"Would you be okay if I removed these?" he asked gently, his hand going to the prison pants that were bunched up around her knees, and Wanda forced herself to nod.
"I'm just gonna get the rest of the cuts on your legs," he soothed.
Wanda focused her gaze on the ceiling once more as Ross gently eased her pants the rest of the way off, shivering a little as she felt the cool air hit her legs.
"How long has this been bleeding?" he asked after a second, his finger brushing the skin on the back of her thigh, up near her knee, where one of the guards had dug the tip of his knife in to "convince" her to keep her legs up as he fucked her.
"Not sure. I received it yesterday."
"That's been bleeding for far too long, then... I wonder if I have anything that I can-...?"
Wanda glanced up as he moved for the briefcase once more, ruffling papers around as he searched the bottom lining and pockets for something.
"Ha, I do have one," he said triumphantly a moment later, pulling a tiny bandage from one of the flaps on his briefcase and holding it up like a prize as he crossed back to her. "It's not much, but...let me get this open..."
Wanda watched the man as he carefully took the wrapping off, sweeping the crumpled paper and plastic bits into the trash with a quick brush of his hand, then taking both ends of the band-aid between his fingers and carefully lowering it into position on her skin before smoothing it out.
"There we are. That should help it clot up properly. Now, to get the rest of this crap off of you..."
She let her head fall back against his jacket as he poured a bit more of the water onto the handkerchief and returned to cleaning the guard's filth off of her skin.
Not for the first time, Wanda wondered why.
Her mind was whirling with questions, of course, but always seemed to land back on the same one, and as he gently cleaned out another little scratch on her leg, she finally plucked up the courage to ask.
"Why are you helping me? I thought you hated people like me?"
She felt the smooth stroke of the cloth over her hip as he debated his answer, his hands gentle as he worked around cuts and bruises.
"This...this goes a bit beyond who I do or do not like."
"What does that mean?" she asked, nerves fluttering uneasily in her stomach.
"It means that I don't hate anybody enough to wish this on them."
"But you still hate me."
Ross gave her a little shrug.
"I am not fond of enhanced...of anyone who would willingly mutate themselves into a monster, or give themselves massively destructive capabilities for kicks. Now, Captain Rogers already explained to us that you and your brother were talked into the process as children, so I don't hold you responsible for that part. I do, however, believe that you need to be reined in, or trained, or something, so that you aren't a liability in the field."
"Thus, the collar," she said, unable to hide the bitter tone in her voice. But Ross was shaking his head.
"Not the way those Hydra bastards are using it," he spat. "It was intended purely to startle you mid-attack and prevent you focusing your powers. Much like Rhodes' sound cannon, but with less risk of long-term damage. We didn't want to harm your hearing. The shock from the collar was only supposed to be mildly uncomfortable, and distracting. It was never supposed to hurt you like that. And it was supposed to be temporary, until we were sure that you hadn't gone rogue."
"Was I the reason for the Accords?" she asked quietly, because that idea had plagued her, the thought that she had been the one to bring this suffering on the team that had taken her in and treated her like family. The thought that this was all her fault.
To her relief, however, Ross was shaking his head.
"The Accords have been in the works since SHIELD went down. The 'Sokovia' part got tacked on after Stark's invention went rogue and destroyed the city, not because that's where you were from. It just happened to be a coincidence that your accident was the one we brought them up after."
"What about SHIELD?" she asked, more to keep herself distracted than because she didn't know. Steve and Clint had told her all about SHIELD, of course. At least, as much as they knew.
Ross leaned back a little, gently wiping the yellow pus from her burnt skin where one of the guards had put his cigarette out on the top of her foot.
"The Avengers have always mostly handled themselves; or at least they did while SHIELD was still functioning. With SHIELD fallen, however, you guys didn't have anyone monitoring your actions any more. There wasn't anything holding you accountable for the damage you caused. That's what we were trying to establish - accountability."
