Rated T: Descriptions of injuries and occasional language.
Again. For the third night in a row, that piercing shriek echoed through the circular cell block as it ricocheted off each wall over, and over, and over again. It didn't even have time to fade until another scream filled its place, the whole prison shaking like a violent earthquake.
Followed by another.
And another.
Each howl was accompanied by a shout from Sam, distress from Scott, and a plea from Clint who was nearly in tears each night this had happened. All three of the mens' hearts were slowly getting ripped to shreds every time they heard Wanda's cries of pain.
And not one of them could do a damn thing to stop it.
With all of Clint's might, he rammed his hands against the bars of his cell. He ignored the blood dripping from the knuckles he beat raw and the ring that echoed amidst the wails like a sick harmony. "Wanda!" Clint's cracking voice accompanied the ensemble with all the strength he could muster. He had to be strong, he couldn't break. Not yet. He had to make sure she was alright.
And just like the previous nights, the gut-wrenching song came to its caesura. Everything stopped, including the vibrations in the floor. Within a split second the prison became eerily still and everyone waited for someone else to break the silence. This was the worst part of the night because it was filled with the most uncertainty. It seemed to last forever.
When the silence continued for a second longer than it had on previous occasions, Clint instantly started hyperfocusing on any sound he could.
There was nothing. Not even the heavy pants from Wanda trying to catch her breath after each episode finished.
Shit.
"Wanda!" Clint instantly broke the silence the moment he realized something was off. Screaming across the prison block, he continued to hunt for an answer. "Wanda! Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
No response. To make matters worse, the silence returned tenfold once his shouts dissipated from the air.
Something was horribly wrong. He just knew it.
The night guard the prisoners had come to know as Bennett Gleason caught on to the unease and walked over to Wanda's cell. Clint did his best to lean into the bars. He saw the old man knock on the cell door three times.
"Hey, kid?" He saw the man look into the cell that contained Wanda, but Clint couldn't see a dang thing past that. From his angle, he could never see anything in Wanda's cell. "Kid?" He repeated as if she didn't hear him the first time. "Are you alright?"
Waiting for a response seemed to drag on for an eternity, each moment agonizing without any clue as to what was going on. The only answer he had was through the facial expressions of Gleason.
The guard's eyes widened and his face instantly drained of all color. Sheer panic flew onto his demeanor as a shaky hand reached for his earpiece. "Send a medic to block 3, level 8 immediately! We need a doctor on site now! This is a code blue medical emergency in cell 4!"
This was one of the very few times in Clint's life where he froze in place. He could feel all the blood drain from his face while his head simultaneously spun and stopped processing all together. All he could do was listen as his hands gripped onto the metal bars like a lifeline, unable to pry himself out of this position.
"Bennett, what is going on here? What's wrong with Wanda?" Sam said but to Clint, it sounded like he was underwater. Words were suddenly muffled, harder to hear. Even so, the worry planted in his voice was evident. That alone was a bad sign.
Gleason looked Sam dead in the eyes, the fear just as strong in his voice as his appearance. "Wanda is unresponsive..."
Clint didn't hear that. He couldn't hear it. The words floated through one ear and out the other.
"What?" Scott blurted out but the rest of the conversation went unknown to Clint. As far as the archer knew, he was drowning and he couldn't hear anything else because he was focused on swimming back to the surface.
"Unresponsive how? Is she breathing?" Sam had frantically continued.
"I... I don't know," the guard answered honestly as he looked back into the cell.
This was a nightmare. Clint had to wake himself up. This was a medical emergency? That couldn't be right. This felt too unreal. He needed to wake up.
"You don't know!? Go in there and check for heaven's sake!"
Bennett violently shook his head in response to Scott's proposal. "I'm sorry, but I can't. There are strict protocols we have to follow and the only ones allowed in these cells are the medics during a code blue."
Scott was about to retort back when speaking of the devil, a medic burst through the heavily guarded doors, running like there was no tomorrow with a bag in his hand. The doctor, who clearly had just jumped out of bed based on the disastrous shape of his thinning hair and plaid pajama pants, without hesitation started taking charge like he owned the place. "Lockdown this corridor immediately! And for God's sake, let me into that cell!"
His booming voice had enough power to pull Atlantis from the deep and luckily, it was enough to pull Clint to the surface with it. He focused on the slightly Scottish accent that was clear in the doctor's disheveled state as he ordered guards around the block. It was an insufferable minute as everyone waited for the floor to be properly secured. The doctor's foot vigorously tapped the floor in front of the cell and the instant Gleason got word it was safe to open the door, the man darted out of sight the moment it was unlocked.
