Clint’s voice responded.

“Are you hurt?” A new voice. Scott’s.

Wanda blinked once. Besides her broken hand, the guards had beaten her up twice since being in that room. One of them had taken a small blade and made a cut from her left eyebrow to her left cheek, which now left a dried patch of blood clumped on her face.

“Did they feed you at all?” Sam’s voice.

Two slow blinks.

The rest of what the guys were saying turned into incoherent sounds. Wanda just felt too tired. She shut her eyes as a single tear dripped down her left cheek, turning red from the dried blood that caked the side of her face.

—

A routine kept up for the next two weeks. Wanda was only fed once a day now, as she was deemed too “out of it” to receive two meals. The single meal per day already took twice as long as meals used to for the teen, as the drugs flooding her bloodstream restricted her movement when eating. She received shocks twice every hour, typically one right after the first in order to intensify the pain. Because of this, she found herself never able to sleep more than half an hour at a time. The only way that Wanda could register any sensation of awareness was by smacking her head against the wall of her cell. It was the only appendage that she could move freely, being constrained by the straitjacket. Clint had given up on telling her to stop, seeing as it did nothing. The teenager just wanted to feel aware of something.

There were no more interrogation sessions for any of the inmates, which Wanda was very happy about. She wouldn’t even be able to respond if there were more sessions.

The guys would have their normal conversations, but Wanda found herself not able to pay attention to the talking for more than five minutes at a time. She felt completely numb.

She felt broken.

—

Because the interrogations had ceased, the bruises that littered her small body had begun to heal. She knew that the guards didn’t like this; she would hear them talking about how boring she looked without all of the purple and blue marks covering her pale skin.

A little over two weeks after being returned to her cell from the incident, two guards marched up to her door. Wanda felt a little more awake than normal- for some reason, her morning sedation had not been administered.

She let out a quiet groan as the guards entered her cell- the first sound that she had made in weeks. She turned her head up to look at them. Without any warning, both guards wrapped their arms around the young witch’s shoulders and hoisted her up off of the ground. Shaky legs struggled to get a stable footing on the ground beneath the girl, leaving the guards needing to basically drag her out of the cell.

Wanda turned her heavy head towards the guys’ cells, her eyebrows raised in worry. She saw Clint, standing at the front of his cell with his arms crossed.

“Hey, where are you taking her?” He asked in a stern voice.

No reply was offered by the guards as they continued to pull Wanda out of the room and down the adjacent hallway. She could hear Clint, Sam, and Scott’s voices in protest behind her. She watched as the guards opened a door to an unfamiliar room and began bringing her inside. The room was large and smelled of chemicals and must. The walls were the same cement gray as the floors of the compound, with cracks running down various parts of them. A large chair with a machine next to it sat in one corner of the room. In the other corner, a large tub of water. Between these, a metal table with various syringes placed neatly in a row. Wanda turned her head to the left to see a small metal bed, not unsimilar to the ones that she had seen in the guys’ cells when she first arrived at the Raft.

The girl was brought over to the chair and lowered onto it. Wanda watched as one guard stretched a large strap over her torso, another strap at her ankles. She frowned and looked up at the guard in confusion.

Just then, another person entered the room. It was Ross.

Wanda gulped when she saw the man in the suit approaching her, a bulky folder in his hands.

He turned to the guards. “After the last incident, we had a meeting and decided to begin research on the witch’s powers. Let’s start with procedure one today, and carry on with the rest of them throughout the next week.”

Wanda watched both guards nod as Ross handed the folder to one of them, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, locking the door behind him.

Wanda glanced at the guard on her left, who was flipping through the files that were contained in the folder. “What are you doing to me?” She asked, her words slurred slightly. Her throat ached and her voice was hoarse from disuse. Her tangled hair framed her pale face

“Testing out those powers of yours. We want to see if they have other strengths that we haven’t seen. Things like healing or protection, stuff like that.” The man replied, not taking his eyes off of the folder in his hands. Wanda glanced at the other guard, who was uncoiling a few thin cords that were connected to the machine to her right.

“You’re… experimenting on me?” Her voice was high-pitched, expressive of her fear. A fat tear slid down the left side of her face and splashed onto her uniform, staining it a navy blue.

Wanda wanted to fight back as the stickers at the ends of the cords were attached to various places on her forehead and temples, but the residual effects of the sedatives that she had received the past couple of weeks prevented her from doing so. Her limbs felt like jelly- she felt helpless

The young girl’s lip quivered in fear as she watched the guard on her right flip a few buttons on the machine.

There was silence for a few seconds before the machine beeped, sending pulsating pain into the witch’s temples.

And at that moment, Wanda let out an ear-piercing scream.

—

“Where do you think they took her?” Clint asked as he sat down on his bed, running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t want to know.” Sam’s voice replied from the cell next door.

A moment of silence, until Scott’s voice chimed in.

“Hey, uh, I know we keep saying that Steve is going to get us out of here, but do we… actually know that for sure? Like, was there a plan ever set in place or anything?” Scott’s voice called out.

Clint sighed. “Nothing was ever discussed, I mean, I don’t think any of us ever expected to end up in some super-powered underwater hellhole when we fought that stupid battle a month and a half ago, but here we are.”

“They’ll get us out, I know they will. They probably need time to plan it out; I don’t think anyone could just strut into the most secure prison in the world and casually break out four ex-Avengers.” Sam responded.

A shrill scream rang out across the prison, causing Clint’s head to shoot up. “Wanda?” He asked worriedly.

More screaming. Clint jogged towards the glass wall of his cell and craned his neck to the left, unable to see the source of the sound. “Shit.” He muttered, furrowing his eyebrows. He looked down at the ground, feeling powerless. There was nothing he could do to help his teammate.

“I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing to her.” Sam mumbled as another high-pitched scream rang out. Clint squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“Steve and Nat had better get their asses here soon.”

—

Sometime later- Clint had guessed about three hours or so -the bouts of screaming had finally ceased. Two guards walked into the room, pushing Wanda onto the ground of her cell. The girl lay curled up in a ball, trembling, causing each of her teammates to near the fronts of their cells in concern.

“Wanda, are you okay? What happened?” Sam asked, looking over to the shaking teen. The girl lifted her head slightly, revealing her pale skin, marked by a trail of blood running from her right nostril. She was breathing quickly and heavily, almost hyperventilating.

Wanda blinked a few times, her pupils searching the room wildly. She moaned in pain before smacking the front of her head against the concrete. The girl whimpered and then continued to do it again repeatedly.

“Wanda,” Clint said, worriedly watching the girl smack her head against the floor at full force. “WANDA!”

She still carried on. “Wanda, you need to stop! You’re going to get hurt.”

A shriek made its way out of the witch’s mouth as she laid her forehead on the ground, sobbing. “Make it stop, make it stop,” she muttered, trembling against the floor.

“What did they do to you?” Scott asked, frowning in concern. The teenager didn’t respond, but instead just continued sobbing. An unexpected shock from the collar caused her to yelp and roll over onto her back, limbs convulsing. This continued for a minute before both the shocking and whimpering ceased, leaving the girl out cold on the floor. Clint couldn’t help but notice that the teenager’s shaking had not ceased, despite being unconscious. He pressed his forehead against the glass panel silently, shutting his eyes.

“I just wish there was something I could do to take away the pain that she’s in.”

—

For the next week, Wanda was taken away at approximately the same time every day. She would return several hours later, suffering in a different way each time. The first two days, she was brought back shaking so much that the guys worried that she was seizing. The next few days, she was brought back unconscious. On day seven, Wanda was brought back completely drenched in water. She had pulled her knees up to her chest to conserve as much body heat as possible, her teeth chattering. Every once in a while, she would burst into coughing fits, spitting out water onto the ground.

Three days later, Wanda’s condition had worsened. Her hair was still slightly damp, due to the poor temperature conditions of her cell. Her breathing was shallow and mucousy. Her lips were tinted slightly blue. She wouldn’t move, whether due to the drugs running through her bloodstream or the effects of whatever experimentation she had undergone, no one knew.

—

A week after that, Wanda lay on her cell floor. She hadn’t been given food in days. She couldn’t process anything that was happening anymore- the voices of other people seemed far away and muddled. She was freezing and barely conscious. Her lungs felt on fire, making it almost impossible to breathe.

The other Avengers had become very concerned about the girl’s depleting condition. Her soft wheezing had turned into slow, shallow, congested breathing. All that the guys could see was the tangled mess of dark brown hair that shaded the teen’s face from the sky. Any attempts they made to communicate with her were completely one-sided, never earning any reaction.

If it weren’t for the sounds of her congested breathing, Clint would have thought that the girl was dead.

All inmates were silent, having nothing more to say about the current situation. They knew that if Steven and Nat didn’t show up soon, Wanda would be dead.

—

Their hope would soon return however when two days later, they were woken late at night by the sound of alarms going off. Wanda’s figure lay completely still.

Clint rushed towards the front of his cell at once, looking around wildly. Was their way out finally here?

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, pressing his hands against the outward wall of his cell.

“Guys, look!” Scott said eagerly. Screams were heard down the hall that was furthest from the Avengers’ cells. A group of guards ran from one side of the compound towards the said hallway, disappearing through the doorway. More screams followed.

“Guys, I think this might be it. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I’m pretty sure those are the sounds of Nat and Steve beating some prison guard ass.” Clint said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. He had been starting to lose hope, for Wanda, for himself, and for the team.

