A/N: Thanks to anyone still reading!:)
I wanted the Raft segments to be separated from the escape segment (which will happen NEXT chapter.) So I decided to split them up this way! TW as per previous chapter.
On to the story! (in which things are darkest right before the dawn...)
"She's back!" Scott shouted. "Except..." he frowned, watching the bit of Wanda's cell that he could see clearly. "Something's wrong."
"We knew that already," Clint snapped. He had been able to communicate part of what he knew to Sam via the Morse code drumming plan, but the guards had quickly realized he'd been secretly communicating something and made him stop...and Scott didn't seem to know Morse code in the first place besides SOS.
"Yeah, but...she's not moving. Usually she reacts if she sees me and she's just laying there where they dropped her. She doesn't look good."
"Well, stop sounding freaked and do something! Talk to her. She can see you, at least. Day 8, morning. Day 8," Clint said pointedly.
Day 8. I survived over a whole day in there by myself. Wanda was glad she had been deposited into her usual spot where she could see into Scott's cell. Whether it was intentional or not, she didn't care. The bright artificial lighting made her squint, but she could at least see Ant-Man standing in his own cell watching. There was someone talking in a forced-calm tone, something about food and water. Sam. What is Sam talking about?
"You need to give her something to eat and drink. Stark's been here. He saw all of us, including her, just a few days ago. He's in Ross's pocket, sure, but I highly doubt he'll be happy if he finds out one of his ex-teammates dies in prison." Sam kept his voice even.
"There's water in there already," one of the guards said, starting to walk away.
"But, it sounds like she can't get to it now, and you can't keep somebody alive indefinitely on water anyway. It's been over a week and I doubt you people gave her even that in at least a day and a half, maybe more. If you don't want to be near her when she's awake, let one of us out instead." Sam continued appearing calm, but he had his fists clenched behind his back. "You're going to kill her. I get this is a max security prison and it's not going to be a skip in the park, but this is ridiculous. Your boss forget the Geneva Conventions and human rights laws in general?"
"I'm not fetching another meal. Besides, we might get in trouble. That wasn't on the job list for today."
"Then we'll share ours. Look, dude, you still have that atrocious shock collar on her. We don't want her tortured further. You know this. So there will not be any funny business or another escape attempt. Let one of us help." Sam could tell this guard was waffling and might be convinced. "Do you really think any of us would be dense enough to try escaping when we don't have our gear?"
"She tried it! She mind-controlled people. Threw two against a wall."
"Maybe if Ross stopped torturing her, she wouldn't lash out, then," Sam replied, not sounding at all sorry that their teammate had done that. Besides, technically Wanda really did still have her gear; she was just being prevented from accessing it. It made perfectly good sense to him that Wanda would try to escape, because logically she really would have a decent chance to get out if she could just get her restraints off. "You're not supposed to starve prisoners. Not expecting gourmet here, just let her have something to eat. The same stuff the rest of us have been receiving, at least."
This was interesting news; though they had gotten some information from a guard regarding the incident, Clint didn't trust that information source. Wanda had sort of given him an explanation herself, but she was also fuzzy on details of what exactly had happened, and kept focusing on the fact that she had failed. It seemed like she had gotten a bit closer to success and caused more trouble than he had initially assumed...which also meant she had definitely scared their captors further by increasing her own potential threat level, which was also most certainly why Ross had left her isolated like that for so long. He was intentionally weakening her so that she would be less likely to make a repeat performance. "Wanda's attempt failed, you moron," Clint snapped from the adjoining cell. "So what are you so worried about? You still think she's going to rip your mind apart or something?"
"I don't know, but she's still dangerous."
"Barton, chill out. That's not helping," Sam said quickly.
"He's not going to let us help her anyway. Why should I be pleasant to him?"
"Because they're going to hurt her more if we're smartmouths, that's why. Will you please stop setting that thing off, come in here and hit one of us instead!" Scott shouted. "Ross can't even potentially get any information out of her or use her to threaten us if you guys keep this up. Can you please let one of us do like Sam suggested? We're not going to do anything."
"You all carry guns. You all carry remotes to activate that torture device on her. How is it going to risk any of you anything to perhaps let us give our meal to her?" Sam offered. "You said you didn't want to get in trouble or bother requesting another meal."
