Bad For You

15

Lane sat on the hard bench in a holding cell with her head back against the wall. With all the adrenaline that had kept her on her feet after she'd been shot now gone she was bone tired and in pain. Sam had in fact been outside of the EMP radius and had sent out a call to the twins before getting into it with the dozen guys, and Maya, that hand landed on the roof but he'd taken a blow to the head that had knocked him out. He and Clint had been ushered right to the infirmary once Wanda had magically set the jet down.

Meanwhile, Lane had been dragged away to the freezing, glaring florescent lit room she sat in now. The fact that she'd tugged off her hoodie and laid it over her shoulder to press it on either side of her wound and was shivering not doing her any favors in the comfort department. Natasha had tried to calm Steve down and let Lane get patched up before interrogation as well but when they'd found Sam his rage had gone from simmering to damn near explosive. She didn't blame him but it didn't change the fact she wouldn't cooperate when he walked into the room.

Her father had a thing for lost and lonely little kids, a reflection on his younger self she assumed, and not long after taking Lane, then Marlene, in at age five after her parents got themselves killed by crossing the wrong man he'd come across Maya. Maya, who's dad ended up on the Kingpin's payroll because he was trying to provide for his daughter and had few options with a record and no support. Maya, who reflected his cold fury back to him even at a such a young age where Marlene had caught his attention because she shared his mother's name. Maya, who became Marlene's only source of companionship. Her dad had still been alive so Maya had an escape from the ivory tower and Lane had thought after Mr. Lopez died and she disappeared that Maya would get away. She'd always talked about her life in Oklahoma and Lane thought she might have made her way back there with nothing in New York keeping her around. But she should have known death was the only way out of Wilson Fisk's reach.

-

Steve stormed down the hall toward the holding cells, anger still making his fingers twitch with the urge to hit something. Even after he'd told Natasha why he thought Lane had something to do with what had occurred at the warehouse, going all the way back to the club and Natasha herself getting held up that night but the widow had been unconvinced. He'd done his best to replicate some of the signs he'd seen between Lane and the girl for Clint to try and gain insight but the sharpshooter was still learning, at the insistence of his daughter when he had to start wearing hearing aids, and had only been able to pick out a few words. Dead, father, sorry, let go. Unwilling to give up on the idea that she'd played them all, that she'd morphed into what each of them had wanted from her to seem more likable and ingratiate herself, which explained why he could never tell what version was the real her, Wanda, Natasha and Bucky were following him to the cell.

If she wouldn't tell them the truth there was another way to get it.

The group entered the small room on the other side of the glass from her cell and a brief feeling of worry and concern washed over him before he remembered she was likely responsible for her current state. And Clint and Sam's.

Lane had her head back against the wall with eyes closed. She'd taken off her sweatshirt to use as a makeshift bandage and sat only in dark jeans and bra. Her skin was pale with a blue undertone that only made the streaks of dried red running down her side stand out more.

"Oh my god." Wanda's shocked whisper pulled him back into the moment and he turned to see the girl press a hand to her mouth. "Is she okay?"

Steve hadn't thought about the fact Lane was closest with the twins.

"She'll be fine," he grumbled as he grabbed the med kit from Natasha's hands. "Give me a minute."

Lane forced her eyes open at the sound of the door opening to see Steve walk in and stop halfway between her and the door but she didn't raise her head.