Based on Nettles by Vernon Scannell
Nettles
When Tony was still very young he used to get into all sorts of trouble. He was so little and innocent and anxious to please. He used to be so bothered by what people thought of him.
One time he was kidnapped. I don't know why kidnap isn't a scarier word; it is one of the worst that a parent could ever hear. Tony was kidnapped when he was 4 years old.
He was taken by a local group of hippies who wanted to end the violence. They didn't appear to have a problem with crime it seemed. They were only young themselves and they didn't know what they were doing.
Tony was recovered quickly, Directors Carter's people helped. He was scared and hurt, he was dehydrated and hungry and so desperate to be near his mother. Maria held him and was so very patient with him.
When I saw the cuts and bruises, the damage done, I nearly blacked out. How could they have hurt Tony, my son? I hated seeing him in pain knowing that I should have been better, that if I could have found him faster he wouldn't be bleeding.
He was quite small for a 4 year old. He was a Stark though so he would learn that his IQ made up for the missing inches. Against his angelic face the bust lip stood out, the bruising around his chocolate eyes turned darker.
Maria stayed nearby when he went to sleep; Jarvis and the Nanny were instructed to wake her if Tony woke up screaming or crying. I tried to keep my distance, not wanting to get too close. I had to be the strong one; I had to be the Stark. I couldn't cry.
He forgot about the incident after a while. At that age it is easy to persuade impressionable minds that it was all just a bad dream. He was too focused on whatever he was making next, always trying to copy what I did in the workshop.
I could not forget, I could not move past the notion that someone could take my son away and hurt him. I locked myself away and searched for the group that had taken him. I was not bothered with the police, with the legal side of things. I was looking for vengeance.
My revenge was not organized; there was no sense of planning or even thought. I just went out and attacked, lashing out with all of the emotion I refused to show or feel. I went mad.
I didn't cease my battle until every single member of that group and their grandmothers were locked up. They spoke about 'peace' and 'rights' but they couldn't believe that if they were willing to traumatize an innocent child.
I worked until they would never see the light of day again and then I sent out a warning. I made it clear that Tony was not to be a target in these games. The only way I could protect him was to pretend that I didn't care, that I would never put my son above my company.
All too soon in happened again, there was little I could do. Tony would always be a target but I had to be strong for him. If I babied him then he would be weak. I had to help him and the best thing I could do was to make him strong and brave.
I went away frequently; I left Tony with Maria knowing that if anything did go wrong that Director Carter would keep an eye on them.
I had one goal, only one way I could think of to protect my son, my Tony. There would always be another threat, another attempt on our lies. That was how it would be. I wasn't enough to change the world for him.
I knew a super soldier who still owed me a favor and although I couldn't protect tony Captain America could, Steve Rogers could.