Chapter Text
“Oh my god, Natasha! Are you okay?” Tony slides to his knees next to her. She’s slumped against the wall. The blast having knocked her into it. When she doesn’t respond, Tony carefully shakes her shoulder. “Nat?”
She turns her head towards him slowly and blinks a few times. “Tony?” She finally mumbles. Her eyes are having trouble focusing on his face.
“Yeah, it’s me. You okay?” He asks. Instead of answering she slowly turns her head the other way and Tony sees blood dripping down the back of her head.
“Wait, Nat. You’re bleeding, let me see.” He tries to gently brush away her hair to get a better look at the wound, but she winces.
“Ow.” Her own hand comes up and knocks into his clumsily. She turns back to him and her brows draw together in confusion, seemingly forgotten that he was also here. “Tony?” She asks again. “Where are we?”
Tony regards her worriedly. “We’re on a mission. In London. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” She answers slowly, but it’s obvious she has no idea. He tries to take a look at her head again, but she swats at his hand. “Don’t touch me.” She says, almost petulantly. Then she tries standing up, leaning heavily onto the wall. Tony grabs her elbow to steady her, but she slaps his hands away. “No touching.” She hisses. This time more venomously.
Tony takes a step back, palms up. “Okay, okay, I won’t. But I really need to look at your head.” She ignores him. Getting up from the ground has apparently taken all her energy, because she’s breathing heavily. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back against the wall. But as soon as she makes contact, her hands shoot up to her head again.
“Ow. My head hurts.” She whines.
“I know, Nat.” Tony says sympathetically.
He’s getting more worried by the second. She’s not acting like herself at all. He has no idea what to do. He’s pretty sure she has a concussion. But Natasha is a stubborn pain in the ass on a good day. Right now he is out of his depth. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and dials Clint’s number. It keeps ringing and Tony thinks it’s gonna go to voicemail, when the archer finally picks up. He grumbles something unintelligible. Tony checks the time. Right, it’s the middle of the night in New York.
“Sorry to wake you. But we have a problem.”
“What is it? Is Natasha okay?” Clint sounds very much awake now. Tony looks at the redheaded assassin. She’s still leaning against the wall, her hand hovering near her head. Her lips are moving, mumbling to herself.
“Eh...” Tony says into the phone. “Not really. There was an explosion and she got knocked into a wall pretty hard.” He pauses. “I think she’s got a concussion. Her head is bleeding, but she won’t let me touch her.”
Clint curses. “Okay, that’s not great.” He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Just ignore the head wound for now. You’ve got to get her to the safe house. She slips sometimes when she’s concussed. And you do not want to be in public when that happens, trust me.” Tony knows the archer speaks from experience. He replies in the affirmative and Clint promises to get there as soon as possible. Then he hangs up.
But while Tony was focused on his phone call with Clint, Natasha had recovered enough to be moving again. She’s stumbling away from him, hand against the wall to steady herself. For someone who just got knocked into a wall and has blood pouring out of her head, she’s remarkably fast.
“Shit.” Tony hurries after her. “Natasha.” He calls out to her. She doesn’t slow. He finally catches up to her, grabbing her arm. Tony immediately regrets the action. She whirls around and pushes him roughly against the wall, her arm on his throat.
“I said don’t touch me.” She spits. Tonys eyes go wide when the pressure on his throat increases.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I-”. He stumbles over his words. Natasha doesn’t let go. There’s no recognition in her eyes. When she threatens to cut off his air he grabs her wrists. Trying to force her to let go. “Natasha.” He manages to get out. “It’s me, Tony.” He doesn’t think it’s gonna work and he’s already thinking of other ways to force her to let go when she suddenly steps back, arms falling to her side. Tony’s hand immediately comes up, rubbing at his sore throat. He coughs. “Jeez, Red.”
Natasha frowns at him. “Tony?” She looks around in confusion. “Where are we? What happened?”
“Well, you just tried to choke me. Gotta tell you, I imagined that with more fun and less clothing.” He tries to joke. He’s still trying to regain his breathing and pushes down his upcoming panic. He can’t afford to freak out right now. Not when Natasha is so clearly out of it.
