The bed was uncomfortable. Tony had been tossing in it for what felt like hours. They had gotten back to the SHIELD base from Sokovia that evening and dealt with the aftermath of what happened at the fortress. Injuries were checked – Clint's bullet wound was bandaged, Tony's many cuts and scrapes were fussed over, and Natasha glared the whole time at the doctor who insisted on checking her injuries from the explosion she was caught in barely a week ago.

Then the team had to report what happened. Who they captured, who got away. They had hit Hydra hard, and most of their soldiers had surrendered or were injured, and taken into SHIELD's custody, including Jensen. Von Strucker, however, managed to get away. "He had help," Steve had said darkly, and recounted a figure moving too fast to be seen but hitting hard and sure. Coulson and May had exchanged knowing glances at this information. Tony didn't like not knowing, and he made a mental note to hack into SHIELD as soon as he could to find out what Coulson was holding back. He was done with authority withholding information, unless it was his information. Then Natasha told them about the woman in red and how she gave them hallucinations, but they didn't give the details of the nightmares, just that she made them lose consciousness and "when we woke up she was gone." Tony had grasped her hand tightly while they recounted that episode, for himself as much as it was for comforting her.

So now, Tony was lying on a too-thin mattress with springs digging into his back, in a tiny room in a resurrected SHIELD base in Austria. They were going to fly out on the quinjet – his quinjet – first thing tomorrow, back to New York. Tony wanted to fly out straight away, but they were all tired from the battle that day, not to mention the past week, and they all needed a good night's sleep. But he knew that he wasn't getting any sleep tonight, though, not when the nightmare were still fresh in his mind and in his senses. He could still fell it – the thick, cloying texture of the blood as he waded through it, how slippery it was underfoot. He could still smell it, like it was grafted into the insides of his nose, a constant burden he had to carry, an acrid reminder of the blood he had spilled, the blood he had yet to spill, in the name of defense. The empty throne, a throne for the god of death, Howard's voice ringing, "This is your legacy." And Natasha's dead face, her lifeless eyes that bore into his with an accusation that could not have been louder if she had screamed at him. No, he wasn't going to get any rest tonight. Even if he did manage to fall asleep, his dreams would be painted with blood.

Tony was debating whether he should give up on the facade of sleep when a slow creak came from the door. He tensed up, on high alert. He wondered if he should get a weapon, grab something to defend himself, but the room was spartan at best. Maybe the lamp would do, if he could –

"Hey." He relaxed at the familiar husky voice. The door opened, and a diminutive figure was silhouetted against the rectangle of gray, before the door shut and they were in darkness once more. "It's me."

"Can't sleep?" Tony said, his quiet voice echoed loud in the darkness that made the tiny room seem much bigger than it was.

"No," came the reply. Then the side of his mattress dipped and a warm body curled around him. He turned to face Natasha and took her in his arms, her body tucked perfectly into his. He lay his cheek against her hair, breathing in her scent, taking comfort in that, and in her solid presence. She was here, smelling of nutmeg and home and very much alive. He pressed a kiss against her hairline.

They lay there together in the darkness, breathing bodies nestled against each other's, a tangle of limbs in a too-small bed. In the darkness Tony's senses were filled with nothing but Natasha, like they where the only ones who existed, and for now, at least, that was true. No saving the world business, no SHIELD protocol, no inexplicably hallucination-inducing women. Just him and Natasha, holding each other like they were all that mattered.

The gentle breeze of her contented sigh washed over the bare skin of his neck and jaw, and he shifted so that he could stroke her hair. "Not worried about anyone finding us?" he said, slightly deeper than usual from being completely relaxed.

She shook her head, he felt the movement brush against his skin. "I don't want to hide things anymore," she said without pretense. "They're our family, or as close to one as we can get," she said. "We shouldn't have to hide us, this" – she interlaced her fingers with his and squeezed his hand – "from them." She gave a low chuckle. "And I'm going to have to learn to let them in. Like how I learned to let you…" Tony's heart swelled at that confession. Private Natasha, who hoarded her secrets fiercer than anyone else he knew, had opened up to him and trusted him. "Besides," Natasha added lightly, "They know anyway."

