A/N
This will be in two parts. One chapter, but two parts. Because Natasha sort of met Taylor twice, once as Natalie Rushman and then for real as Natasha Romanoff.
Natasha (take one: Natalie Rushman)
"You are the new assistant, right? Correct me if I'm wrong."
I glance up and brush a scarlet curl out of my face to see Tony Stark, the one and only, leaning against the doorframe to my office. "Yes, Mr. Stark, that'd be me. How may I help you?"
He shakes his head and enters the room, taking a seat at one of the chairs in the room. "No, no, no help needed at the moment. Just wanted to, ah, welcome you to – as I'm told – the hectic stinking mess that is Stark Industries."
I nod. "I like whomever told you that. They're right, by the way."
He quirks an eyebrow. "Want to meet them?"
"Who?"
"The person that told me that."
"Is it a girlfriend?"
"No."
I give a small shrug and set the paperwork I was working on to the side. "Can't hurt, I suppose. Lead the way, Mr. Stark."
"Call me Tony."
"Mr. Stark."
"Fine, be that way."
I roll my eyes at his back as he leads me down many winding corridors – which I already knew my way through, thank you blueprints – and up a few elevators until we stop in front of a door, which he actually knocks on instead of barging in.
Hm. Shocking.
A young, female voice grants us entry, and we walk into what looks to be a smaller, slightly more secluded version of the communal living room a few floors down.
The only occupant – other than Stark and I – is a young (early teens, maybe?) girl standing by the couch, playing what looks to be a holographic pinball game. Her back is to us, but by the way her eyes immediately flick to the TV – where I'm certain our reflections are held – I know she's aware of us.
Smart kid.
"Taylor." Stark calls out, and the girl – Taylor – swipes a hand through her game and turns to face us. Her blue eyes hover over me, but she doesn't say anything.
"Taylor, this is Natalie Rushman, the new PA. Natalie, this is Taylor Stark, my…my daughter."
I blink once, hiding the entirety of my surprise. A daughter?! A daughter. Why was this not in a file? Which dossier missed this, this huge, gigantic detail-
"Ms. Rushman." I blink again at Taylor, who is suddenly in front of me extending a hand, wearing a smile that I can instantly tell is too toothy, strained and fake, although very well practiced.
I give a small grin and shake her hand. "Ms. Stark, nice to meet you."
"Call me Taylor. Warning you now: buy Advil in bulk."
I allow a small smirk. "Already planning that, ma'am. Anything else?"
"Come get me if you need him out of the labs, I'll have a higher chance of success."
"Of course. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a mountain of paperwork to complete." I politely dismiss myself.
"Let me show you back to your office." Stark – Tony – offers, and Taylor just rolls her eyes before restarting her hologram. Tony starts towards the door, but I hesitate for a moment and risk a glance over my shoulder.
Taylor's turned back to her game, but her shoulder are slightly hunched and tense. Her gaze is locked on the black TV, and I meet the blurry reflection of her eyes.
I can see familiar walls there – she's like the Fort Knox of teenage girls – but I can also detect an element of understanding, as if she knows that what she's looking at isn't the entire story. She probably knows that my name isn't Natalie, but I know she'll keep quiet because there's also a foreboding shadow in those eyes, like she knows something is coming but she's not sure what, and whatever it is – whomever I am – help will be needed.
I give her an almost imperceptible nod – barely a twitch – to which she blinks and mirrors.
"Natalie?"
"Coming, Mr. Stark."
Take two: Natasha Romanoff
"Ms. Rushman."
I whirl around as I detect the condescending voice, coming face to face with a blue-eyed figure I haven't seen in at least six months leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. "Ms. Stark."
"Oh come on, can't you call me Taylor now?"
I sigh. "Ms. Stark. How's the pinball coming?" I ask, referring to our first meeting.
She shrugs noncommittally. "The hologram collapsed. Wasn't a big project anyways, I was soon busy enough with the whole Vanko mess while you sorted the palladium."
I nod. Nobody says anything for a while, so I take the time to see what those six months have done to the younger Stark.
She's definitely darker, more sure of herself; I'm assuming she's following the saying about stuff not killing you but making you stronger. Her stance is casual but a little more tense, her gaze a little heavier, her eyes a little sharper. Her blue orbs still hold that penetrating, understanding shadow as she combs me up and down.
Her stance itself is casual, leaning easily against the doorframe, but I can see the little things. Her arms are defensively crossed over her chest, her mouth holds a slight frown, and her entire body is stock-still, ready and waiting to react to anything and everything.
The biggest surprise is probably the gun belt cinched around her hips: one gum on each side, a flash of sliver behind her. I can tell by the way her ankles are crossed that she probably has another gun and knife underneath her pant legs.
She clears her throat quietly, but that's enough to bring my eyes back to hers.
"Thank you." she whispers, barely audible. "For your help."
I allow a small smile. "You're welcome, but I don't think he could have survived the entire ordeal without you by his side." I assure her, no clarification needed on the subject of discussion,
"He wouldn't have survived without you. He'd be dead by his own artificial heart, then where would I be?"
"Running the company."
"As a fourteen year old? Ha. No, I see foster homes."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. could've taken you in." I point out.
She shakes her head. "As a pet project, not a responsibility. Just…it doesn't matter. He lived and we're okay. He did destroy the Malibu house, though."
"Where are you two living now?"
"Where is the Hellicarrier at the moment?"
"D.C."
"Then I think we're somewhere in Virginia. He's building a tower in Manhattan, though."
She nods. "Big city, more costumers."
"More money, too." she adds.
"Always a perk." I agree. "Hey, would you like a tour of the base while we're here?"
She blinks and shrugs. "Sure, I guess."
"Right this way." I invite, turning and heading for the other door. "Coming, Ms. Stark?"
"Be right there, Ms. Rush – er, Agent Romanoff."
