This is a story in the first person.

I was born.

I was remade.

And nothing the world has thrown at me yet has managed to kill me.

It's really not that complicated.

(Everyone has weaknesses, faults, flaws, fractures.

The things they're not quite rational about.

The things that inform their every action.

The things that can be used against them.

Every role Natasha assumes has at least one. It's part of what makes them human - in some ways more human than she is. And it gives her enemies something to focus on, something they can exploit to get the upper hand.

And the moment when they think that they've got her?

That's when she has them.)

"Natalie?"

Natalie looks up to see Gwen's slightly disapproving face. "Yes, Ms Gliman?" she asks politely, using a surname because Natalie is still new here, and far beneath Gwen in the food chain.

For the moment, anyway.

Natalie has *plans* in that direction.

(Not that they'll come to anything, Natasha thinks. Natalie's likely not to exist for that long.)

(But Natalie is an intricate creation, and these things *matter*.)

"Ed wants to see you in his office now," Gwen says, and the displeasure is even clearer in her voice. Though whether it's the head of Legal calling on someone so junior personally, her being forced to carry the message or even what Ed is likely to ask of Natalie isn't quite as obvious.

It doesn't matter. Natalie allows herself a small smile of satisfaction before saying, "Thanks."

Gwen hesitates for a few seconds longer, looking like she wants to say something else, before just pursing her lips, nodding and heading off to her office.

(In another life, another role, Natasha might have almost liked Gwen, as much as she is capable of liking anyone. Gwen is quiet, competent and acts as a good counterpoint to Ed's far more expansive presence.)

(But that life is not this one, and here Gwen is just a potential barrier in Natalie's path.)

"Natalie! How are you doing?" Ed says, rising to his feet, as she comes in.

Natalie adds a little sway to her step as she approaches his desk, and takes his hand.

After all, putting the boss in a good mood never hurt anyone's career.

(Natasha smiles as she notes Ed's eyes flick downwards. It's not that she's necessarily planning on using it as ammunition, but having sexual harassment as a backup weapon never hurts.)

(And there'll be just enough truth to the claim to really throw Ed off his game if she ever feels the need to.)

"Very well, sir," she says.

"Good, good." He glances down at a sheaf of papers of his desk, then back to her. "We need Mr Stark to sign these papers."

He doesn't add 'And Mr Stark's been a bit recalcitrant' but he doesn't need to. Scuttlebutt about how Mr Stark has been ducking any and all people trying to pin him down even more than usual together with Ed's tone of frustration tell a story all of their own.

"Are you up to the task?" he asks, faux jovially.

Natalie flushes slightly, looking down. She doesn't need to be reminded that Ed caught her yesterday telling Mark that she was sure that *she* could catch up with Mr Stark, giving an exaggerated flick of her hair for emphasis.

(Natasha, on the other hand, is rather pleased that her staged show has managed to yield fruit so quickly.)

Apparently the idea has marinaded in Ed's mind overnight, and, at this point, he's willing to give it a try.

(And, if this *does* go badly wrong, Natasha will be able to tell Mr Stark about how big, bad Ed pressured her into doing this.)

(And, again, there's just enough truth in this to make him look *really* guilty.)

(Ed's not a bad guy, but, on occasion, she hurts a lot of not-bad guys in her line of work.)

(Though a lot less than she used to.)

Natalie looks back up at him after a moment, composed again. "Yes, sir," she says adding an edge of determination to her voice.

He hands her the sheaf of paper. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you how confidential this is. I'd suggest Ms Potts as your first port of call."

She takes the document, holding it carefully, close, and nods sharply.

"Good luck," Ed says in dismissal, then immediately turns his attention to his computer screen.

Natalie leaves quietly, efficiently, a woman on a mission.

"Ms Potts?"

"Hello?" The voice emanating from the phone is warm, if a little cautious.

"I'm Natalie Rushman. From Legal."

