As usual; I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed - it means the world! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

To say that Tony Stark was having a rough day was by far a giant understatement. He was currently sat outside the compounds medical bay, slumped into a chair with his mind going at a speed too quick to comprehend. Next to him was Peter, his face a pale white. Looking closer, Tony noticed that the kid's leg was bouncing up and down faster than a bunny rabbit doped up on ecstasy.

"You did everything you could, kid."

Peter glanced up at him. "I didn't do anything."

"You called for help."

The teenager just shrugged. Knowing that there was nothing that he could say that would make Peter feel better, Tony just placed his hand on his shoulder. On his other side, he could feel Pepper lacing her fingers with his own. When he turned to look at her, it was easy to see that the day's events had worn away at Pepper's usual titanium businesswoman stance. Like Peter, her face was pale, and exhaustion had left her shoulders drooped and her back slouched. Grimacing, Tony looked between the two once more before biting the bullet and suggesting that they both make their way to bed.

As predicted, that decision was met with an uproar.

"I'm not going anywhere, Tony!"

"Mr Stark, I don't want to leave!"

Sighing, Tony got to his feet and looked at Peter. "I know you're worried, kid. I get it – really, I do. If anything happens I swear I'll come and get you myself, but your Aunt was reluctant to let you stay here tonight. If I tell her that "here" is the outside of the medical department waiting for the world's most notorious assassin to be revived after she almost died in your arms, I think she's going to start demanding some form of legal proceedings. Or therapy. Or both. Go to bed."

Peter opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Aunt May would go ballistic if she realised that this was why Peter had practically begged to stay at the tower tonight. Especially as it meant he had missed Thai night under the guise of a "potentially lifesaving suit upgrade". He did feel bad for lying to May, even more so after he had promised to tell her the truth about everything involving Spiderman. But he had to stay here and make sure Agent Romanoff was alright. Even if that meant missing Thai night. While he wouldn't miss that creepy waiter-dude hitting on his Aunt and pretending that he wasn't right there, he would miss spending some normal down time with May.

Also, he was tired. Exhausted, even.

Usually when he was at the Avenger's compound he was always overflowing with stuff to tell Ned – and sometimes when it was just science based, MJ - the next evening but now he just wanted to close his eyes and forget the end of his day until he, hopefully, awoke to better news.

He made up his mind. "You promise?"

Mr Stark nodded, and Peter knew he had made the right choice when the man opposite him looked as though a little of the weight on his shoulders had lifted, even if it was just a fraction.

"I promise."

Peter nodded. He trusted Mr Stark and it was nice to feel a little bit of the anxiety stuck in the base of his stomach lift slightly.

As they watched Peter turn around the corner and head to his bedroom, Tony turned his attention back to Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. The latter two had remained quite the whole time, even thought they had all been there for at least five hours. It was easy to understand, if Tony hadn't been focused on Peter, he would have been trapped in his own mind too. None of it made any sense.

Pushing those thoughts far away for now, Tony looked at Pepper.

"No." Her voice was firm.

If Tony hadn't known Pepper for as long as he had, he would have almost believed her façade. It was his knowledge of her however, that allowed him to see past the steel in her eyes and focus on the worry, confusion and exhaustion that sat behind. The former two could not be helped but the latter could be – and would be if he had anything to do with it.

"Pep, please, listen to me." He pleaded. "If Natasha wakes up and confirms what we think we already know; we are going to have a total shit-storm on our hands. You know how to deal with that better than anybody – you've been cleaning up my messes for longer than you should have been."

He took a deep breath, grabbing her left hand with his own and running his finger over the ring that was living there. "I can't do any of this without you, Pepper, but neither of us are going to be any good at fixing this if we're running on fumes."

Pepper sighed, her shoulders sagging as she put away her mask. She nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

They smiled at each other before Pepper placed a gentle kiss on Tony's cheek and headed out the same way that Peter had gone before her. Once he could no longer hear her heels clinking alone the floor, Tony dropped back into his chair as though he was completely weightless.

