"I don't want to feel ever again." Tony had grown very tired of his father's constant disapproval. All he wanted was to please the hardened man, just once, but it never happened.

"What a truly terrible way to live." He was startled by the sudden voice of another person. Jarvis, the butler, had probably been watching over him like he usually did. Tony hadn't bothered to get to know the man. In truth, he was afraid of having to deal with the same rejection he got from his father.

"He doesn't care about me. He never did and never will. I'm a disappointment, probably a mistake."

"I've been his friend for a long time." Jarvis sat down next to the small child. "I know a lot about him. Do you want to know what he's most proud of?"

"His work?"

"You." Tony was shocked. He finally looked at the man. "He may not show it, but you are his greatest accomplishment, his biggest pride."

"I don't believe you," Tony refused to accept it, no matter how hard he wanted to. If he was so important, why didn't his father care about him?

"You may not now, but someday you will."

Tony had gotten along well with the man after that.

He'd grown tired of his father always pushing him away quite quickly. Howard Stark was one of the best businessmen in his time, but he was truly a terrible parent.

As such, he grew closer to the butler. Jarvis became more of a father than Howard ever would be.

The day his father compared him to his best creation was a particularly difficult day to live. Tony knew who the famous Captain America was, everyone did. How could you not? He was a hero. He was strong, brave, powerful, everything everyone wanted to be. And everything Tony wasn't.

Then he kept doing it. Every time Tony tried to show his accomplishments (why he still bothered trying he wasn't sure) or do something he was sure would earn him respect only earned him a disappointed scowl and a 'Why can't you be more like Captain America?'

He would often visit town only to find all the children reading Captain America comic books or playing with trash bin lids as shields. It was a painful reminder of his shortcomings that would never go away.

With every unforgiving glance, Tony pushed his emotion deeper into himself and vowed to never let it show. He avoided happiness like it was the plague, knowing it could be ripped away from him any second. Before long he had become a completely different person, a facade so fake and unreal it had changed him.

He was rather disgusted when he learned just how much he was like Howard.

Jarvis had always been there for him, even when he wasn't physically there.

Tony was shipped off to boarding school before he reached junior years. It was pleasant but terrible news. Pleasant because he wouldn't have to worry about disappointing Howard, but terrible because he was an outcast at school. He couldn't help his genius. He couldn't help if he was smarter than the other kids. He couldn't relate to them and found being social very difficult. And the gifted programs weren't enough.

The worst part was saying goodbye to Jarvis. The butler was his only real friend.

Tony promised to write Jarvis, and Jarvis promised to write back. And he did. Whenever Tony tried to write or call his parents it only ended in misery and regret, but Jarvis was always there.

Jarvis had always been there for him, even when he wasn't there himself.

Too many parties and painful memories resulted in many hospital visits due to toxicity. He tried to drown his emotions, dull his senses in hopes he would forget his painful first years. He tried to convince himself the hangovers afterward were worth it, but he'd gone in too deep to stop.

Jarvis was always the first to notice, and the first to tell him his behavior was unacceptable. He was he first to sit down and listen as Tony threw out all his frustrations and angers and the first to have something to say. Jarvis knew more about Tony than his parents did combined.

Jarvis had always been there, even when his parents weren't.

Tony wasn't sure what to feel when word reached him of his parents' death. He was a swirl of emotions, but sadness was not one of them. If anything, he felt a weight off his shoulders. But then he felt a different weight, one that was trying to push shame and guilt into him. He shrugged the weight off.

He felt bad for not being upset about his mother. She had tried at times to mend the relationship between Tony and Howard, but she'd never really realized the relationship was never there to begin with. His father probably couldn't have cared less.

The funeral was just another event in his life. People offered their condolences, and Tony brushed them off. He didn't need their apologies. It wasn't their fault.

He hadn't cried in a long time, and he certainly wouldn't cry over his father.

Jarvis had taken custody of Tony after his parents' deaths. Tony wasn't physically there, still in school (enrolled and excelling in college), but it was nice to know that someone cared enough about him to want him around, even if he didn't show how much it meant.

Jarvis had always been there, even when he wasn't.

Tony's world came crumbling when Jarvis became ill. It was unexpected and unwelcome, but it came. Jarvis was getting older, and it was about time for him to move on, even if Tony didn't want him to. Tony had taken break from his education to say goodbye to his best friend.

Tony would never forget Jarvis's last words to him. He hated showing his emotion, but Jarvis was the only one he wasn't ashamed to be emotional around.

"Please don't leave me," he fought back the tears threatening to spill as his voice quivered. Jarvis reached for Tony's hand. He clasped it tightly.

"You no longer need me," he replied softly. "I've done all I can." He paused to contemplate what to say next. "Don't worry about pleasing anyone else. It's time for you to be the person I know you can be."

The funeral was unbearable. He was too in his own world to comprehend what was happening. He'd wanted to deny it. He'd wanted to believe that Jarvis was only gone for a little while and that he'd be back, but he knew how childish that was. He hadn't been a child since he'd learned to walk, and there was no use trying to be one now.

Not yet 18, he had been turned over to the care of Obadiah Stane, one of his father's colleagues. He'd also inherited his father's second greatest prize, Stark Industries. Stane was currently overseeing the company, but as soon as Tony turned 21 it was all his, and Stane was there to help. He was sometimes pushy and wanted in on everything, but he was usually there to help.

But he'll never be Jarvis, Tony thought bitterly. How he missed his old butler.

Then a thought crossed his mind. Why didn't he have a butler?

It was a gruesome process, full of trial and error. There were times when he was sure it wasn't going to work, but it always did. Tony found himself cooped up in his garage for days, not even pausing to bother with human necessities. Food was an afterthought. Sleep was foreign to him. The idea had come to him and he knew exactly what to do how to do it. He wanted it more than anything in his life, more than an approval from his father, and he wouldn't rest until he accomplished what he wanted. It was his first 'creative fever'.

The umpteenth test run was also the last.

With a hum, the monitor slowly turned on. :Hello, Mr. Stark.:

Tony felt victorious. It had finally worked. He'd figured it out. This AI was much more advanced than anything currently around and Tony didn't intend on sharing. He was entitled to selfishness sometimes.

He paused in his celebration. What was he going to call it? He had to think about it for a moment, but only a moment. There had only been one person who was always there for him. There was only one person he really wanted to remember.

He decided to call it what it was: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.

Tony smiled. "Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S."