"That's why you pushed for us to sign the Accords?" she asked, aware of his hands on her thigh, gently cleaning away the caked-on bodily fluids.
"I'd been hoping for more of a military chain of command, and not whatever the hell those wackjob Hydra bastards wound up changing it to say. But yes, that's why it was imperative that you all sign. Because while your group might be willing to save the world with as little collateral damage as possible, there might be another group that decides to go for the glory or the fame. Or people who tried to enhance themselves just to join in. That's how innocents get hurt. That's what SHIELD was supposed to prevent."
"If we signed now, would they have to release us?" she asked, a faint, hollow hope clawing at her lungs.
"No," Ross said, his voice sorrowful. "They changed the document from my last edit. If you signed it now, you'd probably just be signing your life over to Hydra."
"So you are definitely not working for Hydra...?" she asked tentatively. The man glanced up, meeting her gaze with a raised eyebrow. After a second he straightened, moving to clean a dried blood stain from her calf with a light sigh.
"No. I'm not working with Hydra. I may not be the nicest man, but I'm no Nazi. And I won't tolerate their filth in one of my operations."
Wanda winced as he carefully dripped saline across a few more of her burns and cuts, biting her bottom lip to distract from the stinging pain as he disinfected them.
"Additionally," he said, "the way they've been treating you all is absolutely vile, and I could kill them myself for raping you. That's something I'm not planning to forgive."
He took a step back, putting the cap on the saline.
"There, that should be most of the damage."
"So what happens now?" she asked, lifting her feet as he helped her slip her pants back on.
"Right now, as far as I know, they think I'm an ally, so I have to be careful what I do so I don't make them suspicious. I can't do anything more to help you just now. We're way outnumbered, you're still in that stupid collar, and all of your teammates are unarmed. I don't know where they're holding your confiscated gear, either. I've got to buy some time, maybe get some backup, figure out how to get a hold of the keys to your straitjacket...and then I'll come back and take care of this infestation we have."
He spat the word "infestation" like a curse, tossing his soiled handkerchief into the trash can with a sharp jerk of his arm.
"And in the meantime?" she asked softly, allowing the man to help her into a sitting position.
"I'll tell them to keep their hands off of you."
"You can't," she whispered sharply. "If they think you might be an ally, you can't compromise yourself by acting as a friend to us. You need a reason for them to keep their hands off of me..." She cringed a little, thinking back to the Warden's filthy grin as she addressed her underlings. "You need to tell them...tell them that you want me for yourself. That I'm off limits to anyone but you. It won't stop the beatings, but it might lessen the...other things."
Ross looked disgusted by the mere suggestion, and Wanda ducked her head, swallowing hard.
"That's what the warden's done," she said softly, glancing up from beneath her hair. "She picked her favorites - or her favorite parts - and told the others to keep their dicks away."
"If you truly think it will help..." he said, his expression radiating regret, and she nodded.
"If nothing else, it will keep a few of the more obedient ones away from me."
The man reached to stroke her hair back once again, his hand slipping around to cradle her cheek as he looked down at her in sorrow.
"You still feel too warm..." he murmured gently. "I think you're running a fever."
Ross pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, a concerned little frown crossing his face.
"The painkillers should help that. Here, hold on, let me get those before I forget..."
Wanda watched him move to his bag once more, resisting the urge to swing her feet in the air as she sat waiting on the edge of the desk.
"Asprin," he said, drawing a little white pill bottle from his briefcase a moment later. "Never leave the house without it."
Wanda obediently opened her mouth so he could give her the tablets, quickly finishing off the rest of the water when he held the bottle to her lips. He dropped the empty bottle back in his briefcase after capping it, the pill bottle quick to follow, and then he grabbed up his jacket from where she'd been leaning on it and smoothed it out with a hard shake.
She blinked up at him as he slipped his arms back through the sleeves.
