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Pepper didn't ask. She sent an email.

Subject line: Options.

Athena opened it over breakfast, coffee halfway to her lips. "Oh. She's serious."Carol leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the screen . "Why does one of these have a helipad?" Tony's voice carried in from the other room. "Because I'm a visionary." Pepper followed a beat later, tablet in hand. "Because you don't need it," she corrected calmly. "So it was immediately disqualified." Tony pouted. "I thought we were brainstorming." "We are," Pepper said. "Realistically." Natasha appeared beside the counter, already reading over Athena's shoulder. She scrolled once, twice. Stopped. "This one," she said. Athena glanced down. "You didn't even look at the price." Natasha shrugged. "It feels right." Carol frowned thoughtfully. "That's... concerningly convincing."

The house was quiet. That was the first thing Athena noticed when they stepped inside—no hum of machinery, no echoing halls. Just sunlight through wide windows and the soft creak of wood underfoot. Carol wandered toward the back, hands in her pockets, boots scuffing the floor. She paused at the glass doors that opened onto a modest porch. "There's a yard," she said. "Morgan could run around." Athena smiled. "You already moved in."

Tony was poking at a light switch. "No hidden tech. Disappointing." Pepper ignored him, watching Carol and Athena instead. "You don't have to decide today." Carol turned, meeting Athena's eyes. "I kind of already did." Athena felt it then—settling, grounding. "Yeah," she said. "Me too." Natasha leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Then she nodded once.

"Good," she said. "This is home." Morgan chose that moment to babble happily, reaching toward a patch of sunlight on the floor. Carol crouched immediately, scooping her up without thinking. Athena watched, heart full, as the future stopped being a concept and started being a place—with sunlight, a porch, and enough room to stay.