The Queens apartment was bathed in late-afternoon gold, the kind of light that made even the patched walls look warm. Alex sat alone on the rooftop again—legs over the edge, phone in hand, city humming far below. The siege scars had faded to faint memories; new glass gleamed in the windows, webbing residue scrubbed clean, red energy traces long dissipated. But the weight of what came next hadn't faded.
He'd spoken to Steve. Tony had broken publicly. Bucky was thinking. The fractures were closing—slowly, painfully—but closing.
It was time to stop waiting.
He dialed Tony's secure line.
It rang once.
"Kid," Tony answered—voice lighter than Alex expected, but still edged with exhaustion. "You've got timing. I was just staring at the same skyline wondering when you'd call."
Alex smiled—small, real. "I've been staring at the same one. Thought it was time we stopped staring separately."
A low chuckle from Tony. "Poetic. I like it. What's on your mind?"
Alex leaned back—wind tugging at his hoodie. "We need to meet. All of us. You, Steve, Bucky if he's ready, Sam if he wants. Neutral ground. No sides. No Accords. Just… people who used to be a team, figuring out what we can be now."
Silence—longer than Alex expected.
Then Tony exhaled—slow, almost relieved. "You're serious."
"Dead serious," Alex said. "The leaks did their job. Ross is reeling. The Accords are cracking. If we don't talk soon, someone else—someone worse—will fill the vacuum. We can't let that happen."
Tony laughed—short, genuine. "You sound like Steve. That's terrifying."
Alex's lips curved. "I'll take it as a compliment."
Another pause—Tony's voice dropping, softer. "When?"
Alex looked at the skyline—Avengers Tower still standing, stubborn and proud.
"Soon," he said. "Next week? Somewhere quiet. No press. No surveillance. I've got a place upstate—old warehouse I converted. Secure. Private. Aether can lock it down tighter than Fort Knox."
Tony hummed—considering. "Upstate. Neutral. Sounds suspiciously like a trap."
"It's not," Alex said quietly. "It's a beginning."
Tony exhaled—long, steady. "I'll be there. Steve already told me he's in. Bucky… he's still processing. But he's listening. Sam's ready whenever Steve is."
Alex's chest loosened—relief flooding through him. "Thank you, Tony."
"Don't thank me yet," Tony replied—voice rough with emotion he couldn't quite hide. "We've got a lot of ghosts in the room. A lot of blood. But… yeah. Let's try. For once, let's try before we break again."
Alex nodded—even though Tony couldn't see. "Next Saturday. 7 p.m. I'll send coordinates. Bring Pepper if she wants. No suits. No shields. Just us."
Tony laughed—soft, almost fond. "No suits. That's gonna be weird. I'll bring the cheeseburgers. You bring the hope."
The line ended.
Alex stayed on the roof a moment longer—wind in his hair, city breathing below.
Then he went inside.
Gwen looked up from the couch—tablet in hand, sketching new web patterns. Wanda sat beside her—red energy idly floating a teacup. Natasha leaned against the counter—knife twirling absently.
They all turned as one—sensing it.
Alex crossed to them—sat between Gwen and Wanda, pulled Natasha close when she moved to join.
"I called Tony," he said quietly. "He's in. Next Saturday. Upstate. All of us. Steve, Bucky if he comes, Sam, Tony, maybe Pepper. No sides. Just… talking."
Gwen's eyes widened—then softened. "You did it."
Wanda's hand found his—squeezing. "You gave them a door. They're walking through."
Natasha's knife stilled—her head resting on Alex's shoulder. "You're braver than you think."
Alex looked at each of them—heart full, voice steady but thick.
"I'm not brave," he said. "I'm terrified. But I'm more terrified of losing this—of losing you three—than I am of facing the past. So we meet. We talk. We see what's possible."
Gwen leaned in—kissed his cheek softly. "We'll be there. All of us."
Wanda pressed closer—red energy wrapping around them all, warm, protective. "Together."
Natasha kissed his temple—slow, deliberate. "Always."
They stayed like that—four hearts beating in quiet sync—city lights flickering on below.
The meeting was coming.
The past was waiting.
But the future—fragile, uncertain, beautiful—was already here.
In their hands.
In their arms.
In their choice to stay.