Clint could feel the blood on his knuckles slowly dripping down his hands as his grip on the bars increased by the second. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Wanda's cell. He felt like he was unsuccessfully trying to use x-ray vision through the walls. He was desperate to get something to latch onto. Anything.
He could only hear a slight murmur from the medic's low grumble. He couldn't make out any words as his eyes remained fixed in a single spot on the bars of her prison. It was only a split second later that Clint swore he saw the pulse of a red glow as a loud thud followed in suite.
"Bloody hell Wanda!" He heard the doctor swear as something had clearly happened. There were more words that Clint couldn't make out, and not long after, another thud and red pulse wave.
"Fuck!" He swore more violently before Clint finally saw the doctor reemerge near the door. Chatting briefly with the guard, he was let out of the cell after what Clint could only imagine was a futile appointment.
Gleason looked just as confused as the prisoners when the doctor ran a hand through his short hair while he walked to the center of the block. Once he had a good vantage point, he quickly eyed the confined adults up and down as if trying to decipher a code.
Wasting no more time, he spoke, "Which one of you is closest to Wanda?"
"Excuse me?" Sam asked without skipping a beat, confused to all hell. "What's going on? Is Wanda okay?"
The doctor didn't have time for more questions, so he completely ignored Sam's. "Which one of you does Wanda trust the most?" He carefully reworded his previous statement, as if the different iteration of the phrase would clear up all their confusion.
Before anyone else could answer, Clint was able to snap out of his slurry of thoughts to respond. "Me. Wanda trusts me the most."
No one needed to correct the archer because they all knew it was true, she was the closest to Clint after spending so much time with him and his family. The medic looked over at the other two, as if to get their take on the accuracy of the statement. When he seemed satisfied, he walked over to the man's cell and stared him dead in the face as if to judge the character of the man behind the bars.
"Are you Clint?"
With an eyebrow raised, the archer only nodded. That seemed to be more than enough to convince him this was the right person to talk to. Clint had no clue as to why, but he didn't bother questioning this strange man when there were bigger issues at hand.
"Unlock this man's cell," the medic said while dropping his eyes. He was glancing down at the bloodied hands on the bars.
Bennett looked stunned for a second before responding, "Pardon?"
The doctor rubbed his forehead and repeated himself. "Unlock this door. Come on, I'm not strolling through the Highlands! Wanda needs medical attention."
Clint stiffened at the doctor's statement, and Gleason seemed to do the same. With a rod straight posture, the guard's face instantly hardened. "I'm sorry Doctor MacLellan, I don't know why you need to open up Clint's cell, but I can't let you do that. The proper protocols state that..."
The man, now known as MacLellan, spun around to face the guard. Hand in the air, he instantly stopped him in his tracks. "State that in a medical emergency, I have authority. Under this authority, I need this cell opened."
The archer could still see that Bennett was just as confused as ever, but he stood his ground. "Sir, I fail to see your reasoning behind this. Even with your authority, I can not open that door without a good reason."
MacLellan seemed to mentally facepalm as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am playing on a theory here, there will be no 'good' reason for opening that door. All I know is that I can't even get close enough to that girl to check her vitals. The instant I try, she throws me around the room! She's hurting herself more and could die if she needs medical attention. If I can't get close enough to give it, then maybe someone she trusts can."
Once the doctor finished explaining his irritated reasoning, he turned back to face Clint. "And I will trust that you will not do anything stupid while I let you assist, as I'm sure you want to help Wanda get out of this situation too."
As they had a mini stare down, Clint knew that his face was easily readable. As much as he would love to escape and take advantage of this opportunity, taking care of Wanda came first. It always did, a promise or not.
"I will take full responsibility for this man, please," the doctor said and motioned the guard over to open the door. Clint could tell that Gleason didn't want Wanda to potentially die on his watch based on how pale his face had turned during the explanation, but he was still hesitant. He could be putting the prison guards at risk if he opened Clint's cell. Watching the man's internal battle, Clint saw him realize that the risk of death was greater in the kid, so he unlocked the door after telling Clint to put his hands up on the far wall. Once the doctor was let in, he did a very brief pat down while the guard swiftly cuffed the bloody hands behind his back.
Leading him into the block, Clint was suddenly wedged between two other prison guards with very tight grips on his upper arms. Being pushed towards the cell across the way, he was able to steal a glance at Sam and Scott. They were both against the bars, looking just as badly as he probably did with unhealed bruises and injuries from lack of proper care after the airport. Matching their scars were the looks of worry on their faces, and as Clint neared Wanda's cell, he quickly realized how real this situation was. He didn't know what state he was going to find Wanda in, but he knew it wouldn't be good. He couldn't stop a shaky breath from escaping his lips as each step took them closer to the teen's cell.
