Here's part 2 to the last chapter! I felt bad leaving you guys on that much of a cliffhanger! There is some minor depictions of violence and torture, I tried to keep it as little as possible, but please note that it's there! I hope you guys all enjoy, and always, drop prompts, comments and concerns in the comments section below! Enjoy!
It had been days since Natasha had been at the mall with Wanda. When things had gone completely and totally wrong. After the chaotic phone call between Natasha and Clint, the bots had rushed to the mall, barging into the woman's bathroom. Thankfully, the room was empty besides the hyperventilating Natasha, on her knees on the tile floor with the ring clutched in her fist.
It had taken the boys ten minutes to calm her down enough to get her on her feet and out of the bathroom. They walked together, a pack surrounding Natasha, straight out to the vehicle that the boys had brought.
"What about – " Natasha started.
"I'll take your car back," Steve reassured, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
"Not a scratch, Rogers."
"You don't need to worry about your car, Nat," Steve joked, taking the keys from her hands and making his way toward her car.
They drove in silence, Tony fiddling with something in his hands in the back seat while Clint kept one eye on Natasha in the passenger seat and one eye on the road all the way back to the compound. Natasha's head was running in circles, plans coming up in her mind and deconstructing themselves when she inevitably found a hole in her steps.
"You're going to drive yourself crazy," Clint said, snapping Natasha out of her thoughts.
"I have to find her, Clint," she snapped. "What else am I supposed to do?"
"Don't worry about it, Natashalie," came Tony from the backseat.
Natasha whipped around in her seat, moving faster than she had since the boys had picked her up. Her eyes bored into Tony's, a fire and determination reflecting in her green orbs.
"Don't worry?"
"It's bold of you to assume that I don't have the ability to track her."
"You chipped my kid?!"
"I didn't chip your kid, relax. I chipped her jacket." Tony specified, as if that made it better.
Silently, he handed Natasha his phone, the screen showing off an image of a map, the screen centered on a green blip. It wasn't moving.
"Where is she?" Natasha demanded.
"Still in the state, thankfully. She's down in some house in the suburbs, wouldn't be too difficult."
"Let's go."
"Um, no," Clint jumped in.
Natasha whipped around to look at Clint.
"We need to go get her, Clint. You don't know what they are going to do to her once they figure out what she can do," Natasha growled.
"And we will. But we need a plan first. You can't go in there guns blazing and you know it. They are waiting for you to do that," Clint explained.
"Clint-"
"No. You know I'm right, so sit down. We are going to figure out a plan and fix this."
Natasha huffed, stewing in her seta until they pulled into the garage at the Tower. Steve pulled in behind them.
The team marched into the Tower and straight into the conference room. It wasn't used often, mainly a place for them to have their monthly team meetings. They stepped into the room and Tony started pulling up screens and holograms.
The team discussed at length, planning and plotting well into the night. The food cartons started to pile up on the table and cups and glasses were stacked on the floor. But eventually, they had a plan.
Wanda woke on the drafty concrete floor of a basement. Her head was pounding and she could feel something wet on her face. Groaning, she reached up to find the source and, when she pulled her hand back from her forehead, she found it covered in blood. Groaning, she struggled to a sitting position against a wall.
She was startled by the man sitting on the other side of the room, placed neatly in a chair against the wall in a clean black on black outfit.
"Good, you're up," the man said.
Wanda stared at him for a moment, considering her next move.
"Who are you?" she slurred her words, sluggish from the blood loss.
The man chuckled for a moment but didn't answer. Instead, he rose from his chair and sauntered casually over to Wanda. He bent his knees and got down on her level, taking her chin in his hands and forcing her head up.
"Wouldn't you like to know," he smirked.
Wanda yanked her chin out of his hands and winced at the pulsing she felt behind her eyes at the sudden movement. Before she could place her focus back on the man, he was snatching her by her upper arm and hauling her up to her feet. He dragged her through the dirty basement toward a closed door. Yanking the door open with his free hand he hauled Wanda, still limp and stumbling, through the door and toward a cushioned chair in the center of the room.
Even in her dazed state, the vision of the chair, light hanging over the top and the tray, laden with shiny silver tools. The images flashed before her eyes, some right in front of her, and some a million miles away. With all her remaining energy Wanda slammed her heels into the concrete, desperate to get the process to stop.
"No, stop!" she continued to struggle.
"Shut up," he yanked her toward the chair, throwing her onto the cushions.
