Tony designs
It took Tony less than two minutes to fly Natasha to the tower, but they were some of the longest minutes of his life.
When he came into the med room, the team was just setting up.
Tony gently lay the woman on the bed and took a step back.
The team crowded her, calling out numbers and saying things Tony didn't entirely understand.
One thing he did understand; the screeching of the monitors as they stuck little pads to her chest.
She'd lost too much blood, and god knows what damage had happened inside.
Tony watched, stricken, as they worked to get her back.
Ribs bowing under compressions, body jolting with electricity.
Eventually the monitor registered a heartbeat and then they were moving her.
They had one room for general medical stuff, where they were now, and Tony had had a theatre room built into the tower.
It was small, but still fully functioning.
Tony wasn't allowed to follow them, so he shed his suit, sat and waited outside the room.
Twenty minutes passed and then footsteps and doors crashing open.
"Where is she?!" Clint demanded, the others (except Bruce), following.
"Surgery." Tony lifted his head from his hands.
"Shit." Clint murmured, hands tugging through his hair.
"How was she when you got here? Was she awake?" Bucky asked, hands covered in drying blood.
"No." Tony said gruffly, shaking his head.
"She uh...her heart stopped. They got her back."
Steve exhaled, hand covering his mouth.
"She's gonna be fine." Clint mumbled, beginning to pace up and down the little corridor.
Tony stood and cleared his throat.
"I need to...Bruce." He said quietly, backing up.
...
After checking in on Bruce, fast asleep under the covers in his room (the change exhausted him), Tony headed straight for the lab.
It was there, for the next two hours, he worked on new suit blueprints.
A suit specific for battle.
All the usual items there; repulsors, launchers, thrusters.
But new things.
Medical things.
He drew up a rough sketch for nanotechnology. Something he'd been thinking of for a while.
Able to bind torn tissue together, and rebuild it beyond that.
He would have been able to save Natasha's life before it had been close to ending.
He drew ideas for more.
A compartment with drugs; adrenaline, epinephrine, sedatives.
He could build a full on breathing mask into the face plate of his suit.
Natasha choking on her own blood would not leave his mind.
He needed more than just the mask.
He recalled the doctors sliding a tube down Natasha's throat and he scrawled that down onto the paper.
A tube in another compartment, could be attached to the face plate and then be used to intubate.
He remembered Natasha still on the table, paddles on her chest.
He added a defibrillator to one of the suits gloves.
For now, that would be enough.
He sank back in his seat, stomach churning.
Would it be too late for the additions to do any good?
What if it was just too late?
Tony's phone chimed.
'Out of surgery. She's in recovery, going to be okay-Clint'
Tony breathed easier.