"Hey. How're you doing?" Clint took a seat beside Wanda, who was now sitting alone. She had arrived the night before after the U.N. released their latest amendment to the wanted list - she was on it. He found her in the common area on an old leather couch. There weren't enough agents at the abandoned base to fill it up, and for the most part, they kept to themselves. Which meant the common area was uncommonly occupied.
The room was mostly bare, as was the rest of the base, because SHIELD had cleared out most of its equipment and items that would have made it "homey" - wall hangings, furniture, rugs - as well as most of its advanced technology. The agents that were currently residing there had brought along what they could, but the place still felt massive and empty.
The atmosphere was much the same throughout the base: concrete walls, floors, and ceilings in every room besides a couple of "window walls," as Scott dubbed them, that were all glass, located in former interrogation and holding areas, and the common metal doors with thin glass panes looking in. No one could deny that it was a great place to lay low, but it certainly wasn't the most encouraging environment. They had done their best to make use of the center, though. The old interrogation rooms were turned into hospital residencies and the former lab had agents and Avengers alike camping out beside monitors and laptops streaming news coverage. They were waiting up through all hours of the night for a glimmer of hope. That glimmer just hadn't come yet.
Wanda smoothed her crimson skirt and looked up at Clint. She was a stark sight among the rest of the populace dressed in black or gray. "I am as well as I can be, with our family split apart. It is hard, because that is what the Avengers were becoming. My family. At least, that is what I thought."
Clint nodded. "It's a rough spell right now. Things can't stay sour between everyone for too long, though. The public needs us. More than that, we need each other. Does Steve know you're here yet?"
"I think so." She twisted one of her bracelets. "I don't know."
"Have you gone to see him?"
"Not yet." She blinked as she stared at the pale hands in her lap, adorned with jewelry, capable of magic, but fragile all the same. "I am afraid. This was all done to him by a man who claimed revenge for my homeland. But he was wrong. My people, Sokovians, are not all filled with hatred as he was. I do not know if all will see it that way, though."
"You're afraid Steve won't want to see you because of Zemo?"
"My accent. I am afraid it could do more damage than good. It could trigger unwanted memories."
He was touched by her concern, her thoughtfulness. "I think you should at least say hello. He knows your voice, he'll know it's you." Clint smiled at her reassuringly. "He's a big boy. He can handle it. And he'd be happy to see you safe."