Every day, without fail, Tony visited the orphanage.

It had been that way for three years, since he had been wandering the streets of New York in a daze on the anniversary of his parents death.

He wasn't drunk, contrary to popular belief, but in a haze of grief.

An older woman found him leaning against a building by the side of the road, eyes wet, but face dry and closed off.

She had gotten the story out of him, and let him finally break down against her shoulder.

Then she pulled him to his feet, putting her arm around his shoulders, and leading him inside. 

He couldn't find it in himself to care where he was.

But it was warm.

Cozy.

The lights were out, with only candles flickering, and casting shadows on the walls.

Christmas carols filtered tinnily through the air, mingling with the sound of flames crackling, and people talking in hushed voices.

Men and women of all ages, sitting on couches and armchairs around the large room, all holding children, from newborns to toddlers.

Tony turned to the older woman. "What-?"

She smiled sweetly. "My name is Gloria, but everyone calls me Nonna. Welcome to my children's home. People volunteer here to take care of my kiddos whenever they want to. Feed them, play with them. Sometimes just hold them. Might do you some good. I've got a little boy over here, his name is Harley. Why don't you sit down, dear?"

He followed dumbly, eyeing the sleepy baby as she showed him how to hold his arms, then let him cradle the tiny body.

"Hey Harley," he whispered. "I'm Tony."

Now, three years later, he was a regular.

He went, according to his official schedule, once a week.

In reality, it was every day.

Harley had been adopted by a married couple in Tennessee, and the toddler had cried when he hugged Tony for the last time.

Things were getting worse with the company.

Not the actual company, per se, but the way Obadiah wanted to run it.

Pepper, bless her, was at her wits end these days, and Tony didn't blame her.

He couldn't stand himself either.

"We've got a new little man here today," Gloria whispered lightly. "His name is Peter. He can't talk yet, but he knows a bit of sign language. He's deaf. Let's go see him, hm?"

"How old?"

"Four."

The instant he laid eyes on the tiny boy, he felt something in his heart lurch.

He was so tiny.

Sitting curled on one of the big couches that completely dwarfed him.

"Hey Pete." He crouched, smiling gently, eyes wet without anyone acknowledging it, except for Gloria, whose eyes twinkled as she smiled knowingly, backing away slowly.

The tiny head didn't lift, eyes intently studying the couch threads.

Tony gently touched Peter's knee, heart falling when the boy flinched away, eyes finally looking up, filled with fear.

The inventor held his hands up, careful not to make any sudden moves.

"It's okay," he said softly, knowing the boy couldn't hear the soothing words. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

They stared at each other silently, assessing.

"Tony?" Gloria stooped beside him, offering a small box. "See if this will help him warm up to you. He seems to like them."

It was a small container of legos.

He smiled slightly. "I always liked them too."

She patted his shoulder before moving away.

Then he turned back to Peter, not missing the way his eyes lit up.

"Wanna build them with me?" He talked regularly, for the sake of reassuring himself as much as the boy in front of him.

This was entirely new territory.

He held his hand out slowly, showing the box of legos, and pointing to a table close by.

With a slightly furrowed brow, the little hand crept out to attach to the larger one, and Peter slowly scooted off the couch.

His eyes didn't lift, but his grip tightened slightly as Tony led him over to the table.

Peter was too short to reach it, though, and so Tony sat down, crossing his legs under him, and dumped out the multiple piece set.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Peter moved closer, settling on the other side of the pile, and hesitantly reaching for a block.

Minutes later, he gave Tony a shy smile.

Tony smiled back.

It was progress.

And so Peter became Tony's kid.

Well, he was the only one Tony visited now.

The other kids got plenty of attention, but no one could seem to see past Peter's 'impairment', as they put it.

So naturally Tony came every day to see him.

With every visit, the boy had warmed up gradually.

They built more legos, and even watched movies.

And then, Peter had hugged him for the first time.

He had hugged him back, waited until he got out to his car, and then put on his sunglasses, hiding the wetness in his eyes.

The first time Peter fell asleep on Tony's shoulder, he had gone stiff, hardly daring to move in fear of waking the four year old.

Gloria had laughed, eyes squeezed shut, doubling over from the look on his face.

He had slightly panicked, eyes wide. "Sh! You're going to wake him up!"

The look she gave him was full of disbelief. "You realize he can't hear me, right?"

His face had gone red.

"You are such a dad."

He had opted to glare at her, rather than refute the statement.

He knew it was true.

Three years passed this way, in a rush of laughter, and sweet smiles from his kid, visits, and movies, and hugs-

Then came Afghanistan. 

He thought about Peter every day of his captivity.

When Yinsen asked if he had a family, he had glanced at the camera. "Can they hear us?"

"No." The other man glanced up. "Even if they could, they wouldn't understand what we're saying."

Tony stared at his hands. "I have a kid. He's- seven now. Not mine biologically, but- he's still mine."

"I would not have thought you to be a father." The statement wasn't judgemental, merely curious.

"I'm going to adopt him."

The idea had been bouncing around his head for years, but now he realized that chances missed were the worst thing that could happen.

Yinsen looked up at the firm statement, eyes twinkling. "Well then. You treat that boy right."

"I plan to," Tony said softly.

"I was wrong about you, Stark." Yinsen clapped his hands on his thighs. "It seems you are a man who has everything."

When Tony escaped, leaving Yinsen behind, it nearly broke his already shattered heart into smaller pieces.

But he had to get out.

Had to get back to Peter.

Yinsen had grabbed his hand, lips turning up at the corners as he gasped for breath that wouldn't come."Your boy- don't waste your life."

When Tony stepped onto American soil for the first time in three months, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

When they left the conference, Tony had one thought on his mind.

When he pulled up to the children's home, he smiled for the first time in three months.

He knocked on the door.

It was opened by a familiar wrinkled face.

"Tony!" Gloria pulled him into a strangling hug, face creased into a blinding smile. "I was so worried! Baiatul meu I saw the news- are you okay?"

He didn't paste on a smile.

He didn't brush it off.

He didn't lie to her, and say he was fine.

He looked her in the face, and told the truth.

"No. No, Nonna. I'm not. But I'll be better when I can hug my kid."

Her smile faded. "Tony, he's not- he's not here."

He could only stare at her as his world fell apart. "What?"

Whooooooooh AM I RIGHT?

HA I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS.

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Love my readers!

Author out.