In Darkness, Be My Light

Invasion

Warning: Non-graphic rape/non-con and rough abuse.

Clint carefully studied Wanda throughout the day after Senator Ross and Tony Stark left. As the afternoon progressed, she increased with anxiety. She curled up against the wall and didn't pay attention to anything, like if she was in deep thought. She mumbled to herself at random moments. Her breathing became rigid and hard whenever she heard a loud noise or a guard came in for whatever reason.

He came to the conclusion that Wanda was hypersensitive due to the fear of her body being cruelly invaded again. And of course, anyone would be absolutely nervous if they knew something like that would happen to them. He tried to sympathize with Wanda, knowing there was nothing he or anyone else could do about the torment she was about to wrongly receive. If he did try anything, however, they wouldn't take it out on him. They'd punish her. And that was a risk he couldn't take. So, he tried to calm Wanda and let her know that he was there for her, that he still cares for her.

The evening was becoming night. The threat that the guard promised would soon be real and Wanda was terrified to the bone. Her slight shivers became hard shaking jerks. Her breathing was shallow.

Clint couldn't take the sight of her panic-stricken form. "Wanda, everything is going to be okay. Listen to my voice."

With her head low, she opened her eyes to look at him, still shaking. His small, bright smile distracted her so her breathing calmed slightly, but it was still heavy.

He put his hands on the glass of his cell. "I know how terrified you are, but everything will be okay. I promise." Not knowing what else to say, he sat down on the small cot.

Wanda tried to put her mind at ease by thinking of times outside the Raft. She hadn't seen the sun or the sky in days. She tried to picture how it looked in the morning on the Compound balcony, drinking tea, and how it looked at night on the rooftop as she sat next to... Vision. She vowed that she never wanted to see him again, she said that she hated him, but something inside her wanted to be with him again. She wanted that warmth and friendliness that she hadn't received in so long. She wanted the soft touch of his hands rather than the cold grasp of the Raft guards. Oh, how she despised the guards more than Vision.

Her feelings for Vision were complicated. She was hurt when he let her be taken away to this wretched place. So, she let her feelings grow to hate. But in her mind, she knew that wasn't what she really felt. She often thought him as a perfect man, even if he wasn't human at all. The more time they spent together, the more they were open and honest, and the more this certain feeling she had for him grew. She just wished she could've cherished more moments with him. Right now, she'd do anything to escape the horror she was about to experience to have a calm, easy night at the Compound with him.

Her breathing eased as she imagined it. She would pull a book off the shelf in her room. Maybe the book she'd read would be The Giver. One of her favorites. She'd walk out of her room, book clutched to her chest as she took in the fresh air of the Compound. She'd walk into the open, empty living room and sit down, breathing deeply as the aroma of the room relaxed her. She started to read where she left off last time, her mind slowly drifting as she read along. Her attention would be brought to the sound of someone entering the room. Vision. She'd smile and offer him a seat next to her. He'd sit down and put his arm around her shoulder, partially on the couch. He'd slightly lean closer, pulling her with him, until they were fully touched, side by side. She'd blush, and he'd chuckle. She would set down her book on the table next to her, and let herself become relaxed to his touch and gaze. She'd look up at him and smile softly, lean in closer and then--

Her thoughts dissipated as the sound of a heavy, metal door opened filled her ears, causing her breath to catch. Anxiety coursed her veins. Horror filled her brain. Her limbs shook with unimaginable fear. She stiffened when she saw one of the guards open her cell door.

"No... no," she whimpered. "Please. God, no, please."

The guard huffed. "Hush. I told you that we'd take care of you. There's... no need to be afraid." His tone was mocking.

He put his arms around her and slowly lifted her up. She was already very weak so standing was impossible without help. But she'd rather fall than have this guard's arms around her, lifting her up. Wanda was eager to not let him get what he wanted, but the thought of being shocked again was much more terrifying.

Clint glared at the guard. "Go to hell," he muttered under his breath.

Just as Wanda got her balance, two other guards walked in and helped to escort her. She didn't stop herself from letting tears fall down her face as they walked. They roughly pushed and dragged her to a dimly lit room. There was a metal table. Memories flooded her brain of the last time she was in a room similar to this. She remembered being pinned to a metal table, forced to take pleasure.

The guard unhooked Wanda's straightjacket and gripped her arm, pulling her to the table. She felt sick to the stomach, her mind started to race. He harshly pulled her onto the table and she winced. The two other guards escorting her pinned her arms above her head.

Wanda let out a soft sob. "Please don't do this to me."

The guard smiled, traced her cheekbone, and slapped her. She gasped and tears slid down her cheek.

"Quiet," he said as he gripped her face. He leaned over, forcing her legs to wrap around him. "Look at me." He gripped her hair tightly.

She whimpered but obliged, not wanting to get hurt anymore.

"You're gorgeous," he chuckled. "So delicate." He started to pull down the hem of her pants and her eyes widened as he slid them down. He paused, pulled his own down, and forced her legs around him again. He took his time, letting his hands roam her thighs for a moment and then gripped her hips.

He pushed himself into her.

And she let out a hoarse, broken scream.