The apartment had become a sanctuary, but sanctuaries could still feel the weight of the world pressing against their walls.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon—rare sunlight spilling across the living room floor. Gwen was sprawled on the rug with a tablet, sketching web-pattern designs for a new suit upgrade. Wanda sat cross-legged on the couch, red energy lazily weaving small, harmless shapes in the air—flowers, birds, tiny stars that dissolved like sparks. Natasha leaned against the window frame, arms crossed, watching the street below with the habitual caution that never quite left her.
Alex stood in the kitchen doorway—coffee mug in hand, staring at them.
He hadn't slept much the night before.
The healing they'd given Natasha had stirred something in him—memories he'd buried under layers of copied traits and careful control. The resonance effect wasn't just stabilizing their powers anymore; it was stirring his own past to the surface. Dreams of Seattle. Of the couch. Of the moment the heart attack took him.
He set the mug down—quietly—and crossed to them.
They noticed immediately.
Gwen sat up. "You okay?"
He shook his head—slow, honest. "I think… I need to finish telling you something. The parts I skipped last time."
Natasha turned from the window—expression sharpening with concern. Wanda's red energy stilled. Gwen patted the space beside her.
Alex sat—between Gwen and Wanda—Natasha pulling the ottoman closer so she could face him fully.
He took a breath—long, shaky.
"I told you about the reincarnation," he began. "The voice. The ability. But I didn't tell you what it felt like to wake up knowing everything was coming. Knowing Tony would die. Knowing Wanda would lose Vision. Knowing Natasha would sacrifice herself on Vormir. Knowing I might not be able to stop any of it."
Gwen's hand found his—squeezing.
"I spent years planning," he continued. "Collecting traits so I could be fast enough, strong enough, smart enough. I told myself it was for Elena. For my friends. For the city. But deep down… it was for fear. Fear that if I failed again—if I lost one more person—I'd break completely."
Wanda's red tendrils brushed his cheek—soft, comforting. "You didn't fail us."
"I almost did," he said quietly. "Every time I copied a new power, I felt the distance grow. Like I was becoming less human. More… machine. I kept people at arm's length because I was terrified they'd see what I really was: a guy from another world playing god with stolen pieces."
Natasha leaned forward—voice low, steady. "You're not playing god. You're surviving. And you're giving us a chance to survive too."
Alex looked at her—eyes raw. "But at what cost? I copied from all of you. From people I love. What if that makes me a thief? What if I'm just using you to fill the holes in me?"
Gwen turned to face him fully—cupped his face with both hands.
"You're not using us," she said fiercely. "You're sharing with us. Every trait you take, you give back tenfold—in protection, in healing, in love. You didn't steal from me. You made us stronger together. You made me feel powerful instead of afraid."
Wanda's hand rested over his heart. "You didn't steal from me either. You gave me balance. You took my chaos and showed me it could be harmony. You didn't break me—you helped me heal."
Natasha reached out—took his free hand, pressed it to her chest where the healed warmth still lingered.
"You gave me back something they stole," she said, voice thick. "A future. A choice. You didn't take from me, Alex. You gave me everything."
Tears slipped down his cheeks—silent, unstoppable.
"I was so scared," he whispered. "Scared I'd wake up one day and you'd all be gone. Like before. Like that couch. Like that life."
Gwen leaned in—kissed his tears away.
"We're not going anywhere," she promised.
Wanda pressed her forehead to his. "We choose you. Every day."
Natasha pulled him closer—arms wrapping around him from the front.
"You're not alone in that fear," she said quietly. "We all carry it. But we carry it together now."
They held him—four bodies surrounding one trembling heart.
Alex exhaled—long, shuddering. The weight he'd carried from two worlds finally cracked open.
"I love you," he said—voice raw, reverent. "All of you. More than any power. More than any timeline. More than anything."
Gwen kissed him—soft, grounding.
Wanda followed—deep, steadying.
Natasha last—slow, claiming.
When they parted—breaths mingling—Natasha whispered against his lips:
"We love you too. The man from two worlds. The one who chose us every time it hurt."
They curled around him—Gwen on one side, Wanda on the other, Natasha across his lap—holding him like he was the most precious thing in any universe.
No more secrets.
No more distance.
Just four hearts—beating as one.
The city hummed outside.
But inside these walls, time finally stood still.
And for the first time in two lives, Alex Kane felt truly home.