"...Fine. Bug boy can deal with her then. I'm not letting the archer out. Or Wilson."
"I have lame-ass oatmeal and some bread. And your water," Scott said quickly a few minutes later. "Wanda, I've gotten us ten minutes, that's it. You gotta eat something."
What? What is he doing in here? Wanda slowly blinked at him, feeling lightheaded and very, very confused. She wasn't sure if she felt weird and sick from being hungry and dehydrated, or because someone had drugged her with something again. "That's...yours. Isn't it?"
"Not now it isn't. Please eat. We didn't know what else to do. They won't bring us any more meals." Scott glanced nervously at the guards outside the cell; they were all watching him and Wanda closely, as if the two of them might just band together and burst out, even though he had no weapons without his Ant-Man suit and Wanda was both restrained and injured. "Wanda. You've held on a whole week. Don't give up now. Please," he said quietly.
Wanda accepted the offered water, but turned her face away when Scott offered her the food. That was not hers, she didn't want to take that when she knew there wasn't going to be enough for him too. It didn't particularly look like enough for a meal for someone her own size, let alone Scott's. Think. Calm down. I have to eat something. Scott has been getting food the whole time anyway, even if it's crap prison food with small portions. I haven't. She still felt dizzy and her left arm hurt horribly. "...Thank you," she whispered after a minute.
"I don't know if we'll be able to convince them to let us give you any more again, so please hurry up. I want to get all of this into you before those ten minutes are up. What happened after the escape fail?"
Wanda found this mildly amusing; Scott wanted to stuff the stupid food into her before the guards made him leave, but also wanted her to talk. They definitely did not have time for that. Forget about it. I need to forget that. All of it. Stop trying to remember the parts I don't and forget what I do. If I don't, I will keep thinking about it and I'll be too scared to even try to think clearly. "I can't...remember all of it. But I...I don't think I...want to."
Scott frowned, wondering what horrible things happened exactly that meant Wanda did not even remember all of it. She was clearly exhausted, there were dried tears streaking her bruised face, and she seemed to be holding herself strangely, like she didn't want to be touched. "You don't have to remember. It's okay. We just have to hang on a little longer."
But we don't even know how much longer it's going to be. Wanda didn't want to let herself lose hope after only a week; any rescue could take a long time to set up, and she knew that. But the idea that she might be trapped on the Raft for weeks or months more-and that if any rescue failed, she would never get out at all-made her want to sink through the floor into the ocean and then drag the whole damn prison down with her. I'm not scared of dying, but I want to go out on my own terms. Not here, not like this. "I hate Ross," she whispered vehemently, "I hate him, and Damian too. I am going to...wreck them if I...I have the chance."
"Shut up in there! No talking, witch."
Wanda's eyes glowed red, and instantly she was curled in a ball as the bit of magic use again set the collar off. Scott groaned, frustrated and all the more horrified by watching that happen up close rather than from across a table or across the whole prison aisle. "Guys, was that really necessary?!" he called.
"She did that to herself. If she talks more though, she's getting another one."
Scott squeezed the spoon in his fist, feeling more and more helpless. Precious minutes were being wasted, and while Wanda was still lying on the floor shaking again recovering from the shock, she had already opened her eyes and was clearly still angry, looking more defiant than cowed now as she stared at the guards outside the cell. "Wanda, you need to stop doing that," Scott hissed, eyeing the guards again. "Stop staring at them like that."
If I don't, I'll crumble to pieces. I don't have anything else left. Wanda didn't try to answer him, but she made no effort to protest when he helped her sit up again leaning against the cell wall.
Scott kept himself positioned so his back was to the door and he was blocking Wanda's view of the guards and vice versa. He was pretty sure something must have happened to injure Wanda's left arm, because she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut when touched. "Is your arm okay?" he asked quietly, offering more oatmeal.
No. Wanda glanced up to meet his eyes briefly but didn't answer. It wasn't like anyone could or would do anything to fix her arm here. She didn't want to make him worry more, and she didn't want those guards outside her cell to know how much her arm hurt, either. As much as she absolutely hated that straitjacket, at least it was keeping the injured arm still, anyways. She did not remember being shoved back into it completely after the long, long, interminable time trapped on that cold table alone in the silent darkness, but it was there again now all the same. Someone must have strapped her back into it before dumping her in the cell block, but she couldn't remember.