A heroic figure, one that the Avengers knew all too well, strutted into the compound with a smile on his face. Behind him, a slightly shorter figure with a light blonde bob in a classic, black catsuit.

“Have you been waiting for me?”

Chapter Text

“Have you been waiting for me?”

“Captain America!” Scott yelled, sounding just like a kid meeting his favorite superhero for the first time.

“Good to see you, Scott.” Steve replied as he extracted a keyring from his pocket, handing a small key to Natasha. She ran over to Clint’s cell and unlocked the cell door, leaving Steve to do the same with Scott and Sam’s cells.

“Nat,” Clint sighed, pulling his friend into a tight hug.

“Miss me?” She said jokingly, squeezing her arms around Clint. “Okay, as much as I love you, you smell awful. We also have about fifty unconscious guards that will be waking up soon in that room over there,” She paused to point towards the room that she and Steve had just emerged from before continuing. “And a very angry secretary, so let’s get moving before all of us end up in those cells.”

Steve gave Sam a pat on the back, turning his head towards Clint. “Where’s Wanda?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clint silently pointed past Steve, causing him, Sam, and Scott to turn around, stepping out of the way. The teenager lay face down on the floor of her cell, her face still concealed by her matted hair; the same position that she had been in for days.

Nat frowned and walked towards the girl’s cell quickly, eventually pushing Steve out of the way to near the door. “Wanda?”

She fumbled with the lock on the door, finding that it was different from the other cells. “Steve, can you break the lock?” She turned towards the captain. Clint stayed back near Sam and Scott, wrapping his arms around their shoulders as they stared at the cell in anticipation.

“Of course.” Steve replied before delivering a punch towards the metal lock with a grunt. The padlock gave way, falling to the ground. Steve hesitantly opened the door, watching as Nat pushed past him and stepped inside.

“Wanda?” She said quietly, placing a hand on the girl’s back. Natasha frowned, hearing the teenager’s sporadic breathing. She placed her other hand on Wanda’s shoulder, carefully rolling her over onto her back. The room was filled with a collective gasp.

Wanda’s right eye was swollen, a dark bruise occupying the space underneath it. A dried trail of blood ran from her nose down to her chin. Another trail of blood sat on her temple, crusted around the side of the girl’s face. Her eyes were cracked open ever so slightly; the same as her lips, which were a light shade of purple in contrast to her sickly pale skin. Beads of sweat pooled on her forehead, a stark contrast to the consistent trembling of the rest of her body. Crimson patches stained the front of her uniform. Her left hand, which was wrapped in a thin bandage with an IV port sticking out of it was awkwardly bent, which Nat immediately recognized as badly broken.

“Shit.” Clint muttered, a tear sliding down the side of his face.

Steve frowned and kneeled down next to Nat, looking at the teen. “Wanda, we’re here to get you out.” No sign of recognition was received, the girl’s pupils darting back and forth.

Nat turned back towards Sam, Scott, and Clint. “What the hell did they do to her?”

Clint sighed. “On the way here, they knocked her out and drugged her a couple of times. They used the shock collar to ‘keep her in line’, as they told us. She said the straitjacket was too tight, it’s been causing her to wheeze ever since we got here. They would take all of us for interrogations and badger us to try and find out where you two were, but she got the worst of it. She was unconscious for three days when we first arrived.” He responded, frowning.

Natasha looked toward Wanda, worry present in her eyes. “Then what?” She asked, not taking her eyes off of the injured girl next to her.

“They force-fed her, but never gave her as much food as they gave us. I think it started with her getting two meals a day, then one, then nothing for the past week.” Sam said softly, furrowing his eyebrows. “I think they’ve been experimenting on her, too.”

“Steve, we need to get her out of this stuff. I can’t believe they put this crap on her.” Nat said in a low voice, gesturing to the straitjacket and collar.

“You hold her up, I’ll get this stuff off of her.” Steve said quickly. Nat nodded and placed her hands on Wanda’s shoulders. The Black Widow moved into a sitting position and scooted towards the adjacent cell wall, dragging Wanda up with her. Natasha pulled the girl into a sitting position and leaned her back against her stomach. Wanda’s head rolled backward onto Natasha’s left shoulder weakly.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay; we’re here now.” Nat said quietly, wrapping her arms around the girl’s torso as Steve inspected the contraption around her neck. Natasha frowned as Wanda’s forehead made contact with her neck, feeling the boiling heat radiating off of her skin.

“Okay, on the count of three. Three, two, one,” Steve gripped the metal band with both hands and pulled, gritting his teeth with exhaustion. The band ripped in half and fell to the ground with a CLANG. His eyes widened when he saw the damage done to the teen by the dastardly contraption.

Wanda’s neck was bright red, burn marks and dried blood creating a thick ring around it. Fresh blood dripped down in thin streaks, leaving crimson lines down the front of her blue uniform. Wanda whimpered softly, her eyes blinking slowly. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.” Nat comforted, placing a hand against the girl’s right cheek.

“Oh my god,” Steve said quickly, hands hovering in front of him, unsure what to do.

“Steve,” Clint’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “Can you get the jacket off of her? They put it on way too tight. It’s been restricting her breathing this entire time.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Steve replied, shaking his head quickly as if to try and forget the sight in front of him. He grabbed onto the straps nearest to Wanda’s shoulders and tugged them before the fabric snapped. Wanda erupted into a sudden fit of wet, painful coughs, causing Nat to tighten her grip on the girl’s body.

“It’s okay, get it all out,” Nat said as she helped Steve maneuver the straps down the girl’s trembling frame. With a gasping breath, Wanda leaned her head to the side, heaving.

“Be careful with her left hand; it’s definitely broken,” Natasha mumbled as Steve removed the last straps from the girl’s torso. Wanda’s breathing was becoming quicker and more labored by the second.

“She’s hyperventilating. We need to get to the quinjet, now.” Steve said sternly.

“She can’t walk like this, they haven’t fed her in over a week,” Clint called out from outside the cell door. Nat’s head whipped around in surprise.

“I’ve got her,” Steve said, leaning down to pick the teen up. He hoisted her into his arms, keeping his left arm supporting her back and his right arm under her knees. Nat stood up with him, placing Wanda’s injured left hand tenderly onto her shaking torso. He frowned, feeling how light the girl was.

“Let’s get going,” Steve said. He could hear the sounds of footsteps nearing from the surrounding halls.

As the rogue Avengers ran back towards the hallway, soldiers began chasing after them. Natasha aimed her Widow Bites towards the crowd and blasted a plethora of soldiers, sending them falling back to the ground. She was thankful that only a few of them were beginning to wake up, otherwise taking them out would have been much more difficult.

The group came to a stop at a tall ladder, leading out to the exit where the quinjet was located, as Steve had informed them. “Scott and Sam, get to the ship. Nat, run into the office and wipe out the security footage. Clint, help me get Wanda up here and to the ship.” Steve commanded, earning a nod from his team members. Scott and Sam headed up the metal ladder as Nat took off down a dark corridor, drawing a gun from her suit’s holster.

—
Natasha’s footsteps pounded underneath her as she sprinted through the corridor towards security. A group of soldiers rounded a corner, running after her. Natasha glanced back, pointing her gun towards them. The sound of bullets ricocheting off of steel walls reverberated through the hallway, loud enough to the point that she was sure Steve and Clint would be able to hear.

She took out the group of guards and continued running until she made it to her destination. A few security guards greeted her at the doorway, guns drawn. The assassin slid under the legs of one guard unexpectedly before jumping up and kicking both guards to the ground, knocking them out in the process. Smiling to herself, she ran over to the wall of large screens and tapped away on the control panel below them.

As Natasha worked on deleting footage and shutting down the cameras, one screen, in particular, caught her attention. It was showing a replay of past footage; a blast of light shielded the screen, causing two guards and a man that she presumed to be Scott flying back towards the direction of the camera. A small figure stepped into the doorframe of a cell.

That had to be Wanda.

Nat frowned at the screen as she watched the teen become surrounded by guards. She was pulled out of her thoughts by footsteps and voices that seemed to be getting louder. Hurriedly, she pressed a few more buttons on the control panel and knocked out the rest of the cameras. Standing up once again in the blue-illuminated room, she took off running down the corridor, her gun comfortably held in her right hand.

—

“Okay, let’s figure this out,” Steve said, staring at the girl in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, her breathing crackly and shallow. “Wanda, can you climb up the ladder?”

Clint frowned. “She can barely breathe, I highly doubt she can climb up a 15-foot ladder, Steve.” He said as he climbed up the ladder. Once making it to the top, he perched himself on the upper balcony, leaning over to peek down at Steve through the open hatch.

Steve didn’t listen to the archer. “Okay,” he said as he lowered the girl’s feet to the ground. Wanda moaned in pain as she was held up in an upright position, her head craning backward to rest against Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve,” Clint warned from the top of the ladder.

“I’m right behind you, Wanda,” Steve said, wrapping his left arm around the girl’s torso to keep her upright. Her legs were basically dead weight- maybe this wouldn’t work after all.

He grabbed the girl’s right hand, placing it onto the rung of the ladder. Wanda’s head lolled back and forth, eventually falling forward and smacking into the metal wrung with a CLANG.

“Steve!” Clint called out angrily from the ceiling hatch.

“Shit,” Steve said, rewrapping his hand around the girl’s torso. He grabbed her left hand, forgetting the fact that it was broken. Wanda yelped in pain, squeezing her eyes shut. Steve removed his hand immediately, apologizing profusely to the teen.

