Chapter Text
Jarvis found his first gray hair the day Tony was born. It seemed fitting, since the little tyrant would cause every other hair to turn gray before it all eventually fell out. While Tony was the apple of Howard’s eye, he wanted nothing to do with him while he was working. Which, was all the time.
Soon Jarvis would start getting up earlier to take care of baby Tony. It wasn’t that Maria was incapable of going through the morning routine; it was the fact that Tony never slept and he was spoiled rotten before he was out of newborn diapers. She would be up all night, rocking him, bouncing him, feeding him, singing to him, anything to get this child to fall asleep. Jarvis would see Howard in the kitchen each morning; Howard would moan about how Tony’s squalling kept him up all night and Jarvis would promise that everything would get better soon.
And he would do everything humanly possible to make sure Tony didn’t sleep too much during the day so he would sleep at night, but Tony was his father’s child; sleep all day, party all night. Once Jarvis got a bottle in Tony’s screaming mouth, the little shit would pass out. There was a photo of Howard passed out at a party with a bottle hanging out of his mouth; the resemblance was uncanny.
Jarvis first felt pain in his knees the day Tony fell down the stairs. He wasn’t even two, yet the child could unlock even the most convoluted baby gates. His favorite gate was the one guarding the stairs leading down to the living room; the gate with an absurd amount of “child-proof” locks.
It was after lunch and Jarvis set Tony in his crib with a couple of blocks. He went to grab the vacuum to clean up the crumbs from Tony’s cookies. In the span of two minutes, Tony climbed out of his crib and made his way over to the baby gate. Jarvis heard the gate fall and that devious giggling.
He bolted down the hallway, just in time to see that little heathen pull himself up and topple over. He lunged forward and caught Tony by his shirt, who looked back with a gleeful smile.
“It fell,” he giggled. Jarvis sighed and tugged the toddler up and away from the stairs. He then rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a bit, his hand wrapped around Tony’s arm in case he had any other bright ideas. The pain in his knees was excruciating.
“I fly,” Tony said, tugging himself toward the stairs.
“No, Tony, you can’t fly,” Jarvis replied tiredly.
Maria came up a few minutes later, worried about the noise. “It’s nothing,” Jarvis said, “You just need to find a new Tony-proof baby gate. And I may need knee surgery.”
Jarvis first noticed his vision was going when Tony was four. Suddenly, the words of Green Eggs and Ham were blurring together and Jarvis was stumbling to separate them. Thankfully, Tony picked up on reading quickly, and soon he was reading bedtime stories.
Once, Tony asked, “Can Daddy read me a story?”
“Only if you want to hear a story about blueprints,” Jarvis replied dryly.
A few days later, Howard started to complain about missing schematics. Maria insisted he was simply misplacing them and that they’d turn up soon. Howard was adamant; someone broke in and stole his work.
The police were called and they searched the house. But it was Jarvis that saw the crumbled corner of blue paper sticking out from under Tony’s pillow. And it was Howard who nearly had a stroke when he saw scribbles all over the paper, intermixed with equations and designs.
While Howard was screaming at his son and Maria was apologizing to the authorities, Jarvis took a closer look at the ruined design. Although it was blurry, it looked like Tony had was trying to solve the equations written in the corners.
Not that Howard paid attention; he snatched the blueprints away from Jarvis and tore them to shreds, leaving a pile of confetti on Tony’s bedroom floor before storming out.
Jarvis knelt to pick up the paper, while Tony sat on his bed, hiccuping and sobbing. “I just - wanted - to finish - the story,” he cried.
“Well, your father doesn’t want help with his stories,” Jarvis explained, tossing the paper in the wastebasket. He sat on the edge of Tony’s bed. “How about you write some stories of your own?” he suggested.
The little boy looked up, his face coated in snot and tears. “My own?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’ll get you some story writing supplies tomorrow morning and we can start at lunch time,” Jarvis promised. Tony smiled and nodded. Jarvis helped him clean his face off and tucked him into bed.
