Another update! Sorry it's been so long – I've been completely drained by a lot of different things that had left me feeling completely unmotivated. As a result, I've really struggled to get a lot done in this chapter and it's more of a filler than anything else as I've needed to character to start putting the puzzle pieces together so things can move forward. I've been trying to progress the story along, but it's been hard when there's been no motivation. I am keeping up with the story though and it will continue!

Updates should be more frequent when things have calmed down slightly, which should be soon.

I hope you enjoy thing chapter; thank you for all the reviews! They've been a guiding light in a very dark tunnel.

When he awoke from the ice, Steve used to think that the worse days were the days when nothing happened, when he was left lingering in the memories of days that had long since passed. While he hadn't missed the war, or the bloodshed and the loss, he had ached to have a goal and a purpose to achieve. Something – anything – that would offer him a shred of contentment.

As he lowered himself onto a chair in the kitchen, he thought about how he had been…relieved – in a sense – when he had dropped his shield in Siberia. While he had resigned himself to the possibility that having a family, a wife and children to come home to – a connection – was something that weighed heavily on his heart. Steve had always longed for a home. A place to belong. The Avengers had offered him that, true, but it had also meant spending every day preparing for and fighting battles that he didn't know he could win. Being Captain America had steadily turned from being a badge of honour into a led balloon and he would be lying if he said that he hadn't started to sink slightly under the weight of it.

When the choice had been placed in front of him; his old life for his new – the Avengers and his shield for Bucky – Steve didn't need to think. He'd spent so long serving and saving the world that he couldn't take it anymore; he chose Bucky. He chose to return to Steve Rogers and leave Captain America behind.

There were many repercussions to his choice, a lot of which were clear and present whenever he and Tony were together. Fortune had smiled on him in other ways, he had managed to keep some of his family together. Even though Bucky had chosen to go back in the ice, Steve had found contentment in the fact that he would not only be in safer hands, but also in the idea that his friend had finally started to gain back his control – not only over his mind, but his choices too.

Sam had remained by his side. Steve knew that many people considered Sam to be loyal to him, he was, of course, but the reason the two of them bonded so much was because Sam understood him. They were the same in a lot of ways; like many brothers in arms. They were wired the same way and they were connected and strengthened in their beliefs; both morally and in their faith in one another. During all the conflict, Steve knew that Sam would always have his back.

It had been Sam who had introduced them to Scott; while he had not known the man well during the fight in Berlin, Steve had been impressed by Scott's devotion to his daughter. The way Scott was prepared to sacrifice everything to not only be there for his daughter but also to be a man that she could be proud was nothing short of inspiring. Clint was the same; he had spent years placing his life in danger to make a better world for his wife and children. The devotion the archer had to keeping his family safe and happy displaced balance at its finest. Family was everything to Clint, and while Steve knew he was struggling greatly now; he knew that Barton would improve when Laura and the kids showed up.

Both Clint and Scott had offered Steve a guide on how to be there for Wanda as she struggled after the break out from the raft. While they had no idea where Natasha was, Steve had found it difficult to know what to say to Wanda. He could comfort her through most things, but he had no idea how to comfort her through her trauma – as well as the lingering guilt she had for what happened in Nigeria. He had done his best to be there for her, but he had spent days longing for Natasha to just stride through the door, or to hear her voice on the other end of the phone. The more days that went by with her silence had ticked away at Steve's strength. Wanda had only begun to improve when Vision had showed up. While his visits were sparse, they had offered the young woman a comfort that no one else there could offer.

Sighing, Steve looked around the kitchen. It was almost as if nothing had changed. The walls were the same but the people in them had all changed so much. Looking to his left side, he felt his heart ache slightly as he remembered that the compound could be the last place where Natasha's family had been gathered together; happy and uncompromised.

It would be easy to allow himself to get swept back into the past, to ignore the last six months had happened; hell, it would probably be easier for all of them.

It wouldn't be fair, however, and it certainly wouldn't be honest. He rested his chin on his hand and lowered his eyes to the countertop. Clint was sitting with Natasha for the time being and everyone had thought it best to let the two have a moment alone. His own personal feelings for Natasha aside, Steve knew that no one would suffer more at her loss than Clint. Natasha was to Clint what Bucky was to Steve; the immovable and unchanging force in his life. The first person to offer an idea of family outside any blood relation; sometimes even surpassing it.