A quiet sigh greets her. "Let me guess, you've got something Ed wants Tony to sign."

"Is that a problem?"

"It really shouldn't be," comes the resigned reply. "Hold on a second."

Natalie is treated to about thirty seconds of holding music before the voice returns. "Mr Stark, last seen, was at his home. Do you have the address?"

Natalie types a few commands into the computer in front of her. "Yes."

(It's just for show. Natasha has already memorised such a basic pertinent fact.)

"I'll meet you there to let you in." The note of exasperation rings strongly here. Natalie wonders how many other messengers have been foiled at that first hurdle. "Shortly before two?"

"I can be there for then. And thank you."

"Don't mention it," the voice tells her. "Really, don't mention it," it adds a little ruefully.

Despite Natalie's preference for a cool demeanour, it's hard not to inject a little humour into her response. "I take it Mr Stark is not a fan of paperwork."

"You have *no* idea."

There's a white Accord, a few years old but well maintained, waiting for her outside the gates of the Stark estate. The door nearest the cliff running alongside the road is open, and a pair of pants-clad legs ending in high heels is sticking out. Glare from the sun hides many of the details of the car's occupant, but Natalie assumes that this is the mysterious Ms Potts.

(Natasha, of course, already knows it is.)

The legs withdraw inside the car as Natalie's vehicle approaches, only for the person within to emerge as Natalie brings her car to a stop.

((She's attractive.))

(Not that it matters, but SHIELD's pictures of Potts don't do her justice, Natasha reflects.)

(But she's not the target here. At best, she's a stepping stone.)

Natalie, of course, just narrows her eyes slightly before assuming a professional smile. Ms Potts may be attractive, but she's been working for Mr Stark for years, and hasn't slowed the ebb and flow of women from Mr Stark's bed in the slightest.

She's not a threat, Natalie decides, and gets out of the car.

Ms Potts gives her a brief glance up and down, an evaluation of her own. Her lips tighten a little before she extends a hand to Natalie.

"Thank you for meeting me out here," Natalie says.

"I don't believe I've seen you before," Ms Potts says by way of reply.

"I'm a new hire, Ed sent me to see if I could get Mr Stark to sign the transfer documents."

(Natasha, of course, photographed them all and sent them off to SHIELD once safely away from the corporate headquarters. Just in case.)

Ms Potts lips thin a little more. "I'll just bet he did," she murmurs to herself, before offering Natalie a bright smile. "Let's make sure that Mr Stark is available to see you. Follow me in your car," she says, then turns and climbs back inside her own vehicle.

Natalie can't help looking around at the Stark estate as she drives through it. It's a testament to wealth, ambition and half-completed projects. Stark has a reputation for eccentricity, but it's one thing hearing about it and another actually seeing it.

(Natasha views it through a professional lens. What places she could use to infiltrate and exfiltrate the property. What the security devices are, where they cover, and where they don't.)

(For all its cobbled together appearance, the security net has a surprisingly good coverage.)

(Not perfect, though. Nothing ever is.)

Natalie arrives at the house and gets out to meet Ms Potts, who is looking up at a camera mounted just above the door.

"Good afternoon, JARVIS," she says.

"Good afternoon, Ms Potts. What can I do for you and your companion today?" asks a cultured British male voice.

"Is Tony still here?"

"I believe he is down in the training room, with Mr Hogan."

Ms Potts turns to look at Natalie. "Uh, I'll go first. Just to make sure..." She waves her hand a little.

"That Mr Stark is decent?"

Ms Potts cracks a smile. "Oh, he's never that. But mostly dressed would be a bonus. Just wait about ten seconds, and if I haven't screamed something about clothes, follow me in."

"Got it."

She visibly braces herself, then heads down one of the sets of stairs.

Natalie turns to look at the same camera Ms Potts was looking at. "So... JARVIS?"

"Yes, madam?"

"Are you...?"