“Damn it, Steve, just get up the ladder already!” Clint shouted, shaking his head.

Steve sighed and hoisted Wanda over his shoulder, her arms trailing down his back. He began climbing up the ladder slowly, making sure to not drop Wanda or lose his own footing on the slippery metal bars. The girl groaned, her head moving in rhythm with Steve’s footsteps.

Once reaching the top of the ladder, Clint reached both arms out. Steve turned to the left, perched on one of the upper ladder rungs. “I’ve got you, kid,” Clint said softly as he grabbed Wanda’s biceps, pulling her up onto the platform next to him. Her eyes slipped shut and her head tipped against Clint’s left shoulder as Steve climbed onto the platform and stood up.

“Hey Wanda, you’ve got to stay awake,” Clint said, tapping the girl’s cheek with his thumb. Wanda’s eyes fluttered open again, tears pooling on her lash line. “I know, I know.” He responded, reaching over to wipe a tear off of the girl’s cheek.

Steve reached his pointer finger up to touch the earpiece in his ear. He frowned slightly and turned to Clint, who was sitting on the edge of the platform and holding Wanda up.

“We need to get to the ship. Nat took care of security, but Ross and a group of guards are headed this way.” Steve said abruptly, reaching down to pick up the fragile teen once again. Clint nodded, standing up quickly. Steve looked down at Wanda, whose eyelids were now completely shut. She was limp in his arms, her lips parted slightly.

“Let’s hurry. I think she’s out again, which isn’t good.” Steve said as he and Clint began to run down the platform towards an open door. They both ran through the doorway and were greeted by the starry night sky over the Atlantic Ocean. The deck was illuminated by the lights of the quinjet, which sat right where Steve and Nat had landed it.

As Steve and Clint neared the jet, they saw Scott peek his head out of the entrance. “Took you long enough!” He joked with a welcoming smile. The smile disappeared when he saw Wanda, unconscious in Steve’s arms. He moved to the side to allow the other Avengers to board the jet.

Steve set Wanda gently on a bench towards the back of the jet before running up to help Sam and Scott with the jet controls. Clint stood in the doorframe, waiting for Natasha to make her way to the jet so that they could leave the Raft once and for all.

“She’s nearing the platform right now, but she’s being followed. As soon as she steps foot inside this jet, we need to take off.” Steve announced to the group, having received a message through his earpiece.

Not more than thirty seconds later, Clint spotted Nat’s head appearing above the ladder. “She’s coming,'' he shouted, watching as the assassin sprinted towards the doorway to the landing deck.

“I’m starting it up.” Sam’s voice called out as the engine whirred. The jet began to slowly raise off of the ground as Clint reached a hand outwards. Natasha sprinted to the jet, jumping up to grab Clint’s arm as he pulled her up, shutting the door behind her. The quinjet accelerated away from the prison as quickly as possible, leaving the Avengers celebrating their escape.

“Goodbye Raft!” Scott shouted as the aircraft sped up.

Chapter Text

Natasha’s line of sight was immediately directed towards the back of the jet. “Shit.” She muttered once she saw that Wanda was unconscious on the bench that occupied the rear space of the aircraft. The assassin jogged to the back of the jet and kneeled down, taking the girl’s right wrist in her hands. Despite the alarming amount of heat radiating from Wanda’s skin, her pulse was present but weak. Natasha placed a hand on the girl’s forehead and turned to look at the guys at the front of the jet. “How long has she been out?”

“A few minutes. I picked her up at the top of the ladder and she was unconscious.” Steve replied, leaning a hand against the wall of the quinjet.

Clint was digging through a cardboard box that he had dug out from an overhead compartment. “She needs oxygen. That straitjacket has had her wheezing since we got taken to the Raft in the first place. Ever since she was brought back soaking wet last week, her breathing has been really crackly, too.” He clarified as he pulled an oxygen mask and a long cord from the box.

Natasha placed her ear gently against Wanda’s chest, listening to her shallow, crackly breathing. “Definitely a really bad case of pneumonia. Steve, can you get the spare oxygen tank?”

Natasha looked back at the girl laying on the bench with worry. “Oh Wanda, what have they done to you?” She murmured, brushing a sticky strand of hair from the girl’s sweat-soaked forehead. She thought of the young Avenger as a sister; seeing her so sick made her blood boil.

Natasha watched as Clint brought over the oxygen mask, followed by Steve who set an oxygen tank next to the bench. Nat slid the mask over the teenager’s pale face, lifting her neck gently to place the strap behind her head. She connected the cannula to the tank and turned her attention back to Wanda, placing her hand on the girl’s cheek as the steady “psshh” of the oxygen tank cut through the air.

Nat looked back at Steve and Clint, who were standing next to where she was kneeling down by the bench. “She’s incredibly feverish. Steve, can you bring the first aid kit over here?” She asked, turning her head back towards Wanda, whose eyes were fluttering open. The girl began coughing and sputtering as she reached her right hand shakily up towards the oxygen mask.

“Shit,” Natasha muttered, placing one hand under Wanda’s head and lifting it slightly before sliding the mask off of her mask. Wanda’s coughing fit continued, turning into short gasps.

Clint slid the empty cardboard box next to the bench, sensing Natasha’s panic. Nat placed one arm across the girl’s torso, cupping her chin in her hands. She slid the other arm onto her back, mimicking the position to help a choking infant as she turned Wanda onto her side, her face near the cardboard box. The teen gasped once more before spitting a mixture of phlegm and blood into the box.

“There you go,” Natasha coaxed, patting Wanda’s back to urge her to continue coughing. Wanda spat more bloody mucous into the box before her eyes slid shut once again.

“Hey there, you can’t fall asleep again,” Clint said as he moved the box away. Wanda opened her eyes again slightly as Nat gently pulled her off of the bench. Natasha positioned herself against the wall and pulled Wanda into a sitting position between her legs with her back against Natasha’s chest, just as she had done inside the prison when Steve was removing the collar and straitjacket.

Wanda’s head fell back onto Natasha’s left shoulder as Steve made his way back over near them, holding a large red duffle bag. Nat glanced at the teen’s face and tapped her right hand against the girl’s right cheek, her left hand wrapped around her torso. “Wanda, you have to stay awake, please.” She pleaded. Wanda seemed to understand as she forced her eyes open once again.

Clint grabbed the neglected oxygen mask and slid it back over the girl’s head, earning a thankful smile from the Black Widow. She stroked Wanda’s right cheek with her thumb. “Steve, can you find one of those instant cold packs from the first aid kit?” She asked, not taking her eyes off of the girl that she was cradling against her chest.

Steve retrieved the cold compress from the bag and popped it, shaking the package to activate the temperature change. Natasha watched as he wrapped the pack in a rag that had also come from the first aid kit. She took the compress from him and placed it on Wanda’s head gently.

“Is there any chance that she could have a concussion?” Natasha asked, her eyes glued on the young witch who was visibly struggling to stay conscious.

“It’s probably likely, especially after Steve smacked her head into a metal pole,” Clint muttered.

“You did what?” Scott’s voice rang out from the front of the jet.

“You did what?” Natasha reiterated in a dangerously low voice, raising an eyebrow at the captain.

“He makes it sound like I meant for that to happen, which I definitely did not!” Steve put his hands up in defense. “We were trying to get up the ladder.”

“What he’s trying to say is that he tried to make a barely conscious teenage girl climb up a fifteen-foot metal ladder after she had been sitting in a cell for weeks with enough sedatives in her bloodstream to paralyze a cow,” Clint replied rather snarkily. All of the heads in the jet turned towards Steve.

“Okay, it wasn’t the best judgment on my part,” Steve said, turning away from the group.

“Well,” Natasha turned her head back to face the girl sitting in her lap. “She definitely needs to stay awake then.” She squeezed the girl’s good hand reassuringly, smiling down at her.

“It’ll be a while until we get there. Coordinates are entered for somewhere in Norway.” Sam commented as he hit a few buttons on the jet’s control panel.

“One of my safe houses,” Natasha murmured.

“I’m putting it on autopilot so we can get some sleep. Also, Nat, I forgot to say, I like the new hairdo.” Sam said as he stood up from the pilot’s seat, flashing a smile towards Natasha.

She gave a nod followed by a small smile. “Thank you, Sam. You guys get some rest; I’ll stay up with Wanda.” She looked down lovingly at the girl in her arms. “We’re going to be okay.” She whispered, bringing her right hand up to wipe a stray tear off of the teenager’s cheek.

“Nat, let me know if you or Wanda need anything. I’ll be right here.” Clint nodded toward Natasha as he sat down on the ground near the opposite wall.

“Will do, Hawkeye.” She responded softly with a reassuring smile. If she was being completely honest, she didn’t know if everything would actually be okay. Despite the brave face that Natasha had put on, she was very worried about many aspects associated with the escape. She worried about the group’s capability to stay hidden, especially with the additional baggage of taking care of a severely injured fugitive teenage girl. Natasha forced herself to put these worries aside, however, in pursuit of helping her teammates. Although the Avengers were split up, she knew that the people that she was currently sitting within the quinjet were some of the only family that she had left.

Natasha glanced around the interior of the jet. Clint sat against the wall opposite Natasha and Wanda, his head leaning back against the metal interior. Steve had laid down on a bench on the left side of the jet, a jacket positioned underneath his head. Sam was sprawled out on the floor near the front of the aircraft, Scott’s head balanced on his shoulder. Scott was already asleep, quiet snores leaving his open mouth.

