The juvenile T. rex paced and chuffed around its new space.
These became clear within the first ten minutes of the morning. The T. rex woke before Ethan or Raven arrived. It moved along the enclosure's edge, checking everything as if doing an inspection. It wasn't upset, just curious. It pressed its snout to each glass panel, taking in whatever it could, then moved on. By the time Raven opened the greenhouse door, it had finished about three-quarters of the circuit and seemed satisfied with what it had learned.
It turned when the door opened.
First, its gaze landed on Raven.
Then, it regarded Ethan.
It methodically finished inspecting the perimeter before acknowledging the humans. This order seemed necessary, and no one objected.
Raven entered the space slowly, just as she had in the Savage Land. She gave the T. rex time to adjust instead of rushing it. Ethan stayed by the door and watched. His attention was mostly on Raven, exactly where he wanted it.
She crouched down. The young T. rex finished its circuit and walked over, moving with the confidence of something that had already made up its mind. It sniffed her hands, just as it had before in the jungle, as if checking that nothing had changed. Then it rested its head on her shoulder, relaxed now that it was done checking things out.
Raven held very still.
She wasn't frozen; instead, she was present, letting the moment happen without doing anything that might break it.
Ethan stood in the doorway and didn't hide how happy he was. He had seen Raven hope for this since their talk in the greenhouse back in April, and seeing her finally get it was a pleasure.
Around mid-morning, they opened the greenhouse doors after giving the T. rex time to get used to the inside. The animal stepped out with clear relief, as if its body needed more space than any enclosure could offer. You could see the change in how it moved, the lift of its head, like it finally belonged.
The morning became an exercise in mapping.
The T. rex felt comfortable in the eastern grounds, especially near the forest edge and the open space between the greenhouse and the trees. It explored these areas in wide, happy arcs. The western grounds made it more cautious. It kept coming back to Raven, as if making sure she was still there. When it checked out the main house, it studied the building carefully, then decided it was safe and could be ignored.
At one point, the T. rex walked over to Ethan by the garden wall and leaned its full weight against his leg, sure that this was allowed. It was heavy by any human measure, but Ethan stood still and let it happen. This seemed to reassure the animal, and it stayed there for a minute before resuming its exploration.
"It's testing the fixed points," Raven observed. "What stays in place when it moves away?"
Ethan observed the animal, noting its full sensory commitment as it investigated the garden wall. "We're the fixed points," he said.
She agreed. Though not sentimental, her voice carried unmistakable warmth.
Near the end of the morning, he brought up the question of naming the T. rex. The animal had found a sunny spot in the eastern grounds and looked like it might settle down for a rest.
"We need something to call it," he said. "Between six people trying to refer to the same animal in conversation, we're going to produce confusion quickly."
Raven looked at the animal and stayed quiet for a long moment. She wasn't avoiding the question; she was truly thinking it over.
"Not something casual," she said. "Not diminutive. Something that fits what it is and what it will become."
"Take the time," he said.
She looked at him. "I'm going to think about it carefully," she said. "Tomorrow, I'll have the right name. Not just a placeholder. The real one."
He agreed, knowing she meant it. Finding the right name in the right way was better than picking the first one that came to mind.
---
The afternoon was everyone's.
Ethan took his time with the day, choosing to really be present instead of just letting it pass. He had a long breakfast that stretched into late morning, spent time with the T. rex outside, and then sat in the main room for the afternoon, letting the sounds of the house fill in the day around him.
At some point, a thought came to him. It wasn't urgent, but it mattered.
He thought about the word at the heart of his life here—the thing he had wanted all along, even before he could name it. Carefree. He considered it honestly, thinking about everything in his life now: the house, the people, the T. rex in the sunshine, nothing urgent, and everyone he cared about safe.
This was it. This was the exact thing.
He was also honest with himself about the rest. He knew things wouldn't stay this simple forever. Sooner or later, something would come along and pull him back into the harder parts of his life. He didn't know when or what, and he didn't need to. What mattered was that, right now, the word and his life fit perfectly.
He returned his attention to the afternoon, and the afternoon gave him back exactly what it had been offering.
---
After lunch, Rogue suggested playing Monopoly with the same directness she used for ideas she had already decided would happen.
No one objected. Ilyana found the board somewhere in the house's collection of stuff. They cleared the table. The debate over tokens lasted four minutes and ended when Madelyne grabbed the car before anyone else could. No one expected that from her, and it made everyone pause for a moment.
The game played out with the usual chaos that comes from six people who know each other well and react honestly to Monopoly's twists.
Rogue went straight for the utilities and railroads, an aggressive move that fit her personality but left her open in the property color groups. Jean played with careful analysis, which worked well in the middle but didn't help much later. Monopoly rewards early buys. Raven played quietly and skillfully, keeping her plans to herself as usual. She built up the purple properties, which only mattered once, only for a tax square to wipe out her money at the worst time.