The next morning, Jarvis bought Tony an algebra book.
Jarvis noticed his short-breath when he walked Tony to his first day of school. It was a bright September morning and the leaves were just starting to turn colors. It was only a couple blocks to Tony’s special private school; Jarvis had walked farther in worse conditions for less important things.
Tony was bouncing with excitement, his brown eyes shining in the morning light. “It’s gonna be so fun!” he shouted. “There will be other kids and we’ll learn stuff like calculus and physics!”
Jarvis smiled down at the little boy and ruffled his hair. “Don’t get too worked up, Tony. You probably won’t do a whole lot of math today.”
His remark was met with a pout. “But I want to do math,” Tony protested.
Jarvis knelt down, “And you will do math, but today you’re going to learn names and make friends.”
Tony’s shoulders slumped. “Can I just start when they teach us calculus?”
“And miss the opportunity to meet all the girls?” Jarvis asked. “If you aren’t there, some other boy will swoop in and win all their hearts.” It never ceased to amaze Jarvis how much Tony was like his father, because he perked right up, ran the rest of the way to school, and stopped outside to check his reflection in the mirror and practice winking, much to the butler’s amusement.
The school required that all kindergarteners be accompanied by a parent on the first day to make sure all of their affairs were in order; Howard and Maria were halfway around the world celebrating their anniversary.
Jarvis was filling his blood pressure prescription when he got the call from Tony’s principal. “Mr. Stark is here again.”
He drove to the school and found Tony sitting outside of the office. That chair was more than familiar to Tony; he spent more time sitting in it than he did sitting in his classes. Normally, Jarvis would step into the office, see the principal, hear about Tony’s latest disrespectful remarks, and take Tony home to punish him.
This time was different; Tony looked terrified. When he saw Jarvis, he jumped out of the chair and ran to him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over, slowly falling into hysterics.
Jarvis was utterly confused. “Tony, what-?”
That was when he saw Howard and Maria walk out of the office, both of them looking furious. “Outside,” Howard growled at Tony.
As it turns out, nine year old Tony had built an atomic bomb for his science project. The school, seeing as how it had been an in-class project and his teacher hadn’t paid enough attention to him, only demanded that Tony be immediately expelled, rather than get the authorities involved.
“How could you be so stupid, Tony? Where did you ever get the idea that it was okay to build a weapon in class!” Howard shouted at him.
“I submitted the plans and the teacher said they were okay!” Tony shouted back.
“Dammit, Tony, think for once in your life! Think about what would have happened if the media had heard about this! Howard Stark’s son brings weapons of mass destruction to school! The company would be ruined!”
Jarvis cut in, “Never mind how dangerous it was to do something like that. You and your classmates could have been seriously hurt. Where did you even get the supplies?”
Tony’s head fell and he shuffled his feet. “From Dad’s office,” he mumbled.
“So now you’ve been stealing things from my office?” Howard shouted.
“Only from the trash!” Tony replied.
“No, I won’t have it. I won’t have some reckless thief endangering the integrity of the company I built from the ground up! You’re done, Anthony. Your ass is getting shipped to boarding school in the middle of nowhere!”
Jarvis turned to Howard, “Now sir-”
“You don’t get a say in this! Is he your son?” Howard snapped. “Take him home to pack up his things.”
Jarvis noticed the dark spots on his face when Tony came home for Christmas. He’d just been accepted at MIT; one of the youngest students to apply and get in. It had been six years since that little boy had been expelled and now he was almost fifteen; he had the acne scars and fuzzy chin to prove it.
He wasn’t there to brag about his acceptance letter or watch his father work; he was distraught over his latest relationship.
“She didn’t even break up with me in person!” he yelled. “She sent her best friend to do it for her!”
Jarvis clapped his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “It’s not fun being on the receiving end of a break up, is it?”
“This isn’t fair! I’m going to be single for Valentine’s Day! I haven’t been single for Valentine’s Day since I was four!” Tony wailed.
