Chapter 6
I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending
-"Exile" by Taylor Swift
Warnings for ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, references to torture, harm to children, slight gore
Wanda was dreading nightfall.
Steve and James had spent most of the afternoon and evening just hanging out in her room. As the sun dipped down below the horizon, Steve tried to convince her to come out of her room and see parts of the Wakandan palace, but the thought of seeing other people, especially people she didn't know, made her heart race uncomfortably. She knew that King T'Challa had helped free them from the Raft, but she didn't especially want to see him. In her mind, he was still a dangerous wild creature with deadly claws. Claws that she had barely managed to stop before they tore out James' throat at the airport. As a child growing up in Sokovia, she had been terrified by stories of the vlky [wolves] that lived in the mountains. Seeing the Black Panther fight had been like seeing her nightmares come to life.
Clint and Sam had come into her room shortly afterwards. Wanda tried to pay attention to the conversations around her, but she kept retreating into her own mind. Eventually, everyone announced they were going to bed and began to trickle out of the room.
"You sure you're ok?" Clint had stopped to ask.
Wanda had already answered that question from Steve and Sam and had to fight the urge to snap at him.
"I'll be fine." She forced as much confidence into her voice as possible.
"If you need anything at all, we're all staying in this wing. Come get any of us, ok?" Clint's voice was so gentle that she almost broke and begged him not to leave.
Instead she just nodded, said goodnight, and shut the door. She pretended not to see James hovering near the door like he was going to say something. If one more person asked if she was ok, she was going to cry like a child who was afraid of the dark.
She stayed there, standing with her back against the door, listening to their footsteps retreating and doors softly closing. In the silence, she felt her hands start trembling. If she closed her eyes, it almost felt like she was back on the Raft. Was it her imagination or was the floor swaying gently as though rocking on ocean waves?
Wanda made her way to the bathroom. She checked on the cut on her leg. It was still there, lightly scabbed over now. She debated running a bath, but without Natasha standing guard in the other room, it felt like making herself far too vulnerable. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and reluctantly returned to her room. She turned off all the lights but one, looked at the comfortable bed and her stomach churned with anxiety.
Why am I breathing so quickly? She tried to take deep breaths like Sam had shown her, but it didn't help much.
Finally she pulled off a single blanket, wrapped it around herself and sat in the corner of the room, her back against the wall. She could see the door easily, but would have the advantage of being hidden in the shadows if someone came in. The blanket around her shoulders suddenly felt suffocating and restrictive. It felt like the straight jacket. Wanda ripped it off and threw it across the room where it landed in a pile by the door. She shivered. It was getting cool in the room now that the sun had set, but the thought of putting the blanket back around herself made her feel sick to her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself and rested her head on her knees.
I hate this. She thought miserably.
She wanted to lay in the nice comfy bed and close her eyes and rest. She hated that she was in the same position she'd often slept in on the Raft, curled in a corner, fear heavy in her stomach, shivering with dread.
I'm safe. I'm safe. She repeated, trying to convince herself that it was true.
Someone knocked on the door and she couldn't help the whimper of terror that escaped. She clutched her knees to her chest as tightly as she could manage and squeezed her eyes shut. The floor was swaying like the ocean again. The footsteps approaching sounded just like the guards.
"Miss Maximoff?" A voice said.
The electric baton sizzled to life just inches from her face and she tried to brace herself, but when the baton connected with her side, it took her breath away. Every muscle in her body was clenching and spasming with excruciating pain. She tried not to scream. She didn't want Clint, Sam, and Scott to see this. Was she screaming? She couldn't tell.
The entire room was moving now. She couldn't breathe. White light blinded her.
The metal clamps bit into her arms and legs. The man in a white lab coat was approaching with a syringe.
"Please. What is that? What are you doing? Please don't! Please stop!"
The needle bit into her flesh and fire sped through her veins. The room slid sideways-
Icy water poured over her head. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, panicking.