He almost felt his body start to sway as time slowed all around him. Clint suddenly got the overwhelming feeling that he wasn't in his own body anymore, that this wasn't reality around him and he was instead a part of some horror movie. He was a minor character about to get their brief moment of screen time by finding the most recent victim in the film. Taking another step closer, the inside of the cell slowly seemed to peel back from the wall that normally blocked his vision. The world around him seemed to blur together except for his direct line of sight.
As one more step was taken, he was able to see a single corner of the metal bed Wanda was likely laying in.
And Clint panicked.
On impulse, he squeezed his eyes shut after he felt the bubbling brook in his chest flowing over. He was tugged back into his own body because his world sped back to normal from that adrenaline.
He could tell they were in front of the door without opening his eyes because he heard the metallic shuffle of the guards overriding the locking mechanisms. He needed to get a grip on himself. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew that he was truly afraid. Afraid of what he would see through the bars of that cell. Afraid to see how badly this prison had affected Wanda.
The archer immediately pushed that fear aside. He couldn't worry about that now, he had to help her. This doctor had given him the chance to do something, so he was going to hell if he broke down in an anxiety attack now. He never recommended burying the impending feelings of an anxiety attack, but this was a special case. He was going to stay strong and focus on helping Wanda. That was his distraction.
Taking in another long breath, he opened his eyes when he exhaled. That was the first time he had seen Wanda in days.
And it was not a pretty sight. He had fortunately already put on his strongest Shield façade and took in all the details he could. She laid motionless on the cot, straight jacket and shock collar restraining the young girl as she laid on her side, eyes looking absently at the far wall of her cell. If he hadn't instinctively looked to see if she was breathing, he would have honestly thought she was dead with her sickly pale skin and vegetative state.
But she was breathing. It was rapid and shallow, but it was there.
As the last lock clicked open, the medic was let into the cell once again. He turned back to the two guards restraining Clint and they seemed to have a silent argument with each other. Clint could tell they didn't approve of this situation but since the doctor had full authority, they had no choice but to follow his orders. Finally, the two guards released Clint by pushing him into the cell and locking the door without missing a beat.
With his hands still cuffed behind his back, he stumbled into the room but managed to keep himself upright with MacLellan's assistance. Looking at Wanda in the metal framed bed, she didn't look any better from their new position near the wall she was blankly staring at. In fact, she looked even worse because Clint couldn't see any emotions or reactions behind her eyes. It was eerily similar to the way Pietro's eyes were frozen in time the moment Clint saw his soul leave his body...
But he couldn't think about that. The doctor had mentioned the possibility of the worst case scenario and his brain was already trying to spiral into it. He had to knock that option out of his mind because he was going to get Wanda back to him. He had to.
Keeping his eyes focused on the teen in hopes that he would find any sign of movement, Clint asked MacLellan through a flat breath, "What do you know so far?"
"Not much," the man responded as he ran a hand back through his thinning hair. "Before Wanda came to us, we have never had to provide medical care to a patient with this type of… Skill set. We don't know where the line is drawn between what her powers control and what is medically an issue. All we can do is guess and do what we know."
"What's your theory then?" Clint asked in hopes that he would have at least a vague idea of what may be happening.
He let out a deep breath. "Based on what I can observe, whatever is happening appears to have similar elements to a full body paralysis. She is not able to move her body, but based on her reactions whenever I've tried to get near her, she is clearly still conscious." Joining Clint in turning towards the kid, he wished he had any facts to go off of. All he could do was guess until he could run some tests.
The doctor held back a sigh when he continued. "To what degree of consciousness, that's unknown, but there is a chance she is fully aware of what is happening around her. She may even be able to hear what we are saying right now. In theory."
"In theory…" Clint repeated back like a parrot. Finding no changes in Wanda's situation, the archer looked down at the slightly shorter doctor. "How can I help? In theory."
MacLellan met Clint's glance. "She trusts you," he replied with absolute certainty, which the archer found odd coming from a stranger he had never met, "Help her trust me."
Not knowing anything about this man, it felt unnatural to try and convince Wanda to trust him. He wasn't even sure he trusted him. However, two things were certain. One: Wanda needed help and two: this doctor was willing to give it. If there was even a chance that he was going to help her, Clint wasn't about to give that up.
So the former Avenger squatted down to the teen's eye level. He didn't know if Wanda could hear him, but he was going to be damned if he didn't try talking her through this. He needed to try.
He forced a gentle smile onto his face even though he hated looking into those unresponsive eyes. "You know, this guy can't be all bad," Clint began, trying to convince himself as much as the kid that the doctor was telling the truth. Taking a long moment to think about his next response, he spoke as if he and Wanda were the only ones in the room. "I mean, he did let me come see you."