"Is there anyone on the outside that you think might be able to help?" he asked her. "Besides Rogers, because he's become a ghost and I doubt I can dig him out in any decent amount of time."
Wanda glanced down, worrying her bottom lip.
There were people who would help, all right, but most of them were deep undercover, or couldn't do anything without putting themselves at risk. Fury had dropped off the map, along with the rest of SHIELD that wasn't Hydra. Steve's friend Sharon was on thin ice as it was, and another bit of help from her might land her in the Raft as well. Laura had Nathaniel and the two older kids to take care of, and couldn't hazard revealing herself to Ross, regardless of his current willingness to help. It was just too much of a risk in the long run. That significantly narrowed her options.
"I think Scott said he had someone...Hank Prim? Or something?" she shrugged. "Natasha would help you get us out. And Tony might help...if you told him about the others. I...I don't think he cares what happens to me."
"I'm sure he wouldn't be okay with this."
"You underestimate how much he hates me..." she whispered, feeling wretched. "He would probably rather have me locked away where I can't cause harm..."
"Well, I care, even if he doesn't," Ross said gently, tipping her chin up with a finger to meet her gaze. "No one is going to be leaving you behind."
Wanda offered him a little smile, which he returned, but before he could say anything more there was a little beep from his hand.
Ross checked his wristwatch with a wince. When he next met her gaze, his expression was pure regret.
"I've had you away for over an hour....I'm going to have to send you back. We can't afford to have them get suspicious."
Wanda nodded, and the man reached to gently tuck her hair behind an ear.
"I'm sorry I can't get you out of here sooner," he whispered.
"You've done more than I could have hoped for," she replied, offering a little smile before she hopped off the desk, allowing him to help her balance upright. "Thank you. For everything."
"You can thank me when I free you and the others from this hell hole."
He gave her shoulder one final squeeze before making his way to the door, and as Wanda watched him step out into the hall, there was a little curl of warmth in her chest that she hadn't felt in weeks.
For the first time in far too long, Wanda dared to hope.
Fill: There Is A Line (4/?)
"I'm just gonna get the rest of the cuts on your legs," he soothed.
Wanda focused her gaze on the ceiling once more as Ross gently eased her pants the rest of the way off, shivering a little as she felt the cool air hit her legs.
"How long has this been bleeding?" he asked after a second, his finger brushing the skin on the back of her thigh, up near her knee, where one of the guards had dug the tip of his knife in to "convince" her to keep her legs up as he fucked her.
"Not sure. I received it yesterday."
"That's been bleeding for far too long, then... I wonder if I have anything that I can-...?"
Wanda glanced up as he moved for the briefcase once more, ruffling papers around as he searched the bottom lining and pockets for something.
"Ha, I do have one," he said triumphantly a moment later, pulling a tiny bandage from one of the flaps on his briefcase and holding it up like a prize as he crossed back to her. "It's not much, but...let me get this open..."
Wanda watched the man as he carefully took the wrapping off, sweeping the crumpled paper and plastic bits into the trash with a quick brush of his hand, then taking both ends of the band-aid between his fingers and carefully lowering it into position on her skin before smoothing it out.
"There we are. That should help it clot up properly. Now, to get the rest of this crap off of you..."
She let her head fall back against his jacket as he poured a bit more of the water onto the handkerchief and returned to cleaning the guard's filth off of her skin.
Not for the first time, Wanda wondered why.
Her mind was whirling with questions, of course, but always seemed to land back on the same one, and as he gently cleaned out another little scratch on her leg, she finally plucked up the courage to ask.
"Why are you helping me? I thought you hated people like me?"
She felt the smooth stroke of the cloth over her hip as he debated his answer, his hands gentle as he worked around cuts and bruises.
"This...this goes a bit beyond who I do or do not like."
"What does that mean?" she asked, nerves fluttering uneasily in her stomach.
"It means that I don't hate anybody enough to wish this on them."