"Considerably more than just a refined voice?" it asks drily. "Absolutely."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

"I'm sorry, madam, but I don't think we've been introduced."

"Natalie Rushman, from Legal."

"Delighted to meet you, and I do believe it's been ten seconds."

Natalie automatically glances at her wrist. "Thanks," she says, then strides quickly off after Ms Potts.

(So. Stark has at the very least a complex expert system running his house. Even from that small chat, though, Natasha is convinced that JARVIS is a fully Turing-compliant AI.)

(It certainly has more social awareness than many humans she's encountered.)

Natalie follows Ms Potts down the steps. Maybe a little quickly. Maybe a little eager to meet the infamous Tony Stark.

(Everyone has flaws, and one of Natalie's is ambition.)

Natalie is greeted by the sight of two men in a boxing ring, and she doesn't need to be told who Tony is. Clever brown eyes look her up and down.

She doesn't recognise the other man and, really, next to Tony stark he doesn't matter at all.

(Natasha, on the other hand, recognises Hogan. Stark's driver, bodyguard and, apparently, sparring partner. She doesn't think he's a threat, but it never does to underestimate a potential opponent.)

Natalie resists the urge to be anything other than professional, though, turning her attention to Ms Potts.

(Stark is known for his... consumption of attractive women. It wouldn't do to let him have *anything* this easily.)

Ms Potts is still looking at the boxing ring, a look of gently amused exasperation on her face. "I promise this is the *only* time I will ask you to sign over your company," she tells him.

Natalie, almost despite herself, can't help sharing an amused smile with Ms Potts.

(Not quite on plan, Natasha thinks, but she can work with this.)

"I'll need you to initial this box," she tells Ms Potts, indicating the required part of the form.

"What's your name, lady?" Tony asks.

(Good. He's indicating interest.)

Natalie looks up him. "Rushman. Natalie Rushman."

(Bond. James Bond.)

"Front and centre," he says, clapping his gloved hands together. "Come into the church."

"No, you're seriously not going to... ask her..." Ms Potts protests.

"If it pleases the court," Mr Stark says, grinning at Ms Potts, before adding, "Which it does."

Natalie considers. "No problem," she tells Ms Potts. Getting noticed by Mr Stark can only help her career.

"I'm sorry," Ms Potts apologises. "He's very... eccentric."

(Natasha hadn't noticed.)

Ms Potts looks disapprovingly. Mostly aimed at Mr Stark, but a little in Natalie's direction too.

Natalie doesn't pay it much attention. She may be the new boss, but everyone knows where the real power in the company comes from.

(Natalie does have her little blind spots on occasion. Useful ones, though.)

Mr Stark watches her approach, taking occasional sips from a water bottle filled with some kind of green liquid.

(Natasha doesn't recognise the drink. It could just be a health drink. Or it could be something important. If she gets a chance, she'll take a sample, find out more.)

"What?" Natalie asks, as she climbs into the ring, looking directly into Mr Stark's eyes.

(Careful... she doesn't want to overdo it.)

Mr Stark looks back at her for a moment, before turning to look at the other man. "Can you give her a lesson?"

The other man, big, muscled, nods. "No problem."

The man (Hogan) starts talking to her, but Natalie only spares him half her attention. Mr Stark is bringing up her file, and this could be her big break.

(Natasha, of course, isn't nearly so worried about what he'll find. But she thinks adding an unpolished note, a flaw in her facade, can only help at this stage.)

(And the fact that this gives her a better idea of how he is approaching the baited hook SHIELD has prepared for him is an additional plus.)

(Stark is looking... interested. Interested in the way that he might be interested in any pretty woman who wanders past him.)

(Interested is a possible. Interested is a maybe.)

(But not intrigued. And intrigued, Natasha guesses, more by instinct than anything else, is what will get him hooked.)

"Rule number one, never take your eye off your opponent," the man in front of her says, with a friendly, if patronising tone in his voice.