Footsteps further down the corridor alerted him to the approaching company he was about to receive. He was left in his solitude for about thirty seconds before Sam walked through the doorway. Initially, he simply walked past Steve towards the coffee machine and switched it on. Only after did he turn and face the blonde man across from him.

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard. Before Steve could answer, he spoke again. "Don't bother with the "I'm fine" or "I'll be okay" bullshit, Cap. Talk to me."

Steve frowned, eyes downcast. "What else can I say?"

"That you're struggling? That you're hurting?"

"This isn't about me."

Sam sighed, pushing a mug of coffee towards Steve before dropping into a seat. "Yeah, it is. It's about you, it's about Stark, it's about Natasha; and it's about all of us. We may be divided right now, Steve, but we were a team. If one of is gets hurt, we all hurt. Natasha's been there for all of us; her pain is our pain too."

There was nothing to say to that. Steve had always advocated for team unity, but it was a lot harder when he felt as though he was a direct reason for Natasha's pain.

"It's not your fault." Sam pressed. "Natasha wouldn't want you to think that it was."

Steve's eyes began to sting. "I left her behind."

He'd been saying that a lot lately. Yet it never wavered in its strength to deliver a sharp stab to his heart every time he did.

"She chose to stay; she wanted to deal with the damage we caused. We, Steve. Not you, not Stark; all of us – Natasha included. She was just brave enough to try and face all the consequences head on and alone. Do you really think she'd have done that without thinking – hell, without knowing – the consequences that would be thrown at her feet? Nat's not stupid. She's strong Steve; in a lot of ways, Natasha's probably the strongest out of all of us. Stop giving up on her before the fights over. She's always believed in us, now we have to believe in her."

The Captain sat up and looked Sam dead in the eye. "If she doesn't make it?"

"Then we avenge her." A new voice said as Wanda stepped into the kitchen, Vision entering behind her. "Sam is right, we don't give up. Not on Natasha."

Steve nodded, feeling stronger surrounded by pieces of his team. "Do we have an ETA on King T'Challa and the Barton's?"

Vision spoke. "According to Friday, they shall arrive this evening. Miss Potts has had rooms prepared for them and Mr Stark has had a crib delivered for Master Nathaniel."

Steve's lips twitched, the youngest Barton child reminding him of some better memories of Natasha. "Good, we'll need to make sure that the kids are settled while Clint explains what we know to Laura." He paused. "Has anyone spoken to Clint?"

Another voice interrupted. "He knows; Friday is going to send someone down to him when their jet shows up on our radar, so that he can be there when they touch down, but he wants to stay with Romanoff for the time being." Tony explained, walking over the machine and pouring himself a large coffee.

Despite the sombre mood that began to overcome the room and the mention of Clint's current vigil, Steve nodded in understanding. "Is anyone going to be with Natasha?"

"Peter's already volunteered." Tony stated, his tone laced with obvious fondness. "I think he likes the idea of forming a spider only supergroup."

Sam snorted. "They could always throw Lang into the mix."

Vision tilted his head in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr Wilson. Spiders are arachnids not insects."

"I know. I just like the idea of two spiders and an ant solving crimes. Wait; didn't Lang say he had a girlfriend called Wasp?"

Wanda shook her head. "That was his girlfriend's Mother, back when her Father wore the Ant-Man suit."

"I believe Mr Wilson was referencing Hope Van Dyne, it is speculated that she has taken over the role of The Wasp in the absence of Ant-Man." Vision corrected before he was interrupted by Tony.

"If we're talking about species-based teams then shouldn't Wilson and Barton be filming a buddy-cop movie as we speak?" The billionaire asked, snorting into his mug.

Steve sighed. "I can't help but feel as though we're going way off topic."

However, his words fell on deaf ears as his teammates began plotting the first season of Sam and Clint's new TV show, featuring appearances from some friend of Barton's called Mockingbird. Watching the jovial change in the atmosphere, Steve allowed himself to get lost in the novelty for a while, admitting to himself that if Natasha was there, she'd already be running circles around the rest of the team.

Besides, it would give them something funny to tell her when she woke up.

Across the compound, unaware of his new job, Clint sat next to Natasha's still figure. The light-hearted mood that was being generated by the others was hard to replicate when he was sat next to the unmoving body of his dearest friend.