"Dýchajte. Si v bezpečí. Len dýchaj. [Breathe. You are safe. Just breathe.]"
The low voice vibrated against her skin. She was tucked against a warm body and from somewhere above her, cold water rained down. She slowly realized that she was in the shower, in someone's arms. She tilted her head up, squinting through the water. James was looking down at her, water streaming over his head. His long hair was plastered to his forehead and cheeks. It was so cold, but he didn't seem bothered. He was wearing a t-shirt and she was still in her sweatpants and shirt, both of them drenched.
"Dýchajte. [Breathe]" He said again.
His flesh arm was behind her back and his metal arm under her legs. She dropped her head back to where it'd been with her cheek resting against his wet t-shirt. His chest was rising and falling steadily and she closed her eyes and breathed with him. The cold water was grounding, pulling her back, and her body seemed to know, or perhaps remember, that these arms were safe.
Wanda felt him step out from beneath the water. She opened her eyes again as he set her on her feet. They were both standing in the middle of the bathroom, dripping puddles onto the floor.
"Call me crazy, but this doesn't look like 'fine' to me."
Wanda looked up to meet his gaze, her mouth falling slightly open in surprise. His eyes were light and one corner of his mouth was turned up. Was he teasing her?
Someone cleared their throat from the doorway.
Wanda flinched hard and James' arms came back up and around her protectively. They both looked to see a beautiful young woman with dark skin smiling at them.
"I put everything you need on the table, Sergeant Barnes." She said in a soft accented voice. Her warm gaze met Wanda's. "I am sorry to have startled you, Wanda."
"Thank you, Shuri." James said, and she gave him a final smile before disappearing.
Wanda looked back up at James to find him looking down at her. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that he still had his arms around her and she was gripping a fistful of his wet shirt. Water dripped from their clothes onto the floor.
"You ok?" He asked quietly.
Wanda stared at him, still clutching onto his shirt as though it were a lifeline.
"No." She finally whispered.
Those grey blue eyes filled with not pity, but understanding.
"You don't have ta be." She could hear pieces of his Brooklyn accent coming through. "And you don't have ta be alone either."
Wanda forced her numb fingers to release his shirt. His arms remained around her for a few more seconds before he slowly let go. She shivered violently. He grabbed a folded towel that had been sitting on the counter and draped it over her body. His hands moved to pull it tight around her shoulders and panic burst in her head like a firework. She lashed out and knocked the towel to the floor. James retreated a step, his body tense and expression laser focused on her.
"I'm sorry." She gasped. "It's just…the jacket…"
Realization dawned across his face and he relaxed. "Shit. Ok. Here."
He abruptly turned and left the bathroom but reappeared seconds later with a pile of dry clothes in his hands. He set them carefully on the counter.
"Dry clothes. I'll wait out here." He vanished again, closing the door behind him.
Wanda crept over and locked the door before quickly stripping out of her wet clothes and putting on the new dry ones. Her hands shook. She didn't bother drying her hair, ignoring the wet rivulets that ran down her back and shoulders dampening her dry shirt. When she stepped out of the bathroom, James was in dry clothes and toweling off his hair. He paused and watched her.
"Your hair is still wet."
Wanda stopped feeling awkward. "I know. I just-"
James walked over, holding his own towel. "Can I wrap your hair in this towel?" He slowly, so slowly, moved slightly behind her and pulled her dripping hair up off her shirt. His voice was low, just for her to hear. "Is this ok?" He paused, leaning until he could see her face and waited. Wanda had stiffened slightly, but she took a deep breath in her nose and out her mouth like Sam had taught her and nodded.
James gently wrapped his towel around the ends of her hair and squeezed the excess water out, his metal hand whirring softly. "Still ok?" He asked again.
Wanda nodded again, tears prickling in her eyes. It made sense that he would understand the power of having a choice after decades of not having any. He'd been imprisoned for so long. She couldn't even begin to imagine being stuck on the Raft for that long. The mess of complicated emotions she felt towards James were threatening to escape.
