The team is scattered in their usual战后 positions—Tony tinkering at a holographic display, Steve nursing a cup of coffee, Natasha curled in an armchair with a book.

The elevator dings.

Everyone looks up.

Nick Fury steps out. He looks... different. Tired. There's a duffel slung over one shoulder and—impossibly, absurdly—a wriggling bundle clutched to his chest. A diaper bag hangs from his other hand.

He doesn't greet anyone. He walks straight to the center of the room, sets the diaper bag down, and turns without ceremony.

Fury straightens, adjusts his coat, and heads back toward the elevator.

Silence.

And then the baby's face crumples.

The first wail cuts through the common room like a siren.