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Natasha paced through the alley. It was dark and raining softly, but it was either break into Stark Tower in the night or trying to infiltrate at daytime, and the first was less risky. And she couldn’t very well knock on Tony’s door after that mess in Siberia.
So here she was. Crossing through backway alleys, avoiding cameras, looking like an amateur burglar or something. All because fucking Steve couldn’t fucking man up and tell Tony about that fucking video. Yeah, she was pissed. Her phone with about ten missed calls from the Captain burned in her back pocket.
But she couldn’t, not yet. First she had to get some of her stuff from Stark Tower. She knew Tony wouldn’t have thrown it away. Knowing him, it would all still be in the exact same spot she left it in. She took off in the direction of the tower, her mind moving elsewhere.
She could find new weapons somewhere else, which was probably a better idea with Ross and the government on her back. But Ross was looking in Norway, and she was maybe a bit sentimental about her guns and knives. The ridiculous idea that she wanted to see Tony and Rhodey before she left she shoved to the back of her mind.
Caught up in her own head as she was, she didn’t notice the obstacle in her path until it was too late. How unprofessional of her.
She didn’t trip, because that would just be too much of a humiliation, even if no one saw it. She did however turn to see what it was that she – really didn’t – trip over.
Legs.
Wait, legs?
She whipped out her gun and a flashlight – she was a professional after all – and pointed both at the legs. And then at the body attached to it.
The person – woman – half sitting against the wall groaned, and tried to lift a hand to block the light assaulting her eyes, but her strength failed her and she was left squinting in the dark. Clearly injured and unarmed, and not a threat to her, Natsha lowered the light a little, but the gun stayed pointed at the woman’s face.
She looked terrible in the soft glow of the flashlight. Black eye make-up smooched and a half-healed cut on her cheek. Tank top bloody and just a tad darker than the black it was supposed to be, the blood oozing from a bullet wound in her shoulder. And her arms... bruised beyond imagination, purple and yellow spots all over. Now, Natasha had a high pain tolerance, but she inwardly winced. This must hurt like a bitch.
The woman tried to speak, ended up coughing and was left fighting for breath. Then she tried again. “No-one ever told ya ‘s rude to stare?” the woman slurred, and Natasha’s thigh burned briefly, and oh fucking hell. Of course the woman bleeding out that Natasha tripped over in a sketchy alley was her soulmate.
She lowered her gun, still very much staring. The woman gave her a lopsided grin, obviously proud of herself for cracking a joke. Natasha didn’t quite know what exactly to say, but before she could get a handle on herself, she heard herself mutter, “Bozhe moi.”
The woman’s eyes widened, almost comically if she hadn’t been covered in blood, and the grin faded from her face. “Oh.” She blinked. Natasha didn’t know what to say, and for a while, neither did the woman. The suddenly she spoke again. “You can go do... whatever you ‘ere doing.”
It was spoken in a soft and cracking voice, and Natasha had to strain to hear it. She didn’t know how to respond though, so she just stayed where she was. The woman seemed to think she hadn’t understood it. “’S fine, really. I’ve made my peace with dyin’,” she added.
Natasha shook her head. That was enough to find her voice again. “I haven’t. You’re not dying.”
The woman gave her a sad look, and there was now guilt visible behind those twinkling brown eyes. “’m afraid I am. ‘nless you know how t’ fix a bullet wound,” she jested, but she started coughing again, and really, Natasha didn't even find it funny in the first place. “’m sorry,” the woman wheezed, eyes scrunched up in pain.
Natasha knelt down next to her, placing the flashlight om the ground. “Save your breath. I’m gonna get you out of here.” The woman gave her an unbelieving look, but didn’t reply anymore, instead trying to regulate her breathing and moving as little as possible, like she'd commanded. Natasha put her gun away and traded it for her phone.
She scrolled past the eleven notifications of missed calls at Steve’s contact, and picked the one underneath. She didn’t give herself time to doubt it, and pressed call. She probably didn’t wake him. She hoped. The call connected.
“Romanoff, what do you want?”
Ooh, yeah, he was pissed. Rightly so, but this... she shook her head. “Tony, I need a favour.”
“You really think you can still ask for favours? Why would I help you?”