Jarvis did his best to hide his bemused smile. He could only imagine how many fathers have sworn revenge on Anthony Edward Stark for making their little girls feel like this. Karma is a bitch. “You have two months until Valentine’s Day; I’m confident you’ll find someone to go out with by then.”
Howard came in, looked at his distraught son, and walked back out, muttering how he didn’t have time to deal with this drama. Maria was no where to be found, probably passed out on the couch with her martini glass in hand.
Jarvis felt his bones creaking as he swayed to and fro at the side of the auditorium. Howard and Maria had requested two tickets for Tony’s graduation, leaving Jarvis to stand near the door. He didn’t mind; he would have stood in lava if it had meant he could see Tony cross the stage.
Maria had come over with Jarvis; Howard was no where to be found. Jarvis kept stealing glances toward Maria and the empty seat. He could see Tony doing the same thing, his face falling further each time as the ceremony wore on.
Howard stumbled in a few moments before Tony’s name was called. He leaned on Jarvis, reeking of alcohol and perfume. “Did I miss it?” he asked.
“No, sir, you’re right on time,” Jarvis commented as the principal shook Tony’s hand. Both of them could see him look back out at the audience, right at the empty seat.
“God, he’s going to hate me,” Howard sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Maria’s going to kill me.”
Jarvis had no words of consolation. He merely shrugged and said, “I’ll personally drive you to his college graduation.”
Jarvis noticed his hearing was getting bad when Tony called him in the middle of the night. His words were slurred and he was whispering. “I’m at a party ... and I don’t feel good.”
“Then leave the party,” Jarvis mumbled back, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“I don’t know where I’m at...”
“Probably in Massachusetts,” Jarvis replied.
“Jarvis, this isn’t funny” Tony insisted. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know anyone here. They put some weird shit in my drink and I feel sick.”
“How did you get there?” Jarvis asked, throwing the covers back and getting out of bed.
“I don’t remember. I blacked out for a bit. And now I’m here. In someone’s bed. And there’s some girl here. And I’m not wearing the clothes I thought I put on this morning,” Tony slurred.
“Is the party still going on?” Jarvis asked, looking for a clean set of clothes.
“I still hear music...” Tony’s voice trailed off.
“You still there, Mr. Stark?” Jarvis asked.
“This room is covered in Columbia stuff. I don’t think I’m in Massachusetts anymore.”
Jarvis sighed and changed out of his pajamas and into a suit. “Can you see anything out the window?”
He heard the phone drop to the floor and he faintly heard Tony’s voice saying something like “I see a tree.” Jarvis stifled the need to roll his eyes and tell the party animal to find his own way home, but then Tony came back and said, “I think I’m across the street from Central Park.”
“What side of Central Park?” Jarvis implored, putting his shoes on. He heard woman’s voice saying, “Who the fuck are you?” and the sounds of the phone hitting the floor and Tony stumbling out, presumably being chased. Jarvis figured he’d have to drive around Central Park until he found a building littered in passed out college kids.
Surprisingly, there were several buildings that fit that description, but he eventually found the right one and pulled Tony out of the bushes. His left eye was freshly blackened and his shirt was torn. He threw up twice on the walk to the car and again on the side of the road on the way home.
“I’m never drinking again,” he moaned from the passenger seat.
Jarvis chuckled, but he secretly hoped that this experience would teach Tony a lesson about partying with reckless abandon.
Jarvis felt pains in his chest as he drove to Tony’s graduation later that spring. He shook it off; Howard and Maria were getting to that ceremony.
It was a warm day in Cambridge, but not unbearably so. The ceremony was held on the banks of the Charles River, in the shadow of MIT’s campus. Boats drifted lazily through the area, engines shut off so they wouldn’t interrupt the commencement.
There were three seats reserved for the Stark family; Tony had put in the reservation himself.
Jarvis rarely saw Tony after he turned eighteen; Howard set him up in Malibu so he could oversee the California factory. Jarvis protested; everyone in the nation knew about Tony’s partying. He felt that sending Tony to the other side of the country would encourage his debauchery. Howard thought different; he figured it would force Tony to take responsibility.