"But you still hate me."
Ross gave her a little shrug.
"I am not fond of enhanced...of anyone who would willingly mutate themselves into a monster, or give themselves massively destructive capabilities for kicks. Now, Captain Rogers already explained to us that you and your brother were talked into the process as children, so I don't hold you responsible for that part. I do, however, believe that you need to be reined in, or trained, or something, so that you aren't a liability in the field."
"Thus, the collar," she said, unable to hide the bitter tone in her voice. But Ross was shaking his head.
"Not the way those Hydra bastards are using it," he spat. "It was intended purely to startle you mid-attack and prevent you focusing your powers. Much like Rhodes' sound cannon, but with less risk of long-term damage. We didn't want to harm your hearing. The shock from the collar was only supposed to be mildly uncomfortable, and distracting. It was never supposed to hurt you like that. And it was supposed to be temporary, until we were sure that you hadn't gone rogue."
"Was I the reason for the Accords?" she asked quietly, because that idea had plagued her, the thought that she had been the one to bring this suffering on the team that had taken her in and treated her like family. The thought that this was all her fault.
To her relief, however, Ross was shaking his head.
"The Accords have been in the works since SHIELD went down. The 'Sokovia' part got tacked on after Stark's invention went rogue and destroyed the city, not because that's where you were from. It just happened to be a coincidence that your accident was the one we brought them up after."
"What about SHIELD?" she asked, more to keep herself distracted than because she didn't know. Steve and Clint had told her all about SHIELD, of course. At least, as much as they knew.
Ross leaned back a little, gently wiping the yellow pus from her burnt skin where one of the guards had put his cigarette out on the top of her foot.
"The Avengers have always mostly handled themselves; or at least they did while SHIELD was still functioning. With SHIELD fallen, however, you guys didn't have anyone monitoring your actions any more. There wasn't anything holding you accountable for the damage you caused. That's what we were trying to establish - accountability."
"That's why you pushed for us to sign the Accords?" she asked, aware of his hands on her thigh, gently cleaning away the caked-on bodily fluids.
"I'd been hoping for more of a military chain of command, and not whatever the hell those wackjob Hydra bastards wound up changing it to say. But yes, that's why it was imperative that you all sign. Because while your group might be willing to save the world with as little collateral damage as possible, there might be another group that decides to go for the glory or the fame. Or people who tried to enhance themselves just to join in. That's how innocents get hurt. That's what SHIELD was supposed to prevent."
"If we signed now, would they have to release us?" she asked, a faint, hollow hope clawing at her lungs.
"No," Ross said, his voice sorrowful. "They changed the document from my last edit. If you signed it now, you'd probably just be signing your life over to Hydra."
"So you are definitely not working for Hydra...?" she asked tentatively. The man glanced up, meeting her gaze with a raised eyebrow. After a second he straightened, moving to clean a dried blood stain from her calf with a light sigh.
"No. I'm not working with Hydra. I may not be the nicest man, but I'm no Nazi. And I won't tolerate their filth in one of my operations."
Wanda winced as he carefully dripped saline across a few more of her burns and cuts, biting her bottom lip to distract from the stinging pain as he disinfected them.
"Additionally," he said, "the way they've been treating you all is absolutely vile, and I could kill them myself for raping you. That's something I'm not planning to forgive."
He took a step back, putting the cap on the saline.
"There, that should be most of the damage."
"So what happens now?" she asked, lifting her feet as he helped her slip her pants back on.
"Right now, as far as I know, they think I'm an ally, so I have to be careful what I do so I don't make them suspicious. I can't do anything more to help you just now. We're way outnumbered, you're still in that stupid collar, and all of your teammates are unarmed. I don't know where they're holding your confiscated gear, either. I've got to buy some time, maybe get some backup, figure out how to get a hold of the keys to your straitjacket...and then I'll come back and take care of this infestation we have."
