All for a girl named Rose

Stark

"And you look like you have a hangover." Natasha said as she stood up. "Now can  we hurry up before she dies?"

"Yeah, this way." Tony walked into the quin jet. "Do you know what she was stuck with?"

"No, not exactly. It's a nerve agent that also causes intense and horrific hallucinations."

"Ok, well... does she have a name?" Tony glanced back at Natasha and gestured for her to lay the girl on a cot. 

"Rose." 

"Rose? That's it. Do you know her last name?"

"No" That was a lie. Natasha stopped for a moment, wondering if she should tell the truth right then and there. Rose Dimitriovna Romanoff echoed in Natasha's head. She kept silent.

Tony drew a few vials of Rose's blood. "I can complete the blood tests in 20-40 minutes, now if you went to a hospital you'd have to wait 5-7 business days. I do have one question though, what the hell happened to her?"

"Red Room." 

"Is she one of the girls in training?" 

If Natasha said yes Tony would take the girl to whatever rehab facility they had set up for the rest of them. He'd just ask more questions if she said no. "I'll let you make that decision with the fact that they attempted to murder her in mind."

Tony just made a humming sound as he grabbed bandages, antibiotics, thread, and needles. When he set the supplies on a table Natasha took a step forward to help.

"No you sit down." Tony gestured to a row of seats along the other side of the quin jet. "You look like you got hit by a truck."

"You're so flattering Tony, it's a wonder you haven't married yet." Natasha didn't protest though. She felt like she had been hit by a truck. She leaned back and closed her eyes. 

When she opened her eyes the light had faded into a soft golden color and Tony stood at the sink washing his hands. 

"Hey look, you're finally awake." Tony said, casting long shadows as he moved.

"Is she all right? How long have I been out?"

"Almost an hour. And don't worry bout flower girl over there, ten or so minutes ago she grabbed a scalpel I had out and stabbed me with it when I was trying to stitch up her side. Reminds me of another red headed Russian I know. You two look a lot a like, why is that? Probably common Russian traits.  Poor thing passed out right after. She's completely drained, and probably won't be up for walking in days." Tony stopped to take a breath and Natasha took the opportunity to interject.

"So she's doing better? Did you find a antidote? ... did you just call her flower girl?"

"Yeah 'cuz her name is Rose, which is a flower. As for the antidote It was a rather simple compound. The base consisted of sal-" Tony was cut off by Natasha once again.

"I can take you to the other girls now." Natasha stretched out her limbs before walking out of the quin jet. She started the car, she was not up to the task of carrying 17 girls a few hundred yards.

"So, they unconscious, Right?" Tony asked as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"Hopefully."

"So the government isn't going to find my body terribly mangled backstage during a swan lake performance?"

"Probably not."

Fortunately the girls were still unconscious. Unfortunately they were only restrained with zip ties. Natasha suggested a stronger material as soon as they got back to the jet. Thankfully Tony has some stronger handcuffs at the ready, for bigger threats than shoplifters.  

"Oh right." Tony nearly yelled as he started towards one of the monitors.

"What?" Natasha had just finished securing the last girl into the row of chairs that lined the wall. She turned around to look at Tony.

"I was running a paternal DNA test on Rose to see if we could any living relatives."

Natasha froze

"It will link her DNA to any relatives through ancestry websites, hospital records, government records, forensic science tests, and any other digital log. Her father is a guy named Dimitri Yosinov. Presumably killed by a hydra assassin. That's never a good sign." Tony paused stunned for a moment before continuing. "The file it pulled up for the mother is a S.H.I.E.L.D. file. Rose's mother is-" 

Tony paused and whipped around. 

"No"