As he strapped her to the table, Wanda continued to struggle with all her might, her hands starting to glow scarlet under the straps. Her struggles were futile and she was soon strapped down on the table without a way out. The man was standing over her, a smirk on his face that made Wanda's stomach curl.
Without breaking eye contact, he reached over to the side, out of her eyeline to snatch something from the tray beside the chair. His hand came back into view with a scalpel, the shiny mental glinting in the harsh light from the bulbs above her head.
"Let us begin."
Two days went by as Natasha and the team deliberated in the conference room. The map blinking in the middle of the table the entire time until they finally came up with a near fool proof plan.
Far later than Natasha would have liked, they were loading into a range rover in the garage, not wanting to draw too much attention with the Quinjet. They were silent on the drive, too focused on the task at hand. Clint fiddled with his arrows and Steve sat in the front passenger seat, stoic, ready for anything.
Natasha mentally counted the weapons on her body; knives tucked into secret pockets on her legs, guns strapped to her thighs, tasers tucked into sleeves, and her precious Widow's bites strapped to her wrists. She still wondered if it was enough. Her kid was in there, and she was going to try her hardest to get her out.
The car stopped suddenly, Happy pulling the car to the side of the road a block away from the building, as per the plan.
"You guys ready?" Tony's voice came over the coms.
"Let's go," Clint clapped Natasha's shoulder and pushed the door open, climbing out of the vehicle.
Tony was overhead, the sounds of his suit seemed louder in the quiet suburban area.
Natasha new better than to question the motives of the people she knew had Wanda, but she found her mind wandering slightly, curious as to why they had chosen such a quiet area for their hostage situation. But Natasha knew better than most that these people were great at hiding in plain sight.
The team moved silently through the street, their target becoming more and more clear as they got closer, until they were right on top of it, Steve at the front door, Clint in a tree in the yard, Tony above the house, ready to drop in at a moment's notice, and Natasha parked around the door frame, hidden from the original eyeline of anyone in the doorway.
Steve signaled once, twice, three times and then his foot was through the door, throwing it into the entrance way of the house.
They swept the first floor, finding nothing out of the ordinary in the building until Clint, who had moved into the house at the lack of action, discovered a locked door.
"Guys," he called.
The team hurried over on quiet feet, weapons drawn and ready for action.
"Break it," Natasha ordered.
Without question, Steve threw his foot into the lock, snapping it off the door and letting it swing open slowly.
Natasha followed the boys, quickly and quietly down the stairs. In that moment, she knew they were in the right place, she could sense it.
Unfortunately, the greeting was less silent in the basement than it was upstairs.
She could hear whining echoing through the room, and it brought them to yet another door. On Natasha's count, Steve slammed the door open and the three charged into the room, weapons drawn.
"Hey!" Steve yelled.
"Wanda!"
The sight of the man looming over a bleeding, shaking Wanda with the bloodied scalpel was enough for Natasha to shoot first and ask questions later. The bullet tunneled through the man's arm, forcing him to drop the bloodied scalpel to the concrete with a clang. The second bullet flew from her gun before she even registered, slamming through his shoulder, dropping him to the floor. Enough to stop him, but not enough to kill him. Well enough, as Natasha wanting to interrogate the man at length later.
The boys rushed to the man, ready to detain him and Natasha's feet carried her to the table, tearing a knife from her pocket as she did.
"It's okay, it's going to be okay, I'm here," Natasha's mantra was repeated over and over as she sawed the straps off of the sobbing Wanda.
The second she was free from her restraints, Wanda threw herself at Natasha, wrapping her arms around her neck and legs around her waist. Natasha was never happier about weight lifting than in this moment as she supported Wanda with her arms and held her close.
"Mama," Wanda sobbed, burrowing her face into Natasha's neck.
"I know, I'm here. Mama's here," Natasha soothed.
She could feel Wanda's blood soaking into the leather of her suit but couldn't bring herself to fully assess the girl when she was in this state. She could hear the boys detaining the man in the corner but knew that her energy would be best spent comforting the inconsolably shaken girl in her arms.
Wanda's entire body was shaking as she sobbed in Natasha's arms, and Natasha didn't know what she could do to fix it, besides shushing her quietly and running an arm up and down her back.
"You guys good?" Tony's voice came through the coms in their ears.
"We got him, Tony. He seems to be working alone. Bringing him out to you now," Steve commented, hefting the man up as Clint held his other side.
"I'll have Happy circle the wagons," Tony confirmed.