Immediately Rhodey and Happy were by his side; close enough to offer him comfort but making sure that the billionaire still had room to move and breathe without feeling as though he was trapped.

The three of them remained in silence for a while as Tony tried to find some fictional ground on which he could offload the thousands of thoughts steamrolling their way through his mind. It was another hour before he straightened his back but instead of his usual – false or otherwise – confident expression, he bore one of confliction.

"What is it?" Rhodey asked.

He sighed. "I need to call the others."

It wasn't what he wanted, he didn't even like the thought of picking up the phone that Roger's had sent him. More than once he had fought off the desire to crush the phone under his feet, stomp on Cap's olive branch and then take a blowtorch to all the individual remains. There were days when he wasn't sure what he was angry at about what had happened in Siberia and then there were some where he was angry about everything that had happened there. On those days, the phone tended to be locked away in one place or another that Tony specifically instructed Friday to keep sealed – even to him. Just in case the day ever came where he would regret strapping the phone to a rocket and shooting it off in the direction of the sun.

Fortunately for him, today (or rather tonight) was the day where his strength had paid off. Tony Stark could be called many things, but he doubted anyone - except for, maybe, and somewhat ironically, Natasha Romanoff – would ever call him naïve. He knew that Natasha's odds where thin; she had been bleeding out of her ears for Christ sake and judging by the state of her, Tony doubted that she had simply perforated her eardrum. By looking at her, a severe head trauma was one of the many things that was plaguing her, she undoubtedly had multiple broken bones and numerous other problems. It wasn't looking good.

In fact, it was looking far from it.

Rhodey, on the other hand, was looking only at him. "The others? As in…"

"As in Cap, and Barton – especially Barton. Maximoff and Wilson too. They should be here." He sighed again, wanting to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth but also understanding that this wasn't about him. "Red would want them here; to say goodbye if they need too."

That was true. Natasha might not be able to say goodbye to them in her current state, but after becoming more familiar with her after knowing her for six years, Tony knew that she would want anyone who wanted to say goodbye to say it. It was a rare form of sentiment – something that was both rare and difficult of Natasha to offer.

Rhodey and Happy were both staring at him as though he had sprouted another head. Not that he blamed them; any conversation involving Rogers and Barnes had been strictly off limits since he had returned from Siberia – aside from the initial "So this just happened…" conversation that was all but mandatory. He hadn't wanted to relive that experience and the pain that had come with it; he simply wasn't ready for it. Aside from brief conversations with Peter, the other Avengers had barely come up at all. All everyone knew was that they were now fugitives and that all their rooms in the compound were locked.

Except Natasha's.

Although, for the first few days her door had also been locked – not that anyone dared try the handle to find out. Initially, Tony had felt the same burning anger that he had felt for her when he had discovered that she had been planted in his company by Fury. He had felt as though he had been played. Lied to. Manipulated. It had taken a few days to come to terms with what he had been feeling towards Natasha specifically, in fact; it had only been when he had taken up issue with the Accords that he had felt his anger with her simmer away. He had remembered what she had said when they had all been presented with the Accords for the first time.

"One had on the wheel and we can still steer."

For Natasha, it had never been about absolutes. Whether it was in terms of their freedom of choice or their need to take responsibility for what happened in the aftermath of an Avengers mission, Natasha had just wanted to find a way to save and protect as many lives as possible. That wasn't to say that Tony and Steve hadn't wanted that too, but Natasha had remained unbiased and loyal towards the Avengers, even when it's two leaders had wavered.

And they had wavered. Cap had wavered in his desire to offer absolute freedom. Even when faced with its problems, Cap had wanted everyone to be free to make their own choices. It was admirable; the idea that doing so would prevent another incident like the one that had happened in DC. Roger's had wanted to protect people from falling into the hands of those with cruel agendas, so much so that he had forgotten that there was no such thing as a person without. He had been blinded by his idealism. Tony had thought that there had been something quite ironic in the letter that he had received alongside his phone. Yes, Roger's did believe in people, but he also idolised them. He couldn't separate a man from his actions and in doing so, he had placed the Avengers on the back burner. He would rather have his friend than the chance to save the world. Tony couldn't blame him for that, he knew that he would have done the same if it had been Rhodey. The Avengers, however, needed to be led by someone who would place the public above everything else. For a while, it had seemed as though that would have been the job for Steve Rogers. Yet, even Captain America had wavered.

