The bedroom always settled into its usual arrangement in the morning: Raven on his left, Jean at the far end where the first sunlight from the south-facing window touched her, and Rogue's arm resting across him from the right. Each day dawned with this familiar pattern, the comfort of routine easing them into wakefulness.
Ethan lay still in the early quiet and let his mind do what it did in the first minutes before the day made demands of it.
Life had become strange by any normal measure. There was a hellhound from Asgard somewhere on the property. In the greenhouse, a young T. rex named Indominus roamed. One of his girlfriends had a clone staying in the guest room, quietly developing new powers. His three girlfriends were unusual: one looked much younger than her real age, one was bonded to a cosmic entity, and one had absorbed the powers of the first mutant and now used them to build motorcycles and win at Monopoly.
He sometimes thought about the Infinity Stones when his mind wandered. If he collected all six and made the wish, a simple life was possible. But he knew he would see this as cheating. The life he was building mattered because he was building it, not wishing it into existence, not minding the small bit of hypocrisy in how his life here started with a wish. He set the thought aside in the file marked not doing this and returned to the morning.
What he wanted today was nothing. Not nothing as in emptiness, but a day where nothing mattered except being with the people around him.
He could make that happen.
---
Raven was the first to wake up, as usual. Ethan told her his plan at the kitchen table while Jean cooled her coffee nearby and Rogue, always slow to start her mornings, lingered over breakfast.
"Camping," he said. "Tonight. There's a spot near the lake in the eastern forest — I've looked at it already. We bring food, build a proper fire, and sleep outdoors."
Raven gave him the focused look she used when weighing a plan.
Raven set down her mug. "The eastern forest?"
"Twenty minutes on foot," he said. "Three minutes carrying everyone on slow speed."
"What kind of food?"
"A real barbecue," he replied.
Jean looked up from her cup. "Is the lake actually swimmable?"
"Clean, and appropriately deep for swimming. No dangerous fauna live there," he said.
Jean put the cup down. "I'm in."
Rogue entered the kitchen as the conversation was ending and, joining the group late, gave them her usual thoughtful look when trying to catch up.
Ethan turned to Rogue. "Camping," he repeated, meeting her eyes.
"Are we eating properly?" she said, which was not a question.
"I'm catching the meat myself," Ethan promised, voice certain.
Rogue sat down. "I'm in."
---
Ilyana was in the main room as they passed through, gathering their things. Her expression shifted quickly from interest to making a decision and then to the calm that came after she'd made up her mind.
Ilyana met their glances. "I'll stay at the house."
She spoke plainly, looking at each of them in turn. "The camping trip is for you. I'll be here."
After saying this, she returned to practicing with the sling ring Raven had lent her weeks ago. She focused on the rotation.
Ethan looked at her as they passed. She glanced up briefly and then looked back at the ring.
He did not make it a moment. He just walked through.
---
As they packed for the evening, his thoughts drifted to something he had been thinking about for a while but hadn't settled on.
Indominus was the first resident of Raven's greenhouse, and that felt right. The young T. rex had chosen her the way animals sometimes choose people, without any real reason. The greenhouse was made for this. But Raven had said she wanted more—animals that were too strange, too powerful, or just too different for the world they ended up in, to have a place made for them.
He thought about Lockheed.
Lockheed was a small alien dragon who bonded with Kitty Pryde, also known as Shadowcat, in the comics. The dragon stayed with her out of a loyalty that was all its own. Ethan hadn't seen Lockheed at Xavier's mansion during his weeks at the school, which meant the bond hadn't happened yet. He wouldn't interfere with that. Lockheed belonged with Kitty, and it wasn't his place to change that. Whatever brought them together should happen on its own.
But the thought connected to something larger, considering dragons.
Kun-Lun was a hidden city, a mountain fortress where Shou-Lao the Undying guarded an ancient secret. Beyond that, there were all the strange creatures living on the edges of the Marvel world. These were the ones who didn't fit into the normal human world and might want a place truly meant for them.
He made a mental note to talk to Raven about this idea—maybe tomorrow or the next day, after the camping trip was over, when they would all be back at the house with Indominus outside, Thori somewhere on the grounds, and the rest of the household in its current unusual state.
---
The spot was exactly what he had promised.
It was a clearing at the edge of the forest near the lake. The water was visible through the last line of trees, still and clear in the early evening light. The bottom was visible in the shallows. The center was deep enough to keep its blue-green color as the sky turned orange. The clearing looked untouched, with short grass and firm ground.
Ethan built the fire quickly and efficiently, neither wasting time nor rushing. It was a proper fire, not just a small neat ring, but one meant to last the evening and give off real heat.
Rogue jumped into cooking, which made sense since she knew what she was doing. She had strong ideas about barbecue and was always right. She arranged the rabbits over the fire, focused as always, especially when making food the right way.
Jean went to the lake before the food was ready. After spending ten minutes swimming, she returned, clearly refreshed. She sat down by the fire, watched the water, and relaxed, unconcerned about anything else.
