Chapter 2: First Contact

Chapter 2: First Contact

The helicopter appeared like a mirage, wavering in the heat distortion above the dunes. My arm felt like lead as I raised it, fighting exhaustion to maintain the signal. The sound of rotors grew louder, and I could see figures moving inside the aircraft, pointing in my direction. One of them - Rhodey, it had to be Rhodey - was leaning out, scanning with binoculars.

The helicopter circled once, keeping its distance. Smart. For all they knew, this could be a trap. I remembered the movie scene, but this felt different - more cautious, more real. The circle widened, and I caught fragments of radio chatter carried on the wind. They must have spotted the blue glow through my torn shirt. The arc reactor - Tony's design, with Yinsen's help, keeping me alive.

Sand whipped around me as the helicopter finally descended, maintaining enough distance for safety. Three figures emerged, weapons ready but not aimed. Rhodey led them, his stance professional but his eyes betraying recognition.

"On your knees! Hands where we can see them!" The order came from one of the soldiers, not Rhodey.

I complied, fighting vertigo as I knelt. The world spun, days of dehydration taking their toll. My vision blurred, but I forced myself to stay conscious. This moment was crucial - I had to be Tony Stark.

"It's him," Rhodey's voice cut through the haze. He approached cautiously, weapon lowered but ready. "Tony?"

I looked up at him, seeing the worry lines etched deeper than they'd been in the films. "Your... your drink of choice is scotch, neat," I managed, recalling a detail from countless movie scenes. "But you keep a bottle of Tennessee whiskey in your office because that's what we drank the night you made Colonel."

The tension in Rhodey's shoulders eased slightly. He knelt beside me, signaling the medic forward. "You look like hell, Tones."

"Yeah?" I tried for Tony's trademark smirk, but it probably came out as a grimace. "You should see the other guys."

The medic approached with water, but Rhodey intercepted it, checking the seal before handing it to me. "Small sips," he instructed. Even now, protecting me.

"Sir," the medic started, reaching for my shirt where the reactor glowed. I flinched back.

"Don't," I said sharply, Tony's authority naturally coloring my voice. "It's proprietary tech. Keeping me alive. No pictures, no scans, no measurements. That's non-negotiable."

Rhodey nodded to the medic, who backed off. "We've got a base thirty minutes out. Can you make it to the chopper?"

"Watch me," I said, struggling to my feet. My legs buckled, but Rhodey caught me. The other soldiers moved to help, but I waved them off. "I've got it. Just... give me a minute."

In the helicopter, they tried to make me lie down. I refused, sitting up against the wall instead. The arc reactor felt heavy in my chest, a constant reminder of who I was supposed to be. The medic worked around it, checking vitals, starting an IV for dehydration.

"The cave?" Rhodey asked quietly, after the initial medical checks were done.

I closed my eyes, remembering the scenes, living them as if they were my own memories. "Got out. Had help. A good man... he didn't make it." My voice cracked, genuine emotion bleeding through. I might not have known Yinsen personally, but I knew his sacrifice.

"Tony..." Rhodey started, but I cut him off.

"Not now, platypus." The nickname came naturally, surprising me. "When we're back home. I'll do the full debrief - military, intelligence, everyone who needs to know. But I need to do it once, and I need to do it right."

Rhodey studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "I'll set it up. Right now, you focus on not dying on me. Again."

The base was a flurry of controlled activity. More medical staff, more questions, more people trying to examine the reactor. I shut them all down, letting Tony's reputation for stubbornness work in my favor. They treated what they could see - cuts, bruises, dehydration - and I let them document the obvious shrapnel wounds around the reactor housing without letting them get too close to the device itself.

In a private moment, Rhodey brought me a secure phone. "Pepper should hear it from you," he said quietly.

I stared at the phone, terror gripping me. Pepper. How could I fake years of history, of trust, of unspoken understanding? But I had to try.