Howard was wrong. Tony filled his beachfront home with women and every substance known to man. If he felt he need to grace Stark Industries with his presence, it was never before two o’clock in the afternoon. His personal life became a staple of tabloid covers; he became a regular at the Los Angeles County Jail.
His father never personally dealt with Tony’s budding alcoholism. He always sent Jarvis to go bail his son out of jail; a practice that became more frequent as time drug on.
The night before Tony turned twenty-one, Jarvis was flying out to Los Angeles. Tony wasn’t in trouble, yet. He just wanted to bring Tony a present and keep him out of jail.
The mansion was either still crawling with people from the night before, or Tony’s birthday celebrations had started early. The front door was wide open, music was blaring, and people were everywhere. Tony was no where to be found.
Jarvis meandered his way through the crowds of half dressed women. He wondered if Hugh Hefner were anywhere to be found in this mess. It wouldn’t surprise him to find out that Tony were Hugh’s protegee.
He checked rooms, apologizing awkwardly when he walked in on activities that he would have rather not seen. He finally found himself in the garage. There, bent over a desk covered in designs, was Tony.
Jarvis cleared his throat. “You appear to be missing your birthday party, Mr. Stark.”
“I’m almost done. I just have to finish writing out the code for this AI interface I’m working on-” Tony’s voice trailed off as he looked up and saw Jarvis. His face broke into a smile as he ran over and locked the butler in a hug.
“I figured I’d have to get arrested to get you over here,” Tony said.
“I can’t give you this in jail,” Jarvis replied, gesturing to the gift bag in his hand. “Happy Birthday, Tony.”
The young man took the bag and set it on a workbench. He pulled out an ancient bottle of scotch. He looked at Jarvis, bewildered. “This isn’t the sort of thing you give a young alcoholic.”
“You don’t have to drink it,” Jarvis chided. “But, if it’s any consolation, I’ll watch you if you decide to have some. Maybe I can keep you out of jail tonight.” Tony chuckled and turned to find some glasses.
“That bottle is older than I am,” Jarvis explained, pulling a chair up to the bench. “My father meant to give it to me for my eighteenth birthday. He was a bit of a smuggler; Prohibition hit when he was a young man. He made his bread money bootlegging for people like your father. One day, right around the holidays, some old rich man decided to let my father have a bottle to keep.”
“So, why has it never been opened?” Tony asked, cracking the seal on the bottle
“I was born that winter and my father said that he’d give me that bottle for my eighteenth birthday. Alas, he passed when I was thirteen, not too long after Prohibition was repealed. I didn’t know about this bottle until my mother passed in the 50s. I decided I’d wait and share this bottle with my own son when he was old enough.”
Jarvis smirked and accepted the glass from Tony. “Obviously, I never got that far. So, I figured I’d share it with you.” He raised the glass to Tony. “Happy birthday, Mr. Stark, and may there be many more to come.”
Jarvis got the call from his doctor on a cold December morning. The tests came back; stage four liver cancer. At most, he was looking at six months, maybe a year with some chemo.
He had no family left to tell; Howard and Maria were out of town, Tony was in California. They’d all be back in New York for the holidays, though. He’d tell them after Christmas. No sense in ruining the festivities with bad news. Until then, he’d busy himself keeping the Stark home in order.
That night, he got the call from the police. At first, Jarvis feared that Tony had been arrested again; it had been nearly six months since his last appearance at the county jail. Then the officer on the phone clarified: he was calling from the New York, not Los Angeles. There had been an accident; Howard and Maria were dead.
Jarvis arranged for Howard’s private plane to take him to Los Angeles. Surprisingly, Tony’s mansion did not resemble the Playboy mansion. It was pretty much vacant, save for the music pouring out of the garage. Jarvis knocked a couple times, but to no avail. He kicked around the entrance way and found a key under a rock. All young bachelors are the same, Jarvis thought as he entered the home.
