Hope

Jarvis packs Tony's suitcase amidst the sound of yells that fills the halls of the Stark house. He's relieved that the boy is in his laboratory, which is nearly soundproof, working on one of his inventions. The butler knows very little about how inventing is done, but he's known Howard Stark long enough to recognize that Tony is a genius. In time, he'll be as skilled as his father, perhaps more so.

"Here are the shirts, darling," says Anna, handing him a stack of perfectly-folded garments. He smiles as he places them into Tony's square suitcase.

"We can leave within the hour," Jarvis says. "It's a pity the laboratory at the summer house is so limited. If Mr. Stark was ever there, it would be refurbished, but as it is, Tony outgrew it ages ago."

"It will be good for him to be outside," says his wife, "acting like other children."

"He's not like other children," Jarvis answers. "That's why—"

"Hmm?" Anna stops her task of taking the boy's trousers off closet hangers and looks at him.

"That's why I wonder if it's right for him to spend so much time with us. His parents are the ones who can direct his scientific endeavors. I know it's not perfect with them, but I'm afraid of keeping him from his full potential." He brushes a hair away from his forehead absently.

His wife stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek. "Sometimes you're very blind, Edwin Jarvis." He laughs and goes for her perfectly red lips.


Morning in the summer house is always breathtaking. A wall of picture windows looks out toward the glistening seaside, and the sun's rays gradually filter into the white-carpeted rooms.

It's been three days since the arrival of the butler, his wife, and the little boy. Jarvis is in the kitchen, clad in his dressing gown, making toast and eggs and humming to himself. His wife, who enjoys early mornings, is out walking along the beach, absorbing the sunshine and tangy salt air.

"Good morning, Jarvis." The butler looks behind him and finds his charge in the doorway, rubbing sleepy eyes and grinning.

"You look happy," says the butler, flipping a sunny-side-up egg without breaking the yolk.

"I like it here," Tony answers. "There's nobody fighting."

"You don't miss your lab?" Jarvis uses the pretext of checking the toast to escape watching the boy when he asks this.

"No," says Tony immediately. "The lab stays however I leave it, but here is—alive." The butler does look at him then, and he sees the child wave his arms with a flourish as he intones the last word.

The youngest Stark goes silent, and Jarvis goes back to preparing breakfast. He doesn't mind Tony's presence. There's a companionable quality to it. Sometimes he dreams of what might have been if he and Anna had been able to have their own children, but surely it couldn't have felt any better than the satisfying feeling he has when the boy is near.

"Jarvis?" It's common for Tony to go long periods of time without speaking, then to ask a question, usually something difficult to answer.

"Hmm?" The butler takes three plates out of the cupboard and places them onto the small kitchen table.

"Do you think I'm good at making things—like my dad?" Tony doesn't look up, instead fiddling with the drawstring on his pajama bottoms.

"Of course," Jarvis answers, wondering, as he often does, where the conversation is tending. It's impossible to tell when it comes to Tony.

"He said—the other day he said I was going to grow up to be like him and make weapons for the government," Tony finally gets out, in a halting voice.

The butler almost rolls his eyes. It's always like that with Howard Stark. When he does actually pay attention to his fragile offspring, it's usually to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. But it won't do any good for Jarvis to make his opinion known. "Yes?" he says noncommittally.

"I don't want to do that!" the boy says heatedly, his mood erupting. "I want—I want to help people, like you do. I don't want to invent things."

"Master Tony," says Jarvis gently (it's always best to be gentle with him when he's in these moods), "you're far cleverer than I've ever thought of being." He crosses the small kitchen and puts an arm around the slight child.

"There are many ways to help people, and you have a gift—the ability to make things that could help hundreds and thousands of people some day. Don't give that up." Tony doesn't answer. He just stares at Jarvis with his wide eyes that understand too much.


Later in the day, Jarvis is washing dishes when Anna comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. "Mm," she says. "So tall," pressing her head into his back.

"More comfortable this way," he mumbles, wiping his hands and turning around to hold her frontways. "What did I do to deserve this, or are you simply affected by the summer atmosphere?"

She laughs her high, musical laugh. "I'm proud of you for getting un-blind." He doesn't know what she means. Even after years in America, she occasionally mixes up English words.

"I see you're confused," she says.

Without warning, Jarvis picks her up and sets her onto the kitchen counter next to the sink, her short legs swinging above the floor. "There, unconfuse me while I finish the dishes," he says.

Anna lets out a shriek that turns into a giggle. "Very well, you impossible man. What I mean is, you got beyond that nonsense about Tony being at a disadvantage with us."

"Ah," the butler remembers their earlier conversation during the trip preparations. "I suppose I did. It's bad enough when Howard's drunk, but I sometimes think it's worse when he isn't. I realized—it's better this way."

"I've always been more pragmatic than you are," his wife answers. "It's sad that Tony has the family he has, but you must see that he looks up to you like a father. It's obvious. And it's better for him."

"I don't know about that," Jarvis hedges, "but I like you thinking so." He sets the last dish to the side to dry and grins in Anna's direction.

"I know so," she reiterates. "He will grow up to help people because of you." He can see she's dead serious.

"I hope so," he agrees, lifting his wife's tiny frame into his arms and swinging her around before her feet meet the ground again.


Tony Stark finishes his press conference and walks away with his usual swagger, nodding to his particular friends in the press corps and not turning off his megawatt smile until he's back in Stark Tower, protected by several layers of security.

"That was excellent," says Pepper, entering a few minutes behind him, her high heels clacking against the floor. Speaking of excellent, she looks like a magazine cover, with her auburn hair clipped back and her perfectly tailored skirt suit. Tony just admires her for a moment, still not comprehending how anyone can be that smart and that beautiful at the same time.

"Well," she continues, "the rest of the world is looking at the future of robotic surgery, thanks to you. I still don't know why you waited over a month to announce it, though."

"Present for a friend," Tony answers. "JARVIS," he calls out.

"At your service, Sir," says his undoubtedly charming AI.

"Show Miss Potts what today is."

All of a sudden, one of the many screens installed in the house pops up, and a grainy, sound-free home video starts to play. It's of three people on the beach, sitting on a huge towel, eating cake out of a picnic hamper. One by one, they wave to the camera—a small, dark-haired boy, a grinning woman in a giant sunhat, and a thin man with kind eyes.

"This is the birthday of Edwin Jarvis, my prototype," says the AI, providing commentary since there isn't one.

Tony feels Pepper's eyes on him, and he smiles at her. "This is why I named the device Anna. That was his wife's name, and he loved her more than anyone in the whole world. He always said I could do something good with my talents—help people instead of hurting them. It took me a long time to get there, but I hope he'd be proud."

"You have unexpected depths, Tony Stark." From some people, that would be sarcasm, but he can tell that Pepper is 100% serious. He bites back his impulse to make a lighthearted c omeback and instead falls silent, enjoying the feeling of her approval.