He had her hand clutched tightly in his own, rubbing steady circles across her wrist allowing the constant pulse under her skin to reassure him where the beeping of the machines failed to do so. Clint had always hated hospitals, aside from the birth of his children – all of which had occurred in private, isolated Shield sites – he didn't think he had a single good memory associated with a hospital. Everything about them represented something that he loathed.

The cleanliness for example, was unnerving. Clint wasn't a slob, not really, but while many people would assume that he had picked his home with Laura to be in the middle of nowhere for spy reasons, they couldn't have been more wrong. It was helpful, of course, especially since he had joined the Avengers and become a lot more recognisable. However, if Hawkeye was good at one thing – aside from archery, of course – it was being unnoticeable. He was a damn good spy and a good spy could go unnoticed anywhere.

No, the reason he built his farmhouse there was because it was… natural. Normal. There was a grounded quality to it. It reminded him of everything he had wanted in his life, both when he was a child – a normal, honest home for him and his brother – and when he was an adult. He had wanted somewhere where he and his wife could build a life that kept him away from the world but also allow him to forge his place within it.

When Clint had recruited Natasha, the first place he had brought her was to the farmhouse; to Laura and the world that he had built with her there. If anyone had needed to find their place in the world it was Natasha. Coulson had told him that there was no chance Fury would recruit Natasha in the state that she'd been in – depressed, lost, suicidal; the biggest danger to Natasha wasn't Shield or any other organization threatening her life at the time. No, it had been Natasha herself. So, under the disguise of going dark for a few days to submerge himself in the hunt for the Black Widow – and with Coulson's unending help and support – Clint had pulled Natasha out and brought her into his world. The real world wasn't ready for Natasha Romanoff yet, but Clint and Laura Barton? They could do this – no problem.

Without hesitation, Natasha had become a part of their world and her presence had only solidified over the years. She had been the first person to hold the Barton children after their birth and she had always had a room and a bed in their home – and a firm key into the heart of their world.

Keeping his hand on Natasha's, Clint counted the pauses between her heartbeats to give himself focus. He couldn't lose control now, he needed to stay strong – at least until Laura showed up. While he had been battling a lot of emotions since he had found out about Natasha's condition, Clint had remained as composed as possible. He had sat by Natasha's beside a handful of times, but it had been more than anyone else; he knew that when she woke up, she would likely be disorientated and confused. In that state, what Natasha would need would be someone who could be stone-faced first and then emotional – and there would be lots of emotion.

Watching the almost restless expression on his partners face, Clint wondered whether Wanda would investigate Natasha's head if he asked. Having been partnered with Natasha for years, Clint knew that, unlike most people in great periods of distress, Natasha became more frantic during her sleep. Rather that flushing her pain and uncomfortableness away, resting allowed Natasha more time to linger on her pain; thus, plaguing her with nightmares and memories that brought forward more buried feelings then Natasha was ready to deal with. As he looked at the furrow between her brows and the slight downturn of her lips, Clint knew that Natasha was struggling emotionally as much as she was physically. Her physically pain was easily fixed but Clint knew that if there were any conscious thoughts going on in her head, Natasha would be in just as concerning a condition awake as she was asleep; and likely in a similar amount of mortal peril.

While he used his other hand to push some hair away from her face, Clint hoped that Natasha would still trust them all enough to help her come to terms with her emotional pain while she healed from her physical pain.

Not wanting to worry about anything more than necessary for the time being, the archer pushed the troubles away from his mind for the time being, instead finding contentment in sitting alongside his friend. His thumb continued its soothing pace along her skin, dancing through the gaps between her bruises while he passed along messages about his children's latest adventures. Nathaniel had begun to stand, when he had spoken to Laura the night before they had heard about Natasha; Clint had spent hours on the phone watching his youngest son pull himself into a standing position among to the tunes of cheering from his brother and sister.

It had made his heart ache to think that he might not have been there to watch his son stumble through their house for the first time. Clint had, privately, felt desperate to organise his plea deal as soon as possible; there was too much waiting for him back home to leave behind. There was little regret in what he had done for Cap – and Wanda – but he hadn't thought about how much it would affect his own world.

