The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fireplace and the rhythmic tapping of Tony Stark's fingers against his coffee mug.

He was staring at the team—all of them, for once, gathered together. Natasha perched on the arm of the sofa, sharp eyes fixed on the door. Steve stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight. Wanda sat in the corner, fingers twisting nervously. Bucky leaned against the wall, metal arm gleaming in the low light. Clint was pretending to clean his bow, but his gaze kept flicking to the same door Maree sat between two chairs, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Maree let out a shaky breath.

And then the elevator chimed.

The doors slid open, revealing you.