Tony’s was typing away furiously at a computer, bobbing his head to Christmas music. He didn’t notice Jarvis come in, until the older man turned off the music. “You’re rather oblivious, Mr. Stark,” Jarvis said.
Tony looked around. “Jarvis, it’s like four in the morning in New York. Why are you here?”
Jarvis couldn’t find the words. “What are you working on?” he asked.
“Just an AI system that I can rig to run the house while I’m away,” Tony explained. “No need for a house sitter, plant waterer, or any of that. I can even get it to order me a pizza. But you’re dodging the question. Why are you here?”
“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Jarvis started.
“What, did the stock market crash? I haven’t left the garage in a few days, so I wouldn’t know,” Tony joked. The smile slid off his face when he saw Jarvis shake his head gravely.
“Your parents, they’re...”
“They’re what? Not coming back to New York for the holidays? Good, I really didn’t want to go there; I mean, I love seeing you, but I’m swamped right now and stopping could push me back weeks. I’m really close to getting this system online and-”
“Tony,” Jarvis cut him off. “They’re dead.”
Tony smirked. “I’m not that lucky. Seriously, why are you really here?”
“I am being serious, there was a car accident,” Jarvis tried explaining.
“I know I’m not overly fond of my parents, but this is cruel,” Tony cut him off. “Just tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m here to take you back to New York so you can set their affairs in order. They need next of kin and the butler doesn’t qualify,” Jarvis said harshly.
Tony blinked. “So, you’re not joking.”
Jarvis shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Tony.” The young man combed his fingers through his hair and stood up. He crossed the garage and retrieved his birthday scotch from the top shelf along with two glasses.
“I don’t think now is the best time for that, Tony,” Jarvis warned.
“My parents just died, Jarvis, get off my back,” Tony growled.
“And alcohol is not what you need,” Jarvis said calmly, getting up and taking the bottle from Tony’s hand.
Tony tried to look Jarvis in the eyes, but Jarvis looked down. Tony cocked his head and asked, “There’s something else, isn’t there?” Jarvis shook his head and opened his mouth to lie, but Tony continued, “Come on, Jarvis, I’ve known you my entire life. I can tell when you’re hiding something.”
“It can wait, right now we need to get you packed and on the plane,” Jarvis said, turning to go. Tony grabbed his arm.
“Might as well keep the bad news coming, Jarvis, hit me while I’m down,” Tony sighed.
Jarvis exhaled through his nose and turned to face Tony. “I have cancer. I’m dying.” He wasn’t ready for the frightened look that covered Tony’s face. He didn’t protest when Tony silently took the bottle back. All of his energy was drained from him as he lowered himself into the couch and accepted the glass from Tony.
They drank the bottle dry that night in absolute silence.
The funeral took place the following weekend. It was cold and rainy, everything essential for a stereotypical funeral. Tony stayed stone faced, nodding to his father’s associates and hugging his mother’s friends. He saw an appearance from Peggy Carter, a woman who was once lovingly referred to as “Aunt Peggy.” He didn’t remember her, but she made him promise to call whenever he needed anything. There were even a few of the famed Howling Commandos in attendance; Tony didn’t know any of them, but they all promised to help him however they could.
Tony never would call any of them. Once again, it astounded Jarvis how much Tony was like Howard. Neither of them were capable of asking for help.
The drive back home was long, accented by uncharacteristic silence. “It’s not good to keep it bottled up,” Jarvis started, looking over at Tony. “You have to let it out.”
“Let what out? My grief that a pair of people who hardly gave a damn about me are dead?” Tony said bitterly. Jarvis stopped the car.
“You think your parents hardly gave a damn about you?” he asked.
“Oh come on, Jarvis, you’ve been there. You saw how Dad didn’t give two shits about what I did as long as it didn’t affect his damn company. And Mom let him,” Tony blurted out.
“Now I didn’t always agree with your father’s parenting choices, but he only did what he thought was best,” Jarvis interjected.