"What are you doing in there? Two minutes left."
"Sheesh, give us some time, will you? Ross wants all of us alive, remember. Because he likes threatening us guys with her safety. So. She needs to eat." Scott continued talking more loudly now, speaking quickly. "I mean, you do catch more flies with honey rather than vinegar. I think we should all get more and better food, and-" He began describing homecooked meals in great detail.
Wanda couldn't help finding this amusing, because Scott continued talking until he had given her all of the paltry meal and the water. It wasn't nearly enough to make up for an entire week, but it did help clear her head a little, at least. Scott even grinned at her and went on talking as he was grabbed and marched out of the cell and back across the aisle to his own.
There was a sickeningly familiar jab in her neck just below the collar, and Wanda instinctively kicked at the person hovering over her, frustrated. "I didn't even do anything!" she protested in the same vehement tone she'd used when telling Scott she hated their captors. "I hate you, I'm going to-"
Whatever threat Wanda had planned to make was cut short by another round of sizzling pain on her neck, and she crumpled onto the floor again. Stop it. I am losing it, don't be dumb, Wanda. Don't make a fuss over nothing. I am only allowed to make a scene if it literally changes nothing or will actually help. Otherwise, I need to stop it. Stop, stop, stop. Don't make it worse.
She was vaguely aware of Clint shouting to stop and leave her alone, but what difference did that make at this point? Those guards, especially Damian, would continue shocking her if they pleased, and Ross would continue dragging her back into that interrogation room. Surely he must admit sooner or later that she genuinely did not have the information he wanted, and that none of them were going to give it to him even if they did know. It was dumb and ridiculous and the same things just ran on a loop over and over.
Also, she was not going to talk about Pietro. Loathsome old Ross would have to kill her first; so there.
Tired, angry, scared. There is nothing else and it's not going to change. Whatever Wanda had been injected with was starting to muddy her thoughts already, and she closed her eyes again, struggling to focus enough to at least get an "I'm fine...please don't yell anymore," message to Clint. She knew he would not actually believe her, but I'm fine was relative, and she at least didn't feel on the verge of breaking down or panicking right now. That was...better than nothing.
It was fine.
The rest of Day 8 passed in a gloomy sort of haze. At least no one came back to take her into that interrogation room again, and the substance she'd been drugged with didn't knock her out entirely. It just made her sluggish and drowsy and made it difficult to focus properly on anything. The others were talking, but the words weren't processing easily, as if her English language skills had deteriorated or something. But she could at least hear them talking, and that was something. Being left strapped to that metal table in the interrogation room in the dark where she couldn't hear or see anything had disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. It was lonely and terrifying, disturbing in a way that was unfamiliar and just...disorienting. If she hadn't at least been able to reach out mentally to Hawkeye successfully, Wanda wasn't sure what else would have happened.
And, it was strangely worse than anything that had happened to her while she was with Hydra, because unlike the poorly regulated painful experiments that at least had some sort of understandable purpose behind them in some way, even if it didn't work, this had just been seemingly designed purely to unnerve and scare her, nothing else. I can't let it get to me. It already did. No, it hasn't. I'm fine. I am fine, I AM FINE.
Wanda scooted herself back into the corner of her cell, staring glassy-eyed at the guards milling around and making sure to keep her bad arm toward the walls. She did not feel at all properly alert at the moment, and she was growing more and more anxious that someone else besides Scott was going to realize her arm hurt so much and target that on purpose. Even if she tried not to let anyone else know, Ross and whichever guards had stuffed her back in the straitjacket when taking her out of that interrogation room after the unsettling isolation experience definitely did know already. Think something else. I should listen. Listen to my teammates talking.
It sure seemed like there were more guards present than before, but maybe she was imagining things.
"добро сам. Добро сам. добро сам. Добро сам," she whispered to herself in Sokovian. I'm fine. I am fine. I am fine. I am fine. I have friends across the aisle. I'm not alone. Wanda closed her eyes, imagining her twin was just sitting next to her and nobody else could see him, her shoulders shaking a bit. If Pietro was here, he would tell her to pretend they were somewhere else. He would talk to her and help her calm down and not feel like she was falling into a bottomless pit of chaotic anxiety.