Ilyana was knocked out in the middle of the game. She looked like she cared more than she would admit. She quietly gave up her spot and watched the rest of the game with the same focus she gave to anything she thought was worth her attention, even after she was out.
Ethan ended up in jail three times. The dice just weren't on his side. He decided this was the game's way of balancing out his luck. He found the unfairness oddly instructive.
By the third hour, Madelyne owned the purple-blue properties, the green set, and all the railroads. Her position came together not because of a brilliant strategy, but because she landed on the right properties before anyone else could afford them. She hadn't expected to win. When she put a hotel on Boardwalk, it quietly collected from three players in four rounds, and the game was basically finished.
She looked at the board, then at the other players. She let herself show the happiness of someone who had won unexpectedly. The pleasure was clear on her face, without the usual restraint she used in group settings.
Jean analyzed the point at which her strategy had diverged from the outcome she had expected.
Rogue looked at the board for a moment and then at Madelyne.
"Congratulations," Rogue said, with the flat directness she used when she meant something completely. "That was a good game."
Madelyne looked at her. "Thank you."
---
The day slowly turned into evening, and the hours passed in the easy way they do when there's nothing urgent to do.
Later, after dinner and the relaxed end-of-day feeling that came when everyone was pleasantly tired, Ethan lay in the dark with Raven, Jean, and Rogue in their usual arrangement. He brought up the sun trip directly.
"Tomorrow," he said. "I'll go for another week inside the sun. I wanted to ask if you were comfortable with it."
Raven turned her head toward him. "Go," she said.
Jean looked at the ceiling. "I'll keep monitoring," she said. "If anything changes in what I've been feeling at the edge of my awareness, you'll know when you get back."
Rogue was quiet for a moment. Then, in her plainest voice, she finally said what she'd been thinking: "When you come back from this one, I'd like it if you just stayed for a bit. No Coulson job the next day. No training run. Just being here."
He looked at her.
"I mean it," she said. "It doesn't have to be long. A week would be enough. I just want a week where you're here the whole time."
"Agreed, I'll come back and stay a while longer, just resting."
She looked at him for a moment longer. She wore the look she had when she got something she wanted but didn't want to make a big deal about it.
"Good," she said, and turned toward sleep.
Then the house grew quiet, the night settled around them, and the T. rex in the greenhouse. Tomorrow, Ethan would leave for the sun, come back in a week, and stay.
---
Asgard. In the hall of a witch:
Thori had asked his question and waited for the answer with the patience of someone who had learned it was useful.
The witch glanced at the fires she was reading, then at the small Hel-hound sitting across from her. He sat up straight, clearly taking the meeting seriously.
"On Midgard," she said. "There are people there whose home would be the right home for you."
Thori considered this. "How many people?"
"Several."
"Good." He stood up. "I will go find them."
The witch looked at him. "You do not want to know more about them first?"
Thori really thought about it for a moment. She could see him considering it, his small head tilting.
"No," he said. "I will find out when I get there. That is fine." He paused. "Are there bad people near them? I hope there are bad people near them."
"From what I see," the witch said carefully, "the people near them tend not to remain a problem for very long."
Thori's ears perked up. "That is a good sign," he said. "That means the right kinds of things happen near them." He headed for the door with the confidence of someone who had all the information he needed. "I will go find Heimdall."
"He will probably let you through," the witch said.
"He always lets me through," Thori said. "He says no at first, but then he lets me through. That's just how we do things."
He left.
The witch watched her fires a little longer and thought about the people on Midgard, their house, and the small fire-breathing Hel-hound now trotting toward the Bifrost with the determination of someone who knew exactly where he was going.
She hoped the house had room for what was coming.
Considering how big the house was, she figured it probably did.
---
Thori reached the edge of the Bifrost and found Heimdall right where he always was. Heimdall was never in unexpected places.
"Midgard, please," Thori said.
Heimdall looked down at him with his usual calm, the kind of calm you get from seeing across all nine realms and no longer being surprised by anything.
"For what purpose?" Heimdall asked.
"I have a family there," Thori said. "I have not met them yet. I am going to meet them."
Heimdall was quiet for a moment.
"Do they know they are your family?" he asked.
"Not yet," Thori said. "They'll find out when I get there." He looked up at Heimdall with the steady confidence of someone who had made up his mind. "I am ready."
Heimdall considered this.
"Try not to bite anyone who does not deserve it," he said.
"I never bite anyone who doesn't deserve it," Thori said. That wasn't completely true, but it was close enough.
The Bifrost opened.
Thori ran toward the Bifrost without looking back. Looking back was for those who hadn't made up their minds, and he knew exactly where he was going. It was Midgard, where a family waited for him, even if they didn't know it yet. He was going to find them, and that was all that mattered.