Then again, so had Iron Man

Tony had wavered in his desire to become checked, to be put in line under such tight restrictions so that he would never take it upon himself to build another Ultron, or to ever experiences anything as disastrous as Sokovia again. He had wanted to stop himself, to protect the world from himself; because clearly even when he was trying to help, he was only creating another problem. When he had heard about what had happened in Nigeria, what Wanda had done, he had felt the same fear grow in his chest.

As a genius, there was a lot that he could predict; he could follow the process of thinking quick enough that he could offer multiple solutions before anyone else noticed a problem – as he had tried to do with Ultron. Wanda, alternatively, presented a problem that he could never solve. He knew that Natasha had worked with her to offer her ways of control – many of which had shown great promise – but with someone so strong, so powerful, there was little that could be done. Wanda would likely grow so strong she could kill half the universe with a snap of her fingers. There was no solution to keep Wanda in control; until the Accords. As far as the Accords were concerned, anytime Wanda used her powers under UN sanction, she would not have to face any legal consequences – she would be free of the blame.

The same blame that kept Tony up at night. That pressed into his chest and wrapped its cold hands around his lungs to test how long he could go without the air that he had stolen from others. That is what he had wanted for Wanda. He had never wanted to keep her imprisoned. He just wanted to make sure that when she left the compound she wasn't faced with a murderous crowd calling for her to be burnt at the stake.

He had, however, allowed his fear to keep him from telling Wanda or anyone else. He had panicked enough that he had let her feel a prisoner in her own home. He had wavered enough that it had been his actions that made her feel like a monster, like him.

Natasha knew that feeling too. While everyone else had been surprised at her decision to back Tony rather than Steve, it hadn't taken long for Tony to understand.

He had not read Natasha's file – well, the pieces that made it to the internet because he was sure that there had to be more – after the fall of Shield in DC. After the first twenty-four hours there had been little need; it was pretty much on a constant loop once she had been charged for treason and multiple accounts of murder. There had even been an hour solely dedicated to unravelling the Black Widow's Web of heinous crimes. Tony had turned it off after the first five minutes; it was a tough watch to say the least.

If he was grateful to anything that had happened within that period, it was that he left it in his past feeling as though he had a better understanding of Natasha. He doubted that he was ever going to completely understand her – hell, he doubted that she really understood herself – he knew that she probably thought similar things of herself that he thought about his own character. He had been, for a long time, living the ignorance of not knowing the faces of those who had died as an indirect consequence of his actions. Natasha had not had that luxury; what was written in her Shield file was all stuff that she remembered. If he had gained one thing from his interaction with Barnes in Siberia, it was that a killer remembers that faces of their victims; especially if that killer had a crippling amount of regrets.

He remembered watching the hearing at Capitol Hill, how Natasha had remained concise and unwavering in her defence of what had happened; in both her past and her future. It appeared, in his eyes, that Natasha Romanoff was a woman who was not going to let her guilt, or any other emotion dictate how she behaved.

When it had come to the accords, Natasha, unlike Tony or Steve, chose not to flinch away from the responsibility or the consequences, instead she place forwards an alternative; obey the command but refuse to be walked over. Act, but act with caution; work with those who offered them a chance, but don't be afraid to push back when we disagree.

She had tried. Perhaps she had gone about it in a poor way, but her way was by far better than either one displayed by Steve or Tony. Natasha had carried on, regardless of how tired she was – and she must have been tired because Tony had only been Iron Man for eight years and he was exhausted.

So, with those thoughts in mind, he had unlocked Natasha's door. Every time he walked past it he hoped that she would come home soon. The world wasn't a safe place for her anymore – if it had ever been – and every day she spent in the world alone, she was vulnerable to an attack.