Someone was banging on the glass and shouting indistinctly, something about no talking permitted and she was supposed to shut up. Then she caught another comment, clearly not directed at her, nervous that their prisoner was saying some kind of spell. ...What? I don't cast spells. I don't understand. Wanda glanced up and discarded the banging as being not worth any attention; she could hear her own teammates shouting too as the too-familiar pain of being shocked tore through her again.
Finally she realized what had set this incident off a few minutes later: she had spoken Sokovian to herself out loud, and this had frightened the guards since they didn't know what she was saying. Why are they still scared now? I don't understand. Wanda decided she would just be still and quiet and try to focus on listening to her teammates talking across the aisle, but not attempt participating in any conversation herself. This would give her something to do and surely nobody was going to punish her for sitting still and doing absolutely nothing. Well, except Damian, who seemed to like setting the stupid collar off for no reason at all. The others would probably stare but otherwise ignore her. I'll wait until I don't feel so...muddled to attempt any telepathic messages any more. I don't want to somehow accidentally message someone else or accidentally read Clint's mind, because I do not have permission to do that.
Scott was talking again now, stories about Cassie. Wanda liked hearing about Cassie; the girl sounded like someone she would like to meet. Besides, Cassie was why Scott had been so concerned about getting his phone call before. Cassie was important, obviously. Also, little kids did not automatically judge you and immediately get uncomfortable. Wanda thought about when she'd met Clint's children before, shortly after Ultron when she had stayed on the Barton farm for a bit after an...incident of sorts at the Compound. Cooper and Lila had not cared at all that she barely spoke, and then when she did speak the children were fascinated with her accent...and in Lila's case, began trying to copy it, which she had found embarrassing even though she knew Lila was not picking on her at all.
I can remember Clint and Laura being mortified about that. They felt so bad! Wanda found herself smiling a tiny bit at that memory. She kept her eyes closed, wondering what Pietro would have thought if he had been able to meet the Barton children. He probably would have liked being the center of attention. And probably given Cooper and Lila speedy piggyback rides. I miss him so much. Pietro could be such a pest sometimes, always pointing out he was twelve minutes older and getting the two of them into trouble by mouthing off at people that hurt them, especially on her behalf.
Wanda thought some of that had rather rubbed off on her too, and she did not care. They were twins; of course their emotions leaked from one to the other, especially after they had their constant mental link in place because of her own enhancements. Sometimes she felt like they had always been able to read each others' minds even before that. What would Pietro think if he saw her now? Tell me I'm not alone. Please tell me I'm not alone.
You are not alone. You have people that care about you right across the aisle. You can hear them. You have more people there that care than we did before. We had nobody except us. It will be okay. See, guess you needed a whole group of friends to replace me.
I don't want to replace you! I'm so scared. I miss you.
Not literally, you big baby. You have to live for both of us. Don't go hide in your own head. Please.
I don't want to be here any more. It hurts too much. I'm so, so tired. Take me away. Please. I'd rather die. I don't want to be here. I'm supposed to be living for both of us. This isn't living. Can't I fold up now?
No. You don't want to give this Ross guy what he wants, do you? He wants you to break down. Don't. You're not alone no matter what it feels like.
"...you listening?"
"...still can't see you..."
They are concerned. You should let them know you're okay.
I'm not okay.
Yes, you are. You're going to survive until rescued or you plan an escape. Properly this time. Get old man Hawkeye's help, because you can talk to him. They won't see that coming.
Surviving doesn't mean I'm okay.
Right now it does. That's enough for now. Let them know you're okay. Wanda finally opened her tear-filled eyes; there were only two guards milling about in front of her cell now, and neither was Damian, nor were they even watching her now. They looked bored, actually. She assumed she had probably appeared to be sleeping or otherwise completely unaware of her surroundings, so they had stopped watching her so closely. Worried speaking randomly would startle the guards into shocking her again, she slowly began moving back to where she could see into Scott's cell across the aisle, making sure to create plenty of small rustling and thumping noises while doing so.
"What are you doing in there?" one of them demanded instantly upon hearing the noise.