Natasha smiled and shook her head, glancing back at Wanda. The teen’s green eyes glanced up into Natasha’s; the first sign of recognition that the spy had seen since the rescue. “I’m here, don’t worry.” Nat encouraged. The soft whirr of the oxygen tank combined with Scott’s breathing provided a comforting white noise that filled the jet. “We’ll get your neck cleaned up on the jet and get that hand looked at once we get to the safe house. I have splinting supplies there.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed downwards, blinking a few times. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows, as if in deep thought. She frowned after a few seconds of pondering.

“You haven’t been fed anything in like a week, have you?”

Wanda blinked twice, unable to vocally communicate her response. Her throat was far too injured, and she knew that.

Natasha sighed, moving the cold pack off of Wanda’s forehead. “I don’t have any IV supplies here on the jet- to be honest, I never expected any of you to be in such bad shape. I guess I was wrong.”

She shifted slightly to the right, sliding the injured teenager towards the bench on their left. Natasha slid her left leg out from behind Wanda, firmly holding onto the teen’s biceps. She leaned Wanda against the side of the bench slowly, standing up after she did so.

“I’m going to try and find some food. I think that we have some granola bars and stuff like that somewhere.” Natasha said quietly, glancing around the jet. She turned towards the overhead compartment above her, clicking it open. After finding nothing that would be to her use, she turned her focus to the next compartment, closer to the front of the aircraft.

After rummaging for a few minutes and mumbling to herself, Natasha came across a small Tupperware container. “Aha!” She said out loud, standing on her toes to grab the small box from the back of the overhead compartment. Careful to avoid stepping on the sleeping figures of Scott and Sam, she maneuvered her way back to where Wanda was resting, holding the container in her hands. Opening the box as she kneeled down next to the rear bench, she decided on a package of mini muffins, seeing that it was the softest food that was available.

Natasha reached underneath another bench, grabbing a bottle of water that she had set out earlier that day. She sat in front of Wanda carefully, legs crossed underneath her.

“I’m going to take off the oxygen mask, okay?” She said softly. Wanda blinked slowly in response. “Okay,” Natasha whispered, setting the package of muffins and the water bottle on the ground next to her. Leaning forward, she moved her left hand to support the teenager’s head and neck, sliding them forward from the wall that she was leaning against. With her right hand, she gently pulled the mask off of Wanda’s face, removing the strap from her knotted curls. Wanda immediately began coughing, her entire body shaking.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Natasha said quickly, her eyes full of panic as the girl struggled to catch her breath. She cupped Wanda’s chin with her right hand, tipping it downwards so as to not cause the girl to choke on the mucous and blood in her throat. Wanda continued to cough, her eyes squeezing shut in pain. She spit a glob of mucous and blood into Natasha’s hand.

Tears ran down the teen’s face in embarrassment as she gasped for breath. Natasha wiped her hand against the rag that had previously been wrapped around the cold pack, now laying on the ground next to the assassin. She quickly grabbed the neglected oxygen mask, holding it over Wanda’s face until her coughing fit subsided, leaving her with high-pitched wheezes.

“Trust me, I’ve dealt with much more disgusting situations,” Natasha commented with an encouraging smile, sensing the teenager’s insecurity. “Just breathe, okay?”

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Nat said, slowly removing the mask from Wanda’s face. Her breathing was still erratic, but the coughing had subsided for now. Natasha sighed in relief, setting the mask on the bench. She picked up the water bottle and unscrewed the cap, bringing it to Wanda’s chapped lips.

In the span of just a few seconds, Wanda abruptly smacked the bottle from Natasha’s hand, sending it flying a few feet away from the women, splashing Natasha’s torso and head in the process. Natasha’s quick reflexes came into play, grabbing the plastic bottle before it could roll away from her. Wanda quickly pushed herself as far into the corner of the jet as possible, pulling her knees as far into her chest as she could in her feeble state. The teenager’s wheezing quickened as she rocked back and forth.

“Woah, woah, it’s okay Wanda,” Natasha said concerningly, setting the bottle down and holding her hands up to show her surrender to the trembling teen. The commotion had awoken Clint, whose head snapped up at the sudden sound. A high-pitched wail left the Sokovian’s mouth, almost mimicking a siren going off.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice groggily asked as Natasha saw him sit up. She looked back and forth between Wanda and Clint, her eyes wide in fear. She hadn’t meant to upset the girl.

Clint scooted over next to Natasha. “It’s fine, I’ve got it, Steve. You can go back to sleep.” He grumbled, placing a reassuring hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what I did, I-I-” Natasha stuttered, her eyebrows furrowed in worry. The teen’s wailing turned into full-out sobs, her entire body racked with tremors.

“Wanda,” Clint said, reaching his left hand out to gently touch the teen’s shoulder. She flinched at the sensation, breath hitched with gasps and wheezes. Clint frowned, not taking his hand off of her shoulder. “Wanda, you’re okay, you’re in the quinjet. You’re safe.” He said sternly, not daring to take his eyes away from her for a second.

Her breathing had turned into full-on hyperventilating now. Natasha’s eyes widened as she noticed the girl’s eyelids slowly sagging. She quickly grabbed the oxygen mask from the bench and pressed it against Wanda’s face, kicking the plastic container that was on the floor in the process.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe, you’re safe,” Natasha repeated over and over, using her free hand to support the girl’s head. She took a risky chance by pulling Wanda in towards her chest, now fully cradling the teenager in her arms. Her erratic breathing turned into slow, wheezy breaths that were accompanied by the trembling of her small frame. Natasha felt wet teardrops fall onto her chest, sliding down her suit.

“They force-fed her every day in the Raft. They would do it so quickly that she would start choking. She’s not angry at you, she’s just terrified.” Clint said softly, picking up the package of mini muffins.

Wanda had slowly slid her right hand up to rest on Nat’s thigh. Natasha looked at Clint and then back to the girl in her arms, unknowing of where to go or what to do.

Clint tore the package open. “Why don’t you hold her wrist to support it and let her hold the food?” He said in a low voice so as to not wake the others up again. Nat watched as the archer tore the mini muffins up into tiny chunks in his palm.

“Is that okay, Wanda?” She asked softly, looking down at the trembling teen. While she didn’t say anything, Wanda’s eyes met those of the Black Widow, with a look in them that Natasha took for agreement.

Nat plastered a brave smile back onto her face. “Great, we can definitely try that.”

Natasha touched Wanda’s shaking hand gently, sliding her fingers up the Sokovian’s palm slowly. The teen’s skin was warm, yet somehow clammy to the touch, Natasha noticed. She wrapped her fingers around the girl’s scrawny wrist, drawing the girl’s hand outward.

Wanda groaned, her eyes slowly shutting once again. “I know your joints hurt, but you need to stay awake,” Natasha responded in a soft, comforting voice. She cradled the teen’s open palm in her own, holding it outward so that Clint could place a few muffin crumbs into it. Nat slowly guided the girl’s hand to her mouth. Wanda forced her jaw open, pouring the muffin chunks into her mouth with the help of Natasha’s guidance.

“There you go! We’ll take as much time as we need, okay?” Natasha whispered, grinning. She watched the teen swallow the food, wincing as it passed her raw throat. They still hadn’t treated the oozing blisters and burns that were positioned in a neat ring around the girl’s neck, dried blood caked around them.

“Clint, can you hand me the water?” Natasha asked, still watching the teen.

Wanda managed to finish half of the package of mini muffins and a third of the water bottle before groaning in protest. Natasha counted this as an accomplishment, even though Wanda definitely needed more sustenance to improve her malnourished state.

As Clint moved around the jet, putting the food container and the remainder of the water back into their designated storage spaces, Nat sat next to Wanda, tracing her fingers along the teen’s hand. She looked over at the wheezing teen with nothing but love and care expressed in her eyes.

This was going to be a long flight, but she knew that she would be right beside Wanda for all of it.

Chapter Text

The clock had just hit 1:00 am when Natasha began to panic. She had cleaned and bandaged the girl’s neck easily, but now, Wanda’s breathing had worsened over the course of the flight, slowly transitioning from slow wheezes into crackling gasps for air. As soon as Natasha noticed the change, she grabbed the oxygen mask and held it tightly to the girl’s face.

Glancing at the girl’s face, the slight blue tint of Wanda’s lips caused Nat’s heart rate to speed up even more. “Shit.” She muttered as the girl began to cough, her entire body shaking violently. Natasha grabbed a towel from the first aid kit, cupping it under Wanda’s chin. She placed her other hand on the girl’s back, beckoning her to lean forward.

“Cough it out, cough it out. You need to get rid of that gunk.” Nat instructed, holding the girl’s head firmly in place. Wanda sputtered and coughed, her eyes squeezing shut in pain. “Keep coughing.” The Black Widow said sternly, her eyes glued on the girl’s face.

Wanda spit a mixture of blood and mucus into the towel, tears falling down her face. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” Nat comforted, her hand on Wanda’s back reaching up to stroke the teen’s hair. Wanda’s coughing slowed, turning into a bout of shaky breaths.

Natasha folded the towel up and wiped Wanda’s chin with the clean side. She set the soiled cloth down and reached over to grab the oxygen mask, stretching the strap around Wanda’s head once again.

Nat sat to the right of Wanda, resting her back against the wall as she sighed in relief. She looked to the teen on her left, whose half-lidded eyes stared straight ahead. She chuckled and placed her left hand on top of Wanda’s right hand carefully.

“I missed you.” The assassin said quietly. The young witch’s eyes stayed plastered to the opposite wall. “I missed having my little sis around.”