Natasha's absence had only reinforced that. When Tony had appeared in the Raft without Natasha, Clint had known that there would be trouble in his friend's horizon. Whether that was because she had gone with Cap and Barnes to fight the other Winter Soldiers in Siberia – which he hoped she had, it was better than the alternative – or because she had been forced to flee on her own, he didn't know. He had simply laid in his cell hoping that his best friend was safe and not currently on the run, alone, from the one place she had felt safe to call home in years. The worry was there, though. Lingering and growing the more time he spent thinking on it.

Alongside Laura and the kids, Natasha had always occupied the biggest space of worry in his mind, only his worry for her was usually justified and very, very real. However, he had soothed himself into believing that she was most likely just hiding out in the farm, plotting how to free them so that she could assure herself that everyone was safe before running back into hiding to fight her battles alone – well, Clint believed that Steve would have followed her; Wanda and Sam too, but sometimes the best way to outmanoeuvre Natasha Romanoff was to simply ignore her scary murderess face and watch her six whether she liked it or not.

When Steve had showed up, ready to break them all out and scurry them away on a jet to Wakanda, Clint had been surprised – as well as unnerved – to not find Natasha's typical smirk by his side.

Clint was surprised at the smoothness to which Roger's plan was being executed. Not that he didn't have faith in Steve; he had great admiration for the man, as well as his extensive skillset. However, it wouldn't be wrong of him to say that subtlety and covertness was not the way in which Steve Rogers – or Captain America – usually operated.

A smile tugged slightly at his lips; perhaps this was Natasha's influence.

Walking towards the bars of his cage, Clint met Sam's eye and the two shared a smile. Next to Clint, Scott was watching with an open mouth as the body of a guard few past the doorway in the outside hallway. The only sound that followed was the thump of the body hitting the floor and the grunts of a fight happening just outside of view.

While the raft had not been prepared for the break-in, the base qualified as over staffed on its quitter days. It would have been naïve to assume that Captain America would leave on teammate behind – let alone four – and the staff at the raft had been preparing for his inevitable rescue attempt.

Looking past the cells of his two active teammates, Clint focused his gaze on Wanda's upright figure. Bound tightly in a straitjacket and shock-collar, the young woman was unable to move without a subsequent punishment. While the guards had been too fearful to approach Wanda and had simply slid her food and water in through a hole in the wall, before pulling Clint or Sam out of their cell to feed her, they had been vicious in their humiliation of her. Shocking her if her breathing become laboured, or if she fell back to sleep in the middle of the day.

Now, she remained still. There was defeat in her face and exhaustion behind her eyes. Despite their chances of rescue being right behind the door, Wanda seemed to only grow in her despair.

Looking back at Sam, the two shared a concerned look as the fight outside the door seemed to end. One more body slammed against the doorframe and a set of footsteps moved closer to the entrance. Before they could get a good look, however, the lights shut off outside the cells; the only light left being the pale blue light that had kept the four captives' company during their time here.

Sam sighed. "Cap, you dramatic son of a bitch – get us outta here!"

From the shadows, Steve Rogers emerged. "Language, Wilson."

The two men exchanged a grin before the blonde unlocked the cell door. Sam exited and, after greeting Steve with a quick hug and pat on the back, walked over to Wanda's cell. Steve followed, his face quickly morphing into a look of sheer horror.

"Wanda…" He began, trailing off as his voice caught.

Sensing the need to take charge, Wanda smiled, although there was no heart in it, before turning serious.

"You can get me out of this, yes?" She asked, her accent thick and her voice hoarse from disuse. When Steve nodded, pulling something that looked like a shortwave EMP from his pocket, she spoke again. "Good, then do it."

He did. Within seconds the shock collar was on the floor and Wanda was shrugging of the straitjacket. As she started loathingly at the collar it became flooded with a red light before it caved in on itself, dropping to the floor as a useless ball of metal.

Wanda scoffed, her eyes brown but still empty. "Good riddance."

Deciding that now was not the best time to comment, Steve passed something to Sam and nodded towards Scott's cell before he headed over to Clint.

"Cap." The archer grinned, relieved to be getting out of his prison.

"Barton, are you doing okay?"

He nodded. "I'm fine. How was Siberia?"

Something dark and regretful collapsed over Steve's face and instantly Clint knew that he had asked the wrong question. As his cell door swung open, he doubted he was going to like whatever answer came out of the Captain's mouth.

Steve sighed, his face wrought with pain. "Messy."