Part of him thought an attack would be better than whatever it was she had endured in the months that she had been captured.

He was vaguely aware of Rhodey and Happy staring at him intensely. There was little argument to be had; they all knew it was the right thing to do. Moving through the halls with a quick request to his friends to remain behind, Tony walked along the empty compound in silence. When he arrived in his office it was without a doubt in his mind that he practically ripped open the draw – thankful that Friday had the sense to unlock it as he arrived – and pulled out the phone that had, until this very moment, lived in solitude.

Staring at the device Tony would be lying if he said his hand did not feel heavier, reluctant, even. There was a weight in his hand that closely resembled that which he had kept buried deep in his chest in the six months since Siberia.

It would be easy, he knew, to put the phone back in the draw and ignore its existence for as long as possible. No one; not Pepper, or Rhodey, or even Peter would question him. Yet the silent loyalty to his friends, and not just Natasha – however much it may have pained him to admit it – stopped him. He could be angry at everyone later and he knew himself well enough to know that he would be, but Natasha was breathing on borrowed time, likely with oxygen that she wasn't able to give herself; he couldn't play God with her moment, whether they did turn out to be her last or not.

As he was about to dial that single number, he heard the loud footsteps and laboured breathing of Happy streaming towards him.

Shoving the phone in his pocket, Tony walked towards Happy.

"Boss, you gotta come, right now."

"What is it? Is she…"

Happy shook his head quickly and if he noticed the deep sigh of relief that Tony gave, he never mentioned it. "Agent Romanoff's out of surgery, they're taking her to a room now, but you said that you wanted an update as soon as she got out."

The billionaire nodded and began striding back to the medical bay. "Did they say anything about her condition?"

"Not yet, they wanted to speak to you directly."

Tony nodded, trying to ignore the pit forming in the bottom of his stomach that told him that they weren't going to offering him anything in the way of good news.

"Has anyone gone to get Pepper – and Peter, too."

"Rhodey went, he said that he'd try to move slow enough that you could get the info from the Doc before they got back."

He nodded again. It was odd to feel an immense sense of relief that Rhodey had been on the same wavelength that he had been on. Especially when that relief was immediately undercut by an intense sense of fear for what was lying ahead.

They continued the rest of the journey back in a foreboding silence. Even their footsteps seemed to echo in a mournful manner, like a church bell at the end of a funeral; each one seemed hollower than the last.

As he moved through the two double doors that lead to the recovery rooms, Tony asked Happy to stay behind as a blocker for anyone else. While the response was only a firm nod, it gave Tony the confidence to continue.

He knew which room she was in, the steady beeping and whirring of machines beckoned him closer and closer as the seconds ticked by on the clock. Usually, machines gave Tony a sense of purpose; he had built his career – his company and his life, too – on what he could make with his own two hands. Yet as the door to Natasha's room become nearer, he felt sicker with every beep that he heard, his own heartbeat feeling rapid compared to the slow, listless beep that sounded throughout the hallway. Every time he thought about stopping to compose himself, he felt the phone in his pocket burn with a righteous fury. It was a sharp reminder that no matter who he was hiding from he had never, nor would he ever, be capable of hiding himself from Natasha Romanoff.

Once he crossed the threshold into the room it was almost impossible to draw his eyes away from her. Red hair lying listlessly on a pillow that Tony briefly wondered if it was possible for a person to have every inch of life sucked out of them and remain breathing. Her face was swollen around one eyes with bruises littering along her temple and down to her neck – which itself was a clear indication that she had been strangled. The fresh imprint of fingerprints compared to the fading ones was a sign that it had been done by multiple sets of hands.

Clenching his own hands into tight fists, Tony forced himself to continue looking – to remember. Her left wrist and fingers were the only parts of her arms and hands that remained unscathed. Knowing that Natasha was left handed, it was easy to deduce that this was because whoever had captured her had wanted her to sign something (be it a confession or a suicide note, he didn't know). The rest of her left arm was in a splint while her right one was resting in a sling. All her fingers were bandaged to treat the infection and his earlier suspicion that her fingernail had been ripped off had been proven to be correct.