(Intrigued, Natasha repeats to herself.)

(And, consciously, doesn't rein in her instinctive response to someone aiming a blow at her.)

Grip, twist, flip.

And the man is lying on the floor of the ring, looking a little stunned.

(And *that* is Stark looking intrigued.)

Mr Stark leaps up and comes over to the ring.

"That's what I'm talking about. Looks like a TKO to me," he says, ringing the bell.

(And now to play it a little cool. Keep him off balance.)

"I just need your impression," she says, exiting through the ropes.

Stark frowns thoughtfully. "You have quiet resolve. I don't know, a very old soul."

"I meant your thumbprint," Natalie clarifies, retrieving the papers from where she put them down.

"Right," he says, then clears his throat, looking a little discombobulated, finally pressing his thumb to the correct area.

Ms Potts, approaches, eyes fixed firmly on Mr Stark. "So, how're we doing?" she asks cheerily, with only a slight edge to her voice.

"Great," he says, looking up at her with a slight smirk. "Just... hey. You're the boss."

A smile lights up her face, transforming it.

((She's *gorgeous*.))

(And it's entirely irrelevant, being as how Natasha is here to evaluate Stark.)

"Will that be all, Mr Stark?" Natalie asks, smiling at him.

"Yes, that'll be all, Miss Rushman, yes. Thank you very much," Pepper answers for him, dismissing her with a smile.

But as she walks away, she can feel Mr Stark's eyes on her.

(And Natasha smiles.)

"You're working late."

Natalie jumps a little, almost imperceptibly, looking up to see Ms Potts standing in front of the entrance to her cubicle.

(Natasha, of course, had been well aware of Potts' approach.)

"Ms Potts."

"Please, call me Pepper," she says, smiling a little.

"Pepper," Natalie says, trying the name on for size. *Pepper* may not be quite the prize that Tony is, but she's still the CEO of Stark Industries, and Natalie is nothing is not opportunistic. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, really. I was just on the way to see Ed - also burning the midnight oil, given the changes going on - and I spotted you. I just wanted to let you know that Tony didn't mean any harm earlier."

"It's really not a problem."

"Good - just - let me know if he bothers you again. I don't think that it's likely, but he can be like a dog with a bone on occasion."

"And I'm the tasty new treat?"

Pepper rolls her eyes a little. "Something like that. It's just, if he does call, don't mistake his interest for something that it isn't."

"I won't," Natalie promises.

"And call me if he contacts you again."

"Yes, ma'am," Natalie says (lies).

"Pepper," she corrects, smiling.

"Pepper," Natalie repeats, before smiling slightly in return. "Ma'am."

"You're incorrigible," Pepper tells her, mock seriously.

"I try my best," Natalie says, blandly.

"You've impressed the boss with your dedication. Now, go home. Shoo," Pepper says, making a waving motion.

"You're sure that there's nothing I can help you with?"

Pepper hesitates for a moment. "I'll... let you know," she says, then walks away towards Ed's office, twisting around just before she enters to make another shooing motion at Natalie.

(Making in-roads with Potts isn't a bad thing, Natasha finally decides. It could certainly provide valuable intelligence.)

(She hadn't *intended* to make Natalie so... flirtatious with Potts. But a good role always does take on something of a life of its own.)

(And it couldn't hurt.)

(Potts is just another mark.)

An email from Pepper arrives the next day, a minor legal matter she wants researched.

A quick essay later (and an even quicker consult with a SHIELD lawyer for confirmation) and she responds, trying to think nothing more of it.

(Natasha is... a little ambivalent. This is a sign of interest... and a test.)

(It's a risk, and Potts isn't her target.)

(On the other hand, she could be helpful, and this *is* what Natalie would do.)

A little later, she gets a polite 'thank you' and a little while after that, another request.

And so it goes. The tasks get more and more complicated, and more and more involved.

