Warnings, warnings everywhere. Child abuse, physically, verbally, and emotionally. Kidnapping, attempted kidnapping, and murder (though not of our lovable characters, I promise). Betrayal, nightmares, injury to children and adults alike, lying all over the place. Howard's an asshole of the highest degree. I get kinda graphic sometimes, I'm told, though in my own opinion I'm pretty mild compared to others I've seen. If you see any other things I could note, let me know!

I feel like I should tell you I've been sitting on this since January. I started this fill based on two prompts on avengerkink and haven't updated since February, even though I desperately want to. Readers here seem to be supportive, though. :') I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some feedback! It'll help get me started again; I would feel so terrible if I just abandoned this AU forever.

**8**

Tony is nine years, eleven months, and fourteen days old. Tony has a black eye, a broken arm, three toes in tiny splints, clumps missing from his hair, and deep purple bruising all over his body. His breath crackles in his bruised windpipe; he's been forcing himself to swallow the contents of three bottles of water past the ring of finger marks on his throat in a vain effort to clear his voice. Truthfully, it only makes breathing that much harder.

Jarvis reaches out to take the now-empty bottle with one hand, eyes on the road and other hand on the wheel. He'd come to the hospital Tony had walked himself to when the child had gotten ahold of the phone at the front desk. Tony hadn't seen him cry since the last time he'd been kidnapped, age seven and four months and twenty-nine days. He felt bad for it and apologized, but that only made Jarvis hug him closer - as gently as the aging man possibly could.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," he'd whispered.

Tony's thinking of that now. Clearly he needs someone to protect him, since he's too young and Jarvis is too old.

The car turns, and suddenly they're driving by Stark Manor. The manor takes up a whole block, so it's a bit of driving until they reach the wrought iron gates that open to the driveway. Tony struggles to unbuckle his seatbelt with one hand until Jarvis helps.

"You're supposed to stay belted in, young man," Jarvis admonishes, but since he's helping Tony figures he doesn't mind all that much.

"Aw, Jarvis," he complains, "you always let me when we get to the driveway."

The butler heaves a put-upon sigh, smiling fondly. "You're right, you win. But stay in your seat!"

"Yes, Jarvis," Tony says obediently. They both know he won't.

The driveway is more of a sight than the city itself. Topiaries litter the lawn, strategically placed lumps of bush Tony never understood. If they were more interesting shapes, maybe. There are sculptures between the topiaries, colorful trees lining the cement walls around the mansion. The grounds go on forever, he sometimes thinks, even though his brain tells him exactly how big the place is, down to centimeters, just by looking. It kind of ruins the fun.

The mansion looms ahead, all dark windows and polished doors. Tony finds himself shrinking into the passenger seat the closer they get, mindful of his injuries but nervous all the same. He wonders if his parents even noticed he was gone for a week. Maybe they're worried. Maybe they're fighting. Maybe his father is out looking for Captain Rogers again.

Jarvis parks by the fountain, gets out, and helps him out of the car. The valet slips into the car and drives away when they reach the doors. The butler holds Tony's hand as they walk in, and Tony's grateful for it. Nobody's ever in the foyer, even though it's kept unnaturally clean like the rest of the house. It's discomfiting, to say the least.

"I'll make some cookies, shall I?" Jarvis says into the empty silence. He tugs on Tony's hand. "Would you like to help?"

"No, thank you, Jarvis," Tony says, voice small in the silence. He swallows, straightens his back despite the ache. "I should go talk to Mr Stark."

"Of course," Jarvis agrees quietly. "Hurry along to the kitchen after, all right?"

"Yes, Jarvis," Tony says, and hugs him. "Thank you," he mumbles into his butler's waistcoat. They stand there for a little while, and when Jarvis starts sniffling again he lets go.

"Go on," Jarvis says, shooing him away. "Say hello to your mother if you see her."

"Yes, Jarvis," Tony repeats, and goes to find his father.

**8**

When he turns the corner to face the office's double doors, he knows he's at the right place. Howard is swearing loudly and something's being tossed around the room. Tony's afraid to open the door. He knocks instead. The door swings inward and Howard Stark's head sticks out.