Wanda considered how to react before saying simply, "You said no talking," bracing herself to receive another shock. The guard had his finger poised over his remote to the thing, but didn't press it. Thank goodness. I don't think this one is going to terrorize me with it if I don't actually do anything. "I am moving, so I can see across the aisle," she went on slowly.
"Fine."
You bet it's fine, Wanda thought, annoyed, but she kept this snarky thought to herself. Once she could see Scott again, she added, "I spoke Sokovian before. It was not a spell." Wanda sounded like she thought the guards were absolute idiots, but she kept her voice quiet.
"Attitude. Shut up."
Wanda ignored him, feeling like she had made her point already. If these two were going to shock her, they would have done so already. She rested her aching head against the wall and glanced across the aisle at Scott, who still looked extremely concerned, but he immediately perked up upon realizing she was there and listening. "I'm okay."
"I said shut up. If you talk again, you will get another shock."
Well, at least this one is giving an actual warning first, Wanda thought, but she kept quiet. Being quiet was fine; she could see Scott, she could still answer any yes or no questions, and she could message Clint telepathically if she wanted to. I think.
Day 9 also passed uneventfully with no return to the interrogation room, which made Wanda more anxious rather than less, because it did not make any sense. Maybe Ross was going easy on her for a bit after leaving her in sensory-deprived solitary for over a full day, but she didn't particularly believe or trust that, not when she was being kept vaguely sedated. Whatever it was wasn't enough to knock her out, but she constantly felt sluggish and drowsy without actually being asleep or unconscious. Not a nice combination combined with frayed nerves rubbed raw and ready to snap at any provocation. He was probably purposely trying to make her and her teammates more anxious by not following routine, she decided. It seemed Sam's comments about the lack of food had helped a tiny bit, because now she was at least getting a tumbler of watery soup along with the normal water.
This was definitely not the worst thing Wanda had eaten, not by a long shot, considering some of the things she and Pietro had scavenged as children, but still. Well, at least if they are all going to still be scared of me, nobody is going to stuff food down my throat, either, she thought gloomily. That was the only good thing about this situation. They threaten me from outside the cell and set my collar off all the time, but they also hate being anywhere near me. Even when she'd been in the interrogation room all those times before, other than a few slaps, she was quite sure none of her tormentors had laid a hand on her at all, not while she was conscious, besides that. They set the collar off repeatedly and normally used some other item for hurting her instead. They never actually touched her except when administering those mysterious drug injections. It was an odd disconnect.
Anyway, if she could not find a way to stop herself from being drugged all the time, she would never have any remote chance at all to try planning another escape attempt. Disturbing stint isolated in the dark or not, Wanda was not one bit sorry she had at least tried.
She only wished she had tried sooner.
The problem was the more time that went by, the more she could feel herself deteriorating. Every day that passed meant there was less and less chance of anything actually working. She could grab one person to mind-control them again, sure, but she wouldn't even make it out of her cell before another guard realized what she was up to, reactivated her collar, and immediately shocked her to unconsciousness. That was a pointless endeavor. Wanda would need to get someone to disable the collar and then keep it deactivated long enough for her to get out of the straitjacket and rip the collar off herself with her magic so no one could turn it back on again. That, she had decided, was where she'd messed up on the failed attempt. I should have done that first rather than focusing on any of the men in that room. They would have been little threat to me without that, and I was scared and jumped to thinking I needed to neutralize them first.
She also remembered now Clint telling her back on the trip here that the thing was not coming off her neck, period, unless someone actually broke it entirely. Merely unlocking it would not be enough. Therefore, she needed to do it herself. Even the stupid straitjacket was not really the problem, because if that painful collar wasn't clamped around her neck, she was confident she could break out of the jacket easily, even now with a badly injured arm and feeling weak and dazed. She just wouldn't be able to use her left arm for anything, and it would make it much more difficult to actually fight her way out, because not only was the pain severely distracting, she would only have one usable hand to defend herself with. Well, and her mind. She could always just mind-control some guards to defend her friends and herself.
Wanda immediately felt guilty for wanting to do that.
