Living in California, Tony Stark thought he knew heat. It’s not that Cali wasn’t hot. But in the desert, the grains of sand reflected the heat back at him the same way they reflected light. He would’ve killed to be in California right now. He has killed to be in California right now. Tony would’ve stopped to catch his breath, he would’ve stopped to realize what just happened, but he needed to get home. His lungs would just coat themselves with explosion smoke if he breathed and his mind raced anyway, he needed to get home. 7500 miles away. In a desert daze, he kept walking home anyway. He’ll find a solution. At least he’ll find a shelter for the night. He’ll figure something out when he reaches a shelter. He’s the invincible Tony Stark. A life (Yinsen’s life, he reminded himself painfully) may have been lost on the way, but he made it out and he’ll make it out. The adrenaline wore off and each step became heavier. Deserts do this funny thing where they sink you in, leaving you to choke and dry out in a comfy bed of exhaustion. He could almost hear Pepper yelling… laughing… taunting… He loved her voice, whatever it did. Are all illusions evil? There might be nothing saintly about following a strange voice into your doom, but it is a kind death. A disgraceful one, but a kind one. He started running, and stopping, and running, and stopping till she was gone. He couldn’t believe anything in this desert. The vastness of it sucked away all of his hope. Dehydrated, dazed and determined, he kept walking nowhere, just as heroes do. Yinsen was dead and there was nothing he could do. His capturers could be back any minute. He might never see America again. If he could just survive everything would work out. He was sure about that. He’ll get home, if he survives. He won’t waste his life and if this vicious illusion would just shut up for a minute he would be able to think and get out of this vast vast desert so just shut up you fata morgana shut up you siren, you liar, you water bearer, you coffin builder, shut the fuck up with your droning and moaning, spinning in the air-helicopters. Helicopters.
“Hey!” he yelled in a voice that he forgot was his and got down on his knees.
“Hey!” he waved his hand and the might-be-real helicopter landed.The soldiers rushed towards him, a man of no hope. He’ll let the kind illusion take him, he’ll remeet Pepper some day after death.
It was Rhodey. Could it be true? He is getting back home. That’s too good to be true.
And if it’s all an illusion, he can’t let himself fall through. They’ll recapture him or his body. Death by dehydration is painful. He has so much work to get done, so much work, and he has to stop manufacturing weapons... He can’t die like that, he can’t die by a delusion. Old Tony would laugh at him. Wanting to live for work.
Rhodey asked Tony a question he did not understand. Starved for human connection, he laughed.
“Next time, you ride with me.” Rhodey touched him, and his touch was water.
It was real. It all was real. The whole desert embraced him as Rhodey pulled him into a hug. The whole desert enclosed behind him as he staggered onto the helicopter. Free. He was free at last. And he wasn’t going to waste his life on delusions. Not anymore. He was going home.