.ೃ࿔*:･𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐱. fresh out the slammer

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐓. It was a silence that seeped into her bones, heavy and unyielding. But today, something was different. A faint noise reached her ears, a distant commotion that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The groans and muffled thuds of the guards falling only confirmed her suspicions.

Her heart pounded in her chest, anticipation stirring within her. She rose slowly from the cold metal bed, her movements unhurried, as if savoring the moment.

The sound of boots echoing through the corridor grew louder, and she stood there, holding her breath. Then, with a resounding clank, the door swung open. And there he was, standing tall and resolute— Steve. The sight of him brought a smile to her face, a real one, not the tired, hollow smiles she’d worn for months.

“Told you he wouldn’t leave us behind, Clint,” Sam’s voice drifted over from his cell, full of warmth and relief.

Clint stepped closer to the bars of his cell, his voice laced with the kind of gruff affection that had been missing for too long. “Well, ain’t you a sight?”

Ingrid chuckled, the sound foreign after so much time. It felt like a release, a crack in the wall she’d built around her emotions.

“I never thought I’d be this happy to see you,” she quipped, her voice lighter than it had been in months.

Steve smiled, his expression a mixture of relief and determination as he pressed the button beside the door. The metallic hum of the cells unlocking was the sweetest sound Ingrid had heard in months. "Sorry I couldn't make it here sooner," Steve said.

As the cell doors slid open, Ingrid stepped out slowly, savoring the moment. The same feeling echoed through the room as Clint, Sam, Scott, and Wanda emerged from their cells.

Clint stretched, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the last remnants of captivity. "We’ll try not to hold it against you."

They moved through the stark, sterile corridors of the Raft, still dressed in the blue scrubs that had become a uniform of their imprisonment. Ingrid glanced down at her wrists, now free of the restraints that had once felt like an extension of her body. The absence of those bindings was as liberating as the open doors ahead.

The silence between them was comfortable, a shared understanding that didn’t need to be filled with words. But Clint finally spoke up. "This has been fun, but believe me when I say that I am officially retired now." His voice was light, but there was a firmness beneath it.

Steve nodded, his gaze softening as he turned to Clint. "Understood, Clint. Go back home and take care of that brood of yours. You’ve got to enjoy the time you’ve got with the ones you love while you have it."

He then looked at Scott, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, likely thinking of his own daughter. "That goes for you too, Mr. Lang. Thank you again for your help."

Scott gave a small, appreciative nod, the thought of seeing his daughter again warming his heart.

Steve's gaze then fell on Wanda, who had remained silent, her thoughts far away. "Wanda, did you have anywhere in particular you'd like us to drop you off?"

Wanda's lips curled into a soft smile. "Just need to meet up with an old friend," she said, the word 'friend' carrying an intimacy that left no doubt she meant Vision.

Ingrid watched as Steve addressed each of them, his leadership shining through in the way he offered them all choices, respect, and a path forward. When his eyes finally met hers, there was a moment of silence, an unspoken question lingering between them. She wondered if he had a plan for her, a direction for her to follow now that they were free.

Steve smiled warmly, understanding her silent inquiry. "Natasha’s waiting for you in Germany," he said, his tone reassuring. He knew how much Natasha meant to Ingrid.

At the mention of Natasha, Ingrid’s heart swelled with a mix of relief and joy. Her smile widened, the first genuine smile in what felt like an eternity. Natasha was more than just a mentor; she was family. She understood Ingrid in a way few others did.

"You don’t mind going with Natasha?" Steve asked, his concern genuine, as if he’d change the plan in an instant if it wasn’t what she wanted.

Ingrid shook her head, her voice soft but sure. "Of course I don’t mind." There was no hesitation, no doubt. She was ready to be with someone who made her feel grounded, someone who had always been there to guide her through the darkest times.

As they continued their journey out of the Raft, the weight of their past captivity began to lift, replaced by a sense of hope and new beginnings. Each step felt lighter than the last, the blue scrubs and the cold steel walls of the Raft fading behind them.