"Whaddya want, boy?" he demands. The smell of alcohol is eye-watering.

"Hello, dad," Tony squeaks, stepping back. He clears his throat, tries again. "I'm back."

Howard squints at him. "From school? Where's your uniform?"

"No, I -" Tony gestures with his cast. "I was kidnapped."

"Again?" Howard says loudly, angrily. "What the hell, kid!" He grumbles, disappears into his office and returns with a checkbook. "What do I have to pay the mooch who fetched your sorry ass?" he growls. "Spit it out! If it's too much you can pay for yourself."

Tony coughs. "I got myself out."

Howard frowns. His eyes narrow even further. "Not so useless after all, huh," he mutters. He tosses the checkbook behind him. "What do you want?"

Tony tries to figure out how to word this properly. If he messes up, he'll offend Howard and then won't get help. If he does it right, he'll get what he needs and more. Here we go, he thinks nervously.

"This kidnapping was pretty bad," he ventures. "Nobody was around to help. If I hadn't gotten out when I did, they would've sent you a ransom note." Howard snorts. "If I had someone to make sure I'm safe," he continues, fidgeting, "then you'd never have to worry about ransom notes or paying anybody off -"

"You're asking for a nanny?" Howard cuts in. "A bodyguard or something?"

"Yes?" Tony tries, but it's too late. He's messed it up.

"Absolutely not," Howard snarls. "I'm not wasting money protecting your sorry hide when you can get your own self out of trouble. You did it today, right?" He waves at Tony's injuries.

That stings. "I almost died!" Tony cries. "I got hurt! They wanted your weapons, dad! What would you have done if they'd asked for it?"

"You're not worth my weapons, brat," Howard snaps, and Tony flinches. "You're not worth the money they want. I wouldn't have paid it."

"But, but they would have killed me," Tony protests. He's starting to really regret trying to reason with his drunkard father. It never ends well.

"Then I wouldn't get any more ransom notes, would I?" Howard sneers, and the doors slam shut. Tony stares. He takes one step back, then two, then turns and sprints to his bedroom so he can cry where Howard won't hear him.

**8**

There's a gentle knocking on his door two hours after he's cried himself into silence. Tony sits up, alarmed, and grabs for tissues to wipe the salty residue off his face but the door's opening.

"Anthony?" A soft female voice calls. "Darling? Are you in here?"

"Yes, mom." His voice is worse than it was before.

Maria Stark steps into the dark room. Tony can't see her face. She comes and sits next to him in bed, the light slipping in from the hallway. He sits still, unsure, until she pulls him closer to her body in an almost-hug. Tony closes his eyes and takes the comfort while he can get it.

"I heard you were gone for a week," she says eventually.

Tony pulls away to stare up at her shadowed face. "You didn't know?" he asks in disbelief. "Somebody took me from school, when you were late picking me up."

"Ah," and he can see the furrowed brow, the flash of teeth as her lipsticked mouth stretches into a grimace, "I was on a plane to Los Angeles, sweetie, I told you that before you left -"

"No, you didn't," he exclaims, outraged. "I hadn't seen you for two days before that!"

She sucks in a breath. "It was a very high priority function, Anthony, there were some extremely important people to talk to, I'm sure I told one of the staff. Was it - Jenny? I should fire her."

"We don't have a staff member named Jenny," Tony says dully, anger leeching out of him. He scoots over on his mattress, as far away from her as he can be on his little twin. "I understand, it was important. I'm sorry for yelling."

Her defensive tone instantly softens. "It's alright, darling." She reaches out a hand, but when he flinches at the pressure on a particularly deep bruise she backs away. Tony suddenly feels very dirty.

"Mom?" he says, "can you help me wrap my cast? I want to shower, and the hospital said the plaster can't get wet."

"Ah," and the grimace is back. She's physically backing away now. "I'll erm, have Jarvis come up to help you, shall I? He's been baking cookies today, did you know. I wonder what the special occasion is. Right, he'll be up in a minute. Good night, Anthony!" And she disappears behind the door.

Tony finds it in his little, wrung-out body to cry a little more.