Please read Iron Beta 3 and my one-shot Her eyes, My Everything before reading this or else it'll make no sense.

"And you're still sure you want to do this? It's not too late to back out, you know…"

"It's a little late for that now," I sigh, "given that I'm in the car and a few minutes away."

"Tell Happy to turn around!" Dad suggests. "And tell him if he doesn't, I'll hoard his paychecks for a month."

In the front seat, Happy raises his eyebrows at me in the rearview mirror. I give a small shake of my head. "Happy, no. Dad, I'll be alright."

"Taylor, she's kind of-"

"I know," I cut him off with another sigh. "I need to do this. You get that, right?" I plead.

There's a slight pause before a long exhale on the other side. "I do. I understand. Do you know what time you'll be back?"

"They'll only let me talk until," I check my watch, "two thirty. If I'm not back by three thirty, at the very latest, find me."

"Will do," he agrees. "And don't forget about the team dinner at six. Phil's making pork chops!"

I grin, glancing over as Happy catches my attention and alerts me that we were almost at our destination. "Sounds good. I got to go, we're almost there."

"Alright. Good luck, kiddo. You can do this."

"I hope so," I sigh, pulling the phone away and hitting the disconnect button, slipping it into the pocket of one of my older, faded brown leather jackets as Happy pulls up in front of the building and puts the car in park, coming around to open my door. "All set, ma'am?"

"As set as I could possibly be, Happy." I give him a small, hopefully reassuring, grin. "I'll see you in an hour?"

"I'll be waiting," he nods, and I return his nod before turning towards the building and heading towards the doors, which are labeled with the building's name: Facility Omega.

It was a prison – SHIELD's, to be exact.

It was home to SHIELD's top villains; it contained people like Emil Blonsky: the Abomination, possibly Magneto, Stillwell, Alexander Pierce: ex-leader of HYDRA (the second time, not the 1940's) and I was pretty sure they also had the remains of Stane and Vanko in here somewhere, but that's not something I wanted to specifically find out.

Not today, anyways, because today I was here on a mission to see one villain and one villain only: Steel.

I was visiting my mother.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and remove my sunglasses as I approach the security check in. They've got a rental scanner, a fingerprint scanner, a scanner that checks your blood type, and then –after all that – you have to undergo a metal scanner and security like you would at an airport.

I go through the first part without complaint, but I get to skip part two with just a flash of my Avengers ID – essentially a card proclaiming that 'hey, I'm a slightly paranoid dangerous person, and you aren't getting my gun so stop trying already'.

After I'm verified and checked and scanned fully a guard waves for me to follow him, leading me down a series of purposely unmemorable passageways full of more twists and turns than a contorted pretzel.

Eventually we reach what is possibly the biggest vault-style door I have ever seen.

"She's behind there," the guard – whose nametag reads Wilkins – explains. "The room's sort of divided in half; one side if for you, then there's some bars, and then she's got chains around both ankles and a remote Taser device I can trigger at any time."

I give Wilkins an amused look. "You don't spare any expanse, do you?"

The guard shakes his head. "No, ma'am. Not for this."

I give him a small smile before going completely serious and taking a half step forward. "Here goes nothing. An hour, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nods, "but someone can always collect you sooner if need be."

I nod, sigh, and motion for him to open the door, hydraulic hinges pulling it open and allowing me to step through before he closes it again, the door closing with a surprisingly soft thud.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second, mentally bracing myself before I allow them to open again. A slight rattle draws my eyes to the left side of the room, the barred side, where Steel – I can't call her my mother – resides. I quickly notice the chains Wilkins was talking about; they look to be three feet long, which would give her about fourteen foot moving space, which is just about the size of her 'cell'.

"What are you thinking of?" a soft voice asks, and I purse my lips and slowly lift my head to look at the figure sitting on the cot – raven black hair that reaches mid-back and looks knotted like mine does when I get it dirty (which is often), and blue eyes that look just like mine.

I point at her chains. "I was calculating the area of the semi-circle in which you can move."

She gives me an unreadable half smile. "You are Tony's daughter."

"And how would you know that?" I can't help but ask softly as I go to lean against the opposite wall, a completely bare white surface.

"I knew Tony," she points out. "You act just like he did."

I shrug and allow myself to slide down the wall. "That's what everyone says."

"Everyone?"

"The team," I clarify. "Steve, Bruce, Thor, Natasha, Dad – Tony – and Clint."

She must've noticed the slight lift in my voice when I mentioned my boyfriend, because she gives me an inquisitive look. "Clint? Have you mentioned him before?"

"To you?" She nods, and I shrug. "I might've, I don't know. Last time I saw you, we were kind of fighting for our lives against your organization. I wasn't about to play kissy-face with my boyfriend." She doesn't raise to the obvious bait, and I huff before continuing. "But yeah, my boyfriend. Clint Barton. We've been dating for about fourteen months now." I allow a small smile onto my face.