No response to his words. Not even a blink. This was going to be more difficult than he wanted to admit. Talking to someone without any reactions to follow was incredibly unnerving. Without the use of his hearing aids, he had learned how to read facial and body expressions to convey what words couldn't. Not having any, the memory of Pietro continued to prod its way into the forefront of his brain. It was too easy to see the similarities in Pietro's motionless body to his sister's right now.
Once again, he tried to force the persistent memory out of his mind. He had to think of something else. He couldn't afford to think of the worst case scenario right now, Wanda needed him to stay focused.
It wasn't much better, but he thought about Natasha after a particularly rough mission in Helsinki when she was recovering in the ICU. It was one of the few times she had managed to sustain enough injuries to land her there. It was easier to think of his best friend in the ICU as opposed to thinking about Pietro. At least then, they would make a full recovery.
Just like he did in Helsinki, he let out a shaky breath when he decided to start his own one-sided conversation. "I know you've heard what the doc and I were discussing," he continued even though there was no way they knew for sure, "And it's understandable if you are scared. Heck, I would be too, but we need to let him help. He needs to take your vitals, we need to see if we can help you."
He paused as he tried to think of what to say next. He was never very good at one-sided conversations even when he rambled aimlessly to Natasha while she was under sedatives. So instead of staying serious, he decided to try lightening the mood. "I guess I am one to talk, huh? Do you know how many times Natasha has had to slap me upside the head because I was too stubborn to let someone help? It was at least twice," he gave more of a smirk than a smile. "Oh, alright. It was at least 27 times, but who's keeping count?"
Maybe joking around was the way to ease the kid's tension. At least it was easing his own. "Now, I know you have at least one time under your belt where we had to slap your stubborn head. Remember that?"
No response. Clint tried to ignore it but it was impossible not to. He continued to push through the story to distract himself. "Shortly after you began training with Sam, Rhodey, and Vision, you started to get antsy. You wouldn't tell anyone what was wrong, so Steve had to send you to my house for an extended weekend so you could take a breather. You were too stubborn to let any of your teammates help so when you came over and sat on the tire swing under the large oak tree, I had to lightly tap that noggin of yours."
He tapped his own head while saying that last part. He remembered the memory like it was yesterday. She hadn't said much that day, but it was the first time she acknowledged that she needed to start processing her brother's death.
"You were willing to let me help and I've always been proud of you for doing that," He said vaguely because he didn't want to outright discuss her brother, "And I'll be just as proud of you now because lord knows, it is hard to accept assistance sometimes."
Successfully easing his way into a rant, he tried as hard as he could to make Wanda realize that she would need to accept help from this man. He did whatever he could to convince her that he was only there to help, not harm, but it was impossible to tell if she was willing to believe it.
Eventually feeling his calves start to burn from the squat he had been holding, he decided to finally let his knees rest on the ground. "Do you mind if I scoot closer to you, Wanda? My old man's legs are killing me, I need to sit down properly."
Clearly stating his intentions, he slowly inched forwards on his knees. He kept a close eye on Wanda in case he noticed any sudden changes that could indicate her powers acting up. Thankfully, he didn't see anything take a turn for the worse and he was able to make it a foot away from her bedside before sitting cross legged on the floor. "Ah, now that's much better."
"Hey Wanda," Doctor MacLellan said, making Clint face the man. "If it is okay, I'm also going to scoot closer to you. I'm just going to slowly ease my way over, no need to be worried."
Clint looked back at Wanda, now closely watching the teen to see if his movements would trigger any sort of response. The doctor barely made it 6 inches before he stopped dead in his tracks from the archer gently saying, "Stop," as if any loud words would trigger a panic.
"What's wrong?" The doctor asked while frozen in his squat. He followed Clint and didn't dare speak above a whisper.
It was barely noticeable, but Clint managed to catch it. "Her eyelids twitched."
Understanding the reason for the sudden stop, he relaxed in his position a safe distance away from the kid. "Are you sure?"
Clint nodded. It was hard to miss when she had been stiff as a brick this whole time. Any movement was clearly visible, and as if on cue, her eyelids twitched again. This time, they seemed to move a little more than the first.
Fully aware that this twitching could mean anything, the doctor didn't want to take any chances in case she was panicking inside her frozen body. "Actually, this is a good sign Wanda," he responded once he had witnessed the movement for himself. "If you are getting any movement back, this paralysis may only be temporary."
Giving a first genuine smile of the night, Clint looked at the kid. "I'd agree with him, this is a good sign." Glancing at the doctor, being careful not to take his eyes away from the kid for too long, he asked, "Is there any way I can help her out?"
"Direct her," He nodded as he kneeled more comfortably by sitting on the heels of his feet. "If you can direct her focus on one movement at a time, it could help. It may be more psychological than physical based on the nature of her powers. Theoretically."