Looking down towards her legs, Stark noticed that her right leg had been bolted back together and was currently resting in a sling. Looking at the position of the bolts, it was likely that they were being used to align two parts of her bone back together. Her left leg alternatively was bandaged heavily but looked to be in much better shape than its partner.

Seething in a silent rage, Tony turned to acknowledge Helen Cho as she stepped into the room. While there was a deep similarity in the rage that appeared in her own eyes, she also had an intense look of sadness. Not wanting to dance around it, Tony was quick to open his mouth.

"What are her internal injuries?"

Doctor Cho took a deep breath. "She had a collapsed lung in two places caused by a puncturing of the lung created via bone fragments from her ribs. In total, she has six broken ribs on her right side, which caused the damage to her lung, and four broken ribs from her left. The only reason she didn't die from this is because the fragments were stopping the blood from entering her lungs. Initially, they would have caused intense pain, it may not seem it; but Natasha is very lucky that the fragment only caused a light puncture otherwise she would already be dead.

"Furthermore, a forceful impact to her abdominal area caused her to rupture her spleen. How that didn't kill her, I honestly don't know but we removed what was left before it could create any more damage for her. She's malnourished; while whoever had her in this situation was feeding her, they were likely only doing it in in small qualities on minimal bases. Most likely she would have been getting fed about once a week but only enough to sustain a small child."

Tony had to remind himself how to breathe again before offering his attention back to Doctor Cho.

"Dehydration is also confirmed. We've placed her on a drip so that should be easily fixed. A bigger problem comes from her substantial blood loss."

"How bad?"

"Enough to have us concerned. However, Agent Romanoff's bloodwork is private. It was never offered by Shield and she never gave us the information while she was living at the compound. I don't know how that happened, but it did. The problem is that we can't give her any transfusion until we have her information - just in case she has any blood disorders. We doubt she does but with the amount of damage her body has sustained already we don't want to add any more. Do you know where we can get it from?"

The phone in his pocket burnt stronger than ever. Barton probably had the answer; he'd likely be able to sprout it off at the drop of a hat - and would do if he knew it was in Natasha's best interests.

Barton, however, wasn't here.

"I'm working on it. How soon do you need it?"

"It's not strictly necessary, her body will replace it all eventually, but it might help her recover quicker if she had the transfusions."

"Understood. Is there anything else?"

Cho sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I'm afraid there is. All of Natasha's other injuries are subject to time; that's the nature of healing. However, she's also had a major head trauma that resulting in some bleeding on her brain. We've had to remove a piece of her skull to help reduce the swelling but it's a touch and go procedure. The bleeding has stopped but we don't know how bad the effects of the trauma are until she wakes up…"

The doctor sighed again, lifting her eyes up to meet Tony's.

"If she does wake up."

Despite the lump in the back of his throat he did his best to keep his voice even as he spoke again. "That bad?"

"Natasha's strong, she stands more of a chance than most people of coming out of this."

"But?" There was always a but.

"Her body is in a very fragile state. This process is going to be long and extremely difficult. Her body will be working harder than ever to try to repair itself. Saying that it's going to be difficult is putting it lightly. We don't know what happened to her; her mind could require as much help as her body."

He nodded. That he understood; probably better than most people ever would. Natasha had gone through torture before; that much had been mentioned in her Shield file, but he knew it was different this time. Not worse, and sure as hell not better, but different all the same. It was odd, when he had seen Natasha lying in Peter's arms one of the first things he had noticed was how…defeated she had looked. It was as though all the fight had been taken from her. Usually, that would be expected from someone who had most likely undergone months of torture but from Natasha it just seemed wrong. Understandable, but wrong.

From his left, he heard Helen clear her throat. He'd been aware of her listing off her treatment plan for Natasha in the foreseeable future, but he knew little of what all that entailed and with all the unanswered questions and numerous pathways spreading out in front of him, it didn't seem as important as everything that had come before it.

