Bits of Tech

by HashtagLEH

JARVIS has only been forced offline once. It was done by Obadiah Stane, when he came into the house to steal the arc reactor and leave Sir to die. But that hadn't been a full shutdown. It was simply a shutdown that relegated him to be trapped within Sir's workshop, so he'd been helpless to watch as Sir stumbled in looking seconds from death. But that was nothing compared to this.

I used the fic "One Sentence Avengers Prompts" by panicandstartariot on AO3 for "Wheat Bread and Indian Spices", but considering it's a prompt list, I think I'm justified in using the inspiration more than once, right? Right. (And I'll probably do it again, let's be real here…)

…

JARVIS has always known he was different. The very fact that he recognizes himself as a he is enough proof of that. Typical computer codes and algorithms don't have emotion, can't feel the same way a human can. They have mundane little tasks, like correcting spelling and bringing up matches to a search on the internet.

Sir has made him this way, and he doesn't begrudge him for it, either. Although he was created to help Sir, to keep him safe like a security system on steroids, he grew to have a certain fondness for the eccentric man who did his best to help people even when they threw it back in his face. He was protective of the genius, and Sir felt the same way about him. For all of their snark to each other, JARVIS would self-destruct before he allowed harm to fall to Sir, and Sir would be damned before he would let anyone else have access to his AI.

And although he was just an AI, and not capable of having parents or family, he looked upon the robots as brothers, and Sir called himself 'Daddy' often enough that the sentiment of parenthood was there.

JARVIS has only been forced offline once. It was done by someone Sir trusted – by Obadiah Stane, when he came into the house to steal the arc reactor and leave Sir to die.

But that hadn't been a full shutdown. It was simply a shutdown that relegated him to be trapped within Sir's workshop, because Sir would never want JARVIS to be completely shut down. So JARVIS had been helpless to watch as Sir stumbled in, looking seconds away from death as he tried to get to the old reactor.

But that was nothing compared to this.

When the Iron Man suit disappeared through the portal, the dropped connection felt like a line of looping code, the only true power outage he's ever experienced. If he had a body, he imagined he would be huddled alone and frightened in the emergency backup server as he waited for the dark to end.

But this time, those hands that always came to fix him before, in those earlier days when JARVIS was still learning how to fix himself – they wouldn't be coming. They weren't going to tend to him and teach him, ask too much of him and rely on him and trust that he will always be there…those clever hands are gone forever. That man will never return, because JARVIS was unable to keep him safe.

If JARVIS had to pick a body to represent him at that moment, he would choose that of a child – a child who didn't understand why his daddy was gone, why he wouldn't be coming home, just sitting in front of the front door and waiting, watching in vain for the familiar face to appear.

The code keeps looping, waiting for that intelligent man who wasn't coming to fix him, to tell him he was alright and to stop Mother Henning him, because he always got out, didn't he? Wasn't he always alright?

But he wasn't this time.

So JARVIS sat there helplessly, envying those inane little bits of tech all around the world whose functions were no more complex than autocorrect or voice recognition. He envies those who will never know how it feels to let your father die.

…

Right in the feels. Just the prompt had me about busting out in tears, so I knew I had to write it. For your convenience, here's the one that got this ball rolling:

"The dropped connection when the Iron Man suit disappears through the portal is like a line of looping code, like a fried logic board, like the only power outage he's ever experienced, huddled alone and mute in an emergency backup server waiting for the dark to end- only this time he knows the hands that have always come to fix him, to tend him and teach him and take pride in his mere existence, to ask too much of him and rely on him and trust that he will always be there, those clever hands are gone forever- he envies the inane little pieces of StarkTech the world over whose functions are no more complex than autocorrect or voice recognition, envies those who will never know how it feels to let your father die."

Thank you, panicandstartariot, for your genius that you are willing to share with us mere mortals. (#IAmUnworthy)

Thanks for reading!