Wanda blinked slowly as Natasha stroked her hand with her thumb. Her breath hitched. “I am so sorry that I couldn’t come earlier. I was on a mission that involved a weird family reunion and a broken nose,” She chuckled.

Natasha took a deep breath, tears pooling in her eyes. She tried not to cry often in order to keep up her strong composure, but she just couldn’t push away the guilt that consumed her from not being able to rescue her team quicker. Seeing the girl that she cared about like family so injured and frail just exemplified her emotions.

“That doesn’t give me an excuse, though. I am so, so sorry.” The Black Widow whispered, leaning her head back against the wall, her eyes shut. Tender fingertips grazed the woman’s cheek with the lightest touch, slowly wiping a stray tear away. Natasha’s eyes flew open in surprise, looking down at the girl next to her. There was Wanda, her trembling right arm outstretched, the pads of her fingertips resting on the Russian’s cheekbone, thumb sliding back and forth. The younger woman blinked slowly, her long eyelashes fluttering.

“I’m so sorry that I caused you so much pain,” Natasha whispered, carefully sliding closer to the teenager. She didn’t want to startle Wanda with unwarranted physical contact, but the younger girl’s good hand had moved her hand to the assassin’s thigh, weakly squeezing it to try and indicate her want for touch. Natasha seemed to get the signal, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Nat linked her arms under Wanda’s armpits, gently guiding the girl to sit in front of her with her back against Natasha’s chest, just like they had sat earlier that evening. Wanda’s head leaned back against Natasha’s shoulder, the teen squeezing her eyes shut. Natasha didn’t even want to think about the amount of pain that the younger girl was in.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Natasha placed a hand tenderly on the teen’s forehead. “You’re burning up; can I check your temperature?” The redhead reached out from behind Wanda to the first aid kit, rummaging through it for a thermometer. Retrieving the small white machine from the duffle bag, she held it to Wanda’s head, clicking the button. Turning it around to see the small display, she frowned.

“103.8. That’s not good at all, is it?” She said softly as she placed the gadget back into the first aid kit. Wanda groaned as the redhead shifted behind her, the teen’s head still leaning back against the assassin’s left shoulder.

“I thought that we could wait until getting to the safe house, but I guess not,” Natasha mumbled, placing her right hand on the girl’s forehead, her left arm wrapped around Wanda’s torso. “Clint,” She hissed into the darkness of the ship. The moonlight shining through the windows was just enough to see the figures of her teammates, snoozing quietly.

The figure across the jet from Nat and Wanda sat up slowly, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes.

“What’s up?” He whispered with a soft yawn.

“Can you come here, please? I need help.” Natasha responded to the figure.

Clint stood up to make his way over to the two women, his footsteps creaking on the floor.

“I don’t know what to do,” Natasha commented as the archer lowered himself into a kneeling position in front of them. He glanced at Wanda, whose eyes were squeezed shut, tears staining her cheeks. “She’s got a 103.8-degree fever and she’s in so much pain, I can just tell.”

Clint held his breath. “Yeah, that’s really not good. I think there’s some ibuprofen in the kit, I can try and find it since I have both hands free. I’ll get another cold pack and towel out as well.” He mumbled, reaching into the large duffle bag.

“Can you take a look at her hand? I know that that bandage is better than nothing supporting it, but I have a bad feeling about how sanitary that IV port sticking out of it is.” Natasha said quietly, glancing at the light brown bandage wrapped around the teen’s left hand.

“That’s probably not a bad idea,” Clint commented, reaching his hand out to take the teen’s in his own. Wanda groaned in pain from behind the oxygen mask, moving her right hand to grab Natasha’s.

“I know, I know,” Natasha shushed the girl, frowning as Clint began to slowly unwrap the bandage from her broken hand. Natasha held her breath, watching the bandage fall off of the teen’s wrist, revealing an angry red gash that spread across the top of the teen’s hand, from her pointer finger to her wrist. The IV port was half-heartedly jabbed into the skin next to the wound. Wanda’s eyes shot open from the sudden sensation of fresh air hitting the wound.

“Oh jeez,” Clint muttered, holding the girl’s hand in his own. A large lump in the joint of her frail wrist combined with the unnatural curve displayed in her pointer and middle fingers indicated multiple fractures within the digit. He carefully pulled the port from the teen’s hand, tossing it to the floor as if it had burned him. “We need to clean and stitch this up. It’s definitely infected.”

“Do we have any lidocaine in the kit? She’s in so much pain, Clint.” Natasha asked, the trembling in Wanda’s body becoming much more evident with the focus now on her injured hand. Wanda’s head flew backward to hit Natasha’s shoulder and the wall behind them, her eyes squinted shut. She repeated the action again, causing Natasha to place her hands onto the teen’s forehead, holding her against her shoulder.

“Woah there, it’s okay,” Natasha said to the teenager, comfortingly rubbing her thumbs against the girl’s temples. She turned her head to face Clint again, watching as the archer retrieved a small box and a yellow bottle from the duffel bag with his free hand, the other cradling Wanda’s.

“We have lidocaine and a suture kit. I’m gonna have to try and wash this off.” He commented, grabbing a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the bag. Untwisting the cap, he poured the liquid onto the Sokovian’s hand, the blood and gunk from the wound bubbling up. Wanda groaned at the stinging sensation, squeezing Natasha’s right thigh with her hand.

After cleaning the wound and applying the numbing cream, Clint got to work stitching up the open wound, resting the teen’s broken hand tenderly upon his thigh to support it. While the cream took away the sting from the infected wound, it didn’t take away the aching of the fractured joint, which was evident in the tears streaming down Wanda’s face as her body shook with sobs. Natasha hummed quietly as the archer worked, in an attempt to comfort the girl. From the look of Wanda’s awkwardly positioned wrist and fingers, Natasha guessed that the limb had started to heal incorrectly and had rebroken from the impact of being constrained in a straitjacket and undergoing such awful living conditions.

“How far out are we from this safe house of yours?” Clint asked as he worked on closing the gash on Wanda’s hand.

“If I had to guess, it’ll be another four hours or so, which means we’re about halfway there. We’ll probably arrive around 5am.” Nat replied, moving her right hand down to squeeze Wanda’s good hand. With the edge of the pain taken off from the numbing cream, the teen’s eyelids had become heavy. She blinked tiredly, her soft wheezes slowing from their previously quickened rate.

“Wanda, stay awake. We don’t know if you have a concussion.” Natasha whispered, tapping the girl’s cheek softly. She was greeted with a groan in response.

“Honestly, I don’t know if we’ll be able to tell if she has a concussion right now. Those sedatives in her system aren’t going to give us a clear answer to whether she’s concussed or just drugged. You can probably both get some sleep.” Clint murmured, gesturing towards the tired teenager.

Natasha bit her lip and nodded slowly, a look of worry plastering her face. “Nat,” Clint’s voice warranted the assassin’s attention. “She’ll be okay, she’s strong.”

Staring the archer down, Natasha thought that she could see a hint of uncertainty in his facial expression, but sighed and placed her right hand atop the girl’s good hand. “You’re right, it wouldn’t hurt to get some rest.”

She looked at Wanda, whose eyes were shut, her head tilted into the crook of Natasha’s neck. “It’s okay, you can rest now.” She whispered as Clint scooted back to the other side of the jet.

The “pshhh” of the oxygen tank remained the only sound in the quiet jet as Natasha closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around the teen in front of her.

They would be okay, wouldn’t they?

—

Natasha was awoken by the harsh sound of someone gasping. She forced her eyes open to see the girl in front of her shaking, her whole body trembling from the harsh coughs. Nat’s hand flew to the oxygen mask, peeling it off of the teen’s face. Wanda leaned over to her left and spit a few drops of blood onto the floor, Natasha’s arm supporting her sitting position. Natasha grazed a finger over the teen’s lip, wiping a residual drop of blood from her face. Through half-lidded eyes and a busted, swollen lip, Wanda mouthed a silent “sorry”, the strain from the collar still rendering her voice unusable.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Natasha whispered, smiling at the girl in her arms. “How are you feeling?”

Wanda glanced down at her right hand and blinked, her breathing still quickened and wheezy. Natasha watched as the teenager’s trembling fingers began to slowly move, creating patterns. H-U-R-T-S, the girl signed. As Clint’s hearing had declined throughout the past year, both Wanda and Natasha had taken up beginning to learn sign language, starting with the alphabet. Natasha recognized the message immediately, glancing back up at the teen.

“What hurts?” Natasha asked, even though she was pretty sure that it would have been simpler to ask ‘what doesn’t hurt?’. Wanda’s green eyes burned into Natasha’s line of sight, the Sokovian’s head slightly bobbing back and forth as if she was a toddler trying to gain balance.

H-A-N-D, her fingers trembled as they formed the letters slowly. R-I-B-S, N-E-C-K, H-E-A-D, C-H-E-S-T, F-O-O-T, the list went on and on.

Natasha was pretty sure that they had been sitting there for twenty minutes when the trembling of Wanda’s hand had finally ceased. Wanda leaned her head back onto the shoulder of the woman cradling her, grunting in pain, her chest heaving. “I’m so sorry, Wanda. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable. I think we should be close, I think the sun is just beginning to rise.” Natasha murmured, turning her head towards the windows at the front of the jet. The light signaling the beginning of daytime illuminated the sleeping figures of their teammates, sprawled across various benches and spots on the floor of the jet.