“Sorry.” She says flatly. Her brows are still knitted together. He’s seen more emotions on the spy’s face in the last ten minutes than for the entire time he’s known her. Which only shows she’s not herself.
Tony waves a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Let’s just get back to the safe house, yeah?” She nods. He starts walking but keeps the redhead in his peripheral vision. Luckily, she follows him without complaint.
After a few minutes she speaks up again. “Tony?” He waits for her to continue, but when she doesn’t, he turns to her. Eyebrows raised. “My head hurts. Why does my head hurt?” And to his horror her lower lip begins to tremble.
Oh, hell no. He can not deal with a crying Natasha right now. On top of everything else. He goes to stand in front of her and waits for her to look at him (he doesn’t touch her, he’s not going to make that mistake again). When she finally does her eyes are so lost Tony’s heart aches. Her lip wobbles again.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay.” His voice soothing. He’s very much aware that he’s talking to her like she’s a child, for which not-concussed Natasha will probably kill him, but he has no idea what to do. He’s never seen a person act like this when concussed.
Natasha seems to regain her composure and nods. They keep walking. Tony glances at her every few seconds to make sure she doesn’t suddenly die on him or something. He can see the blood crusted in her hair, but it looks like the bleeding has stopped. Which is at least one positive thing. When they’re almost to their safehouse, Natasha stops again. Tony sighs inwardly and turns around, forcing a placating smile on his face. She’s staring at him. Her eyes suspicious.
“What is happening?” She asks. And to Tony’s shock her words are tinged with Russian. He thinks back to Clint’s warning. That Natasha might slip. He desperately looks behind him. The apartment block with their safehouse in sight. If he could just get her there…
“Who are you?” Tony’s head swivels back, taking in Natasha’s defensive stance. Her hand moves to one of her thigh holsters and Tony mentally kicks himself for not taking her weapons. He quickly scans the area. There’re no other people in sight. That’s good at least. If only he had the suit with him. Unfortunately, that’s still in their safehouse, because nothing was supposed to happen tonight .
He carefully takes a step back, hands raised, palms up. “Natasha.” He says slowly.
“My name is Natalia.” She bites out.
“Right, Natalia, sorry. I’m going to take my phone out, okay? Please don’t shoot me.”
He very slowly moves his hand to his pocket, telegraphing every movement so he doesn’t end up with a bullet between his eyes. She regards him suspiciously but makes no move otherwise. He’s finally got hold of his phone and dials Clint’s number, keeping up a running commentary for Natasha. The archer picks up on the second ring, not bothering with a greeting.
“Everything okay?” Natasha’s eyes narrow at his phone, but she still hasn’t shot him or otherwise moved, which is a win in Tony’s book.
“I have Natash-” Her eyes flash and he quickly backtracks, “Natalia here.” He’s not sure what else to say without triggering Natasha further, but Clint apparently already understands what’s going on.
“Let me talk to her.”
“She’s all yours.” He mutters.
He angles the phone towards the redhead. Clint begins speaking in Russian. Tony doesn’t understand a word, but Natasha seems to be listening. She cocks her head slightly, but her hand doesn’t move away from the gun strapped to her thigh.
“I don’t think it’s working.” Tony informs the archer.
Clint barks out more Russian and Natasha clenches her jaw, but her hand moves away from the gun. She juts her chin out defiantly but does take a step forward. Tony slowly starts walking again and Natasha keeps following. Though at a considerable distance. He keeps Clint on the phone, just in case.
They finally reach the safe house and Natasha immediately rushes into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Tony hears the lock click and he looks at the closed door helplessly. Clint tells him she usually does that. She’ll either come out when she remembers where she is or when she sinks further into her mind and tries to flee. Tony rubs his eyes. This is not what he signed up for. Clint tells him he’ll be there in two hours and to call when anything changes. Tony thanks him. He looks at the locked bathroom door again. There no sound coming from the other side. He sighs and goes to make a cup of coffee. He’s going to need all the caffeine for the night that’s awaiting him.