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"This is the calm before the storm."

Location: Stark Tower – 1233 Columbus Circle, New York, NY – USA

Date: December 20, 2013

Subject: Taylor Stark – Age 17

Objective: Observe and Report

(Approximately two years before Salvation)

Taylor spread her fingers across the soft bedding that suddenly seemed foreign and unfamiliar – months away from home tends to do that. The week had been trying to say the least, and it made her wonder why she'd even bothered coming back from Russia in the first place. Why she came back to the flashing lights, traffic-clogged streets, crazed fans and meddling SHIELD agents. Her old things didn't belong to her – not in the way they used to.

She was angry – had been since her flight had landed on Monday. She'd gritted her teeth together in the semblance of a smile when she was accosted by the paparazzi on the tarmac, when some anonymous SHIELD shmuck had severely shaken her hand in a poor attempt at hospitality, and especially now, in the privacy of her room.

This was the first time she'd been completely and totally alone in four days.

The room belonged to the old Taylor; from an old life when aliens hadn't attacked Earth and she wasn't playing host to a team of superheroes. The room belonged to a version of her that had existed before Stane, The Ten Rings, and Justin Hammer. All the things that had thrown her life permanently out of balance; that had changed her into the person she was now – it made her blood boil and her stomach churn.

But Taylor soon discovered an even worse feeling – that she simply couldn't be angry anymore. All she felt was drained, and impossibly tired.

A knock at the door.

"Who is it?" Taylor called out in a well-practiced cheerful tone despite her grit teeth.

"It's me." A pause. "Please let me in."

Taylor sighed – Natasha. The one person who could get past the stone hard Stark façade. And normally Taylor wouldn't have hesitate, but 'please' wasn't exactly a part of Natasha's vocabulary. That and there was something in her voice – concern. The last thing Taylor wanted was to have her psyche picked to pieces by a trained interrogator.

She took a deep breath. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, followed by nearly imperceptible footsteps on the plush carpet and a slight weight on the opposite side of the bed.

"What's wrong, Taylor?" Natasha asked gently, her tone making Taylor stiffen slightly. "You haven't been yourself all week."

Taylor sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. "Haven't I?" She countered.

"No." Natasha answered flatly. "Something's wrong. You don't seem happy." She paused and the bed dipped as the assassin moved closer. "You don't seem happy to be home."

"I am." Taylor said softly. "I am happy to be back. I missed my Dad." She flopped backward on the bed, gazing up at Natasha. "How could I not be happy?"

Natasha groaned, running a hand through her hair. "C'mon Tay, I know you better than that."

Taylor closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands. "I'm tired, Tasha." She paused. "I'm tired of the acting. I'm tired of smiling and laughing and pretending that everything's okay."

"It sucks doesn't it?" Natasha murmured. "Pretending to be someone you're not." She leaned over, propping herself up on her elbows above Taylor.

"It really does." Taylor breathed and Natasha gave her a soft smile. "I missed you." She whispered, reaching up to toy with a lock of scarlet hair.

Natasha smiled. "I missed you too." She leaned closer and Taylor was suddenly very aware of how close their faces were. They'd been dancing around an actual relationship for a while now. "If you don't want me to, I won't kiss you. I can leave you to your wallowing and come back some other day."

"Kiss me." Taylor murmured, breath hitching as she reached up and wound her fingers through Natasha's hair and then soft, supple lips were against hers.

As they shifted so Taylor was completely under Natasha, they broke apart for breath. "I really did miss you." Taylor breathed, lips kiss swollen as she licked them teasingly.

"Same to you." Natasha green eyes gleamed in the muted sunlight that filtered through the curtains, her arms snaking their way around Taylor's waist as she pressed a series of butterfly kisses to the girl's collar bone.

"Miss Stark if I may…" JARVIS interjected, sounding completely unapologetic.

"No you may not." Taylor replied, glaring at the ceiling. Natasha laughed against her neck, mouth sucking at the skin above Taylor's right breast.

JARVIS continued on, undaunted. "Sir, wished for me to inform you that you should be getting dressed for the gala."

"Buzz kill." Natasha muttered, even as she worked a hand between their bodies and rubbed at Taylor's sex from outside her pants.

"Thank you, JARVIS." Taylor managed, breathing ragged.

"You're most welcome." He paused, and Taylor could hear the smirk in his voice. "And may I say, congratulations to you both."

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