Of course they did, Tony did stay at her bedside for days when she was unconscious. That seemed a lifetime ago now. Nevertheless, Tony tightened his hold on her protectively. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Not you, too," she groaned, though there was a hint of amusement through her exasperation. "The med team's fussed over me enough."

"I'm your boyfriend, it's my job to fuss over you," he said, and the earned him a kiss on the underside of his jaw. "Seriously, though," he said, "how are you feeling?"

She sighed. "Physically? Fine. But what she did to my head… I thought that my days of having my head messed with were done."

Heat washed over Tony, gushing from somewhere deep in his gut. Natasha had fought so hard to claim back her mind from all the brainwashing done to her as a kid, and there were still moments, she'd told him in whispered confessions in the safety of their bed, when she struggled with the memories, with trying to separate truth from lies. There was no one in the world who deserved to have their mind kept safe and kept theirs, more than Natasha.

"She was in my head," Tony said, "I don't know how long, but she got to something in me that – I thought I'd put that part of me away."

"Was it a memory?"

"No, it was…" Tony wondered how to explain what he had seen. What was it exactly? Not a literal memory, but one of the demons that haunted him, had haunted him ever since he started on his path to redemption all those years ago. One he thought that becoming Iron Man, and trying to atone for the damage he'd done, had slain. But that witch had found those embers and fanned them into flames again. He might have taken out his hand in warfare, but that didn't mean that he had stopped killing. He killed, maybe even more than ever, in the name of protecting the world. There would always be another Mandarin, another Hydra. How many more would be caught in the cross-fire, collateral damage in that endless struggle? Innocents, teammates… Natasha? His breath came out shuddering and Natasha clutched him closer. "She found something that still has power over me. And she made me… question everything again."

Natasha was quiet. Somehow, he got the sense that she understood. Maybe because she saw something similar, too. "Tony," she finally said, her voice soft but resonating with steadfast conviction. "You're a good man. You might not always do the right thing, but you try your damnedest to and you take too much onto your shoulders and… and that's more than anyone could possibly ask of you. And if you get blindsided, well, that's what I'm here for. And the rest of the team. We're here to keep you on the right track."

Not for the first time, Tony was awestruck by her. A rare feeling for Tony Stark, and if Natasha couldn't make him feel that way, well then no one could. He gently ran his hand up her arm, rested it on the curve of her hip, and said with hushed wonder, "You amaze me, Natasha Romanoff." She laughed at that, and her lips met his in the dark. When she was once again settled against his chest he dared to ask, "What happened in yours?"

She was suddenly still. Tense. Her voice was curt and detached. "I died." The memory of her as she had been in his vision – dead and accusing – flashed across Tony's mind and he hugged her tighter. She relaxed a fraction, elaborating, "I was stuck in a memory, in a part of my life I had lived before. Trapped in my own body watching it all happen again."

"How did you break free of it?" he asked in a murmur.

"You." With that single word, ringing with truth and trust, it seemed as though she had stripped off all her masks and armors and disguises and was vulnerable before him. Tony's breath caught in his chest. He cradled her jaw in his hand, reverent, and she leaned into his touch unconsciously. "Something you said to me, long ago," she said, "It reminded me that I'm more than my past."

"You are," he said vehemently. "We both are, and – and something you said got me out of mine, too."

He could feel her smile against his palm. "That's what we do," she said. "We save each other. From everything else, and from ourselves."

"For the rest of our lives." He didn't know where the words came from, where he found the courage to hint at a commitment. But he said them, and he didn't regret them. And from the way Natasha kissed him in reply, he deducted that she wasn't repulsed by the idea. That was good enough for him now, he decided as he reciprocated the passionate yet languid kiss.

"I love you," he whispered when she pulled away. They saved those words only for times when they meant something, and right now, he figured, was one of those times.

"And I love you," Natasha replied, her voice husky with warmth, and Tony had never felt more content or in love than he did at that moment. So he closed his eyes, and knew that with Natasha, the only person in the world who could understand him or return his love, lying in his arms, he could, maybe, have a dreamless night's sleep.

Notes:

I'm sorry this took so long to update, I wasn't sure how to continue for a long time.

The story is nearly over, we've got one or two chapters left. I'm so glad you guys have stuck with me for so long, you're all amazing.

I've got a few works in progress, check out my AO3 page (under the pen name letthesongtakeflight), I think I'll be using that a lot more than from now on.