Steve and Clint dragged the man out of the room, but not before he spoke. One word, but it was enough for Natasha's stomach to drop into her feet. She knew that voice, could recognize it anywhere. The one man that had managed to slip from her grasp years ago. Ivan.
"Natalia."
She froze for only a moment before steeling her emotions.
"Make sure he's patched up before he goes into solitary. I want to have a chat with him later," she commented, still holding Wanda close.
"You got it, boss," Clint nodded.
They marched him out of the room and up the stairs, Natasha could hear their footsteps fading out as she soothed Wanda.
"Come on, little witch," Natasha soothed. "I'm going to take you home."
Wanda was silent in the SUV on the way home, placed between Steve and Natasha in the back seat. Tony had called in another truck to transport the man to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters as they made their way to the Tower.
She was sniffling quietly, having calmed enough that Natasha could strap her into her own seat in the back of the SUV, but was still desperate to cling to the older woman. While she had been consoled enough to sit in her own seat, her hand clutched a vice like grip on Natasha's arm, short fingernails digging into her forearm through the leather.
Natasha kept her eyes on Wanda, analysing injuries and other things she could physically see on the girl. The most concerning injury that Natasha could see was the gash along Wanda's hairline that would need stitches. There were other, smaller slices on her arms and legs that looked surgical by nature, something that brought up a thousand questions in her mind, but nothing as concerning as the one on her head. When she looked down at Wanda's hands, she found a small red ball of energy that Wanda was twirling between her fingers.
When they pulled into the garage at the Tower, Wanda had been adamant to go home and not to S.H.I.E.L.D. for medical help, Natasha helped her out of the car and up the small flight of stairs into the hall of the Tower. It was silent in the elevator, Just Natasha, Steve and Wanda, but they rode quickly to the girl's floor, where Steve wished them well and carried on his way up another floor to his own quarters.
Natasha brought Wanda into the bathroom of her room, pulling a large first aid kit out from under the sink as Wanda slowly lowered herself down to sit on the closed toilet seat.
"I have to clean up that cut, okay?"
Wanda nodded silently, and Natasha caught her hand as it made its way, almost unconsciously, toward her forehead.
"Don't touch it," Natasha ordered softly.
It was silent in the bathroom, just the running water from the sink and, every once and a while, the sound of Natasha pulling open another package of gauze. When the layers of blood were cleaned away from Wanda's pale skin, Natasha found that the cut was deep and jagged, and unplanned injury in contrast to the surgical slices along the rest of her. Natasha made quick work of cleaning it up and stitching it closed. Wanda didn't flinch or move until Natasha pulled the sharp needle out of the packaging.
She squeaked, her voice tired from the screaming she had done in the basement.
"It's okay, I'm just going to stitch it up. It's okay."
She was quiet after that. Sitting stoic, only shifting when Natasha would position her head to get better light. Soon enough she was stitched closed and Natasha had tapped down some gauze over the injury. She made quick work of placing bandages over the rest of the smaller cuts.
"Done," she assured. "Do you want me to grab you some pajamas?"
Wanda nodded, still not speaking.
Natasha moved out of the bathroom on silent feet and snagged a set of Wanda's pajamas as well as quickly throwing on a pair of her own, dropping the Widow suit down on the floor and leaving it there for now, not wanting to leave Wanda for any longer than necessary. When she returned to the bathroom, Wanda was still in the same place she had left her, heads bowed and her fingers twisted together.
Natasha helped her change into the pajamas before slipping the ring that she had found on the bathroom floor of the mall off of her middle finger, where it had been sitting since the boys had hauled her off the floor. Silently, she slipped it back on Wanda's hand, giving Wanda a small smile before pulling her up to her feet.
They made their way to Wanda's bed, Natasha helped lower her down into the nest of blankets the girl had built on the mattress. After tucking her in Natasha made a move toward the door.
Wanda's hand snapped out, in a move faster than Natasha had seen her move since they picked her up. She snatched Natasha's wrist, holding a vice like grip on the woman.
"Nat," she whimpered.
"What's wrong, little witch?"
"Stay," she ordered.
"I am, Wanda. Just going to turn off the light, okay?"
Wanda held on for another second, debating, before dropping Natasha's arm and letting her cross the room and flick off the light, leaving the light source as the strings of fairy lights surrounding the bed.
Natasha settled on the bed beside Wanda, and letting the girl curl herself into her, hands clutching Natasha's shirt tightly.
"Goodnight, little witch. You're home."
"Night, Mama," Wanda mumbled, half asleep.