(And Natasha congratulates herself on managing to nudge Potts into using her in a more investigatory role, where she doesn't need to rely on a lawyer backing her up.)

(And it's not that Natasha isn't perfectly capable of doing mind-numbingly boring tasks for days, weeks, at a time if need be.)

(And it's not as though looking into these matters of minor corporate... laziness is exactly challenging.)

(But it's... almost fun doing so.)

(And it gives her a reason, a new angle to consider, when digging through the Stark International network.)

(Besides, it would be almost a shame to let the network administrator passwords that she finessed go unused.)

Between the requests, and her own prying, Natalie builds up a picture of what is happening in the corporation over the next week or so. Things are moving within the corporation, after Ms Potts was made CEO. Division heads are trying to flex their wings, test their limits now that Stark and Stane are out of the picture.

And, even though nothing has really changed about the day to day running of Stark Industries, between all the jostling for advantage and, so rumour (and some bugs Natasha may have planted) tells her, the doubts that the board has in the new CEO, cracks are starting to show.

It's a test.

(Albeit one that Natasha thinks Potts can survive.)

(If she keeps her nerve.)

The call from Mr Stark, when it happens, comes about a week later, when Natalie is at home.

The entrance alarm buzzes.

Curious, Natalie thinks. She isn't expecting anyone.

(Natasha is just wary as she approaches the door to her apartment.)

Activating the camera, she could see Mr Stark smirking up at her, the boxer and another man standing in the background.

(At last, thinks Natasha.)

"Mr Stark?" Natalie says into the intercom.

"Ms Rushman?" Tony says, then makes a face. "Natalie? Can I call you Natalie? Could I come upstairs? I'd like to make you an offer you won't want to refuse."

Really, there's nothing that Natalie can do other than let him in.

"Have you had dinner yet?" Mr Stark asks as soon as she opens the door of her apartment.

(Natasha notices that, behind him, Hogan and the other man are standing, boxes in their hands, bags hanging off their arms.)

"Yes?"

"Never mind," Mr Stark says, advancing past her into the apartment. "Trust me, you're going to have to space for this."

"'This', Mr Stark?" she asks, following him into the living room.

"Tony, please. If I can call you Natalie, you can certainly call me Tony."

Natalie forbears to comment that she never said that he could call her Natalie.

She doesn't think it would make any difference, anyway.

"And this," he says, gesturing at the man she hadn't seen before who is currently setting up stands at the edge of her living room. "Is french cuisine cooked by one of the best chefs in L.A."

"What is this offer you want to make me?"

"Hush. No talking about that until after food. Do you have anything in particular you'd like?"

"Didn't you manage to discover my favourite food when you were poking around my file?"

"It wasn't in there. Honestly, I'm really disappointed in HR. If I was still CEO, I'd be having words with them, let me tell you."

(Reel him in a little, Natasha thinks. But just a little. Not too much.)

Natalie smiles slowly at him. "Surprise me."

Tony chuckles. "A woman after my own heart."

Tony finishes pushing what remains of his meal around his plate, before handing it off to the chef. "So, what did you think?"

"Consider me impressed." Natalie takes a small sip of the wine in front of her, waiting for Tony to make the next move.

"I'm glad you like the cuisine, because that's going to be part of the job."

"Making a tour of the French restaurants? Tempting, but I certainly couldn't eat like this every night."

"I need a new personal assistant. And I think you've got what it takes. Pizazz, brains and the ability to drop a man in under a second." Tony takes a sip of his own drink, which, despite being in a wineglass, is a dark green colour. "I think you'll find that last trait exceedingly useful."

"There's got to be a better way of getting reservations."

"If you're interested, you can find that out for yourself. I'm going to Monaco for the Grand Prix. And back to LA for a party. It's a birthday thing."

(The date of the Grand Prix, Natasha considers, cannot be a coincidence.)

(She wonders how much money Stark spent on arranging that.)