Clint nodded as he thought the theory was probable. She had so many psionic powers, maybe they were backfiring. "Well, we will start slow then," he said to Wanda, who's eyelids twitched yet again. "You have some mobility in your eyelids, so you're already making progress. Can you move them again?"
After his request, he waited and looked for a sign. Any sign. It was only a few seconds, but eventually he did see her eyelids partially close. This time was a little more than the last. It could have been a visceral reaction naturally coming back to her since there was a delay, but Clint quickly pushed himself towards believing Wanda was improving. He needed to believe the latter.
"Hey! Good job kid. Soon enough you'll be able to give those dry eyes a break. Let's see if you can blink, you're almost there already."
Over the next few minutes, the archer did his best to keep Wanda focused on that singular task amidst keeping her spirits up. He didn't know if he was actually helping or if he was just talking to himself, but the progress was clear. She was finally able to blink on cue too many times to be a coincidence.
Her lazy eyes even started drifting around the room. It was a slow response, but Wanda was able to look into Clint's own eyes instead of the blank wall behind him. When their eyes locked, he was finally able to see some emotion float back into her features.
A bright smile crept onto Clint's face for the first time since being locked in this prison. "There you are! I knew you were in there," he spoke softly.
Her eyes meandered as if she was not in full control, but they never fully broke their shared gaze. Now that Clint held her attention, he felt that it was safe for the doctor to try moving again. Clint nodded to the man who had grown increasingly on edge.
As MacLellan began moving towards Wanda again, Clint saw her eyes wander to the medic. "Hold up, Doc!" Clint immediately made the man stop in his tracks for the second time.
Fortunately, Clint managed to catch the blink of panic before any damage could be done. Responding on impulse, Clint scooted over to where Wanda stared at the doctor. He blocked her line of vision and saw her chest rise and fall faster with each shallow breath. "Wanda, it's going to be okay," the archer responded in the most soothing voice he could muster. "The medic is only here to make sure you can get through this. He wants to help you just as much as I do," he carefully explained the situation to her again, well aware that she had likely heard everything they discussed earlier.
Trying to think of a way to convince her she would be safe and calm, he went out on a limb. "Can you do something for me?" He paused as if receiving an answer from the girl, "Just keep your focus on me. Can you do that? Don't worry about Dr. MacLellan, let me worry about him," he said before giving her a small smirk. Quieting his voice as if telling her a secret, he continued, "They don't call me Hawkeye for nothing, you know. I'm keeping a close watch. If he even tries anything, you know I'll give him hell."
Not seeing Wanda's condition change, he thought about what else he could say to ease her worries. He eventually thought back to the night when he left his family to go help Wanda break out of the Avengers compound.
Looking her straight in her eyes with an unwavering gaze, it was as strong as the many times he had embraced her in a hug. "I made a promise before joining Cap. I won't let anything happen to you under my watch. We'll get you out of this, you'll see."
That last part wasn't just referring to her current situation, but this prison too. He was going to get her out of here, he was going to get all of them out of here. It was only a matter of time until he thought of a foolproof escape plan.
Once he saw Wanda blink again, he knew he was successful in his convincing. He had stopped her from panicking and that was enough. The emotions in her eyes clearly showed that she was still afraid but she also understood. She needed the doctor's help, and she was finally going to let him.
Clint kept his eyes on Wanda as if he was transferring his own strength to her. "Okay Doc, go ahead."
MacLellan didn't hesitate once he got confirmation. At this point he had waited long enough and was willing to take his chances when he moved towards her faster than he had previously.
He may have been moving like he had a schedule to keep, but Clint noted how he gently placed his bag on the floor and spoke evenly to the terrified girl. "I am going to get this straight jacket off of you, Wanda. That means I may be a little too close for comfort, but I will only be getting you out of those restraints."
Standing up, the man waited for Clint's approval to make sure he was in the clear. The archer could tell Wanda wasn't pleased with the idea of someone touching her in this state, but he knew she would allow it if it meant getting her out of that damn straight jacket.
Once he got the nod, the doctor immediately got to work unbuckling the straps behind her back. It wasn't long before the arms around her chest were loosened for the first time in days. Once all of the snug straps were pulled through their respective buckles, the back of the jacket fully opened up. Clint tried to ignore how limp Wanda's left arm looked as the doctor moved it out of the sleeve. Thankfully, he was able to distract himself from the sight when the doc asked for help.
Reaching into an inner pocket of his white doctor's coat, he brought out the keys to Clint's cuffs. He hadn't even seen the guards hand them over. "I'm going to cuff your hands in front of you so you can help me support Wanda's spine. We need to turn her onto her back."