"Get the plane ready," I said instead, buying time. "I need to be back on US soil for the debrief. Set it up with everyone - military brass, intelligence agencies, whoever needs to be there. But make it clear - the arc reactor tech is off limits. It's proprietary Stark Industries technology."

"Arc reactor?" Rhodey raised an eyebrow.

"That's what's keeping me alive," I tapped the glass circle in my chest. "And that's all anyone needs to know right now."

Rhodey nodded slowly. "I'll make it happen. But Tony... what they did to you..."

"Changed everything," I finished, looking him in the eye. In that moment, I wasn't entirely acting. Like Tony, I was a different person now, transformed by circumstances beyond my control. "And when we get back, a lot of things are going to change."

As Rhodey left to make arrangements, I leaned back on the medical cot, feeling the weight of the arc reactor - the weight of Tony Stark's legacy - in my chest. The real work, I knew, was just beginning.

I thought about Pepper waiting for news, about Happy who would be by her side, about Obadiah who might be calculating his next move behind that jovial facade. About JARVIS, who might be the hardest to fool of them all.

Alien invasions, Infinity Stones... the thoughts were mine, not Tony's, yet here I was, living his life. How much of that future can I change? Should I even try?

But first, I had to convince the US military and intelligence community that I was Tony Stark, genius billionaire. One impossible task at a time.

The medical staff finally left me alone, probably to consult about their unusual patient with the glowing chest. I lay back on the cot, letting my guard down for the first time since the helicopter landed. My head was spinning, and not just from dehydration.

I actually pulled it off, I thought, relief washing over me. Rhodey bought it - or at least, he hadn't shown any signs of suspicion. Then again, why would he? His best friend had just been through months of captivity. Some personality changes were to be expected, maybe even welcome. The old Tony Stark died in that cave. Everyone would expect him to come back... different.

But something nagged at the back of my mind, like a word on the tip of my tongue. What was I forgetting? The immediate challenges were clear enough: Pepper, Happy, the board of directors. Each would need a different version of Tony Stark, and I'd have to nail every performance. Pepper especially - she knew Tony better than anyone. Even the smallest slip could...

I closed my eyes, trying to organize my thoughts. The press conference. In the movie, Tony had come back and immediately shut down weapons production. It had been dramatic, shocking - exactly what you'd expect from Tony Stark. But was it the right move? The military contracts were worth billions, and the relationships even more valuable. If I changed that decision, could I prevent the falling out with Rhodey later? Stop the fractures that would lead to the Civil War?

But then there was Obadiah. He was already selling weapons under the table. If I didn't shut down production, would that just give him more cover? More opportunities to arm terrorists? And what about the Ten Rings - they were still out there with Stark weapons. I could almost hear them loading the Jericho missiles that would eventually be aimed at...

I sat up abruptly, ignoring the wave of dizziness. That was what I was forgetting. The weapons. The Ten Rings still had a cave full of Stark tech. In the movie, had Tony sent someone to clean that up? Had it just been left there? I couldn't remember, and the implications were terrifying.

"One thing at a time," I whispered to myself, in Tony's voice that still felt foreign on my tongue. "Get home. Deal with Pepper. Handle the press. Then..." Then figure out how to be Tony Stark while completely rewriting his story. Simple.

The hardest part wouldn't be pretending to be Tony - it would be deciding which Tony to be. The one from the movies who'd destroyed his company's primary business on day one? Or a more measured version who might keep more allies but risk enabling more weapons proliferation? Every decision would send ripples through the future, and I only had one shot at getting it right.

I looked down at the arc reactor glowing in my chest. Yinsen's words echoed in my mind: "Don't waste your life." But whose life was I not wasting - Tony's, or my own?

The door opened, and I quickly schooled my features back into Tony Stark's confident mask. Time to go back to playing genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. At least until I figured out which parts of that description I wanted to keep.

From somewhere in the base, I could hear Rhodey on the phone, probably arranging my return to civilization. To my old life. To Tony's old life.

Well, I thought with a hint of Tony's characteristic dark humor, at least I know more about what's coming than he did. Now I just have to figure out how much of it to change.