He spat the word "infestation" like a curse, tossing his soiled handkerchief into the trash can with a sharp jerk of his arm.
"And in the meantime?" she asked softly, allowing the man to help her into a sitting position.
"I'll tell them to keep their hands off of you."
"You can't," she whispered sharply. "If they think you might be an ally, you can't compromise yourself by acting as a friend to us. You need a reason for them to keep their hands off of me..." She cringed a little, thinking back to the Warden's filthy grin as she addressed her underlings. "You need to tell them...tell them that you want me for yourself. That I'm off limits to anyone but you. It won't stop the beatings, but it might lessen the...other things."
Ross looked disgusted by the mere suggestion, and Wanda ducked her head, swallowing hard.
"That's what the warden's done," she said softly, glancing up from beneath her hair. "She picked her favorites - or her favorite parts - and told the others to keep their dicks away."
"If you truly think it will help..." he said, his expression radiating regret, and she nodded.
"If nothing else, it will keep a few of the more obedient ones away from me."
The man reached to stroke her hair back once again, his hand slipping around to cradle her cheek as he looked down at her in sorrow.
"You still feel too warm..." he murmured gently. "I think you're running a fever."
Ross pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, a concerned little frown crossing his face.
"The painkillers should help that. Here, hold on, let me get those before I forget..."
Wanda watched him move to his bag once more, resisting the urge to swing her feet in the air as she sat waiting on the edge of the desk.
"Asprin," he said, drawing a little white pill bottle from his briefcase a moment later. "Never leave the house without it."
Wanda obediently opened her mouth so he could give her the tablets, quickly finishing off the rest of the water when he held the bottle to her lips. He dropped the empty bottle back in his briefcase after capping it, the pill bottle quick to follow, and then he grabbed up his jacket from where she'd been leaning on it and smoothed it out with a hard shake.
She blinked up at him as he slipped his arms back through the sleeves.
"Is there anyone on the outside that you think might be able to help?" he asked her. "Besides Rogers, because he's become a ghost and I doubt I can dig him out in any decent amount of time."
Wanda glanced down, worrying her bottom lip.
There were people who would help, all right, but most of them were deep undercover, or couldn't do anything without putting themselves at risk. Fury had dropped off the map, along with the rest of SHIELD that wasn't Hydra. Steve's friend Sharon was on thin ice as it was, and another bit of help from her might land her in the Raft as well. Laura had Nathaniel and the two older kids to take care of, and couldn't hazard revealing herself to Ross, regardless of his current willingness to help. It was just too much of a risk in the long run. That significantly narrowed her options.
"I think Scott said he had someone...Hank Prim? Or something?" she shrugged. "Natasha would help you get us out. And Tony might help...if you told him about the others. I...I don't think he cares what happens to me."
"I'm sure he wouldn't be okay with this."
"You underestimate how much he hates me..." she whispered, feeling wretched. "He would probably rather have me locked away where I can't cause harm..."
"Well, I care, even if he doesn't," Ross said gently, tipping her chin up with a finger to meet her gaze. "No one is going to be leaving you behind."
Wanda offered him a little smile, which he returned, but before he could say anything more there was a little beep from his hand.
Ross checked his wristwatch with a wince. When he next met her gaze, his expression was pure regret.
"I've had you away for over an hour....I'm going to have to send you back. We can't afford to have them get suspicious."
Wanda nodded, and the man reached to gently tuck her hair behind an ear.
"I'm sorry I can't get you out of here sooner," he whispered.
"You've done more than I could have hoped for," she replied, offering a little smile before she hopped off the desk, allowing him to help her balance upright. "Thank you. For everything."
"You can thank me when I free you and the others from this hell hole."
He gave her shoulder one final squeeze before making his way to the door, and as Wanda watched him step out into the hall, there was a little curl of warmth in her chest that she hadn't felt in weeks.
For the first time in far too long, Wanda dared to hope.