Then there was the problem that even if all of that was successful and she was able to free herself and get the others out of their cells quickly, they had no way off the Raft. And unless they could locate all the Avengers gear, which could have been destroyed for all she knew (but probably not, because the government would want to steal it, she thought), all four of them would have a severe lack of weapons. They would have...an exhausted, dizzy, injured enhanced, and nothing else. Wanda knew her teammates were all much, much better at fighting in close quarters unarmed than herself-and, ignoring her own enhancements, they were all physically stronger, too, even if she was healthy and uninjured-but that wouldn't be enough to get past an entire prison's worth of armed staff. And she was not sure she really had enough strength at this point to walk much of any distance, let alone run or fight back.
Still, if she had someone else to help plan, maybe they could come up with something...
"I want to...plan another...escape."
The steely telepathic words made Clint start pacing in his cell. "Scott, what's Wanda doing now? Is she okay?"
"She's just sitting there slumped against the wall. I think they drugged her again, but..." Scott trailed off. "She's not fine, but she seems the same as usual. Wanda, you doing okay?"
Wanda blinked and slowly nodded, trying to reassure Scott that yes, she was okay-Raft version, I am surviving fine, she thought-but that she wasn't going to risk talking anymore. Not when she had such limited energy and ability to focus. She wished she'd asked Scott if it was okay to telepathically message him; there had even been a chance for her to whisper that because he'd been inside her cell briefly to give her that food the day before. Too late now.
"She nodded," Scott reported.
"Thanks for updating us," Clint answered, and continued pacing. "Glad you're awake, kid." He did not want Wanda planning another escape attempt at this point. There was so, so little chance of it working and he didn't think it was worth the risk. All of them were running on too-little sleep, especially Wanda, who woke up many times every night as her magic reacted subconsciously while she was asleep and then the collar would go off and wake her up yelping or crying. The constant harsh lighting also didn't help matters either. Clint had taken to simply putting an arm over his face or pulling his shirt over his head at night to help block it out, and he figured Sam and Scott were probably doing the same. But the cell block was cold, not to a dangerous level, just barely enough to make it uncomfortable, so this didn't completely fix the poor sleep issue, either. Obviously across the aisle Wanda could not do anything about the annoying lights either, not with her arms constrained in that straitjacket.
Still, if this tentative planning was something that was helping his antsy, traumatized younger teammate cope with terrible prison conditions, he didn't want to take that away from Wanda, either. At least if he tried to help, he could maybe prevent her from attempting anything else extremely risky without discussing detailed plans first. Clint had seen quite enough of Wanda to know that the longer they remained trapped on the Raft, she would probably start behaving more recklessly rather than less, until she ran herself into the ground and was physically incapable of doing anything. A pissed, badly hurt, frightened Wanda was not a good thing for anyone involved. That was like antagonizing a wounded bear or poking a wasp nest.
Wanda attempted the same opening mental channel but not replying maneuver that she had been doing while trapped in isolation, finally successfully receiving the information that Clint thought planning a new escape attempt was a bad idea but he was happy to help, and what was she thinking to do now. "I don't know. I can't just...do nothing. I feel like...I will snap. Explode. I am lonely. I want out. Need to...do something. And I can't."
Wanda heard something slam a wall across the aisle, and she wondered if Clint had punched a wall again. Keeping her eyes closed, she hesitantly waited for another reply. This time all she received was a mentally loud YOU ARE NOT ALONE. She pulled her legs as close as she could, scrunching herself into a ball. "I know. You sound like...Pietro. I spoke to him." Then, realizing that probably sounded a bit unhinged, because she knew quite well her dead twin wasn't there and she'd been retreating into her own thoughts and pretending Pietro was there talking to her in an effort to comfort herself, she added firmly, "I know...he's not...here."
They did not come up with any kind of viable escape plan-as Clint pointed out, anything they might come up with was pointless without a plan to actually get off the Raft entirely, and they could not produce an aircraft out of thin air-but Wanda felt a bit better anyway once she grew too tired to continue focusing on her powers anymore. She stayed curled up in a ball where she was and eventually dozed off for a bit.
On Day 10, the repetitive interrogation routine started again. Sam was there, Sam remained silent, as he had before, but Wanda had had enough at this point and didn't feel she could stay quiet without crying. And I would rather speak up and get into trouble than cry.
"Keep going and I will mind-control a guard again. Maybe...I will do it to you."
