A Tender Introduction

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Steve gently closed Wanda's door and entered the password on the keypad to lock it. Though she was now in a bedroom rather than a cage, Fury had insisted on a lock in case she went rogue and attacked everyone.

"What are we watching?" Steve asked, trying to shift the focus from the recent events.

"Wanda," Natasha said cheerfully, taking a sip of her wine at the kitchen counter.

Steve raised an eyebrow and moved deeper into the room. In the center of the living area was a security camera projected on the wall. Wanda was leaning against the door, using a hairpin to try and pick the metal band off her wrist.

"Dammit," she muttered, throwing the hairpin across the room in frustration and letting her head fall to her knees.

"Looks like someone isn't into change," Tony said, glancing over from where he was tinkering with some gadgets. "I'm just saying," he added quickly.

"There's no way she'll cooperate. I mean, look at her. Her only mission seems to be figuring out how to leave. How do we deal with that?" Natasha argued.

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It was around 5 now, so it had been two hours. The Avengers had left the projector on to keep an eye on Wanda. The main floor was spacious, allowing Clint to start dinner on the stove while also having a clear view of the projector in the living room across from him.

Wanda was sitting on the floor by her couch, her thoughts racing. She tried to stand up to sit on the couch, but her band got caught on the fabric, causing a small spark.

She rubbed her sore wrist, feeling a mix of pain and determination. Each hit she made against the couch seemed to weaken the device. She continued to slam her wrist down on the couch's rim, cursing under her breath with each impact.

"You hear that?" Steve asked Clint, who was whistling while sprinkling seasoning over a pan.

"Barton," Cap said louder.

Barton shook his head, continuing his task without responding.

Natasha, sitting at one of the tall stools at the counter with a glass of wine, said, "Ignore him. It's probably Tony destroying the garage again."

Steve nodded and tapped the kitchen counter before heading toward the hallway. The noise grew louder as he approached, spurring him to investigate.

Wanda's POV

My vision blurred with tears. It felt as if my brother's blood was still on my face, a constant reminder of my loneliness. Or maybe it was the blood on my wrist. I shut my eyes, and my hand-bashing had become a reflex, a way to cope.

With each hit, I felt my powers growing weaker, and I focused on that. I raised my hand for one final blow.

But before I could swing it down, a hand caught my wrist. I reached up with my free arm, trying to pull away, but the hand held firm. My head pounded, my heart raced, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

I attempted to stand, but the hand on my arm moved to my waist, pulling me back down. My breathing quickened, and my heart raced faster.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping the person holding me would be so annoyed they'd leave. I could barely make out the figure of someone in black, sitting behind me, with their arms around my waist and holding me down.

The hand on my waist disappeared, and both my arms were held to my sides. I thrashed, trying to slide away, but the arms around me only tightened, and I heard a shushing sound.

A music box was brought close to me, and the soothing melody began to play. My eyes started to clear, and I felt the strong arms around me pulling me in tighter. I was enveloped in a comforting embrace, with Natasha's ginger hair visible as she played the music.

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