Only You

Chapter Four

 Wanda abruptly stops in the middle of her training. There's a sharp, acute sensation that hits her chest — a feeling she's felt before. She yelps and falls down to her knees, clutching at her chest with her hands. A pulse of red magic radiates from her body, throwing back objects as the scarlet waves hit them. Practice dummies and weapons tables are slammed into the walls of the room, crashing loudly before clattering to the floor.

Trainers and agents move for the doors, ducking to avoid flying objects and rushing out from the room. A few look like they're considering running to her aid, but the currents of magic persuade them otherwise.

Wanda gasps for breath, desperately trying to steady herself. She trembles head to toe and despite her efforts to gather herself, her eyes glow a shocking crimson. The world around her turns shaky and unsure, like the ground might flip and send her falling into unknown depths. A sense of emotional agony begins to form in her ribcage, like a new round of magic might explode.

"Wanda!"

She can't look up, but she recognizes the voice. For a moment, her world regains a sense of grounding. Steve runs towards her and she can hear several sets of footsteps following. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Wanda's accent is dense with pain and fright. "Something's shifting. I don't understand." The surviving Sokovian twin looks up at Clint, searching for the words to explain what's happening inside of her. "I've felt this before." It feels like something dormant is waking up in her chest, waking her body from an indescribable type of slumber.

Clint kneels down, wrapping an arm beneath Wanda's shoulders. He helps her to her feet. "I'll get you to your room," he grunts. The training room is a mess, like a war zone. Wanda, if not for the twisting sensation in her chest, would have protested — but her legs felt boneless and she couldn't hear herself think.

"We'll get someone to put the room back in order," Natasha says, catching an exchanged glance between Clint and Wanda. Steve nods, surveying the damage.

"Keep us updated on her." Wanda looks ready to fall unconscious. To make it back to her room easier, Clint easily picks her up to carry her in his arms. He nods at Steve. Nudging open the door with his back, he carefully maneuvers himself and Wanda out the doors.

"No one was hurt in the incident this morning," Natasha informs Clint outside Wanda's room. "How's she doing?"

"She's sleeping now. She was asleep before I got her here," Clint mutters quietly.

"Any ideas on what happened?" Steve asks the both of them. All three of them are at a loss for an explanation. Clint shakes his head and Nat says nothing. A frown settles on their faces.

"She won't be awake for a while. Wanda hasn't used her magic like that in months. There's no telling the toll it will take on here," Clint says, rather protectively. "When she does wake up, take it easy on the questions. She's probably as clueless as we are." Natasha looks less than eager to wait so long to start investigating further, but nods in agreement. Clint knows Wanda best and she doesn't want to push boundaries until it's needed. Steve complies without a moment's hesitation.

Steve asks, "Do we have eyes on Banner and Stark?"

"The last I saw them was last night. They're probably dead on their feet or asleep," Natasha answers. "Bruce will be, anyways. I'll go swing by and check on them. Keep your radio on, I'll let you know. Maybe they'll tell us what the hell they came here for."

Clint hangs back with Steve. The two of them linger in silence outside Wanda's room, sharing a look of worry. Things had been starting to get back to normal, even for Clint. With all the Avengers in one place, S.H.I.E.L.D. should have felt the safest place — but Clint knows too well the peculiar feeling in his body, like something is happening that shouldn't be.

There's a knock on Bruce's door, and no answer. Natasha quietly slips inside, instinctually moving stealthily into the room. "Bruce?" She'd hate to wake him up and calls his name in a hoarse whisper.

Again, there's no answer. She turns on the lights to the room. Surely enough, Bruce isn't to be found. His robe is gone from where it normally hangs on the dresser hooks, as are his shoes. His glasses are gone from the nightstand, too. She peeks inside the bathroom, finding nothing. She crosses the carpet flooring to the bed, with its sheets thrown to the side and a pillow on the floor. Natasha rests a hand on the mattress, wondering how long Bruce has been up. The bed is cold and the mattress is flat, lacking the indents Bruce would have left in the memory foam.

A cold draft sweeps into the room underneath the door and she shivers. Grabbing a shirt of his from a hanger in the closet, she leaves the room and heads towards the lab. She slips into the large shirt, putting it over her thin sweatshirt. "Soft," she notes to herself, jogging down the many flights of stairs it takes to get to the labs downstairs.

She makes it there in ten minutes. She peeks around the labs, which are mostly empty. Of course they'd be in the farthest lab, equipped with more technology than the others and significantly larger. She knocks on the door, hoping this time she'll get an answer.

"It's Nat." Bruce.

"Don't open that door, Banner." Tony. Asshole.

She tests the doorknob, giving it a forceful wiggle. It doesn't give way. "Open the door," Natasha snaps, narrowing her eyes at the sudden commotion that happens behind the locked door. She considers grabbing the clip in her hair, but the locks here can't be picked with just a bobby-pin. She scowls, for once annoyed at the security measures taken at headquarters.

There's a few more scuffles, followed by silence. There's a click or two in the door and it swings open. Bruce greets her, with a tired smile. "Morning." He raises an eyebrow at the shirt she's taken to wearing.

"Afternoon," she greets. If it weren't Bruce, she probably wouldn't have smiled.

"Mind the PDA," Tony says from across the lab. "Keep it PG."

"I'll consider it if you tell me what's going on down here," Natasha bargains, shutting the door behind her as she steps inside.

"Nice try, but it's a no go." Natasha turns from Tony to glance at Bruce, who gives her a tight-lipped smile.

"Sorry," he says. Natasha's beside herself.

"Fine." Natasha resorts to peeking around the lab. Her blue eyes, as sharp as a needle, don't miss anything as she scours the room. It's remarkably clean and organized. If Tony and Bruce were hiding something, they were desperate to keep it hidden. Tony and Bruce exchange a look and, from the corners of her eyes, she watches the way their eyes wander.

A beep sounds from behind a wall. Tony and Bruce make for her. "Out of the way, boys," she warns. Tony gives her his most sincere smile and Bruce looks at her pleadingly.

"Don't do this, Romanov —"

"Nat —"

She reaches under a steel table beside her, fingers sliding along the surface. Gotcha. She presses down on the small button and the wall lowers down into the floor. Tony colorfully curses and Bruce winces. She moves past the two of them, who turn to face the room with her. Tony whistles, cramming his hands into the pockets of his pants. Bruce stands back, nervously chewing at his bottom lip.

"Wanda fainted," she tells them. "Her magic exploded out of her." Quirking an eyebrow, she turns to face the two scientists. "There's no hiding this; not for long."

"Not hiding," Tony says, raising his eyebrows and giving her a look. "Waiting."