"Honey..."
Clint Barton's hand trembled as he fumbled for his phone, his voice breaking before he could even finish the word.
"Clint, I—I don't know what happened. I felt dizzy, thought I was just tired, but everything around me seems… wrong."
Her tone was confused, hesitant. There was a faint background noise—wind rustling, a screen door creaking open. It was so achingly normal that it nearly brought Clint to his knees.
"Where are you?"
The question came out too quickly, too sharply, as if part of him was terrified this was just a cruel hallucination.
"Why aren't you here?"
Laura's voice wavered, still trying to make sense of the situation.
Huff—
Clint's breathing hitched. His jaw trembled, lips twitching with an emotion he had locked away for years.
She was alive.
Laura was alive.
He swallowed hard, his next words barely holding together.
"Laura… what about the kids?"
For a moment, there was a pause on the other end. Then her voice softened—warm, grounding, familiar.
"They're in the yard. Do you want to talk to them?"
Clint's eyes stung. He turned away from the others, trying to hide the moisture welling in his eyes.
"Yes… please."
"Dad, what's wrong?"
The innocent, unguarded voices of his children rang through the speaker, raw and real.
Clint's hand covered his mouth. His knees nearly gave out.
Alive. All of them.
The ache in his chest burst into something warm, overwhelming.
Everyone who had vanished—was back.
"Guys! I think—we did it!"
Scott Lang's voice broke the fragile silence, echoing through the compound.
The confirmation came pouring in from every direction as the Avengers contacted their allies. Each call brought the same answer: their friends, families, and teammates had returned.
It was over.
They had won.
"Thank God."
Bruce Banner's voice was shaky but filled with relief.
Even though his entire body throbbed like it had been torn apart from the inside, even though his right arm was a scorched, useless mess—none of it mattered in this moment.
It was worth it.
"Haha! Amazing!"
"I can't believe we actually pulled it off!"
Laughter and shaky breaths filled the room as the tension of the past five years dissolved into pure, unrestrained joy.
For once, the Avengers felt whole again.
Since Nebula had been captured early, the nightmare ending from the Endgame Alex remembered—the sudden arrival of Thanos and the battle for the universe—had never happened.
Apart from Natasha, whose sacrifice could not be undone, this timeline had reached what could only be described as a perfect ending.
"Everyone, I need to check on Asgard!"
Thor's booming voice cut through the celebrations, his earlier melancholy replaced with a spark of purpose.
He stepped outside, lifting his gaze to the heavens.
"Heimdall! Bring me home!"
Whoosh!
A pillar of shimmering rainbow light descended, wrapping around Thor before whisking him away.
Alex's brows rose slightly.
Heimdall?
The gatekeeper of the Bifrost had been alive this whole time?
Had he been one of the snapped instead of killed outright? Or… had events in this reality played out so differently that he had never died at all?
If that was the case—had Asgard itself been spared? Had Surtur's fiery doom never come to pass?
And if so… how had Bruce returned to Earth back then? Who had warned them of Thanos' impending arrival?
The differences in this world's timeline were stacking up fast.
Still, it wasn't Alex's problem.
He had his own goals.
"Rogers, congratulations. You saved everyone. Well done."
His tone was sincere but clipped—he had no intention of getting drawn into their celebrations.
"But don't forget our deal."
Cap met his gaze and gave a solemn nod.
"I remember, Alex. I'll honor our agreement. But…"
"We're out of Pym Particles," Tony cut in smoothly before Rogers could finish.
"So you'll have to wait. Scott!"
He turned toward Ant-Man.
"Hank's back now, right? The Particles are your department."
"On it!" Scott replied without hesitation.
Alex shrugged. A short delay didn't bother him. More time here meant more time to learn about this reality—and perhaps enjoy a few unexpected detours.
Fzzzt!
The air rippled with golden sparks as a portal flared open in the middle of the room.
Through it, Alex saw the barren, reddish terrain of a shattered planet—Titan.
Figures stepped through one after another.
Doctor Strange. Spider-Man. The Guardians of the Galaxy.
"Mr. Stark! Hey, it's me! You didn't expect this, right? I thought I died, but— I'm back!"
Peter Parker nearly tripped over himself rushing toward Tony, words tumbling out like a waterfall.
Then his eyes locked onto Alex.
Skrrrt—!
The brakes slammed on. Peter froze mid-step, his voice shooting up an octave.
"M-Mr. Alex?!"
The others turned, and the moment their gazes fell on him, their expressions twisted into something between disbelief and dread.
Star-Lord's jaw went slack.
"You've gotta be kidding me. Alex?" he muttered, like the universe itself was playing a cruel joke.
Alex smirked faintly.
"What's with the faces? Did I beat you up or something?"
"Or something? You pummeled us like punching bags—especially Star-Lord!"
Drax's cheerful bluntness made Quill's face flush crimson.
"Dude!"
"That's… an exaggeration!" Quill sputtered, avoiding Alex's eyes.
Strange, however, didn't waste time on small talk. His gaze was sharp, dissecting Alex like a puzzle piece that didn't belong in this world.
"You're not the Alex we know, are you?"
Alex's smirk widened.
"Sharp as ever, Sorcerer Supreme."
Strange's eyes narrowed, suspicion deepening.
"Alex. Why are you in our world?"
The warmth in Alex's expression vanished.
"None of your business."
"Strange, it's complicated, but—we asked Alex to come."
Steve Rogers quickly stepped between them, his tone firm, diffusing the tension before it could escalate.
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