A/N: A special thanks and warm welcome to those who have favorited and followed this story - good to know people are reading along! If you all could be so kind as to let me know what you think, I'd be super grateful. Either way, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! -ACN


Chapter Eight: Promises

#

Now, Tony couldn't be entirely certain, but he was pretty sure that Natalia had adopted him. In some capacity, at least. She didn't take care of him so much as make sure he more or less took care of himself. The assassin didn't clean and she certainly didn't cook, but she did periodically remind him that sustenance was a thing and more than once he had fallen asleep sitting up somewhere only to wake on the sofa or in his bed with a blanket pulled over him.

He had given up on trying to figure out how she got in after another week and just gave her a key. Tony thought she'd been grateful for this, even if she hadn't really expressed the sentiment. It was taking him a while to learn to read her.

Natalia was curled up in an armchair as Tony worked on a device that would help him bypass digital security systems. The television was playing, but neither of them were paying it much attention. In fact, the redhead seemed more interested in him that whatever contrived drama was happening in the show.

"What?" Tony asked, glancing up at her.

"Are you hard of hearing?" she signed curiously.

"No. Why?" he replied, attention promptly returning to his project.

"You always watch TV with the subtitles on," Natalia said, "but you also keep the volume down."

He paused to consider this. "I guess I do," he agreed. Clint hadn't liked the volume up too high because he'd said the background noise was distracting. Tony had taken to making sure the closed captioning was always on for him. He had yet to get out of either habit. Part of him knew this was for the same reason as the empty bedroom, but he chose not to think about it. Much.

They lapsed into silence. Natalia watched the show and Tony worked on the device. He barely noticed how dark it was starting to get before she got up to turn on the lamp.

"Another thing we have in common," she said as he blinked in the sudden brightness.

"What's that?" Tony asked.

"Our habits are not our own," she told him, "we got them from other people."

As she wandered into the kitchen, Tony wondered whether that was the reason she had stuck around. Did Natalia feel she could identify with him? Could he identity with Natalia?

Tony wasn't sure whether he could or not. He knew a bit about the Red Room - certainly more than an ordinary person - but even Hydra's information had been limited. Most of said information only involved the Soldier's involvement with the program. There were a lot of differences between Tony's relatively secluded upbringing and that of black widow assassins. And yet, there were also a lot of similarities.

He just wasn't sure.

"One of us should probably learn how to cook," Tony remarked when he got up to follow her into the kitchen. She was putting together a peanut butter sandwich. Just peanut butter, from the look of things, but that might have been because there was no jelly.

"It will not be me," Natalia replied, arching a challenging brow at him.

The brunet gave a laugh and looked down. "Guess that leaves me, then," he said. A moment later a plate with a plain peanut butter sandwich appeared under his nose. Like she was rewarding his response. The thought made him grin. "What should I try cooking first?"

"As long as you don't poison me, I will try anything, Antoshka. Or I will order out and it won't matter," Natalia told him pragmatically.

"That's true," Tony said agreeably. He took a large bite out of his sandwich. It was dry, but that was okay. Tony wasn't about to complain about it.

#

"Antoshka, I know that I said you could cook anything, but maybe you should start with something… simpler," Natalia suggested a couple days later as she took in the disaster zone that was the kitchen.

A couple pieces of food fell from where they'd been blasted onto the ceiling. "Yeah," said Tony, wondering where he'd gone wrong, "yeah, I think you're probably right."

When he relayed the debacle to Clint, without mentioning Natalia, the man had responded with three words: 'Dude. Boxed dinners.'

With this sage advice and further experimentation and research, Tony soon discovered the convenience that was boxed mac-n-cheese, Hamburger Helper, and frozen lasagna. It might not have been exactly gourmet, but it did the trick. Anything more complex would have to wait until he'd had a chance to practice more.

It was as they were eating some pasta and vegetable dish Tony had found in the frozen section one night that Natalia asked, "How old are you?"

She occasionally asked such things, but never all at once. By Tony's assessment - assuming he was getting better at reading her - she was curious about him but didn't want to press out of respect. At least, that was the reason Tony hadn't asked too many questions about her unless she'd been the first to do so. It turned out that assassins and former assets weren't the most forthcoming.

"I'm 25," Tony replied between bites, eating with one hand as he sketched out an idea with the other. "How old are you?" When she didn't respond right away, Tony looked up. She was watching him with her head tilted to one side.

"However old you think, I am older," she told him.

He gave her a skeptical look. "You can't be much older than I am, if you're that, even," he said.

Natalia's lips twitched into a brief smirk. "Older," she said. Which begged so many questions.

Tony asked none of them.

#

Tony was slouched in his desk chair, laptop in his lap as he twitch between working on it and his desktop. As he worked, U was across the room suspiciously inspecting the bag Natalia had left behind when she pulled a disappearing act the previous day. He wasn't sure what the bot expected to find but he was certain the assassin wouldn't have left it if she had a problem with it being disturbed. Mostly certain.

"Hey, J?" the brunet spoke aloud as he typed something into his main keyboard. "Any idea what U's problem with Natalia is?"

U's arm lifted so the bot could turn his claw Tony's direction, pincers closing with a quiet clack as he let out a series of terse beeps. Tony quirked a brow at the bot from between the computer monitors.

"It would seem that U's 'problem' with Ms. Natalia, as you put it, is that she is not Mr. Barton, sir," JARVIS replied through the computer speakers. U let out a rude sounding buzz-click then returned to what he was doing before.