He ignored the doctor's silent stare that said, 'don't even dare test me,' because Clint easily let the doctor switch his cuffs without issue. For maybe the first time in his life, he wasn't even tempted to swipe the keys afterwards when he placed them in the bottom of his medical bag.
Since Wanda was laying on her side, Clint supported her neck as MacLellan supported her spine and legs to carefully flip her onto her back. He was able to easily slide off the straight jacket from her other arm and carelessly toss it to the ground.
Now that Wanda was laying flat on her bed, she seemed to look a little more uneasy. It wasn't hard to guess that it was because she now faced the ceiling and couldn't see the medic as well. Sensing the unrest, Clint sat on the edge of the bed close to her head so she could at least see his own face clearly. That way, she could see him keep his word that he would be watching the doctor.
While MacLellan focused on his work, Clint detailed the man's movements just so there wouldn't be any surprises. Wrapping the inflatable cuff of the sphygmometer around her upper arm, the archer could tell that she was getting a little more movement back as she desperately tried to watch the doctor nearby. Where there was a delay previously, the movements of her eyes began to flow with a more natural rhythm.
Clint placed one of his cuffed hands on her shoulder. "What did I say earlier? Let me watch him, your job is to focus on getting better," he comforted her. He could tell she was struggling to pass off the task to him, but when she hesitantly looked back into the archer's eyes, he smiled. "There you go, you're already making improvements. You'll be back to normal in no time."
He could swear Wanda was trying to reciprocate the attitude he shared because he saw a couple facial muscles weakly twitch. Gently squeezing her shoulder, Clint spent the next fifteen minutes at her side trying to split his attention between keeping her occupied with small tasks and updating her on what the doctor was doing. He was sure to give her detailed explanations of everything he saw, from MacLellan checking to see if she had any reflexes to making notes on his digital notepad. There were always moments where Wanda would slip back into watching the medic, but Clint did his best to lightly push her back into the opposite direction. He was happy to see that she was at least making an effort to let him take some of the pressures off her shoulders.
Taking a glance at the man who rummaged through his bag of equipment, Clint told the kid when he saw a handheld medical scanner emerge. The former Avenger had never seen anything quite like it, yet it still seemed to have a hint of familiarity. He couldn't help but ask, "What's that for?"
"This?" MacLellan lightly lifted the device in his hand as he turned it on. "This is a prototype neuro-scanner from Stark Industries."
Now Clint understood why it was so familiar, it had Tony Stark's signature designs plastered all over it.
"We recently got a shipment of donated Stark medical technology, some being prototypes that still need more testing," the man continued to explain. "Either way, we've found multiple uses for the technology in the short time it has been here with us. These handheld devices are great for doing medical checks without having to let the prisoners leave their cells."
Observing the doctor as he messed with the settings on the scanner, Clint paused before asking a question nagging the back of his brain. "When did you get this shipment?"
Taking a second to process the question since his attention was mostly on the task in hand, MacLellan eventually responded with, "About about a week or two… Actually, shortly after you guys arrived here."
MacLellan didn't think anything of the answer, but Clint certainly did. Stark sending over equipment could mean one of two things: One, he knew the team had a habit of escaping situations and wanted to minimize the time spent outside of their cells to keep them here; and two, this was his way of making sure they were taken care of.
Clint chose to believe in the latter. He wanted to believe that Tony still considered the imprisoned team members his friends.
Once the device seemed to be sufficient for the medic, he grabbed something from his bag and moved closer to where Clint sat. "Wanda," he said to catch the teen's attention before holding some rectangular patches into her line of vision. "I will be placing these little devices onto your temples and they will record the neural activity in that brain of yours. They won't be 100% accurate, but this will help us get a general picture of how your brain is currently reacting."
Clint had been closely watching Wanda as the man explained the process. By the way Wanda looked back at him with the edges of her mouth twitching, he could sense that she was unsure about this new procedure. Placing his hand back on Wanda's shoulder, he decided to ask a much needed question.
"Is it going to hurt?"
It was an instant response. "Naw, you won't even know they're there."
He knew that was going to help ease the kid's nerves but as the doctor placed the patches, he decided to make MacLellan's life easier. He needed to distract her, and Clint knew exactly how.
"You know what I just remembered," He smirked while occasionally glancing at the doctor who was carefully watching the scanner. "I'm expecting an update on the deer when we get out of here."
The edges of Wanda's lips curled up into a very slight smile. An actual smile. The last time he saw her smile that brightly was on their way to pick up Scott Lang. Their car conversation had felt so long ago, such a distant memory, and now that her smile was in front of him again… It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.
His own eyes lit up to mirror hers. "Ivy and Bucky are doing a great job at raising their little Ash. The fawn has certainly grown from the last time you saw him, Ash is almost the same size as Bucky now. They grow up fast."