Just by looking at him, Clint could tell that was a simple understatement. "Do I want to know what that means?"

"Probably, but not today."

Barton shrugged. That was true, he doubted he could deal with any more bad news now. Instead he decided to focus on something that would put his mind at ease. "Can you at least tell me Nat's okay? She's, here right?"

As the Captain's eyes met his own again, Clint knew that this was going to be a hard pill to swallow.

"Steve, please tell me that Nat's with you."

Pain flooded the blue eyes opposite him. "I'm sorry, Clint. I don't know where she is."

Clint felt his stomach drop.

If Natasha wasn't with Cap, then where the was she?

More importantly…

Was she okay?

Sitting uncomfortably in a chair, Clint felt guilty for not trying harder to find Natasha. He had hoped that if she wasn't with Steve, then perhaps she'd have stayed with Tony. The more they had learned from T'Challa it'd been obvious that Natasha would've run, the net had been closing in on her. It had been rational to assume that she may have gone to visit Laura, but Clint had spoken to his wife as soon as he had arrived securely in Wakanda; there had been no visit from Natasha, no phone calls – nothing. As the days had ticked by and Wanda began to draw further into herself, Clint managed to find a secure channel to Fury. Yet there had been no contact between Natasha and their old boss since about a week before Lagos.

While all his routes were coming to dead ends, Clint had prayed that the only thing in this puzzle to not turn up cold would be Natasha herself.

At the time, it had seemed a ridiculous idea that Natasha had been captured. There had been nothing from her enemies boasting about her capture – or her death – and they would have known if she had been imprisoned in the Raft; hell, she'd have been kept beside them.

Or so they had thought.

Clint knew Natasha had a tainted history with General Ross, that was half of the reason as to why he had thought that they'd have known if Natasha was in the Raft. At least once a day during their imprisonment, the stern-faced military man had come down to comment of how he looked forward to adding Captain America to their ranks when Steve inevitably tried to rescue them. He'd taunt them for at least five minutes before ordering his men to "shock the witch". When he left the room, despite his jeering always being met with an unchallenging silence, he always wore the same twisted smirk; as though he'd still got the upper hand.

It was painful to consider that this was exactly why he was smirking.

For the first time since he had arrived in the hospital room, Clint paused in his stroking of Natasha's hand to wipe at his stinging eyes. Natasha was his best friend. If there were such things as platonic soulmates, Clint knew that he had found his in Natasha. She was his sister in all but blood, and they had both known that to be a pointless factor at times. The idea of his world without his best friend was maddening.

He felt his emotions bubbling to the surface and squashed them back down. Right now, he needed to be calm, composed. While it may be therapeutic to imagine impaling Thaddeus Ross with numerous arrows, it wouldn't be helpful. Not to Natasha, or Laura and the kids, and not his teammates – half of whom, while certain to join him in his rampage, were wanted fugitives.

Lost in his thoughts, Clint resumed his motions and sat back in his chair. It was going to be a long day and he knew that he would need his strength to have the conversations that were coming. So, to keep hold of the sanity that he felt was slowly slipping through his fingers, Clint Barton remained silently beside Natasha Romanoff's still figure; preparing to resume his active duties as a father, a husband and a brother.

Hours later, the Avengers gathered together outside the compound to watch the quinjet that contained the Barton's and the King of Wakanda land. Next to him, Tony could feel the emotions radiating off Clint. Placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, he smiled trying not to let his own feelings prevent him from being there for his teammate. He could practically feel the tension seep out of the archer when his eyes finally landed on his children, two of whom were running in his direction.

Clint met them a few paces ahead and Cooper and Lila barrelled into his arms, their words muffled as he pulled the two of them into a hug.

Slightly behind the two children and their father, the team spotted an emotional Laura Barton walking alongside Scott Lang and King T'Challa, who was accompanied by his personal guards Okoye and Ayo.

Tony stepped forward to greet T'Challa while Steve moved to greet Lang in order to offer some privacy to the family reunion happening to their left. Laura had caught up to Clint and the two were smothering their three children in a loving embrace.

Once official pleasantries had been done, they quickly moved inside. While it was not normal for any observes to see quinjet's come and go from the facility, they didn't want to have their meeting for anyone to see. If anything had been learned from the discovering of Hydra hidden within Shield, it was that just because someone was in your home, doesn't meant that they wouldn't burn it down.

