Operation Frostbite

*PART SIX*

A/N: Hello! Quicker than normal update since I just love writing this! Thank you all for the support so far. And to let you know, there is a special guest appearance in this chapter! Enjoy!

Morning seemed to come pretty quickly, Anya found, once she'd managed to fall asleep. She'd sat on the bed until she was sure Natasha had left, then allowing herself to sink into the soft bed. It was the softest thing she'd ever laid on – she imagined it was like a cloud. But despite the softness, and the warmth of the room, she couldn't sleep. And she knew why. She was so used to having her hand cuffed to the bed, it felt strange having her arm lying free at her side. Eventually, after much tossing and turning (and freezing when she heard Natasha return and creep into the room) she found her solution. Around 1am, she'd found the sneakers in the closet. Bright red ones that Wanda must have picked for her. She stared at the laces before pulling them out. Soon, her right wrist was bound to the headboard, and she eventually drifted off.

The girl didn't often find sleep to be peaceful; but something about the Avengers base made her sleep a little easier. Until her door creaked open again and she woke up. She didn't open her eyes immediately. She could always tell who came into her room by the footsteps; whether it be the angry Russian porter who would yell at her to wake up, or one of the soldiers, who would kick her out if she didn't get up quick enough.

The footsteps were faint, and Anya tensed. At first she thought it was Wanda, and she would be ready to sit up straight away. But as the figure sat beside her, she recognised the voice as Natasha, as well as her scent. It was on the hoodie she had been given, and despite it being part of the Widow, she couldn't part with it. It was a smell she wasn't used to – clean, safe, and warmth all in one.

Anya hoped if she played being asleep, then the Widow would leave. These mind games she was trying to play were giving her a headache – she knew the truth. The Widow left her in that place, in the bad place, and let them all treat her that way. It was her fault.

All her fault. All her fault. All her fault.

Is it though?

That little voice had been creeping in and playing its own game, and it was making her insides hurt. It had been drilling her head until she eventually fell asleep.

"Anya, baby. Time to wake up."

The woman was certainly relentless, since she pretended to find out who they were to each other. She was a good actress. But the General had once told her that lies were as easy as breathing to the woman.

Anya continued to keep her eyes closed, even when the hand rubbed her arm lightly. When a hand started to cup her face, Anya twisted and buried her face in her pillow.

"Come on, sleepyhead." Natasha tried to coax the young girl awake. She was trying not to focus on the sight before her – the shoe laces wrapped around the rung of the headboard, the other end being tied around the girl's wrist. As Anya turned away from her, Nat reached over and undid the knots. She held the laces in her hands as Anya pushed back the covers and rubbed her eyes.

She remembered the feeling of the cuff around her own wrist. It had taken a long time for her to stop doing that. Even without it, her hand would fly behind her and stay in that position in her sleep.

"You don't have to tie yourself to the bed anymore, baby."

Anya sat in the bed and looked at the laces.

"I couldn't sleep."

Nat's head shot up from the laces in her hands. Wanda had said she was slowly coming out of her shell. But this was the first thing Anya had said to her that wasn't a scream. She had to approach this carefully. She licked her lips and tried to piece her words together carefully.