The rain had stopped by morning.
Sunlight slanted through the blinds—soft, golden, forgiving.
They were still tangled together on the couch—Natasha between Alex and Wanda, Gwen draped across their legs, head on Alex's thigh. No one had moved much after the healing. They'd simply held on.
Natasha stirred first—eyes opening slowly, lashes wet from last night's tears.
She looked at Alex—really looked.
"You've been carrying something too," she said quietly. "Something you haven't told us."
The others woke—Gwen lifting her head, Wanda shifting closer.
Alex exhaled—long, slow.
"I think it's time," he said.
He sat up—gently disentangling, but keeping their hands in his.
They gathered around—close, quiet, waiting.
He started with the beginning.
"I wasn't born here," he said. "Not this body. Not this life."
He told them everything.
The other world—Seattle, 2020s, a normal life: dead-end job, empty apartment, Marvel movies on repeat. The obsession with the MCU. The fan theories. The web novels about reincarnation, systems, power progression.
The night he died—heart attack on the couch, *Endgame* credits rolling.
The void. The voice. The deal.
"I woke up as a baby in Queens. 1995. Same timeline you know. I remembered everything. Every movie. Every comic. Every death. Every heartbreak."
He looked at each of them—Natasha's sharp eyes, Gwen's soft understanding, Wanda's quiet empathy.
"I made a promise to myself. No more losses. No more watching people I care about die because of someone else's war. So I started collecting. Traits. Powers. Knowledge. Anything that could protect the people I love."
He told them about the first copies—his mother's empathy, teachers' intellect, the slow grind toward Stark's genius, Cap's strength, Banner's resilience, Asgardian longevity.
"I copied from anyone I could reach. Small at first. Then bigger. Always careful. Always selective. I didn't want to become a monster. I just wanted to keep my family safe. My friends. And then… you."
He looked at Gwen—eyes shining.
"You were the first person who made me feel human again. Not a system. Not a collector. Just… me."
Gwen's tears fell silently. She squeezed his hand.
He turned to Wanda.
"You made me believe power didn't have to destroy. That chaos could be beautiful. That someone could love me even knowing what I carry."
Wanda's red energy wrapped around his wrist—warm, steady.
Then Natasha.
"You made me believe redemption isn't a transaction. That someone who's spent their life running can still choose to stay."
Natasha's breath hitched—she leaned forward, forehead against his.
Alex looked at all three—voice breaking.
"I lost one life. One world. I won't lose this one. Not you. Not us. I'll keep collecting. Keep fighting. Keep healing. Whatever it takes. Because you're worth it. Every single day."
Silence fell—heavy, healing.
Gwen moved first—kissed him softly, tears on her lips.
"I love you," she whispered. "The man from two worlds. The one who chose us."
Wanda followed—deep, trembling kiss.
"You're our home," she said. "No matter where you came from."
Natasha last—slow, reverent—kiss full of everything she'd held back.
"I'm staying," she whispered against his mouth. "For you. For us. For the life we can still have."
They pulled him down—four bodies, four hearts, one shared breath.
No more secrets.
No more running.
Just truth.
And love.
Stronger than any timeline.
(Word count: 1005)