As his eyes met Cho's his awareness was drawn to the weight of the phone in his pocket. "Will she be allowed visitors? They'll be people who want to see her in case…"

She nodded. "No more than two at a time, at least until she regains consciousness."

Briefly, Tony admired the strength and certainty in her voice as she said this. He wished he could believe it, wished he could douse himself in optimism and pretend as though it would be their hope that pulled Natasha out of this. It wouldn't though, the only thing that could help them now would be time.

Natasha had once said to him that she had lived her life on borrowed time. When he had asked her what she meant by that, she had told him that for many years she had woken up every morning and expected that day would be the day she died. Every day she hadn't; she lived and carried on. True to form, he had countered that surely that was her taking back some time, controlling the length of her life for another day until slowly she had fought for her freedom as well. In a rare response she had grinned at him before clinking their classes together and correcting him: she had no control, her life would easily have been someone else's. It was luck. The hourglass was turned the moment she had walked into the Red Room and it had carried on even when she left. The hourglass would empty one day; she could not turn it a second time.

He had, for once, been confused because surely it was the same for everyone. Who turned their own hourglass? Natasha had told him that he was right, in a sense, as no one turned their own hourglass, but the difference was that her hourglass had been turned because someone had wanted to turn it; she was only alive because she had killed rather than be killed. Her time had come at the expense of another's and one day that debt would have to be repaid. Her past meant that she could never have a true future; she could never retire, never leave and settle down. One day a skeleton will jump out of the closet and drag me to hell, Stark, she had said, I cannot change that, but I can live my life so that some of those skeletons find peace; I can live my life, so no one will ever get dragged down with me.

There had been nothing to say to that, it was clear Natasha had enemies. That was why she had distanced herself from the Avengers when Shield had fallen; she hadn't wanted them to be caught up in the crossfire that she was bound to find herself in now that there was no Shield to protect her. He had wondered why she was telling him this. Of all the people on the team, they weren't exactly the two most known for heart wrenching emotional moments.

Now, he realised, that she had told him because he would understand. He wouldn't waste time in telling her that they could protect her when that might not be the case (he ignored the feeling of guilt in his stomach that was telling him that they could have protected her from this). They could argue that she was a good person and tell her that she was forgiven all her sins, but that wasn't what mattered to Natasha; all she wanted was to be understood. She had wanted to clear the red out of her ledger, yes, but she hadn't wanted to rewrite the past – she had wanted to make a better future. Just because the first few pages were red, didn't meant that the rest couldn't be clear.

After Sokovia, Tony had understood that, but, in all honesty, he had gotten too caught up in making up for his past as opposed to trying to create a better future.

For a moment, he was glad Natasha was unconscious, she had always been infuriatingly good at reading him. If she knew how much credit he was throwing her way now, he was sure she'd be wearing the same smug grin that she had when she had superglued a Fez to Dummy after he had drunk all her Vodka with Clint.

Lapsing into a moment of sentimentality, he reached over and placed his hand on top of Natasha's. He didn't squeeze it, or run his thumb over the top, that wasn't his style with anyone who wasn't Pepper, but he hoped that Natasha understood that he was there and that he cared.

He stayed there for a moment or two before turning away. "Thank you, Helen. We all appreciate what you did today; I can't imagine it was easy."

"It wasn't," She admitted, eyes tired but shoulders set with determination, "but I'm glad I was here to help her."

Tony nodded. "Make sure you get some rest."

"I will, thank you, Mr Stark."

Smiling slightly, Tony left the hospital room – he would be back soon, of course, but he knew Pepper and Peter were undoubtedly waiting for news after Rhodey had woke them up. Pausing in the corridor just ahead of the double doors, he sighed. The phone in his pocket felt like a lead weight; he wanted to take it and throw it away but he couldn't do that. Not to Cap, no matter how mad he was with him, he knew that he would want to know – that Natasha would want him to know; would want all of them to know. So, thinking of Natasha lying tired and defeated on her hospital bed, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialled the singular number lying in wait in the contacts list.

In a few seconds the dial tone stopped.

"Tony?"