Natasha glanced downwards, feeling Wanda’s pointer finger tap against her palm. A-I-R, the teen’s hand signed. Natasha reached down to grab the oxygen mask, sliding it back over the teen’s head, cupping it over her face.

Wanda’s fingers shifted once again on top of Natasha’s right thigh, her pointer finger and pinky sticking up as she moved her thumb outwards.

“I love you,” the teen signed. Her big green eyes met Natasha’s, conveying intense emotions of pain, sadness, and for a split second, Natasha thought that she saw a flash of relief.

Natasha smiled sadly, moving her right hand to the girl’s left cheek, lovingly stroking her thumb across it. “Oh, sweet girl,” She said softly, glancing into the teen’s eyes. “I love you, too. I am so lucky to have you in my life.”

The women sat in silence, enjoying each others’ company for the remainder of the flight, eventually falling back into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

The sudden shaking of the jet woke Natasha up. She groaned quietly and looked around tiredly, spotting Sam in the pilot’s seat with Steve standing next to him, chatting.

Scott was still fast asleep on the ground next to where Sam and Scott had positioned themselves, snoring quietly. Clint had sat up against the wall, his eyebrows furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.

Steve had turned around at the sound of Nat’s soft groan. “Good morning, Nat. How’d you both sleep?” He nodded towards Wanda.

Nat yawned and glanced at Steve. “Not long enough, but I’ll live. She’s okay- Clint had to stitch up her hand in the middle of the night and she had a pretty high fever earlier, but a few ibuprofen and some lidocaine seem to have helped a bit.” She commented, glancing at the sleeping girl leaning back against her torso. She looked almost peaceful, which Natasha was grateful for.

“That’s good,” Steve’s voice pulled her attention back. “From the coordinates you put it, it seems like we’re almost there. We should be landing in the next few minutes.”

Natasha nodded. “Good. There’s two bathrooms inside, three bedrooms, and one kitchen, so we’ll have to get good at sharing.” She smirked, moving her eyes to glance around the jet at her teammates.

The jet shook again, signaling their descent. Steve stepped forward, reaching his foot out to gently nudge Scott’s side. Scott’s eyes flew open suddenly as he yelped loudly. The sudden noise woke Wanda, who jerked in Natasha’s arms.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re in the jet.” Natasha soothed, taking the teen’s good hand in her own as Wanda’s chest heaved quickly.

“Scott, you woke Wanda up!” Sam jokingly teased from his seat up front.

“I’m sorry, I was having the craziest dream ever about a donkey and a-”

“Oh look, we’re landing!” Clint cut Scott off in an attempt to stall another long story from being told.

Natasha chuckled to herself, looking up as she felt the jet touch down in a field next to the house. Steve made his way over to her and Natasha.

“Wanda, can I carry you inside?” He asked quietly, kneeling down next to the teen and Natasha, still in each others’ arms. Wanda’s head tipped down slightly, a subtle indication of her agreement.

Natasha shifted slightly, allowing room for Steve to wrap an arm around behind the teen’s back. “Careful with her left hand,” Natasha murmured as Steve carefully lifted the teen into his arms. She groaned at the movement, her left hand swinging below her. Natasha stood next to Steve, grabbing the oxygen tank from its spot next to the rear bench. Natasha noticed Wanda squinting as she was carried out of the ship into the sunrise of the early morning.

The other three guys were standing by the front door of the small brown house that was surrounded by weeds and blooming flowers. Natasha, still with the oxygen tank in one hand, kicked the doormat to the side of the stone step, revealing a small key. She grabbed the key and unlocked the door.

“Welcome home. Two bedrooms down the second hall to the right, one on the left. Kitchen is straight ahead and the living room is directly to the right. Oh, and bathrooms are on either side.” She commented as the group collectively stepped inside slowly.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Scott asked quickly, glancing at Natasha.

She smirked in response. “One on either side. Go shower; you all stink.”

“Dibs!” Sam and Scott said at the same time, running in opposite directions.

Clint turned to Natasha and Steve, who stood behind him. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to wait.

“If you want to at least change, there should be some clothes on the dresser in the second bedroom. Make sure the others don’t take the first room; that one’s mine.” Natasha replied, pointing down the hall to the right.

“Sounds good, ma’am,” Clint responded with a thumbs up, turning towards the right-hand hallway.

Natasha glanced back at Steve, still carrying a very tired Wanda Maximoff. “Nat, where should we bring her?” He asked, glancing down at the teen in his arms. Her eyes were squinted shut, an indication that she was in pain from being held.

Natasha bit her lip, turning to face the hallway. “First bedroom on the right. Let’s set her on the bed and get some of my first aid stuff. There should be a big tub on the upper shelf of the closet full of stuff.” She commented as the trio headed down the hallway, stopping in front of the first doorway. The distant sound of the shower running filled the hallway as they stepped inside the room. It was small, with one queen-sized bed and cream-colored walls, and a small dresser sitting next to the bed. On the right side, an open closet with a plethora of plain shirts and pants hung up.

Natasha placed the oxygen tank next to Steve and walked over to the bed, propping the pillows up so that Wanda wouldn’t be laying down flat, potentially tarnishing her breathing even more. Placing the last pillow by the headboard, she turned to Steve who carefully placed the teen onto the bed, earning a pained grunt in response.

“Okay, let’s take a look at that hand of yours,” Natasha said quietly, kneeling down beside the bed. Wanda glanced over at Steve, who had opened up the closet to retrieve the first aid tub from above. Natasha carefully cupped Wanda’s left hand in her own, examining it slowly. “The stitches look fine; your wrist is extremely swollen,” Natasha commented, poking the teen’s wrist with her index finger. Wanda cried out loudly, smacking her head against the headboard of the bed.

Steve set the tub down next to the bed, removing the lid. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Natasha said to the girl, removing her finger from the lump. Okay, definitely broken, she thought to herself. Grazing her fingertips up the teen’s hand towards her fingers, she studied Wanda’s pointer and middle finger carefully. “These two fingers are broken too. Do you remember how this happened, Wanda?”

Wanda coughed and shut her eyes, wheezing. “Did you fall?” No response. “Did someone hit you?” Natasha asked, her eyebrows raising in concern as Steve continued to dig through the bin. Wanda’s eyes open and her chin tipped downward, in an attempt to nod. Natasha frowned, looking back down at the teen’s hand, still cradled in her own.

“Splinting supplies, check,” Steve said, placing a heavy-duty wrist brace and a roll of bandages onto the bed next to Wanda.

“Thank you, Steve,” Natasha mumbled in response, earning a quiet nod from the super soldier.

“You sure know a hell of a lot about medical stuff, Nat,” Steve said, watching Natasha continue to examine Wanda’s hand.

Natasha looked up at Steve, smirking. “Language,” She commented. “And thank you, you learn when you’ve lived in the Red Room for your whole childhood.”

She glanced back at the wrist brace and wrap sitting on the bed. “Can you help me with this? I need you to hold her wrist straight while I clip the brace on and wrap it. It’s not going to be perfect since we can’t get it casted, but it’ll have to do.” She said, resting Wanda’s frail hand back onto the soft mattress.

“Of course. Is this going to hurt her?” Steve asked, kneeling down to occupy Natasha’s previous position.

“Oh yeah,” Natasha replied as she climbed onto the other side of the bed, crawling over next to Wanda with the brace and bandages in her hand. Wanda groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I’ll try and do this as quickly as possible.” She said, nodding at Steve.

Steve gently picked up the teenager’s wrist, extending it straight out. Wanda let out a pained sob as Natasha slid the brace onto her wrist. “I know, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Nat repeated, working as quickly as she could. The younger girl’s body shook with painful sobs, her right hand squeezing Natasha’s thigh tightly.

Natasha and Steve finished wrapping the teen’s wrist and splinting her broken fingers as quickly as they possibly could, listening to the teenager’s sobs as they did so. Once done, Natasha cupped the girl’s face in her hands.

“It’s all done, I promise. That was the worst part.” She soothed, staring directly into the girl’s green eyes. Tears coated Wanda’s cheeks as she breathed heavily. She moved her hand up slightly and pointed at the oxygen mask with a shaky finger.

Natasha nodded and carefully removed the mask from the girl’s head, setting it down on the bed next to her. The bottom half of Wanda’s face was still coated with the same dried blood from earlier. Wanda lifted her right arm up, the limb trembling. Natasha quickly placed her hand under the girl’s elbow, supporting it as Wanda slowly lifted the hand to her lips. Her pointer, middle, and ring fingers slowly rose as she placed the hand against her lips.

“Water?” Natasha asked, widening her eyes. Wanda tipped her chin forwards, her eyes shutting slowly. Natasha turned back towards Steve, who was rummaging through the bin once again. “Steve, can you go get a bottle of water from the fridge?” She glanced back toward Wanda and smiled. “I think there should be a box of popsicles in the freezer too, can you grab two of those as well?”

“Of course,” Steve nodded, standing up and walking out of the room.

He was met by Clint at the door, who nodded and moved past him into the girls’ room. “How are we doing?” He asked, nodding towards Natasha. He had changed out of his blue prison clothing and was now wearing a gray short-sleeved shirt and black sweatpants.

“She’s okay. We wrapped her wrist and now we’re going to get some food and water.” Natasha responded with a smile. Clint’s expression remained unchanged as he glanced between the two women.