"You are wasting your time. Maybe you should just jump to leaving me here alone in the dark again."
"I am going to rip you apart when I get out of here."
"Stupidity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I wonder what these repeating questions must mean then."
After this sort of thing where Ross went went on with his same old questions, Wanda shot back replies in a progressively snappier tone, and then was shocked or otherwise hurt for it, went on for a good twenty or thirty minutes if Sam had to guess, he stared at her and finally said, "Wanda, what are you doing?"
I don't know. Keeping myself sane. Wanda glanced at Sam, surprised he had spoken at all, and said in a deceptively calm voice despite her ragged, stressed breathing, "He...said...talk. I am talking."
Sam privately thought Wanda was making things worse, but also knew she was antagonizing Ross on purpose because it made her feel better to snap at him.
"He speaks," Ross said now.
Not to you, Sam thought, and kept his gaze on Wanda, whose eyes had latched onto a seemingly plain manila folder. Whatever it was appeared to be something Wanda already knew the contents of, and whatever it was scared her, because she abruptly squeezed her eyes shut and refused to open them no matter what.
Those are the Lagos photos. I won't look at them again. I won't.
The next few days passed much the same, though the teammate she found in the interrogation room while she was there too varied. Ross did not have her dragged back in there alone at all, for which Wanda was very grateful. He seemed to have begun ignoring her while he questioned the others and didn't direct any questions to her at all anymore. In fact, it seemed he was purely using her to threaten her teammates at this point. She much preferred when one of the others was in there too, especially Scott because chances were she would not receive nearly as many shocks when it was him. Sam's silence made her jumpy and want to fill the shouting with some sort of comeback, and, well...whatever Clint's training to deal with interrogation or torture was, it was clearly not helping either of them. The times Hawkeye was in there with her, he snapped at Ross multiple times too. He especially snapped when he realized she could no longer talk much at this point.
Outside of those sessions, Wanda spent most of the time lying in her cell where she could see Scott, who periodically relayed yes or no responses to any questions from the others, though she did not try speaking out loud anymore. Wanda tried to continue planning a new escape attempt with Clint via her telepathic messages, but it was getting progressively harder and harder to actually...do so. The magic seemed to have retreated into a sad, frightened chaotic mess in her chest, and while she thought it was probably indirectly trying to protect her, it hurt to yank any bits of energy free.
This actually bothered her much more than the ongoing pain from her arm, neck, ribs, and everything else. Without the ability to continue using that telepathic connection, she would not have any way to talk to anyone at all as long as they were stuck in the Raft. And the more days that crawled by, the harder it was becoming to trust that Cap would find a way to rescue them.
There was also the one comment that had burrowed its way into her head and wouldn't go away. If Cap had not told her the plan for where he was going after the airport fight, then he must consider her untrustworthy. After all, she had started out fighting against the Avengers in the first place. She didn't belong with them anyway, they should have just sent her back to Sokovia and dumped her in the rubble there. They did not trust her and never would, would they? Wanda did not give a single whit of care about most of the abusive words Ross threw at her; he could hate her til kingdom come and she didn't care, because his opinions were worth nothing to her. But that...that particular comment, and those photos from Lagos, those things hurt.
That comment had also made Sam break his silence; he called Ross xenophobic, which was not a word Wanda knew, but she could make a guess from the rest of Sam's description in his reply, which was racist scumbag. Then he did not say anything else.
Forming a new escape attempt was a faraway pipe dream. It's not going to happen.
On day 17, Wanda tried to stand to get the morning water...and instantly felt so dizzy that the cell spun and she fainted, slipping clumsily and falling into a heap. She came to a few minutes later to hear multiple voices shouting. What happened? Did I pass out...?
...my ankle hurts. Different. I slipped and fell. I think I twisted it...hurt myself. I shouldn't have tried to stand. Wanda was mostly just glad she didn't seem to have hit her head too badly; the constant headache was still there, but no worse than before the incident. She was vaguely aware of her teammates asking if she was okay, but she did not know how to communicate what happened. If she spoke, one of the trigger-happy guards would shock her again, and she didn't think her voice would travel that far in the first place anymore. Wanda squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate. She should get herself back to where Scott could at least see her. That wasn't far, just a couple feet. She could communicate that she was conscious, at least.