Natasha took a deep breath. “Because I just found my soulmate bleeding out in an alleyway you are my only option.” It was silent for a total of ten incredibly long seconds, and Natasha was about to plead for him not to punish her soulmate for the mistakes she herself had made, but then he spoke. “Send me your location, I’m on my way.”
The call disconnected, and Natasha quickly send her location to Tony, silently praying that they still had a safe connection. Knowing Tony they probably had.
She turned back to her soulmate, catching those pained brown eyes. Her shoulder was still bleeding, and there was blood om her cheek too. She slowly reached out to gently wipe it away with her thumb, and the woman’s eyes closed for a brief moment. When they opened, some of the pain there seemed gone. Natasha smiled.
“Can I look at that shoulder?” she asked softly.
The woman nodded, grimaced at the movement, and the gave a pained smile. “How come you’re so calm?” the woman - her soulmate - asked. Now that Natasha was closer she could understand the woman’s words better. She also realised that the woman hadn’t really seen her face, what with the flashlight only pointed at her. She picked it up and lit up her own face. A flicker of recognition went over the woman’s face. “Oh.”
Natasha smiled and put the flashlight down again. She zipped down her catsuit and took off the shirt she had underneath. The cold didn’t really bother her, but the suit tended to cause a bit of a rash if she wore it on her bare skin. She tore of a strip of cloth from her shirt and used it to wipe away some of the blood on the woman’s shoulder.
“So what can I call ya?” the woman asked, clearly trying to distract herself from Natasha’s attempt at cleaning the wound. "Black Widow seems a bit... weird."
Natasha looked into her eyes as she put pressure on the wound, a slight smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “You can call me Natasha, or Nat, if you want.”
“Hi Nat,” the woman said softly, eyes lidded due to the pain, but she raised a hand for Natasha to shake anyway. “’m Daisy.”
Nat took her hand. “Hello Daisy.” Daisy smiled back at her, eyes slowly closing. Natasha squeezed her hand, and her eyes opened again. “You need to stay awake, Daisy,” Natasha urged her softly. Daisy’s eyes flitted to hers, but were unable to remain focussed.
“But ‘m tired,” she muttered.
“I know, dorogaya, but I need you to try, okay? For me?” Natasha added. It was a low blow, and she knew it, but it might be the only thing to work, as Daisy nodded.
“’kay.”
Natasha kept pressure on Daisy’s shoulder wound with one hand, the other still holding Daisy’s, and her eyes holding those pained brown eyes. “You know, I was going to break into the Stark Tower tonight,” she started. She didn’t know where she was going with this, nor why she was telling it, but Daisy looked to be clinging to her words, so she continued. “After the Accords, I couldn’t bang on his door, but I still got some stuff there. So, breaking in it was.”
“You were going to break in?” a metallic voice from behind her asked. She looked over her shoulder, and with hardly a sound, Tony stepped out of his suit, a second suit landing just as silently behind him. He moved closer, his eyes darting to her confused-looking soulmate. “Christ, Romanoff. You really managed to win the jackpot here, eh?”
He knelt down next to her. Daisy gave him an as dirty look as she could manage. “I’ll have ya know ‘m a catch, tin man.” The slight slur in her voice made the snarky remark only slightly less snarky, and Tony laughed. “You know what, I think you are.” He even sounded genuine. His eyes flitted to her shoulder and her arms.
“I’m assuming calling me meant that you want her in a bed in my tower?” he asked Natasha without looking away. She nodded, trying to catch his gaze. “Yeah, that was the plan. If you… if you don’t want me there, that’s fine. But please take care of her.”
He met her eyes, giving her a look. “Do you really think that low of me?”
Natasha shook her head. “I… don’t anymore. But I would have understood.”
He nodded, slowly, and then looked back at Daisy, who was very close to passing out. “Are you okay with me carrying you back to the Tower, kid? It’ll hurt least I think, and we can patch you up there.”
Daisy slowly nodded, and Tony smiled. He nodded back to the second suit. “You get in that, and let FRIDAY do the rest.” He stood up, stepped back into his suit, which closed around him until all that was visible of him was his face. Natasha looked at her soulmate.
“No dying on the way there, got it?”