"I had two little sisters." He said suddenly. "I remember helping Ma on bath nights. I had to dry their hair and help them brush it and braid it for bed." He let out a sound that was almost a chuckle. "Rebecca used to always say I did it wrong."
His voice was even, but Wanda could feel the sorrow around the edges. It made her desperately want to do something.
"I bet you did do it wrong." The teasing words slipped out before she could process them.
His hands stilled on her hair and she fought the urge to wince. Why had she said that? How callous-
He leaned into her vision again, a truly devilish curl to his lips. "Is that a bet?"
Wanda's heart rate sped up. "Are you afraid you'll lose?"
His eyes sparked and it felt like her stomach flipped over. It was shocking how easy it was to slip into this teasing banter.
"Sit down in front of the chair and don't move." He said mock sternly, slipping out the door with silent feet.
Wanda settled herself on the floor and waited. He was back quickly with a brush and hair ties in hand. Wanda raised her eyebrows, surprised. He smirked again.
"You thought I wouldn't be prepared, didn't you?"
"I'm sorry for doubting you."
"I understand why. Hydra obviously had never heard of a hair tie."
A laugh burst out of Wanda, surprising her. James grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He set to work carefully brushing her hair. He was gentle, working on unsnarling the knots. Occasionally he'd use his non-metal hand to move her hair, and she couldn't help the little thrills that would go through her every time his fingers brushed her face.
When he started braiding, he stopped and swore under his breath in Russian. She tried not to laugh as he undid what he'd done and tried again. On his third attempt, his muscle memory seemed to kick in and he finished off the braid with a flourish.
"Tell me that's not the most beautiful braid you've ever seen." He smiled, all confident and smug.
Wanda rolled her eyes at him, but dutifully went and looked in the mirror. It really wasn't half bad.
She turned to him, adopting a very serious expression. "You did it wrong."
The outrage on his face made her start laughing again. He pretended to glare at her for a moment.
"Alright, alright if you're done being a bully, the reason Shuri came in here in the first place was to re-bandage your neck."
He moved over to the table where Wanda noticed there was a roll of gauze and other medical supplies.
"Do you want her to come back and do it? Or I can get Romanov or Barton…" He hesitated for a breath. "Or I can do it."
Wanda touched the wet bandage around her neck. She'd gotten so used to constant pain around her neck that she'd forgotten it momentarily. She started to respond and say he could do it, but then she hesitated. She was being reckless, flirting with him. What if she dragged him into another flashback and the Soldier came back? She'd felt his surge of guilt when Steve would wince after laughing too hard or absentmindedly touch his bruised and battered face while he talked. James was remarkably good at keeping his emotions tightly controlled. Most of the time she didn't pick up anything from him, at least without actively entering his mind, which was something she would never subject him to if she could help it. She was certain that if those waves of guilt were escaping his control, inwardly he must be drowning in it. They were both lucky she hadn't dragged him in earlier. Her shoulders slumped slightly.
"Could you get Clint?" She asked.
Was that a flash of hurt in his eyes? It was gone too quick for her to tell.
"Of course." He said.
Wanda perched on the chair at the table, feeling miserable as James left the room. This is the responsible thing to do. She told herself sternly. Stop being so selfish.
Clint came in, looking slightly rumpled as if he'd been asleep, but alert. "Hey kiddo." He smiled, then noticed her hair. "Your hair looks nice."
Wanda caught James' gaze where he lingered slightly in the door. He looked smug. "Night Wanda." He said as he left.
Wanda rolled her eyes and then caught Clint watching curiously.
"Thanks." She said to the archer. "Sorry for waking you up."
"Hey." He tapped her nose lightly. "I told you to come get me if you needed anything. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."