No. Drink water first. That may get taken away, and I need that to survive here. Then tell them I'm okay.
No, friends. I would be much more miserable than...already...if I didn't know I had three people still trying to help me...not lose myself. With that in mind, Wanda slowly scooted herself back to her normal position where she could see into Ant-Man's cell, ignoring any demands of what she thought she was doing. If one of those guards set the shock collar off again, then whatever at this point; it clearly had little to nothing to do with her behavior. Therefore she was not going to waste any waning energy to deign any response to maybe prevent it, when most likely someone would do that to her anyway.
"There you are! Are you...okay?" Scott asked.
Wanda slowly blinked at him, not particularly wanting to move her head if she didn't have to, both because she had the headache and because every time she moved her head, it made the shock collar rub painfully against the wrecked skin beneath. I'm okay...sort of.
"Blink once for yes and twice for no." Clint's concerned voice floated over.
"Lang, what's she doing?" That was Sam, also sounding concerned.
"Um, she's just kind of lying there, but she's definitely listening to us. Right?" Scott asked hopefully.
Wanda blinked once. Yes, I'm listening. I am here and I'm waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to come for us. Trying to believe it.
"She says yes."
Three heads in the aisle swiveled from one rogue Avenger to the other. "What are you doing in there? No talking! No other communicating with them either. You're up to something."
"Probably planning some other...escape attempt incident!"
"She's not doing anything," Clint said snappily, "and why is it fine for the rest of us to talk as much as we want and you don't even want her answering yes or no questions?"
"Rest of you can't mind-control people."
I was 'up to something' until I couldn't message Clint telepathically anymore, and I'm not sorry, either, Wanda thought, instinctively pressing herself back against the wall as two of them came into her cell. She didn't attempt resisting this time when they gave her the daily drug injection in a great big hurry as usual (because they didn't want to be near her), but she did give them a scathing death glare anyway, more to incite their fear that she might do something else 'dangerous' than anything else. That didn't protect her from being hurt at all, but it was at least keeping them from touching her directly. As predicted, someone set off the shock collar, but they also hightailed it out of the cell, leaving her trembling on the floor. They're gone, they're gone. It's okay.
Retreating back to imagining Pietro sitting next to her again, Wanda closed her eyes and let herself disassociate as much as possible. Your other friend will come eventually, Wanda. You will be okay. You will get out.
...What if not?
I don't know. Then you'd get to see me again, yes? It's not all bad. You used to want to die to see me again. Good. You don't anymore.
Sometimes I do. I'm so tired. I feel like I'm destined to be miserable no matter what I do.
You're such a pessimist. Live and be happy once you get out of here.
I don't mind dying. That doesn't scare me. I just assumed it would happen on a mission. Like you. It would be a relief.
Your American friends will mind. They care about you.
They don't need me. I caused the Accor-no. No, I couldn't have. I know this, but...what if they want to send me back? Wanda stayed very still otherwise, but she opened bleary eyes to see Scott still in her narrow viewpoint. He looked upset, and he was waving at her anyway. That man would not either want to send her back to her rubble-littered, destroyed Sokovia, where there was nothing left and there were dead parents and a flattened apartment building, no home left there for her at all. Neither would the others. That's an irrational fear, and I shouldn't let people that I know hate me stab that...that idea back into me. Stop it.
Tired. So tired.
Two days later, Wanda lay in the same spot in her cell as those harsh artificial lights began blinking on and off as a deafening alarm sounded. Lights. Something is happening.
"There's been a breach! Security cams are all down!"
A/N: Yup, obviously that's Cap and Natasha about to break them out! Finally, yay:)
i had trouble with this chapter tbh. I hope everything makes sense. Life stuck in the Raft is sucky and repetitive and I didn't particularly want to focus on the actual violence of it too much, more...the characters, you know? It was really important to me to express Wanda's mental/emotional state declining throughout the time stuck on the Raft (besides, she's not in good physical condition at all either, nobody is going to help her until they're out, and she can't heal herself a la MoM back in this era!)...but she's not only scared/upset, she's also hurt and angry, so I really really hope all of that came through. Anyways. I did my best.
Next chapter coming soon!