"Congratulations," Steel says carefully, uneasily.

I flatten my lips into a thin line. "Here's hoping my first serious relationship turns out better than my father's."

She suddenly becomes very interested in the floor. "I'm sorry for that, by the way."

I raise my eyebrows. "Sorry for what?" I ask calmly. "Sorry for walking out of my life when I was barely hours old? Sorry for almost killing my entire team – whom, by the way, I count as family more than you ever will – when you tried to take over the world a few months ago?"

"Both."

I shake my head and cross my arms. "Sorry doesn't fix everything."

She opens her mouth to protest, but I'm on a roll now. "Sorry doesn't fix the seven thousand and twenty six days of my life you have missed so far. Sorry doesn't fix the drunken mess my father falls into every January 5th – the anniversary of the day you met. Sorry doesn't fix the pain I felt every mother's day until I was old enough to realize that you were never coming back."

Steel stays quiet until the end of my little rant, then leans back against the wall of her cell and mirrors my position. "Why are you here, Taylor?"

"How do you know I didn't just come to rant?" I challenge.

She shakes her head, seeing through that just like I knew she would. "You and Tony were never much for trivial pursuits. There's a bigger meaning."

I sigh ask I slip the small box that security let through out of my pocket and fiddle with it. "The 24th of September, 1973. 2:13 pm. What's so special about that date, hmm?"

"It's…my birthday," she replies, tone portraying slight shock. "How did you-"

"Know?" I shrug. "It wasn't too hard. Rebecca Lynn Santiago, born in Los Angeles California. Your parents are named Mark and Juanita, you were a big fan of New Kids on the Block and New Edition when you were seven, and-"

"I get it," she sighs. "You looked me up."

"Well I wasn't going to find out anything otherwise," I snap irritably. "I don't exactly get a thrill out of bringing up the woman my father was going to marry."

Her blue eyes – the ones that she gave to me – widen. "He was going to propose?"

"Before I was born," I nod, schooling my features into an expressionless mask. "Because you were pregnant. And then he found out that you were horrible while pregnant."

"Women go through personality changes while pregnant," she argues defensively. "It's been proven!"

"All that's been proven are hormone imbalances," I counter hotly. "Crying more, snapping at people, getting odd craving for pickles and peanut butter at the most unholy times of the night. You, on the other hand, went almost bipolar. Why did you hate me?"

"I didn't hate you!" she yelps. "Just the thought of being pregnant…it's disgusting." she shudders.

"It is life," I growl, "get used to it. And yes, you did – by extension – hate me, because that baby was me. You ruined two lives just because you couldn't deal with a change in life that happens to almost every female ever."

"It was a mistake!" she shouts, then her face falls. "Taylor-"

I'm standing in an instant, throwing the little box – punctured with huge air hole so she couldn't use it to suffocate herself or choke or commit suicide in some other gruesome way – through the bars and at her feet. "We're done here. This was a mistake."

"Taylor-" she pleads.

I shake my head and take a step back towards the door. "No, Steel. Happy Birthday. Enjoy your present. I'll be back next year."

"Taylor-"

I ignore her completely as the door opens and I step through with a calmness that's only surface deep, not breaking stride as I quickly exit the building and ducking into the limo. "Happy, home please."

He doesn't say anything.

Once I'm back on my home turf, I enter the lobby to find the most familiar face in the world leaning up against the reception desk. "Dad."

He quickly wraps me in a bear hug, nudging my head onto his shoulder. "I figured you needed this," he explains simply. "How did it go?"

I sigh and burrow into his neck a little further. "On the bright side, we didn't start yelling until the end."

"And the dark side?"

I pause. "…she didn't tell me anything that wasn't already…said," I say slowly, carefully dancing around the heart of the matter.

My dad sighs and squeezes me a little tighter. "Take everything Rebecca says with a huge grain of salt, kiddo. Like, the size of Mew-mew."

"Mew-mew?" I step back to look up at him. "What?"

"Thor's hammer," he explains. "I'd like to see you pronounce the real name."

I shake my head. "Jane probably can, ask her."

He gives me an amused huff and ruffles my hair. "Come on, the team's upstairs."

"How're the pork chops coming?"

"Fine…" he shifts uncomfortably.

"Did they let you in the kitchen? Is the kitchen still standing?"

"Yes…"

I raise an eyebrow. "In one piece?"

"Kind of?"

I groan as I pull away and jab the elevator button, already preparing to write an apology email to the construction company that was indubitably going to be needed.

This was normal.

I didn't want, nor did I need, anything (or anyone) else.

Quick timeline verification here:

This takes place on September 24th, the September after the events of IB3, which takes place before July 12th, which was Clint and Taylor's anniversary.

That's all.

Please, follow, favorite, review, and have a virtual cookie! (::)