She felt a surge of fondness for him as he took stock of the supplies on the table. James had apparently given him some instructions, and he set to work quickly. It wasn't the quick and simple procedure that Wanda had assumed it would be. As the wound healed, the burned skin slowly died and had to be carefully trimmed off. New pink skin was growing, but the places where the metal points of the collar had cut into her skin were still open wounds that had to be carefully cleaned. Sometimes the bandage would stick and accidentally take off fragile skin, causing fresh blood to well up and trickle down her neck. Clint did it all with steady hands and no complaints. Wanda stared hard at a single point in the room and tried to ignore the way her stomach turned and the room spun.
"This is gonna be one badass scar." Clint said as he worked.
Wanda felt like the floor suddenly disappeared, sending her into a freefall. She squeezed her eyes shut with a gasp.
"Môžete mať jazvu ako Harry Potter. To je hrozné. [You might have a scar like Harry Potter. That's badass.]"
She opened her eyes to see Pietro eyeing the gash on her temple. She knew he was trying to distract her and keep her from panicking again. He was trying hard to smile, but the terror was etched into his face too deeply. Wanda shifted her head slightly and bumped against the underside of the bed. The reminder that they were trapped in a very small space made her breath start coming faster again. Dust puffed up around her face again as she panted, coating her tongue and throat.
"Wanda, остановись.! [Wanda, stop!] " Pietro pleaded, his voice shaking.
She turned to look at him again. Blood covered one side of his face and hair. She couldn't see where it was coming from. A thick layer of dust covered him, mixing with the blood. Tear tracks ran down through the dust and blood on his face in lines.
"Ideme zomrieť. [We're going to die.]" She choked out.
Pietro's face crumpled, fresh sobs wracking his small frame. He squeezed her hand tightly as she sobbed with him. The terror was so strong, she could taste it in her mouth.
Something huge and heavy had fallen on the bed right after Pietro had dragged her underneath it. It hadn't crushed them, but only because of the metal bar running down the underside of their parents' bed. The bed had collapsed into giant jagged splinters on either side of where they lay smashed together. Both their legs were stuck, preventing them from wiggling out from under the bed, but they could see through a small space into the ruins of their apartment.
Wanda kept her face turned towards her brother as she cried, refusing to look out at the horrible scene just a few feet away from them. She had looked once and then promptly thrown up. She could feel the vomit crusted into her hair and dried on her face. Pietro's view was blocked with rubble, and she was grateful he couldn't see. Every time her eyes closed she saw printed on the back of her eyelids the crushed, bloody faces of their parents, Papa's arm still outstretched towards them but no longer connected to his body, and the intact bomb nestled in a hole in the floor next to them, the red light steadily blinking and illuminating the thick black letters that read in English "STARK INDUSTRIES."
Clint leaned forward on his knees and shook his head. His ears were ringing. With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet and looked around, dazed. A thick cloud of dust was floating in the air, but he could make out the rubble of a room. Glass crunched beneath his feet. He looked down to see a small wooden car laying in the shattered remains of a window. He bent down and picked it up, his throat tightening. It was painted blue like a racecar and well worn on the edges. A favorite toy. Somewhere nearby flames crackled.
Still palming the toy car, he walked forward, trying to step as lightly as he could manage. He reached the ruins of the wall and peered out, the wind whipping his hair. This was an apartment building , he realized in horror. He could just make out screaming people on the ground far below. He looked up to see the cloudy night sky. The explosion had taken a huge chunk out of the middle of the building. The remaining piece of the building above them swayed dangerously in the wind, wood groaning and cracking.
He needed to get out as quickly as possible and help the rest of the building evacuate before the whole thing collapsed.
He turned back, stepping carefully towards the door when he heard a sound that made him stop in his tracks. At first he thought it was an animal, like an injured puppy or a kitten, but then he heard words being sobbed.