Tony laughed. "I really don't think that's her fault, buddy," he teased. The bot ignored him. His gaze softened and he sighed. "He really misses him, doesn't he?"

"It appears so, sir," JARVIS agreed, "and dare I say, he is not the only one."

"He was my first real friend. I mean, I did feel that I may have had a friend before, sort of, but I didn't really understand what that meant. Clint taught me what friendship could be. You know, when it was allowed," Tony shrugged.

A commiserating beep proceeded U setting one of Clint's old arrowheads down on the desk a couple minutes later. Tony paused what he was doing to pick it up, thumb running carefully along its edge. It felt like ages since he and Clint had parted ways.

"I miss him, too," he said softly, "but you know what? He's doing just fine. I heard from him just the other day. And the moment he's not fine, I'll go rescue him."

U gave an affable chirp and opened his claw to take the arrowhead back. Tony handed it over and gave the bot's arm a fond pat.

Clearing his throat, Tony focused back on his computers. "Right. Where were we, J?"

"You were about to run a simulation for your new electronic security hack," JARVIS answered disapprovingly.

"Whoa, hey," Tony told him. "Dial back the judgment, would you? We can't all belong to billionaires, you know. And it's not like I'm asking you to do the hacking."

"Not yet, in any case," the AI responded dryly.

"See, that's just rude. And judgy. You're judgy, J," the man informed him. "You definitely don't get that from me."

"I'll be sure to make a note of that."

"See that you do," Tony responded, mouth quirking in amusement. "Most sophisticated system in the world, and you choose to question my life choices."

"At this juncture, I feel that someone ought to do so, sir," JARVIS replied primly.

Tony threw his head back and laughed. "Fair enough," he said with a grin.

#

For a terrifying moment, Tony's brain was convinced that Hydra had found him and were breaking into his apartment. There was a scraping and jiggling of the handle before the door slammed open abruptly. Tony had jumped to his feet in the same moment, a pistol already in hand, adrenaline surging. Then a figure staggered through the doorway and his heart skipped several beats entirely.

It took him several seconds to process what he was seeing before the source of his dread abruptly switched gears. There was so much blood.

"Natalia?!" Hastily setting the gun aside, he ran towards her, catching her as her legs gave out from under her. Tony half-dragged, half-carried the woman to the sofa, setting her down with as much care as could be spared.

He pressed a hand over top one of her own, adding to the pressure applied to a wound in her stomach. Her hair was matted with crimson from some injury hidden among the locks which had also bled down the right side of her face and neck. The left shoulder of her jacket was stained red, slowly oozing fluid from what was unmistakably a bullet hole.

"Natalia, talk to me," Tony said, gently taking her by the chin to get her to look at him. Her eyes were over-bright with pain, expression drawn and lips pale. "Natalia, please. Tell me what happened, please," he implored, switching to Russian in case that would help matters even the slightest.

"Job went bad," Natalia answered, voice too quiet. "Target was expecting me. Brought backup. Bastards shot me."

"Okay. Alright. It will be okay. We'll fix this," he told her, turning to U momentarily, "U, shut the door and go get me the medkit. And towels - bring them right here. Now!" His attention went back to Natalia, tone urgent as he asked, "How many times were you shot?"

"I'm sorry, Antoshka," she whispered.

"Hey! None of that. Just tell me how many times. Twice? Two times?" he pressed.

Natalia let out a pained grunt. "Three. The leg went all the way through. Couldn't… I couldn't get to the others. Wasn't time."

"Yeah, you would be the sort to do surgery on yourself," Tony said, only somewhat incredulous.

U returned with the items he had requested and Tony quickly set them on the edge of the sofa. He used a leg to shove back the coffee table, then motioned the bot closer. Taking one of the towels, he put it in place of his and Natalia's hands before directing U to push on it with his claw.

"Hold it tight," Tony told him, then spoke to Natalia, "Try not to move. I need a few more things so we can get you fixed up. It will be just a moment. Just hang in there - and no passing out on me!" She gave a slight nod and Tony hurried off.

Stopping in the kitchen first, he filled the largest pot he owned with water and put it on the stove. That done, he went to locate his knives - the sharp ones, anyhow. Not that his cooking knives were bad, but he kept his others in better condition. Knives collected, he delivered them to the coffee table, grabbing several lighters along his way, before returning to the kitchen to wash his hands and grab the pot.

"Natalia. Nat, hey," Tony gave her cheek a firm pat to get her to open her eyes. "I'm going to give you something for the pain, now, then I'm going in for those bullets. We'll have you patched up and terrorizing people twice your size again in no time."

Natalia grimaced in response, or maybe she was trying to smile. Tony wasn't sure. "No matter what," she murmured, speaking obviously taking more of her effort than a bit ago, "no hospital. Promise me, Antoshka."

"I know," he reassured her, "I promise."

She wouldn't have come back to him if she could risk going to a hospital. Although, Tony couldn't help but worry that a hospital was exactly what she needed. But she was a black widow and Tony was a runaway Hydra asset. A hospital wouldn't be safe for either of them.

"Here. Take this," Tony said, having fumbled a couple morphine tablets from the medkit. "I've got you." He really hoped he was telling the truth. God, he needed to be telling the truth.

Drawing in the steadiest breath he could manage, Tony set to work, praying to whomever might be listening that his promise hadn't doomed the assassin to her death.

#


To be continued...