(How much money he spent stroking his ego.)

"And you want me to organise it," is all Natalie says.

"Think of it as a trial by fire." He thinks for a second. "But not literal fire. I think I'm over fireworks for this party."

(Time to pull away a little. Leave him wanting more.)

Natalie looks down at the table. "I've already got a job, I can't just..."

Tony waves a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. I've already talked to Ed about this. He said that he'll sort out the details."

Natalie studies him, with a hint of a smile around her lips. "You really want me to take this job, don't you?"

"What gave it away? I thought I was being so subtle with the night time visit and the chef and so on."

Natalie considers for a moment longer. "Then, yes, I'll take the job."

"Excellent! This calls for a new bottle of wine." Even though she's fairly sure that she hasn't finished the first one. He gets up anyway, retrieves a bottle from a cooler, and opens it with a flourish. "Your glass, Natalie?"

Natalie rises smoothly to her feet, sways over to where he's standing and offers him her glass. He smiles broadly as he fills it.

"To the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, clinking their glasses together.

Being Tony's personal assistant is both difficult and frustrating. Pinning him down to anything is almost impossible - if she ever does manage to get a decision out of him, he's like as not to change they next time they talk.

And talk is the operative word. After her somewhat overblown recruitment, she hardly sees him in person over the next couple of weeks. She does have access to his house, though with the ever watchful gaze of JARVIS, she doesn't push her boundaries. Yet.

(Natasha is learning his shape, even by his absences.)

(She knows lust and she knows desire, but for all his obvious appreciation when others are around, when they are alone he is... distracted.)

(As much as it was the plan going in, Stark doesn't appear to want her for her own qualities.)

(It's not a problem - what there is of her ego is hardly offended - but it does suggest that the intelligence she had was wrong.)

(Or something has changed, recently.)

(Like several near death experiences, granted.)

(Which begs the question - why *did* he hire her?)

(Maybe he wants to use her as cover - certainly from the jokes they tell when they think she can't hear, Hogan and the others that work for him think that she and Tony are business as usual.)

(Maybe it's something even simpler, more juvenile. Maybe he just likes having a pretty face around, and has chosen her now that Potts isn't around so much.)

(Whatever the reason is, it does confirm his self absorption, his narcissism, his arrogance.)

(He honestly hasn't even seemed to consider that she might have had a career outside his whims.)

(And he certainly doesn't appear to be used to working as part of a team. He doesn't work with her, with *anyone* as far as she can see. He has no equals, no colleagues.)

(He just acts, and expects everyone to follow in his wake.)

(Which isn't helped by the fact that he's generally charismatic enough to pull it off.)

In Natalie's few spare moments, she still checks in on her work account.

There's the usual trivia - meetings, alerts and celebrations.

(The chaff of corporate life.)

Emails from Ed are, unsurprisingly, noticeable by their absence.

Ones from Ms Potts, Pepper, however continue.

Always polite.

Always prefaced with 'If you have time...'

They haven't changed at all.

(Natasha wonders, sometimes, if Potts knows of her change of jobs.)

(There isn't any indication if so.)

(But she doesn't ask. Her objective here is clear, and doesn't include getting between Potts and Stark.)

(It's not even a consideration.)

Almost unwillingly, the messages brighten Natalie's day a little each time she sees them.

(And, really, Natasha shouldn't find them as interesting as she does.)

And, as and when she has time, in between calls to this hotel or that restaurant, rearranging timetables with Tony's latest whim, she tries to complete as many as she can.

(Now that she isn't spending time in the building, Natasha has to rely on other skills. Using faked authority, flattery and veiled threats, she gets other people to do the work for her.)

(It's not quite as satisfying as getting the work done herself, but it brings some satisfaction.)

(And, besides, for all that Stark has relinquished apparent control of the company, it's becoming clear that he is still intimately tied to it.)

(His presence looms large, in both what people talk about, and what people don't.)