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It was an easy mission. It was a small Hydra base. They didn’t even need the whole team. It was Tony, Natasha, and Thor. Thor would cause a diversion, Natasha would slip in and steal info, Tony would assist with both.
That is until he decided to be a selfish idiot and try to power up a machine he found.
Hydra tech fascinated him, and this one looked like an enormous projectile. He was just intrigued.
He didn’t even know why he did it. It could’ve waited. He could’ve grabbed it after Natasha was safely out. Better yet, he could’ve stuck to the fucking plan.
But no.
He stepped out of the suit and started tinkering when he was supposed to be backup. When she needed backup.
Tony didn’t think anything of it when he heard the gunshot. It was a usual occurrence.
He did think something of it when he heard a burst of static over comms. But he didn’t do anything. Because it was an easy mission. What could go wrong?
Tony was so engrossed in taking apart the machine that he didn’t hear the weak footsteps stumbling towards him.
What he did hear was Natasha’s voice. He heard her choke out his name. Then he heard the thud of her body as it hit the floor.
Everything after that had been a blur. He only had one coherent thought: There’s too much blood.
Natasha’s blood. It was on his hands. It was soaking through the towel he was pushing against her side. It was pooling on the Quinjet floor underneath her.
Thor yelled at him from somewhere very far away. From the front of the jet. From the pilot’s seat. It should be Tony flying. Thor barely knew how. But the jet had an autopilot, and Tony would be damned if he left Natasha again.
He stared down at the blood as though he could get it to stop with his guilt alone.
His heart pounded in his chest. His body trembled.
His vision blurred in and out between Natasha’s pale and sweaty figure right now, and various memories of her.
Tony was shaking harder than he had during any panic attack. He didn’t trust his voice. But he had to speak. He had to say something, he had to apologize before it was too late… Or was it already too late?
“Nat,” he choked out, lifting his eyes from her wound.
She looked up at him, green eyes glazed over.
“I’m sorry,” Tony hissed through a sob.
“It’s okay,” Natasha’s voice was strained.
Tony shook his head and leaned his forehead against hers. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to focus on the sound of her shallow breathing.
Tony secured bandages around her stomach. They quickly turned dark red.
Fuck, fuck, fuck… Tony cursed himself.
He cupped Natasha’s cheek. Her skin was clammy.
“Hey… Are you cold?” He asked.
She blinked slowly.
“Nat?”
“Yeah,” she said after a minute.
Tony squeezed her hand. “Okay, okay…” he stood up and opened a drawer on the side of the jet, pulling out a blanket.
“Is she okay?” Thor called.
“No, Point Break, she got shot!” Tony snapped.
“Well, yes, but-“
“She’s going into shock,” Tony hissed.
Thor’s brow furrowed. He glanced from his hammer to the sky and back to Tony. “Shock? I don’t…”
“It means she’s lost too much blood and her body’s going to vibrate and her brain will explode!” Tony cried.
He didn’t have time to deal with the thousand shades of horror and confusion battling on Thor’s face.
Thor muttered something about how on Asgard shock was just lightning.
Tony knelt down next to Natasha and spread the blanket over her.
He took her cold hand in his, stained with her blood. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Tell me if it gets too hot, okay?”
Natasha nodded.
“Hey… Talk to me. Please?” Tony asked.
“I’m tired,” she whispered.
Her eyelids dropped and Tony grabbed her cheek in a moment of panic. “No, no, no, don’t do that!”
She blinked her eyes open.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Tony said. “I am not letting you die. Okay? For my own self-interest. If I land this jet without you Steve will use the shield to chop my head off. Barton’s too Barton to kill me, but he’d try. Bruce wouldn’t need to hulk out to kill-“
Natasha’s stomach lurched. Tony grabbed her shoulders and helped her turn before she threw up.
His heart pounded. There was no blood in the vomit, which was good, but…
She collapsed back with a groan.
“I-I’m gonna-“ Tony stood up and scampered over to the side of the jet to grab her water bottle.
He supported her shoulders and held it up to her lips.
Natasha didn’t drink. Her eyelids fluttered, and her breathing was shallow.
Tony bit back his frustration. He wasn’t mad at her. He was fucking furious at himself.
The weight on his arm grew heavier. She was losing strength.
“Natasha?” His voice shook.
“It’s okay…” she whispered.