Wanda, wanting to spend a few moments with Nathaniel-Pietro and the other Barton children, offered to show the children to their rooms with Pepper and Maria while the adults spoke about "work".

As soon as they had vanished along the corridor, Laura's eyes filled with concern. "How's Natasha?"

Clint grimaced. "What do you know?" He asked, looking between the new arrivals.

T'Challa spoke up. "The same as what we knew before you left, Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff had been injured and needed urgent medical attention." There was a brief pause before T'Challa continued. "I must confess, I am quite concerned as to her current predicament myself. I cannot help but feel partially responsible for it."

"With all due respect your Majesty, if you're thinking about playing the blame game; don't." Clint chided. "Natasha would've known that her actions had repercussions. You thought she was a danger to others; she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for trying to do what you thought was right. There are a lot of people we can blame for what happened to Natasha but the only person who deserves it is the person – or people – that hurt her."

The King bobbed his head in understanding as Laura spoke up. "You said that someone's hurt Natasha; do you know who?"

Tony sighed, sharing a glance with Rhodey. "We think so."

"So…" Laura was instant, looking among the Avengers with an expecting glare. Despite being afraid of what she was about to find out, she wanted to know. "Who was it?"

Clint tightened his grip on Laura's hand. "General Ross."

"With the help of some loyal dogs, no doubt." Tony spat, disgust marring over his features. "Ross has a lot of rank, especially at the Raft; there was no way he'd have been able to pull this all off without help. Hell, I designed the Raft and I had no idea that they'd be able to equip themselves with a super-secret torture dome."

"Isn't there a way you could get hold of any security footage from the Raft?" Scott asked, speaking up for the first time. "I mean, if you designed it you would have also designed the security, right? So, the rooms that Widow were held in might be rooms you designed, just put to a different use. If they had their original security measures in place, couldn't you just use those to get the footage?"

Sam looked at Scott like he'd never seen him before – and he wasn't the only one. Tony, seemingly stunned into silence, blinked twice before regaining use of his sense.

"Friday!" The genius called, turning and walking towards one of the conference rooms – tactfully avoiding the one that Ross had used to present them with the Accords. "Pull up the final specs for the Raft, pronto."

"You got it, boss." Friday replied, as everyone else began to file into the conference room. Within seconds the room was illuminated by the blue light streaming across the room as a 3D model of the raft came into existence before their eyes.

Turning to Steve, Tony gestured to the model. "Cap, when you broke the others out of the Raft was the layout the same as this?

Steve looked at the holding cells on the model before tracing back his steps on the night of the rescue. It was the same, the walls and the turns being the exact way he remembered them until…

"No." He answered.

Tony's jaw clenched. "What's different?"

Steve pointed to the model, where Tony's design showed three doors. Two of the doors led to a pair of interrogation rooms and the third to a store room. However, Steve's memory told him that there had been no doors there, just a single wall. He pointed out his findings and watched the mind of the man next to him whirl as the other's watched with bated breath.

"Friday, I need you to get into the camera feed for interrogation room three, Floor C."

"On it." The robotic voice replied.

Once again, there was a pause before the scree in front of them began playing footage. Whatever was behind that wall was empty, it looked almost like a plain hallway however there were a few doors along the side. Before Steve could ask what was behind them, Tony had already asked Friday to tap into the feed.

"Two interrogation rooms and a store room, boss."

Tony's brow furrowed and he glared at the model that was still displayed on the table. "I don't get it. That was in the original design, why change it all to add a simple hallway?"

He dropped into a chair and the rest of the team followed. Each one of them remained trapped in their own minds until Rhodey snapped his head up.

"Tony?"

"Rhodey? You okay?"

Ignoring the question, Rhodey continued. "What if it isn't about the hallway but instead about what's at the end of it?"

Steve sat forward, unsure of the point but interested in anything that might help. Tony however, seemed to connect instantly to the brainwave and began calling out for Friday to scan the hallway and to try and hack into any camera that wasn't put in the building by Stark industries.

Clint, unable to sit their quietly and desperate for something that would placate the fear in the back of his mind, spoke up.

"Do you want to catch up all up, Tony or do you want us to sit here twiddling our thumbs for the rest of the night?"

Tony rolled his eyes, his usual demeaner returning slowly. "There's an elevator."