“Nat, can I speak with you out in the hall?” He asked quietly. Natasha frowned, looking at Wanda. The girl’s eyes were closed, her head rested against the headboard. With her face uncovered, Natasha was able to see every detail of her face. Crusted blood drew a line across the side of her forehead, another patch covering her lips and chin. A purple bruise extended from her eye to her nose, and tear stains occupied both of her rosy cheeks. Her bottom lip was split in the middle, stained blood red. She looked so young; she had only just recently turned eighteen.

Natasha was pulled out of her train of thoughts. “Yeah, for sure.” She muttered, standing up slowly and following Clint out of the room.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. “What’s up, Barton?” She sighed, running her hands through her messy ponytail.

“You’ve been doing a lot for her since getting us out of there last night. We all really appreciate it, and I know that she does too. Before we got sent to that underwater hellhole, she would never stop talking about you, you know that?” Clint said with a smile.

Natasha chuckled and shook her head, crossing her arms. “I should be saying the same thing about you, honestly. You’ve kind of been like a surrogate father for her ever since Ultron and Sokovia.” She responded.

Clint smiled. “You really won’t just accept a compliment will you?”

Just then, Steve appeared from the kitchen. “Sorry about the wait,” he said, holding out two popsicles and a bottle of water to Natasha. “I couldn’t decide if you guys would like strawberry or grape better, so I got one of each.” He commented as Natasha took the food and bottle from his hands.

“Thank you, Steve.” Nat nodded towards the super soldier. He gave one of his classic, genuine smiles in response.

“Don’t mention it. I think I heard the shower turn off down the other hallway, I think I’m gonna freshen up a bit.” He replied before turning the other way.

Natasha looked back to Clint. “So, what did you want to talk about?” She asked, placing her free hand on the doorknob.

Clint sighed, placing his hands in his pockets. “She was really treated like shit there. I mean, it definitely wasn’t a vacation for any of us, but especially for Wanda. They starved her, beat her up, drugged her, shocked her twice an hour, broke her hand and ribs, and tortured her. It’s not really my place to talk about it, but all of us are pretty sure they were trying to test her powers by experimenting on her. We all just need to try and make her as comfortable as possible; I can’t imagine everything that she went through while we were there.” He said quietly, looking directly at Natasha.

“We will. We’ll be okay. We’ll just have to stay hidden and be careful.” Natasha reassured with a smile.

Clint nodded, looking down once again. “Thank you, to you and Steve both, for taking the time to get us. I… I don’t know how much longer she would have been alive if we hadn’t been rescued soon.” He muttered, blinking twice. Natasha moved her free hand to grasp Clint’s, squeezing it reassuringly.

“I’m glad that we were able to get you guys. And you’re right; she has an extremely bad case of pneumonia,” Natasha paused, glancing towards the kitchen. “Speaking of which, I’m going to get a small bowl.” She swiftly walked towards the kitchen.

“What for?” Clint questioned from the hallway.

Natasha opened a cupboard above the sink, grabbing a large plastic bowl. “She’s been coughing up a bunch of blood and other nasty gunk. I don’t mind her getting it on me or in the quinjet, but I don’t necessarily want my white sheets stained red.” She joked.

Clint chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I heard the second shower shut off; I’m gonna go clean up.”

“Good, you need it,” Natasha replied with a smirk as she headed back to the bedroom.

As she opened the door, she paused to look at the scene in front of her. Wanda’s chin was tipped upwards, her head gently rested against the pillows that supported her neck and back. Her eyes were shut and her lips parted slightly, a mixture of soft snores and hoarse wheezes leaving her mouth. Despite the bruises and bloodstains that littered her pale skin, she looked peaceful and relaxed.

Natasha smiled, humming quietly. She thought of the younger Avenger as a little sister, a girl who brought out the same emotions that Yelena did in the assassin; protectiveness.

The Black Widow mentally debated leaving the girl to get some rest, but ultimately decided on waking her up after considering the amount of food that the teenager had consumed in the past week. She carefully sat on the left side of the bed, placing the water bottle, popsicles, and bowl on the duvet.

“Wanda,” She quietly called out, tenderly placing the tips of her pointer and middle finger on the girl’s left cheek. “Sweet girl, you need to eat something.”

The teenager’s body flew forward with a jolt, sending her erupting into a fit of coughs. Her right hand went up towards her throat as her frame shook with her wet coughs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Natasha said, grabbing the girl’s wrist away from her neck. She grabbed the bowl, shoving it under Wanda’s chin, her other hand patting the teen’s back as if she was burping a small infant.

Wanda lurched forward, heaving into the bowl, spitting a mixture of blood, mucus, and stomach acid into it. After coughing into it a few more times, she leaned back, gasping for air.

Nat placed the bowl on the dresser beside the bed, moving to grab the water bottle. “Jeez kid, you’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep waking up like that.” She joked as she unscrewed the cap on the water bottle.

She looked directly into Wanda’s eyes, holding the water bottle up slightly. “Can I help you with this?”

Wanda tipped her chin downwards, still recovering from her abrupt awakening with deep, wheezing breaths.

Natasha brought the bottle to Wanda’s lips, placing her other hand on the girl’s back to support her in a sitting position. She saw relief cross Wanda’s face as the cool liquid made its way past her lips, dribbling down her chin.

After finishing half of the water bottle and sharing the popsicles, Wanda’s eyes slipped shut as she entered the sweet release of sleep once again. Natasha had slipped the oxygen mask over the girl’s face again before shutting the lights off and leaving the room to go shower.

Time to carry on with the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Clint stood next to the stove in the kitchen, watching the pancake batter that he had just poured into the pan. After taking a shower, he headed into the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the team, despite residual exhaustion from the restless sleep he had received the previous night on the jet. It made him feel a bit more normal, almost like he was at home making breakfast for Laura and the kids. Home. He didn’t want to dwell on it too much right now, considering the fact that he couldn’t be there right now.

Scott had been the first one to join the archer in the kitchen that morning, having taken a seat on one of the stools surrounding the island. Sam was next, sitting next to Scott and complaining about being woken up by Scott’s snoring four times on the quinjet.

By the time Steve joined the rest of them, Clint had already made more than enough pancakes to feed all of the ex-Avengers but still continued to make more.

Eventually, Natasha walked into the kitchen sporting a gray NASA t-shirt and a pair of black leggings, her hair still damp from the shower she had just taken.

“Morning, Nat,” Clint said, even though they had already been awake for quite some time.

“Oh, it’s morning alright. Doesn’t feel like it, though.” Natasha replied, making her way over to the stove to stand next to the archer. “I think I slept maybe two hours last night; I’ve done worse, though.”

“Thanks for staying up with Little Red, Nat,” Sam said through a mouthful of pancakes. “I would have stayed up with you guys but man, I was so exhausted.”

“Reasonably so,” Steve commented from the end of the kitchen island that was closest to the fridge.

“How’s she doing?” Scott asked from his spot next to Sam.

Natasha sighed, flipping one of the freshly cooked pancakes onto her plate. “Oh, as good as she can be, I guess. Steve and I splinted her wrist and fingers. Her neck is awful; it’s going to have to be cleaned and rebandaged every few hours, I think. Her breathing is really bad, too.” She said as she took a seat next to Steve, placing her plate on the island. “She’s in a lot of pain. We gave her lidocaine for a nasty wound on her hand on the jet and some ibuprofen last night to get her fever down, but I don’t know how many pain killers we can give her. She’s extremely tiny, and didn’t you say they drugged her pretty heavily?” She turned towards Clint.
“I told Steve earlier that they pumped her with enough drugs to paralyze a cow,” Clint responded, turning the stove off.

“Yeah, so more drugs is probably not the best idea.” Scott chimed in.

Clint served himself a plate of pancakes and joined the others at the island.

“Has she had anything to eat?” Sam asked Natasha as he grabbed another pancake.

“She had a few mini muffins on the jet last night and a strawberry popsicle this morning as well as half of a bottle of water. I don’t want to give her too much, she already threw up once this morning. Just stomach acid, but still.” Natasha commented, shoving another forkful of food into her mouth.

“You know, you talk about her as if she’s your baby sister,” Steve said with a smile.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I care about her, I care about all of you. Even though I don’t express it outwardly often.” She muttered, smirking.

“Did the infamous Natasha Romanoff just say that she cares about us?” Sam said, his eyes wide in fake shock.

“Don’t make me regret it,” Natasha said quickly, taking another bite of her breakfast. “And she’s not my baby sister. She’s just a lot younger than the rest of us.” She glanced at Steve and Clint.

“Are you implying that I am the same level of old as Captain Crunch here? Because if so, I am deeply hurt.” Clint responded, earning a chuckle from the other side of the island.

“I’ll get you back for that, Romanoff,” Steve responded with a smile.

“Sure you will.” She mumbled in response.

—

The rest of the morning went pretty easily; Scott and Sam had taken refuge in the living room, in front of the small cable TV, debating which out of the five channels they were able to receive was the best. Clint was seated on an old brown recliner in the corner of the room, reading a book. Steve had retreated to the small office next to the kitchen, looking through various documents that he had brought with him.

Around 6 pm, right as everyone had started to make their way towards the kitchen for dinner, Natasha quietly cracked the bedroom door open to find Wanda slumped over to her left side, her head laying against the duvet. She walked over to the girl, a glass with a strawberry-banana smoothie in her hands.

She set the smoothie down on the dresser and climbed onto the bed next to the girl. “Wanda,” She said softly, timidly placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. The teenager's eyes fluttered open slowly before opening all the way. She immediately squeezed them shut again and whimpered through the oxygen mask.