He followed the sound, his heart in his throat. He stepped carefully over a dismembered hand and looked in the direction it was reaching. A huge chunk of the building had collapsed on top of a bed. The cries seemed to be coming from underneath. He crouched down and met the tearful, terrified eyes of two little kids. They stared at each other in shock for a moment.
"Pomôž nám! Prosím, pomôž nám!" The closest one began to cry in a weak voice.
"Wanda!" Clint gasped. His gaze swung to the other one. "Pietro!"
They both stared at him with wide eyes, quieting in surprise.
"Ты говоришь по-русски, да? [You speak Russian yes?]" He forced as much calm into his voice as he could manage.
Two bloodied, dirty heads nodded in unison.
"Хорошо. Я собираюсь вытащить тебя. Подожди. [Alright. I am going to get you out. Hold on.]"
"Наши ноги застряли. [Our feet are stuck.]" Pietro whimpered in halting Russian.
"Клинт, за тобой бомба! [Clint, there is a bomb behind you!]" Wanda cried.
Clint twisted to look and felt his body go cold at the sight of the intact bomb blinking before him.
"Одна проблема за раз, хорошо? [One problem at a time, ok?]" He muttered.
He forced himself to put the bomb out of his mind. There was nothing he could do about it, and he sure as hell wasn't going to save himself and leave two little kids to die alone. He inspected the rubble on top of the bed. The back of the bed where their feet were had been crushed further than the front.
"У тебя болят ноги? Ты можешь шевелить пальцами ног? [Do your legs hurt? Can you wiggle your toes?]" He asked the twins.
"Просто застрял. [Just stuck.]" Pietro grunted.
"не больно. [Not hurt.]" Wanda agreed shakily.
"Я скоро вернусь. [I'll be right back]." He promised.
Both of them started crying again, which broke his heart. He continued to reassure them that he would be right back as he moved around the room, looking for something he could use for leverage. It was during his search that he saw the partially crushed bodies. He glanced back at the bed and met Wanda's gaze. He realized she could probably see the gruesome remains of her parents from where she was, and his stomach turned. He finally found a metal pole that looked like it had been part of a coat rack. He hurried back and carefully wedged it under the heap of rubble on the back of the bed. A few small pieces of rubble tumbled down as he did so, causing Wanda and Pietro to yelp in fear.
"Когда я подниму это, тебе нужно выбраться как можно быстрее. [When I lift this up, you need to get out as fast as you can.]" He tried to keep his voice even, but serious. He waited until they both nodded. "Вы готовы? На три. Один. Два. Три! [Are you ready? On three. One. Two. Three!]"
He pushed down on the metal pole with all his might. The rubble shifted and for a terrifying second he thought it was going to roll down and crush the bed where their heads were. But it stayed. The two children wiggled out from under the bed as quickly as they could. Clint strained, holding the rubble, until finally they were free. He let go and it crashed back down, the bed splitting with a loud crack.
Clint quickly turned and knelt down in front of the twins, scanning them frantically. Pietro had a gash on top of his head that had bled all down the side of his face, but it looked like the bleeding had almost stopped. He was holding his left arm against his side, wincing. Wanda's temple was split open and bleeding sluggishly. Her hair was crusted with dried blood and what looked like vomit. Both of them had stopped crying and were breathing quickly, their pupils enormous.
Shock. He realized.
"Пошли дети. Вверх мы идем. [Come on, kids. Up we go.]"
He carefully picked up Pietro with his right arm and Wanda with his left. They clung to him, their little arms wrapped tight around his neck. By some miracle, the stairs were mostly clear. A few times he had to put one of them down and carry one at a time over large holes. By the time he got to the ground, he was panting and his arms ached.
"Медик! Мне нужен медик! [Medic! I need a medic!]"
His shouts brought a couple people running. A man in army medic fatigues took Pietro from his arms and together they carried the children a safe distance away to where more injured people were gathering around a small medical team. Clint helped wrap the twins in a large reflective emergency blanket and knelt in front of them as they waited for an available doctor.