“Best for the fucking company, not for me!” Tony shouted.
“The company that you inherit. He did everything in his power to make sure that your name remained unstained and the company you receive is not a mess. Everything he did was for you!” Jarvis shouted back.
“I don’t give a shit about that company!” Tony screamed, tears falling down his cheeks. “I never gave a shit about that company. All I ever fucking wanted was a dad. Someone to pick me up and dust me off! Someone to come to my science fairs and tell me how proud he was! Someone to teach me how to be a man!”
“What the hell am I?” Jarvis yelled. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t cookie cutter perfect, but don’t you dare act like you didn’t have anyone who cared about you.”
Tony’s mouth fell open and he sputtered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m sorry that I tried to fill the roles that your parents left wide open. I’m sorry I didn’t make them be the parents you deserved. But don’t act like they weren’t proud of you. Don’t say they didn’t love you. You were the center of their universe.”
“Well, excuse me for not believing a word of that,” Tony growled, facing away from Jarvis.
“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” Jarvis asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes, Jarvis, that is all.”
They didn’t speak again until Tony flew out the next day. “How bad is it?” Tony asked as they parked near the Stark plane.
“I have six months,” Jarvis replied, getting out of the car.
“What are you going to do? I mean, is chemo an option?” Tony asked, not waiting for Jarvis to open his door.
“It’ll only prolong the inevitable,” Jarvis sighed.
“So you’re not doing it?” Tony exclaimed. “You’re just giving up?”
Jarvis handed Tony his bags. “I’ll only be fighting a losing battle, Mr. Stark,” he said sadly.
“But at least you’ll be fighting!” Tony protested.
Jarvis put his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “This is my choice, Tony.”
“And where does that leave me?” Tony asked.
“You?” Jarvis asked incredulously, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one dying. You’re twenty-one years old, Mr. Stark. I am sure you can handle yourself without your childhood butler.”
“Yeah I can, but that doesn’t mean I want to! As you’ve pointed out, you’re the only real parental figure I’ve had. You can’t just put an expiration date on something like that and expect me to deal with it-” his voice trailed off.
“You’ll have to deal with it. There’s nothing you can do,” Jarvis consoled.
“Unless there doesn’t need to be an expiration date,” Tony muttered, his eyes lighting up.
Jarvis cocked his head. “If you’re telling me that you have a cure to cancer in your pocket...”
“No, no, but I do have a way to keep you alive, sort of,” Tony’s voice was becoming crazier with each breath. He dropped his bags and grabbed Jarvis’s shoulders. “Come with me to California. I have an idea.”
Jarvis passed on a bright spring morning. He and Tony had spent months tweaking his new AI system, mirroring it to his thought processes and speech patterns. They had dredged up some of Howard’s old theories; there was a way to upload someone’s brain into a computer, but they needed more time. It had helped plug some of the holes in Tony’s coding though.
The AI didn’t have any of Jarvis’s memories, but it did have his wit and his voice. It’s knowledge was limited to what he could find online and what Tony inputed. It wasn’t Jarvis, it was Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, JARVIS for short.
Tony was uploading JARVIS into the mansion’s interface as Jarvis fell asleep in the garage.
“JARVIS, you there?” Tony asked once the system restarted.
“I’m an artificial intelligence system, sir, I don’t have much choice,” came the digital voice. Tony laughed triumphantly and turned to see the old man.
“Hey, ever wanted to talk to yourself?” he asked. When he didn’t get a reply, he asked, “Jarvis?”
“Yes, sir?” the AI asked.
“No, not you,” Tony said offhandedly, crossing the garage to check on Jarvis. He shook him some, but to no avail. He smirked and crossed his arms. “Figures. Probably would have torn the fabric of space to have him argue with himself.”
“Shall I call the doctor, sir?” JARVIS asked.
Tony wiped away the tears that were forming in his eyes. “Might as well.”
As the phone dialed, Tony smiled at Jarvis. “Rest easy, old man. I’ll be okay.”