Raven took the seat closest to the fire, holding her coffee cup. She gazed at the trees, the lake, and her friends, her expression softening into a warmth she usually saved for moments free of expectation.
The meal turned out well. Rogue ensured everything was cooked properly, using her skill with meat. When the rabbits came off the fire at just the right time, the evening became exactly what it was meant to be.
The conversation flowed naturally. They talked about the lake, forest sounds, something Jean was reading, and Rogue's lessons teaching Indominus to stay on the grounds—a lesson that was slowly sinking in but not entirely. Raven spoke less than the others but added more with each comment. Ethan ate, listened, and joined in when he had something to say. He wasn't pretending to be content; he truly was, and he appreciated knowing the difference.
The fire burned lower as the evening progressed.
What happened next isn't described, only suggested. The evening was complete in every way, and that's all that needs to be said before morning comes.
---
Morning arrived with the special feeling of early summer in the woods. The air was full of trees at their peak. The lake caught the light through the trees, as if it had been waiting for this moment.
Rogue made the observation about being sore with the direct candor she brought to things that were true and mildly inconvenient.
Jean told her she and Raven did not fare better.
Raven agreed, using the dry tone she reserved for things that were both true and a little funny.
Ethan, who had no comparative complaint in this area and was accordingly quiet about it, helped pack what needed packing and carried what needed carrying, and they started going back toward the house.
---
Jean brought it up partway through the walk, which was the perfect time. They were far enough from the house for privacy, and walking forward gave the conversation a natural flow instead of feeling like a formal talk at a table.
"Ilyana," she said.
Ethan looked at her.
"Do you see anything happening there?" Jean asked. She wasn't testing or confronting him. It was a genuine question from someone who had been watching for months and wanted to compare her view with theirs. "I'm asking honestly."
He thought about it.
"I see her more as a younger sister," he said. "That's the honest answer for right now."
Jean waited.
"She's been here long enough that she's part of what makes the house feel like home," he said. "I'm not against things changing, but I won't force anything before she's ready. Right now, she hasn't opened that door."
Jean was quiet for a moment. Then: "You know I'm going to keep watching for when it opens."
"I know," he said. "You've been setting me up since we met almost."
"I've had a good record," she said, with a dry warmth she was getting more comfortable showing.
He glanced at her. "The Phoenix bond has definitely changed your idea of what a normal relationship is."
Jean took this in with the same careful attention she gave to honest comments about herself. "We agreed that normal doesn't apply to this household," she said. "I'm just sticking to the same approach."
He kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. He wasn't complaining; he had accepted this way of life long ago, and his comment was just that—a comment. He kept it all inside.
"If Ilyana decides she wants to spend a day with me specifically," he said, "I'll see about it. I'm not closing anything. I'm also not opening it unilaterally."
Jean nodded, indicating she had received it and filed it.
"One more thing," she said, her voice turning serious in the way it did when something mattered to her.
He waited.
"Madelyne," she said. "I can handle a lot. I've shown that. But that situation," she paused, "is too strange for me. I want to say it clearly instead of hoping it's understood."
"It's understood," he said. "And it's not something under consideration."
She looked at him for a moment and then looked ahead at the house visible through the last stretch of trees.
"Good," she said. The subject closed.
---
The last stretch of the walk was his own company.
Raven, Rogue, and Jean had moved a little ahead, talking together with the easy shorthand of people who knew each other well. He walked behind them, letting his mind turn over something he'd been thinking about.
Tony Stark.
Howard and Maria Stark were still alive. He had saved them from the Winter Soldier in December, which was the right thing to do, and he didn't regret it. But he hadn't fully considered that their deaths had been a key part of Tony's growth—the loss, the guilt, and the drive that grief created when it had nowhere else to go. In the original timeline, those losses shaped Tony into the person who became Iron Man.
Without them, the shaping would be different.
Tony was already brilliant, already building, and already had the foundational character that produced Iron Man. But the catalyst was changed. Ethan did not know whether Tony will still find his way to the suit on a different path. He also did not know what timeline the Fantastic Four's cosmic ray event would land on, or what the next decade would require of the world.
What he knew was this: if Tony did not find his own path to Iron Man, the problem was solvable.
He would kidnap Tony at the right moment and set things up himself. He would feel a little bad about it—not enough to stop him, but enough to mention it. Iron Man was necessary for the future. The arc reactor, the suit, and the unique mix of Tony's qualities and what Iron Man needed to be were things the future couldn't do without.
He filed this under things he would address when the timing was right and walked the last distance home.
The house was visible ahead, morning light on its stone, and somewhere in the grounds Indominus was doing the morning assessment of his territory, and somewhere on the eastern edge Thori was probably doing something that resulted in fewer bad people being bad people in the general vicinity.
Ethan walked toward it and thought, "This is the one." This life, with these people, in this house. This is it.