"Теперь ты в безопасности. Ты в безопасности. [You're safe now. You're safe.]" He said softly using a damp towel someone had given him to gently wipe away the dirt and blood from their faces.
"Я хочу свою маму. [I want my mom.]" Wanda whispered, tears rolling down her face.
"Где мама? Папа? [Where is mom? Papa?]" Pietro asked shakily.
Clint braced himself, his own eyes feeling wet, but before he could speak Wanda beat him to it.
"Они мертвы. [They're dead.]" Her voice was so empty.
They were all silent for a moment and then Pietro began to wail. His thin little shoulders shook violently, tears and snot and bloody dust covering his face. Wanda was crying beside him, her entire body shaking, but the only noise that came out of her clenched teeth was a high pitched whine of pain.
"Mamička! Papa!" Pietro sobbed over and over.
Clint felt every sob like a knife in his gut. He sat on the ground and pulled them both into his lap, rocking back and forth gently, holding them as tightly as he dared without aggravating their injuries. Tears rolled from his eyes and dripped down his face onto the twins' hair. He thought about Lila and Cooper and Nate and the agony in his chest felt unbearable.
"Nie." Wanda suddenly choked out. "Nie! Prestaň. Zobudiť sa!"
She pushed away from him, scrambling out from the blanket, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Zobudiť sa!" She screamed at him and Clint flinched, confused. "Zobudiť sa! Zobudiť sa! Zob-"
Wanda opened her eyes and took a shaky breath.
Silent tears were streaming down her face. Her hands were gripping the seat of the chair so hard it hurt. Beside her Clint started with a curse and took a step back. Wanda didn't dare look him in the eye. She knew he already had trauma about mental manipulation after what Loki had done to him with the staff. It had taken a while of working together before she stopped sensing his fear. He had been kind and cared for her, but the fear had remained for a long time. She was so distracted thinking about James that she hadn't thought-
"Hey hey hey." Clint crouched down until he could meet her downcast eyes. "Sweetheart, it's ok."
She slowly met his gaze, terrified of seeing that fear again, but there was only earnest love and compassion in his face. He reached out and gently took her hands and squeezed.
"Honestly, I'm kinda glad you showed that to me." She stared at him in surprise, sniffling and trying to get her tears under control. "I knew it was terrible, losing your parents. But fuck, I didn't know." His voice broke slightly. "I couldn't have known how bad it was."
He squeezed her hands tightly and shuddered. Tears rolled down his face which only made her cry harder.
"You could see them, couldn't you?" He asked shakily.
Wanda didn't need to ask for clarification. She nodded, nausea churning in her stomach.
"Oh Wanda, honey." Was all he said before he pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Her arms encircled his neck, so similar to how she'd clung to him when he'd carried her and Pietro down the stairs. He gently rubbed her back as she cried.
"I would have joined Ultron and tried to destroy Stark too." Clint muttered.
It took a while before she got herself under control again and stopped crying. Eventually Clint was able to resume working on her neck. Shuri had left a salve that he carefully smeared across the burns before bandaging them back up.
"Would it be alright if I slept in here on the floor?" He suddenly asked as he tidied up the supplies.
Wanda blinked. "Don't you want to sleep in your bed?"
He gave a snort. "Nah, I was sleeping on the floor in my room. The bed's too soft."
She searched his face, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "If you want to, you can."
While she lay in bed, waiting for him to come back with his pillow and blanket, she felt her anxiety settle a bit. While it felt childish to not want to sleep alone, she was so very grateful he was willing to keep her company. She had wanted to ask someone to stay with her, but hadn't been able to get the words out. He lay down on the floor between her bed and the door, a protective presence. She curled up on her side. He was right. The bed was too soft, but with all the blankets stripped off it didn't feel too restrictive. And Clint was there, visible every time she opened her eyes.
I'm safe. She told herself, and for the first time she almost believed it.