“No, no it’s not, none of this- NAT!” Tony cried.
She collapsed, going limp in his arms.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony hissed under his breath.
He laid her down and tucked the blanket back over her. He pressed his fingers to her neck and held his breath.
He thought he felt a pulse, until he realized it was only is fingers shaking.
Her shallow breathing was starting to slow.
He jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.
Thor was looking uneasily between Tony and Natasha.
Tony glared back at him. Just go away…
“Is… Is she…?” Thor swallowed.
Tony stared him dead in the eyes and stood up. He shoved past him and threw himself down in the pilot’s seat.
He didn’t care what Thor was doing. If he was crying, or in denial, or if he was gonna hit her with magic healing lightning or whatever. It wouldn’t make a fucking difference.
Tony took a deep, shuddering breath.
He had to call Bruce. Steve and Sam were away on their own assignment. Clint was with his family, and he always dodged Tony’s calls. Even if he did answer, Tony could not have that conversation with Clint…
Bruce picked up the call. “Tony?”
“Hey,” Tony said. “Prepare medical. ETA 15 minutes.”
Bruce’s brow furrowed. “Medical? What happened?”
Tony took a deep breath. “Nat’s hit.”
“Hit?”
“She got shot.”
Bruce’s breath hitched. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“I don’t fucking know,” Tony snapped. “Do your damn job.”
He hung up on him.
Tony shuddered in frustration. Do your damn job. Like he should’ve been doing. None of this would’ve happened if he had just covered her like he was supposed to-
“Stark!” Thor called.
Tony jumped up and rushed over to Nat’s side.
She was awake.
Tony breathed a sigh of relief and cupped her cheek. “Hey, hey, Natasha…”
A tear rolled down her cheek and Tony brushed it aside. Her brow was furrowed in pain and confusion.
“I’m here,” Tony caressed her cheek.
Thor squeezed her hand.
“Can you say something, please, Natasha?” Tony begged.
She whimpered.
Tears rushed to Tony’s eyes and he blinked them back. “Natasha, please…”
Please say something. Anything! Tony’s heart pounded. Promise me you won’t die on me. Promise me you won’t die. Natasha, I swear if you-
Her eyes closed and she went limp again.
Tony choked on his breath and stifled a sob. He leaned his forehead against her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her, gripping her upper arm. Despite her skin being clammy, her body was still warm. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on her shallow breaths. They were getting fainter.
Tony didn’t know what Thor did for the rest of the ride back. He couldn’t remember if he was with him, or if he was piloting, or calling Bruce…
Tony spent the whole ride right next to Natasha, trying to cling to her life for her.
After an agonizing twelve minutes, filled with prayers and restrained sobs, the Quinjet touched down at the tower.
Tony knew it was too late. He knew it was too late when her shallow breathing was reduced to faint wheezes. He knew it was too late when he pulled away and saw her pale face and blueish lips. He knew it was too late when he elbowed past the medical team to brush his hand over her cheek and kiss her forehead. He knew it was too late when he stood shaking in the Quinjet, eyes transfixed on the litre and a half of blood on the floor.
Tony stayed right outside the med-bay anyway. He couldn’t bring himself to leave her again. Not until she was actually dead.
Bruce had gotten a hold of Steve and Clint, who were both on their ways.
Tony tapped his foot and stared at the floor. He wondered if guilt could make you pass out.
That guilt got a whole lot worse when righteous Steve Rogers stormed down the hallway, spangles and everything.
“What the hell happened!?” Steve demanded.
Tony stood up. “She got shot. Was that not clear?”
“You’re seriously going to be snarky right now?” Steve demanded.
Tony crossed his arms and looked him over. “It’s not exactly the mood for spangles, either.”
“This is a uniform, Tony,” Steve said.
“It’s a Halloween costume, Rogers,” Tony spat.
“Tony,” Clint grabbed his shoulder.
Tony turned slowly. Clint’s eyes were frantic and glassy. His breaths came in quick bursts which he was trying to hide.
“What happened?” Clint hissed.
“She…” Tony swallowed.
He looked from Clint to Steve. They were both fixed on him intently. They were both waiting for a reason to punch him. He looked over at Bruce who was slouched on a bench with his hands covering his ears. He tapped the back of his head rhythmically. Tony looked over at Thor, who was pacing and tossing his hammer.