For the first time, Clint didn't feel like he was doing a poor job at keeping a one-sided conversation going. For the first time, the words naturally flowed through him. "When was the last time you had seen the deer family? It must have been a while ago…" He put an exaggerated expression on his face, one of contemplation as he hoped to keep the mood light. He could see Wanda increasingly gain more movement in her mouth. She was able to part her lips and move them around even if no words escaped. It was as if she was improving because she wanted to partake in the conversation.
Until she could, Clint decided to continue responding for her. As he tried to think of an answer to his own question, a wide grin spread across his face when he remembered one of his favorite deer visits. "Well, maybe you can remember your last visit better than I can, but the last occasion I recall was when we visited the family shortly after the fawn was born."
For the first time that night, Clint didn't have his focus on Wanda or the doctor. He didn't analyze each of the girl's movements in hopes to see improvement, and he didn't narrow his eyes at MacLellan to make sure he was staying on task. Instead, he stared at the wall with a grin plastered on his face.
"The summer air was crisp," he reminisced aloud. "There was a light crunch of leaves under our feet as we made our way to the den. I've always loved the sound of old leaves. It's like background music to the conversation we had while watching the deer under that fallen tree."
He could never forget the conversation they had that day because it was a topic always in the back of his mind. It was about being an Avenger and how Clint was able to be one while having a family. At that point in time, Wanda didn't know if she even wanted to follow in the Avenger's footsteps, she didn't want to risk losing everyone she loved or having them lose her. The consequences of the job were what terrified her. Consequences that seemed to be fitting for their current situation.
Clint focused on a different part of that day for Wanda's sake. "I really appreciated the pictures you took of the deer, I am probably the farthest thing from a photographer as one can be," He chuckled before flashing a smirk. "And if I remember correctly, you caught me off guard when you suddenly decided to take a selfie of us. You didn't even wait for me to pose."
The photo was engraved not just in his heart, but also in his mind. Wanda was holding the camera in front of her, a devious but relieved grin on her face after the discussion she and Clint had in the forest. He, on the other hand, did not know she was going to trick him by turning the camera around. Anyone could clearly see the surprise behind the smile Clint quickly scrounged up.
"As a matter of fact, both the photo of the deer and the selfie were so great that I printed them out and displayed them on my desk at home," he responded as that was why he had the image memorized so well. He was always staring at it among his sea of loved ones.
"W-Where's… Mine?" A broken voice mumbled.
Clint whipped his head around to face Wanda. He didn't know if his ears deceived him, so he looked at the doctor. The shock was also clear on MacLellan's face as they shared the same thought. They had both heard it and in unison, their gaping jaws turned into grins.
"Well it's about time you had some input in this conversation, I feel like I've been talking to myself for the past ten minutes," Clint joked to swiftly push any remaining astonishment aside. This was the biggest improvement all night, so he continued to keep the lighthearted atmosphere in hopes that it played a part. "I didn't even know you liked me that much to want a copy of those photos. Or maybe you just wanted the photo of the deer…"
He could see Wanda attempt to shake her head a singular time. The movement was tiny, but it was there. "Both," she simply confirmed.
The edge of Clint's smile curled further upwards. "Then I will have to send them to you. Once we get out of here, that'll be the first thing on my to-do list."
Before they could bask in the triumph of the moment, Clint heard a beep followed by a mutter nearby. Both Wanda and the archer followed the source: MacLellan.
"What's up Doc?" Clint asked, trying not to let any of his concern show. He never liked vague mumbles, they made him nervous.
"Well," He responded without looking up from the screen he was reading. "The results are inconclusive until I can get some actual tests done, but…" He drifted while trying to decipher the information in front of him.
"But?" Clint repeated, trying to speed along his analysis.
"But…" He repeated involuntarily. "Since the shock collar had been going off so much these past few days…" He paused his train of thought while referring back to the past few nights where he had to interrupt his sleep schedule to check on Wanda after each of the shocks.
That couple second pause was enough to make the archer antsy. Fortunately, the man continued his thought process without being provoked. "I suspect that the collar may be a heavy influence on your current situation, Wanda."
"What do you mean?" Clint asked before Wanda could give a response. He had gotten used to answering for her at this point.
The doctor rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose for just a second because he knew this night would continue to drag on. "Well, that shock collar is designed to increase the intensity of the shock and/or length of time once it reaches a certain level. If it had been going off so often, that shock intensity has likely increased to… Less than ideal safety levels. This much exposure is bound to have an… Unfavorable effect on the human body, to say the least."
"So this thing has grown to be dangerous?" The archer raised his voice but tried his hardest to stay in control of his growing anger. "Who's bright idea was this?"