Daisy chuckled. “’m gonna try not to,” she promised. Natasha nodded, squeezed her hand one last time, and then moved it to press on the cloth covering the wound, removing her other hand as well. Tony stepped forward, knelt down, and gently scooped Daisy up in his arms. Daisy groaned softly, but stayed conscious.
Tony stood up, still as gentle as he could, and gestured with his head to the other suit. “Go on.”
With a deep breath she walked to the suit, which opened when she stood in front of it. She turned and stepped backwards into it, and it closed around her. It felt weird. She didn’t feel like she control. She turned her head, and the suit moved with her. She saw Tony’s faceplate close, and then heard his voice inside the suit she was in. “Unless you can learn to control this thing in one minute, I suggest you let FRIDAY handle the flying.”
“FRIDAY?” Natasha tried carefully.
“Yes, miss Romanoff?”
“Can you fly me to the Tower after Tony?”
“Sure thing!”
The suit powered up, and Natasha forced herself to relax. She saw Tony slowly lifting of the ground before he gained more altitude and flew off. Her own suit lifted too, she could sense it the minute wasn’t on the ground anymore. With a soft wheezing sound her suit took off after Tony’s. After her soulmate.
The trip to the Tower didn’t take long, and before she knew it she landed right behind Tony on the roof of the Tower. The suit opened and she quickly got out, hurrying towards Tony and Daisy. The yellow roof lights illuminated Daisy’s pale face, and the bruises looked even worse this way, but Daisy’s eyes were still open and settled on her.
Tony’s face plate opened. “Want me to get a doctor, or can you do it yourself?” he asked Natasha, but before she could answer, Daisy shook her head. “No doctors.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You need at least an x-ray. Those arms have breaks, dorogaya.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Course they do. FRIDAY can do t’ scans,” she insisted stubbornly, and surprisingly steadily considering the state she was in. Tony just shrugged when Natasha looked at him, and she relented.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
With a hum, Tony turned to the elevator. Natasha followed him. Once on the medical floor, Tony gently put Daisy on a bed, before finally getting out his suit and moving to get the supplies Natasha would need. Natasha, still with half her suit bunched around her waist and in a sports bra, hesitated for a moment, then moved.
First, she disinfected her hands and the area around the bullet wound. She’d already noticed there wasn’t an exit wound, so she’d have to get the bullet out before stitching it up. At the tap on her shoulder she looked around to see Tony holding a pair of tweezers. She took them with a grateful smile. Whatever reservations he might have about her, he was here, helping her. She wasn’t sure she would have done the same for him if the roles were reversed, so she could only be thankful for it right now.
She turned back to Daisy. “This is going to hurt,” she said apologetically. Daisy closed her eyes briefly. Then she opened them, looked straight at Natasha, and nodded. “Do it.”
As careful as she could, Natasha used the tweezers to get the bullet out of her shoulder. She felt Daisy’s body tense underneath her fingers, and she swore the ground moved, but that would be weird. It took her a second to get a grip on the bullet, but then she had it and pulled it out. “Got it,” she said, and Daisy tried to crack a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Her shoulder started bleeding again, quite a bit, and Natasha quickly put the tweezers and bullet aside to stop the bleeding.
Before she could turn around to search for something to put pressure on the wound, a bundle of clean cloth appeared in her side vision. She took it without a second thought and pressed in tightly on the wound. “Tony, can you prepare a needle for the stitches for me?”
She didn’t look back to see if he was doing it. She knew he would be. Ten seconds later, a needle with a thread attached appeared in the same place the cloth had. She took it, mentally counted to three and then removed the cloth. “Sorry,” she whispered to Daisy, and then she started stitching the wound up.
Quick and practiced movements, she had stitched up Clint a few too many times. Still, Daisy tensed slightly any time the needle went in her shoulder. She held herself still, however, and she hadn’t made a sound yet. Natasha wondered how the woman’s pain tolerance got so high, but shoved the thought aside for later. She finished the last stitch and tied it off, putting all of the material aside.
Then she turned to face Daisy, and her heart almost broke. A lone tear rolled down the injured woman’s cheek, and Natasha reached out to brush it away. Her hand was shaking slightly as she cupped Daisy’s cheek, but the woman leaned into it so she couldn’t care less. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “You can sleep now, if you want.”
Daisy nodded, eyes closed. “Stay?” she whispered brokenly. Natasha nodded. “Yeah, of course.”