AN: I realize I was supposed to make this a really big joining chapter, but I went and made myself sad writing this, so I'm putting this up and then I'm going straight to work on the next chapter. The events of the movies will start after the next chapter. Thank you for your patience and for your reviews, which continue to make me smile.

In the middle of Tony's second, and last year, at MIT, his parents were killed in a car accident. Tony's not expecting anything to go wrong that year. He was graduating summa cum laude, his first AI, which he had affectionately named Dummy, was a success, if a little wonky and he'd been finally established as a full fledged assassin in the Order, with twenty-six hits to his name. But, one day, as he was sitting in class, talking with the students around him about everyone's plans for the long weekend, there was a knock at the door.

Much like any other school on the planet, the students fall silent and gaze intently as their teacher got up and moved to the door, pulling it open gently. No one could see who's on the other side and slowly, they resumed their conversations. Tony's first year had been awkward, as none of the older students had known how to handle themselves around a fifteen/sixteen-year-old genius. But slowly, Tony's charm, charisma and easy-going attitude had them relaxing around him and he was almost always surrounded by his moderately-sized group of friends and acquaintances.

Now, their professor walked back through and made his way up the steps to where Tony was sitting, leaning down to address him quietly. "Mr. Stark, the campus counselor would like to see you in the hall right now." He said gently. Tony should have taken his cue from the other man's tone of voice, but instead, he brushed it off and rose from his desk, making his way down to the door.

To his surprise, not only was the campus counselor, a kindly older man, waiting for him, but Alexander and Marcie were as well, both looking drawn. Tony felt the smile that had overtaken his face upon seeing them drop and he looked at all three of the adults with confusion and bewilderment. "What's wrong?" He asked, hands clenching into fists at his sides. Alexander bit his lip momentarily before he spoke.

It had been fifteen years since twenty-five year-old Alexander had showed up on the mansion doorstep, and he never looked more like his forty years than now. "I have some bad news, Lille Valpen, about your parents." He said and Tony felt as if cold water had been poured down his spine and was making its way through his veins.

"Wh-what happened." He choked out over the rising nausea. There was a moment of silence before Marcie came forward and placed gentle hands on his face, tilting his face up to stare at her sympathetic hazel eyes. She sighed once, heavily, and then spoke.

"I'm sorry, Tony, but your parents are dead. They were in-" But Tony heard no more, the cold water turned to ice in his veins and the last thing Tony saw before blackness overtook his vision was the ground rushing up to meet him, the last sound in his ears the worried shouting of the adults around him.

Tony's plan for the weekends were cancelled and he spent the better part of what should have been a four day vacation moving about his apartment, much like a zombie, even under the watchful eye of Alexander, who'd stayed behind to look after him. On the third day, Tony dressed stiffly in a propper black suit, shined his shoes, and allowed himself to be bundled into the back of a car driven by one of his dad's drivers.

At the house, the rest of Tony's classmates, all full-fledged assassins now and numbering only eight, were waiting for him, along with Allicia, Marcie, Brett, Jeremey and the other assassins and novices that Tony had grown to know and trust in his time at the den. He thought that, if they could have gotten away with it, the entirety of the Order would have shown up. As it stood, during the dual service for his mother and father closed to everyone except family and Tony's group, Tony was constantly surrounded and supported by many people.

Anatassia and the others made sure someone was holding his hand and there was always a bolstering hand on his shoulder. When, as the men from the funeral homes began to lower the caskets, he began to shake, Brad wrapped his arms around Tony's shoulders and held him tight, and if Tony cried, no-one mentioned the tears that dotted Brad's suit sleeves.

Tony didn't return home that night, and he made sure to open the rooms for his guests. He gently directed the house-staff into the den, where he explained that, while he wouldn't be living here after this day, they could and Tony hoped for them to stay in comfort and keep the house ready in case one day, when the pain of his parents' passing was less fresh, he decided to return. Of course, they were free to leave if they wanted to, with a very handsome severance package and letter of recommendation.

Once that was done, his father's lawyer came and read the will to Tony within the privacy of one of the first-floor offices that Tony had converted into a library after his fourteenth year. Tony would keep the properties, all four of them, a relatively moderate fund to keep him housed through the rest of his college career, and a car of his choice from his father's collection. His trust-fund and the company would be his after his twenty-first birthday and, for the time being, the company would be run by the Board of Directors and Obadiah Stane, a friend of the family.

The last thing the lawyer handed Tony before he left was a letter, which Tony took with shaking hands and slipped into the inner pocket of his suit to read later. Slowly, the guests left, giving the young heir their condolences on the way out. Tony's cell phone was full of calls from other students at school, who'd heard of the death of his parents on the news, apologizing for his loss. All through the day, Tony was never alone, someone always at his side.

A mug of tea when his throat was sore from saying "thank you for your kindness" to his guests, a warm hand on his elbow or his shoulder when grief began to creep up on him, a solid hug when, after the house was empty, he couldn't take it anymore and began to sob. Someone was always with him, trying to anchor him through the storm of his sadness.

Finally, late that night, after Tony had switched into a white linen tunic and pants and his guests were long abed, he took the letter, still unopened, and made his way downstairs and into his father's study. It was cold, like the life had been sucked out of it and even lighting a fire in the hearth didn't seem to bring any life into the room.

He took a seat on the couch facing the fire, curled in on himself and carefully opened the letter, making extra sure to not tear anything and he gently removed the folded paper within. With trembling fingers, he unfolded the paper, made of heavy, light blue stock, and began to read.

My son,

I'm proud of you. Let nothing anyone ever says or does tell you otherwise. I'll admit, the day your mother told me she was pregnant, I fainted. I didn't think I was ready to have a baby. But, as you grew in your mother's womb, I could already feel myself getting attached. I can't tell you how many times your mother caught me up in the middle of the night, talking to you. On the day you were born, I cried, because in my hands, I held what I felt to be my whole world.

You were smart, from day damn one and from the minute you could crawl, your mother and I knew we had our hands full, but we enjoyed every second of it. On the day I was visited by the man with the mask of a Jackal, i was terrified that I would never again see you or your mother. And then, I gave you permission to be trained. I was terrified. My little boy, working to become an assassin. I was up for days at a time, panicking, even though I knew you to be in the next room with Alexander.

I know I became distant after you left that first time and, for that, I will forever be regretful. But I loved you every bit as much as your mother did, even if I never showed it.

You're supposed to get this letter when you turn eighteen, but if you got it before then, then something has happened. But I want you to know this. I watched you leave for training, i watched you leave for college. I saw you build your first AI, I saw you invent with people more than twice your age. I heard of your first assignment, I saw you in full uniform and I prayed every time you went off on a job that you'd return home safely.

You are, always have been, and always will be, my entire world. You are the center of my universe and, even if I never tell you out loud, I want you to know that, with all my heart, you are the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I love you, Tony.

With Love and Pride, Your Father,
Howard Stark

The bottom of the page now spotted with tears, Tony picked up a small slip that'd fallen out of the envelope upon opening it, and turned it around to look at it. It was a picture, faded with time and handling, of his father, sitting in a hospital bed next to his mother. Held tightly in his arms is a blue bundle, which both of his parents are staring at with wet eyes, their faces a mask of wonderment and utter joy. And Tony realises, with a heart-wrenching sob, that its him they're looking at, the time stamp on the bottom proclaiming it to be May 2nd, 1983, the day after his birth.

Tony holds the letter and picture close to his chest and cries.