"Secretary Ross," The doctor replied with a similar distaste for the man as Clint seemed to respond with. "But unfortunately under his very strict orders, this collar can not be messed with. Even by me, unless given clear permission by the man himself. He has jurisdiction over this particular facet, even if it is endangering someone's health. I, personally, think it is a diddy's idea to leave health in the hands of a politician instead of a doctor…" He spat that last bit with sass under his breath. It was clear that MacLellan and Ross had not seen eye to eye on multiple occasions.
Before he could give in to the aggravation from this new information, Clint directed his focus back down to the kid laying beside him. "So what can we do? Is she suffering from paralysis because of this collar?"
MacLellan decided to answer the most recent question the man threw at him first. "I can't know for certain if it is the cause yet, but it is certainly not helping. Imagine being shot with a taser, that's what this collar is essentially doing. It causes localized pain and makes all the muscles in your body tense up with involuntary muscle contractions. It makes the wearer unable to move while activated. The paralysis Wanda is going through has similar elements to those muscle contractions, almost as if the effects are lasting longer than the activated timeframe. The reason behind that is unknown, but it may be because of the unique powers she possesses," He said while nodding in her direction and making sure she was also hearing the conversation that concerned her. "About what we can do in this situation, I will need an emergency meeting with Ross to see if he will at least give permission for the engineers to fix the collar under my medical jurisdiction. The collar will likely stay put because he was very persistent about that fact when proposing it, but we can at least make it safer."
Clint nodded. It was better than nothing so he was going to willingly accept it. He was glad this doctor was actually looking out for Wanda's best interests, medical wise. He honestly never expected it in this prison, especially when he remembered his personal experience with another doctor who gave him a health check after the airport battle.
MacLellan finally turned to fully address the girl, making sure he was in her line of sight. "I'm going to call for more hands and we will take you down to the medical ward to get you an EEG and run more tests. I'll have the neurologists explain the processes to you in case you haven't had those tests before. Are you ok with that, Wanda?"
She replied hesitantly with a single word, "Y-yes."
"And you walloper," MacLellan suddenly turned to Clint, pointing at him, "I'll personally be back in this cell block later to deal with... That." His pointer finger wiggled down towards his hands. That was when Clint realized he had completely ignored the fact that his knuckles were still caked in dry blood from his constant pounding earlier that night.
He seemed to give the prisoner a glare, as if to say that he was a dumbass for destroying his own knuckles. The archer could neither confirm nor deny that accusation, but he didn't seem to know what to make of the interaction with this doctor. He ended up just nodding, accepting the fact that he would see the man later.
Standing up, MacLellan pulled out a device that looked similar to a pager and contacted a team. It didn't take long for two other medics to enter the room with a gurney. Clint stood out of their way as they placed Wanda on the wheeled medical bed and in prison fashion, fastened her in place with full body restraints even if they knew she wouldn't be going anywhere.
Walking out of the prison cell, Clint in tow with a hand on top of her open palm, he whispered so Wanda would be the only one who heard him. "You'll be okay, Wanda. You're in good hands. I'll still be looking out for you, even if I'm not physically there."
He could have sworn he felt her weakly squeeze his hand back before two guards grabbed his arms and pushed him back into his own cell. The whole time, the two kept eye contact while the guards made sure Clint was secure once again.
He gave a singular nod to Wanda as she disappeared behind closed doors. There was no doubt in his mind that she was still scared as hell, but at least she knew that Clint would be with her as much as physically possible. She was his daughter after all, and he would go to the ends of the earth to protect her.
I always felt like Wanda's powers were so vague and all over the place (Especially during this time period in the MCU). She could alter people's thoughts, she could levitate, she could punch someone through a whole building, she could read minds, etc. But all of her powers stem from her own mind so I got to thinking… Our brains do so many unconscious things and react in ways we can't always control. What if her powers reacted with her? She's bound to have negative effects that can stem from her own abilities, so why don't we go and explore my own theories of what her powers can do? Seems like fun to me!;)
Diddy - Spineless idiot; Walloper - Idiot
A/N: Man, if you could read the first version of this chapter from 5 years ago…. But I won't let you:P It's personally awesome to see how far I have come. I had the idea for this chapter all those years ago but it took time, practice, research, and active learning before I could finally execute it. If I had published these civil war era chapters immediately after thinking of these ideas, I would have looked back at this story and not have been proud of how it was written. Now, I can confidently say I will look back at this in a few years and be proud of this work. I would obviously catch flaws here and there and would have worded things differently based on my future preferences, but I will still be able to read this and think, "damn, this was good and I had so much fun reading this." That is what writing is all about for me. Learning, improving, writing, rereading, and having fun in all of those stages.
Also, if this insanely long chapter wasn't enough, it got so long that I broke it into two. The next chapter will be the continuation of my improvement:)
