Summary: Set after IM3. MAJOR SPOILERS! Read story and summary at your own risk. What if the final events of IM3 were different? What if he was the one who killed the man the shadows of his past created?

Oh, yeah, I don't own Iron Man or any of Marvel's awesome characters.

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

Prologue

"Are you sure these people can be trusted?" Recently promoted General Rhodes asked his companion for the tenth time since his arrival to the Yucatan Mexican Peninsula, still unable to believe the miraculous story he had been told. The short man walking next to him nodded again, as he had done so every other time this question had been asked. The man did not blame the General for his incredulity, as it had been difficult for the locals to believe the tale themselves.

The summer was in full bloom and no amount of cover had diminished the effects of the intense heat. Even in his civilian attire, he could not help to sigh loudly every other moment, feeling as if the high temperature around him was evaporating the oxygen within his lungs. He knew he could have sent someone else to perform this deed, but given the circumstances, he could only think of one other person –other than himself, deserving of accomplishing this task. That person, however, had become a shadow of his former self, secluding in the depths of a cabin in the middle of the Rockies, hardly ever leaving the comfort of his new home.

"How much farther?" Rhodey asked his guide, feeling sick to his stomach after having to trek his way here wearing a flimsy pair of sandals that were completely inadequate for the terrain. He could only hope that his efforts had not been in vain.

"Not much longer, Señor Rhodes," the man answered with a thick accent. "In fact, we're here," the main said as he pointed to a humble-looking shack at the end of the dirt road. Rhodey wiped the sweat off his brow, taking advantage of the quick shade the movement provided as it shielded his eyes from the scorching sun.

The guide stopped in front of the entrance of the small hut but not before asking Rhodey to remain behind him and not speak. Even if he wanted to, the General's knowledge of the Spanish language was not going to be sufficient for what needed to be asked and told. Rhodey waited patiently as the man and a woman who had come out of the hut spoke in hushed voices, randomly pointing at Rhodey and then back inside the hut. Children gazed at the General, clearly not used to having visitors or having never been taught the impoliteness of staring.

"¿Por qué he de dejarlo entrar? ¿Qué tal si la quiere lastimar? ¡La pobre muchacha casi se muere!"

Rhodey was not happy with the way the woman had spoken the unknown words. She was obviously reluctant to let him inside her home, even if not dressed in his full military garments. He had hoped his tourist-looking clothes would ease the blow on the residents, but so far the only one that trusted the General was the guide that had been contacted by the American Embassy to aid Rhodey in finding his way to the depths of the desolated town.

"María, ¡No seas terca! El Señor viene desde muy lejos a verla. ¡Los gringos no visitan estas tierras nada más porque sí!"

The woman huffed as she stared at Rhodey with piercing eyes. After shaking her head vehemently, she finally nodded at the guide, stepping aside to allow both men to walk inside the home. Rhodey followed the guide and tried not to stare at the conditions of the shack. The floors were made out of dried up palm leaves, and the most basic services were clearly absent. The musty smell that hit his nostrils almost made him gag, but he kept his composure despite the deplorable conditions of the place.

As they neared the end of the hut, the General noticed the right corner of the location was covered by a white fabric that hung from the ceiling all the way to the floor. He could not really call it a curtain or a blanket, as it had no holes atop for curtain rods to be held, and had too many holes in other places to be called a blanket. The woman gave Rhodey one last glance before she took down the fabric from the ceiling to reveal the reason Rhodey had traveled so far.

"Oh, my…goodness…" was all the General could say as his eyes scanned the body in front of him. He took his right hand to cover his mouth, suddenly the surroundings becoming more comforting than the current scene. He looked up only for a second to stare at the woman and then at his guide.

"How long has…I can't believe…is she alive?"

"Yes, sir, she is. She washed ashore months ago," the guide began after exchanging information with the woman Rhodey would now deem as her caretaker. "The fishermen that found her thought she was dead because she was all bloated and scarred. They brought her here to bury her, but when Maria was prepping her, she realized she still had a pulse. Maria's older daughter had just passed away a few days before, so she took her in as if to fill in the void her daughter had left. As you can see, they don't have much, but they've been able to keep her alive this long."

"Why didn't they call the authorities as soon as they found her?"

The man shrugged. "This is a small town, Señor. They take care of their own. They would have never called the Embassy if her face hadn't recently cleaned up enough to recognize her. And, when the state of her pressing condition became evident, they knew they had to call someone to come and take her to a better place."

Rhodes nodded, fully understanding why they had not been called before. In such a close-knit community with hardly any contact with modern society, news tended to come in at a much slower rate than the rest of the world.

"I'm going to have to get her to a hospital and then back to the States. I hope you understand."

"I do, Señor, but you're gonna have to convince Maria to let her go. She's grown fond of the girl."

Rhodey nodded in understanding, already seeing the distress his presence was causing the old woman in front of him. He walked closer to the body lying on the floor, kneeling down to its side. Her already pale complexion seemed even paler than usual, but her red tresses were brighter than he had ever seen. He figured the exposure to the bright sun had something to do with it.

He leaned down closer to her, hesitating to touch her as he feared he would scare off the last vestiges of life from her. He swallowed hard as his hand found her forehead, removing the once short bangs that had now grown long enough to cover her face.

"Hang in there, Pepper. We'll get you back home."

A/N: I just watched IM3 last night and I can't deny I'm pumped! Don't quite know where I'm heading with this story, or how long it will, or how soon I can update, but I had to get it out. BTW, I hope I didn't insult anyone with my portrayal of the small town of Mexico. I was born and raised in Mexico, so I know how some of the least fortunate places look like. And, also, YES, some Mexicans do speak English that well ;)