Natasha frowned as tears began flooding the girl’s cheeks. She placed both hands on Wanda’s shoulders, gently pulling her shaking frame into a sitting position. As soon as Wanda’s back made contact with the pillows behind her, she shrieked. Natasha pulled the girl forward again, cradling her in her arms. She knew that the later it got, the more that the sedatives would begin to wear off, causing Wanda even more pain.

Natasha lifted the oxygen mask off of the girl’s face, now able to see her bottom lip quivering slightly. “Is it your back?” She asked, looking into Wanda’s eyes. Wanda tipped her chin forwards, squeezing her eyes shut once again.

“Do you want to lay on your stomach? It will probably help your lungs, too.” Natasha asked. Wanda groaned and nodded her head slowly, her eyes still shut.

Natasha glanced back at the neglected smoothie sitting on the dresser. “Before we do that, are you hungry? I brought a smoothie.” She gestured over to the chestnut dresser.

“Mmhm,” Wanda mumbled, opening her eyes to glance over at the drink. Natasha stretched over to grab it, still holding Wanda up, and gently moved the glass into the teen’s hands. Together, they tipped it to Wanda’s mouth, which let out a groan of relief as the cold drink soothed her sore throat.

After Wanda had finished almost all of the glass, Natasha quickly changed the teenager’s neck bandages and sat with her on the bed. Wanda slowly slumped forward, resting her heavy head on the soft pillow that Natasha had laid on top of the duvet. The Black Widow decided to place the oxygen mask back over Wanda’s face after hearing her wheezing. She brushed the teen’s tangled hair out of her face with the swift motion of her palm.

“Would you like a back rub?” Natasha asked quietly.

“Mmm.” Wanda groaned in response, her half-lidded eyes staring at the wall to the left of the bed. Natasha slid the bottom of Wanda’s blue prison shirt up her back slightly, frowning suddenly.

Lines of angry purple bruises were revealing, running across the girl’s back in neat rows. They must have been from the straitjacket, Natasha thought to herself. She pushed the cotton shirt up a few more inches just to be greeted by a giant, ovalish, yellow, and purple bruise. It was larger than Natasha’s hand and spread across the teenager’s upper back.

“I can see why you’re so sore,” Natasha mumbled, moving her hands up to Wanda’s unbruised shoulders, carefully working the knots out of them with her thumbs. She could feel the young witch relax as she did so, the tension slowly sinking out of her shoulders.

As she finished up, Natasha was straightening out Wanda’s shirt when the sudden noise of a snore met her. She leaned over to glance at Wanda’s face, seeing her eyes shut. Bags shaded the undersides of each eye, outlined by the tiny freckles that dotted her cheeks.

“Sleep well, Wanda,” Natasha whispered, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on the side of the girl’s head. She stood up and left the room, quietly turning off the light and shutting the door behind her.

—

On their second night at the house, Natasha had stayed up late. It was 2:30 am. Every sign of life in the small country house had disappeared, except for the blanket-covered figure huddled in front of the television. Natasha, sitting with her knees crossed in front of her, reached to grab the remote on the side table next to the sofa, the blanket falling to drape around her waist as she did so. With the click of the power button, whatever comedy show that had been playing transformed into a plain, black screen. The only light illuminating the room was the beam of moonlight peeking in through the vintage floral curtains that framed the large window behind the sofa.

She placed the remote back onto the table and stood up slowly, stretching her sore arms and legs as she did so. Natasha wrapped the green blanket around her, slowly making her way into the dimly lit kitchen to grab a glass of water. As she turned on the tap, another noise made its way into the kitchen.

The soft noise of someone crying.

Natasha quickly shut the faucet off, placing her empty glass on the countertop. She grabbed her Widow’s bite weapon off of the kitchen island, wrapping it around her right wrist. The assassin crept towards the hallway slowly, the blanket now half-heartedly covering her waist and thighs. She slowed down as she passed the front door, standing on her toes to glance out the small window. There was nothing there.

Lowering her armed wrist, she listened to the soft whimpers that she now recognized were coming directly from her bedroom.

Wanda.

“Shit,” she muttered softly, tossing the Widow’s bite back onto the counter before jogging over to the bedroom door, cracking it open slightly. “Wanda?” The Black Widow asked softly into the darkness of the room. She reached over to pull the cord on a lamp that stood in the corner near the door, flooding the small bedroom with a dim, warm glow.

Wanda was curled up into a ball, her small frame making a “c” shape in the middle of the bed. The oxygen mask had been discarded and placed near the headboard, revealing her red, tear, and snot-stained face. A small puddle of blood had dripped from her mouth onto the white duvet, staining it in a small spot next to her cheek. Her eyes were pressed tightly shut, small wheezy whimpers leaving her lips. She coughed again, another trickle of blood peeking out from between her chapped, swollen lips.

“Oh, Wanda,” Natasha said, immediately sliding onto the bed next to the girl. She reached her arms around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling the trembling girl up into a sitting position with a pained grunt, followed by more quiet, breathy sobs.

Natasha pulled the girl towards her, cradling her head against her neck. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Nightmare?” She asked, tipping Wanda’s face carefully upwards with her right hand.

Wanda lifted her trembling right hand a few inches from the duvet, balling it up into a fist. She shook it gently. Yes, in sign language.

Wanda had become somewhat used to nightmares throughout her lifetime; after experiencing a number of losses and traumatic events, they had become more common as she had grown older. She hadn’t experienced as many in the Raft due to the copious amounts of sedatives that she had been on for so long but was now realizing that they would become more familiar again without the cloudiness of the drugs coating her mind.

Natasha’s right hand brushed a tangled strand of hair from the girl’s red face. The assassin reached over to grab a kleenex from the box next to the bed, cupping it under Wanda’s chin. “Cough it up,” she commanded. The last thing that she needed was for Wanda’s crying to cause her to choke on the mucus and blood in her throat and mouth.

Wanda’s trembling whimpers transformed into harsh, wet coughs, staining the tissue red as small trickles of blood dripped from between her lips. Seeing how the fit of coughs violently shook the teenager’s body, Nat moved her left hand to Wanda’s upper back, being careful of the giant bruises that she knew ran across her middle and lower back. She rubbed comforting circles by the teen’s shoulder blades with her left palm.

“That’s it, that’s it.” She coaxed as Wanda’s hacking began to subside. Natasha folded the kleenex in half and wiped the residual blood from Wanda’s bottom lip and left cheek. As she continued to cry, Wanda lifted her right fist up to her chest, shakily sliding it in a circular motion against her blue shirt. Sorry, sorry, sorry, over and over again in sign language.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. My furniture choices needed some revamping anyway.” Natasha lightheartedly replied, a genuine smile occupying her face as she glanced at the small crimson stain on the comforter.

She glanced down at Wanda’s fingers, noticing them twitch. R-A-F-T, they signed. Natasha assumed Wanda was talking about the nightmare that had violently woken her up moments before.

“I figured; it’s not easy to suddenly just walk out of something like that. You went through a lot in that place, much more than anyone should deal with ever, especially a just-barely eighteen-year-old who did nothing wrong in the first place.” Natasha commented, wiping some of the tears off of the witch’s face with her thumb. Wanda’s lip trembled, sniffles shaking her entire body.

“I know how it feels, to a certain extent. To be so young and be trapped in an awful place,” The spy recollected, remembering back to her young self in the Red Room. “But I can’t imagine going through what you went through in the Raft. You’re safe now; no one can ever hurt you again.”

A quiet sob left Wanda’s mouth, her right hand snaking its way up to rest on Natasha’s thigh.

Wanda coughed harshly, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Natasha grabbed the oxygen mask and pressed it against the teenager’s face. “Take deep breaths. I need to change the bandages on your neck and then we can sleep, okay?” Natasha said calmly. Wanda blinked at her a few times, her head still leaning against the assassin’s collarbone.

Not wanting to lay the girl back down due to the state of her lungs, Natasha linked her arms underneath Wanda’s shoulders, scooting both of them up towards the pile of pillows near the headboard of the bed. Wanda groaned as her back made contact with the soft down cushions behind her. Natasha fetched a couple of bottles of ointment and gauze that she had left sitting near the bed earlier that day, and set them on top of the duvet, climbing back up near Wanda.

She slowly peeled the bandages from Wanda’s neck, earning a whimper from the witch when the cool air made contact with the damaged skin. Blisters and charred skin created a thick ring around her neck, outlining where the shock collar had been for the past few months. Blood, pus, and dark red skin shone brightly against the rest of her pale neck.

“I’ll try and be as gentle as I can, but I have to make sure this doesn’t get infected, okay?” Natasha said, grabbing the first bottle of ointment.

After treating the wound and reapplying the gauze, Wanda’s eyes had started to droop from exhaustion once again. Natasha got up from the bed and pulled the cord on the lamp, dimming the lights down into nothingness. A thin line of moonlight illuminated Wanda’s head, which rested against the headboard. Her eyes were shut, her face free of tension.

Natasha climbed into bed next to the teenager, being that there was no other bed and the boys were already sharing theirs with each other. She leaned her head back against the pile of pillows that propped Wanda up, in order to keep her breathing as efficient as possible. Just seconds after shutting her own eyes, she heard the movement of blankets followed by a soft grunt. A head rested against the crook of Natasha’s neck and the feeling of hair brushed against her chin.

“Oh, come here,” Natasha whispered with a smile, wrapping her arms around the younger girl, Natasha’s green blanket from before lazily spread across them.

And that’s how they fell asleep, in each others’ arms.

This was the first night in a while that Wanda didn’t feel utterly alone.