He turned back to Clint. He thought of Natasha. The gunshot he’d heard. The static… her com being smashed. She couldn’t ask for help. She wouldn’t have needed to ask for help if he had been there. If he hadn’t been a fucking idiot. Maybe he could’ve done more in the jet. Bandaged her sooner. Gotten her there sooner.
What had been her last words? He wracked his brain. It was all a blur… “It’s okay”? Tony wanted to laugh. Like hell it was okay.
Tony opened his mouth.
A nurse exited the OR.
Tony turned and saw the nurse walk towards them.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, I can’t hear this.
Tony turned and bolted down the hallway, the force of his run releasing the tears in his eyes.
He burst through the doors and out onto the street, where he called his suit and shot up into the sky.
“Jarvis, give me a beat,” Tony ordered.
Jarvis put on his usual hard rock.
Tony took a deep breath. “Gimme something to blast.”
“Would you like to go the demolition site of warehouse c?” Jarvis asked.
Tony blinked. “Uh… Yeah.”
“Incoming call from Captain Rogers,” Jarvis informed as a call popped up on screen.
“End call, block the number,” Tony said.
Jarvis closed the screen.
Tony shot off in the direction of the demolition site.
“Sir, your vitals-“ Jarvis started.
“My vitals are fucking fine,” Tony snapped.
“Regarding Agent Romanoff-“
“Do not say her name,” Tony hissed.
“Sir, I read that the best way to deal with grief-“
“Mute,” Tony snapped.
He turned the music up and accelerated. Pepper was gonna kill him for demolishing this building himself instead of waiting for the construction team, but fuck it. He needed this. If she was that mad about it he’d kill him himself.
Tony crept back into the tower only after the warehouse had been reduced to rubble. He snuck through the halls and took the stairs to avoid seeing anyone in the elevator.
He climbed the stairs slowly and let his adrenaline finally die down. All that was left was a sinking, heavy feeling, and the realization that Natasha was dead. Natasha was dead, and it was his fault.
Tony glanced down the hallway. Seeing no one, he made a break for it.
He was almost in the safety of his bedroom, when a hand gripped his shoulder.
Tony’s shoulders locked up, and he turned slowly.
It was Clint.
Fuck.
Clint reached out. Tony braced himself for a punch, and was surprised when he got a hug instead.
He tensed in his arms, holding his hands out, unsure of what to do.
“Thank you,” Clint whispered.
Tony blinked. “What?”
“She’s alive,” Clint hugged him tighter.
The world seemed to spin. Tony’s heart did about ten thousand backflips. He shoved Clint away and gripped his shoulders.
“Wait, what?” He demanded.
“Natasha,” Clint said. “It was a really rough operation, they almost lost her multiple times, but she made it.”
Tony searched his eyes. “Barton, if this is a fucking joke—“
“Why would I joke about this?” Clint demanded.
Tony didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath. He had been positive Natasha was dead. He swore he felt her die.
“She’s… okay?” He whispered.
“Yeah,” Clint said. “Thanks to you stopping a lot of the bleeding.”
Tony looked down. “I… No…”
Clint squeezed his shoulder. “She’s asleep, but you can go see her.”
Tony blinked back tears. “Okay.”
Natasha wasn’t in a proper hospital room. They’d set up her bed and monitors in her own room, knowing she’d feel safer.
Tony sat next to her bed for hours, holding her hand. Her skin was warm now.
Even as she slept, there was tension in her forehead. Natasha could never fully relax. She was like Tony in that way.
Even so, he’d never seen her sleep this deeply. Sleep was something she struggled with. Sometimes they’d spend their sleepless nights together, if Tony wasn’t locked in a project. If he was, Natasha would sometimes join him in the workshop. It was something no one else had the patience for, but she seeemed to be okay just sitting in silence, scrolling her phone while he worked next to her. Tony appreciated that. Quality time with no expectations.
The hours passed, and Clint came into her room.
“I’m gonna stay with her tonight,” he said.
Tony nodded and stood up.
“You can stay, too,” he said.
Tony waved his hand. “Nah. It’s fine.”
Tony spent the next day alone in his workshop. Text messages rolled in, telling him Natasha was awake, and that she wanted to see him. He ignored them. So she was alive. That was a miracle. It was still his fault. That didn’t change. She wasn’t alive because of him, she was alive despite him.
Tony couldn’t face her. He didn’t deserve to. He should do her a favour and stay away. Do everyone a favour.
