Clint
Clint had been too wrapped up in his anger during those first few hours to notice anything was wrong.
But when twenty hours hit, he heard soft crying.
Unmistakably a woman's cry.
Clint got close to the wall, sighing.
"Hey, Kid, you alright?"
Wanda inhaled sharply, now the cries were muffled like she had her hand to her mouth.
"F...fine. Just...didn't expect to be here. And the collar is not fun."
"I know it's not, but don't worry. We'll be out of here in no time. Maybe you should come spend some time at the farm. You like animals?"
Wanda laughed weakly. "Yes, I love animals."
"Then it's settled. You'll come stay."
"Thank you, Clint."
"Of course, Kid."
Wanda quietened and Clint thought she had fallen asleep.
The next four hours were uneventful.
But then Clint could hear something being pushed and moved, and since they had nothing else, it had to be the bed.
"Wanda? Kid, what the hell are you doing in there?"
Silence.
"Wanda?!"
A choked hush of a voice.
"I'm sorry."
Clint felt sick and he moved to the wall they shared.
"What are you sorry for? Hey, talk to me."
A sob.
"We won't be in here forever, this isn't permanent. Wanda?"
Now he could hear Scott start awake from his nap, and Sam move to the bars.
"Barton?" Sam frowned. "What's happening?"
The sound of more shuffling, metal creaking.
Then Clint panicked.
Chokes. Gasps.
Swinging.
No.
But he'd heard those sounds before, so many years ago with Natasha.
"Wanda?!" Clint shouted, running to the bars and waving at the cameras. "What are you idiots fucking doing?!"
He slammed into the bars, as the sounds of Wanda choking and gasping started to lessen.
That wasn't a good thing.
She was out of air. Dying.
Then someone at the stairs. "Finally, hurry up!"
But there were no guards, just Steve.
His eyes were wide as he rushed forward. "Wanda-" he choked out.
His fingers flipped through the keycards, and he tried all of them but one when Wanda's bars slid across.
Steve threw the cards into Clint's cell and the archer took less than five seconds to get his own bars open.
The two men rushed into the woman's cell.
Steve stood, frozen.
But Clint had been here before.
He grabbed the blanket, teeth ripping through the material.
He caught Wanda as her body tipped forward, free from the bed frame.
Steve moved again, easily pulling off the rope around her legs.
Clint reached out, rolled her onto her side, fingers pressing against the bleeding skin of her throat.
Nothing.
"No." Clint ground his teeth and moved her onto her back.
"Tell me you brought back up." He hissed, very quickly lacing his hands together and pressing down against her sternum.
He'd been trained in CPR, but more than that, he'd had a lot of real life practice.
"Outside." Steve moved to stand.
"Med kit?"
"I would think so."
"Then go, get it!"
Steve rushed up the stairs and Clint continued to push down on her chest, counting in his head and moving in quick succession.
He tilted the woman's head back and breathed into her mouth, turning his head to see if her chest rose.
Barely.
So she'd done damage to her airway.
Shit.
Rescue breathing wouldn't work. They needed to intubate.
He only hoped Steve's back up had a fucking good med kit, not one of those shit ones with bandaids and cold patches.
"Come on, Kid." Clint grunted, continuing compressions with one hand, just as good as when he used two.
His free hand tilted her head back, fingers feeling for a pulse once more.
Nothing.
Where the hell was Steve?
"Don't do this, Kid." Clint whispered.
"Please."