Sam looked as confused as Steve felt. "So…Maybe they were too lazy to take the stairs. Not everyone is devoted to leg day, Stark."

The genius just continued. "The elevator isn't the big deal; the big deal is that I didn't design or commission an elevator in that part of the building which means someone else did. There was no need to separate the interrogation rooms unless there was something – or, more specifically – someone that Ross wanted interrogated privately."

"Someone like Natasha?"

"Exactly. If I'm right – and I am – then that elevator is going to be the answer to all of our questions."

Laura looked both hopeful and confused. "How so?"

Pointing to the model, Tony spoke again. "The top floor to the Raft is the landing field, but the floor underneath it has one single room; the office of one General Thaddeus Ross."

Vision nodded. "Therefore, it would seem to be acting as a private elevator under the sole usage of the General himself – alongside any dedicated and loyal colleagues who would have access to his office."

"Bingo."

T'Challa hummed in agreement. "That would mean that the General could keep multiple prisoners locked within the Raft. Without any knowledge but that of a few men. Miss Romanoff may not have been the first person to be beaten behind those walls."

"She might not be the last," Steve stated, pushing down a shudder, "not if we don't do anything about it."

He wanted to do a lot about it – as did the others. Where tension made up of lingering awkwardness and supressed grief had been locked in the room before, there was now a heated itch forming under their skin; a want – no, a need – for a fight, for vengeance. A need for justice for their friend pulling at their muscles and creating a churning in their stomachs.

Fortunately for them all, Wanda crept into the room. Instantly the mood calmed. "I could sense an increase in the tension. I took it to mean that you have discovered some answers?"

Clint threw a grateful smile Wanda's way before speaking. "The long and short of it is that Ross had his own personal torture chamber that he could use from his office."

The young woman grimace, coming to stand between Vision and Steve as she looked at the footage flickering on the screen. "This is where he kept Natasha?"

"Not quite," Vision replied, "We believe this may help us discover where Agent Romanoff was held before her escape. Since this was not in the original plan created by Mr Stark, there is reason to believe that another party was employed in order to fulfil the General's plan. If so, it is likely that the security measures that they input are connected to the same feed. By gaining access to these camera's we'll be able to hack into that feed and find footage that has been garnered by a different source of the same making."

Wanda nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. After another second of silence, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Whether she was still using her powers, or if it was just desperation to make some movement, many of the others who had been standing followed her lead. Tony offered a brief command to Friday to notify them if anything was discovered before doing the same.

Steve dropped into his seat next to Sam, not realising that he had stood up in the first place. He looked to his right where Sam was, the man offered him a small smile before placing a hand on his shoulder. Steve was glad he had Sam, his unwavering loyalty and belief had carried Steve for a long part of the past six months on the run – and even longer if he included everything that had happened in DC. He smiled back, hoping that it conveyed even the smallest amount of gratitude that he was feeling.

On his other side sat Wanda, the young woman had her hands clasped in front of her with her fingers interlocked. Her numerous rings gleamed slightly underneath the lights and it was easy to recognise the one that Natasha had given her for her birthday. It was, according to Natasha, a simple gift. The ring rested on Wanda's fourth finger on her right hand and was there every day. It was round with thick interlocking loops – inscribed with a language that Steve suspected was Sokovian – that made a large triangle resting in the middle. Steve recognised it vaguely as a Celtic eternity symbol – while it was wasn't something he had seen often as his parents been more Gaelic in their heritage, he did recognise it from a bracelet that his mother used to wear, a gift she had been given before moving to Brooklyn.

Between the loops were three birthstones. One for Wanda's mother, a second for her father and then the third used to represent Pietro and Wanda herself. In the middle, within the smallest circle, was an intricate silver carving of a tree; a consistent reminder to Wanda that her family had left their roots in her and there was still a chance for her to flourish.

Noticing his observations, Wanda smiled and glanced proudly at her ring. Natasha may have made it seem like it was no big deal, but Wanda had been truly touched by her gift. It had been one of the few things that had made her feel accepted by the team in her greatest moments of doubt. Locking eyes with Steve, Wanda smiled.

An almost dismayed beeping sounded from above them and in unison everyone looked up towards the ceiling.

"What it is, Friday?" Tony asked, concern evident in his voice.

Friday seemed almost hesitant in her reply. "I found some footage, boss. But I've got to warn you; it isn't for the faint hearted."