Five days later, Tony had successfully avoided the whole team. He’d passed them in hallways, but managed to redirect questions, and hide back away in his shop or his room.
There was one flaw in his plan. When he wasn’t talking to the team, he had no idea how Natasha was doing. Everything had seemed fine. But what if the wound got infected? What if something else went wrong?
After four sleepless nights, he couldn’t take it anymore.
He threw his blankets off and crept down the hall to Natasha’s room.
He opened the door quietly and peered in.
She was asleep on her back, under a soft blanket. The monitors were gone, which was a good sign. She was still in a hospital bed, and held a loose grip on a remote in her hand.
Tony shut the door quietly and crept over to her. He sat down next to her on the bed.
He stared at her, watching her stomach rise and fall steadily as she breathed.
This is so creepy, Tony realized.
He sighed, and spoke in a low voice so as not to wake her. “Okay, sorry, Nat… Sneaking into a woman’s room and watching her sleep probably isn’t the best move…” he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “And touching her. Yeah, extra creepy. Okay.”
He sat in silence for another minute.
“I guess I just want to apologize,” he said. “I fucked up. You’re in here because of me, you know that…” he took a deep breath, voice beginning to shake. “God, I thought you were dead. I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you since it happened. I don’t want to hurt you. I imagine I’m the last person you want to see.”
He found himself playing with the ends of her red curls.
Tony took a deep breath. “I realized when you were… you know, dramatically draining of blood… There’s something I need to tell you.”
He hooked his fingers around the curls by her jaw and brushed the side of her face with his thumb.
“I love you,” he whispered. He caught himself. “Ew, creepy. I’m being creepy again,” he huffed a laugh. “No, not like that. No, you’re…” he took a deep breath. “You’re one of my best friends, Nat. I can’t help but feel like you’re better off without me. You’re too good to me. Too good to everyone, honestly… I’m so sorry.”
Tears welled up in his eyes and he caressed her cheek one more time. “Love you,” he whispered.
Tony turned. He pulled his hand back, and moved to stand up.
Natasha’s fingers closed around his wrist.
He jumped and whipped his head around.
She looked up at him with gentle green eyes. “Get back here, you sap.”
Tony’s eyes widened. He opened and closed his mouth. “I- Were- Were you awake this whole time?”
Natasha smirked. “Yes.”
Tony covered his face. “Oh fuck you.”
Natasha giggled and tugged on his wrist.
Tony laid down next to her, rolling his eyes.
Natasha squeezed his hand. “I’d hug you, but it hurts so much to move…”
Tony grimaced. “Yeah… You’re good.”
“I don’t want you to avoid me,” she said. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You definitely should be,” he scoffed.
“Why would I be mad at you when you’re so clearly sorry?” She asked. “Everyone fucks up.”
“Yeah, and my fuck up almost got you killed!” He cried.
“Almost,” she squeezed his hand.
Tony exhaled sharply.
“Can we go back to talking about how sappy you are?” She grinned.
“Uh, maybe we should talk about how manipulative you are,” he countered.
“Oh, but you love me,” she said. “And you can’t deny it anymore. You just said it twice.”
He scoffed. “It was a moment of weakness. I’ve learned better. I just… succumbed to your feminine charms for a moment.”
Natasha snorted. “Dude, I have a giant hole in my side, I’m high on morphine, and I haven’t showered in five days. That was all you.”
Tony laughed. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.
Natasha nudged him. “Hey. I love you, too, by the way.”
Tony smiled. He focused on the heat of her body next to him, and her firm grip on his hand. For the first time in five days, he could breathe easy. With the ability to breathe, came the ability to cry. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks and into her hair.
Natasha shifted her position with a pained hiss and cupped his cheek. “Hey, Tony… It’s okay.”
“Nat, if you say ‘it’s okay’ one more time I’m going to lose it,” he huffed.
He took a deep, shaky breath and let her brush away his tears.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“If you feel that guilty, I’ll tell you how you can make it up to me,” she said quietly.
“How?” He perked up. “I’ll do anything. Anything legal. Well, I’ll consider prostitution-“
She snorted. “Get me chocolate.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“I want chocolate,” Natasha said. “The doctors said I need to eat healthy. I want a fucking KitKat.”
“Of course you do,” Tony smiled.
He stood up. “I’ll be right back.”