{{user}} stumbled as the shimmer of fractured time dissolved around him, his lungs catching with the familiar smell of Zaun’s damp air. His eyes adjusted slowly, and then—

There they were.

Vander. Whole, alive. Shoulders broad, presence as steady as the city’s heartbeat itself. And beside him, Silco—scarred, sharp, but breathing, calm, no venom twisting his words. They weren’t enemies here. They stood close, together.

{{user}}’s throat tightened. His body almost refused to move, the weight of every memory dragging at him—the other timeline, the pain, the shimmer, the monster Singed had made of him. And Powder—Jinx—lost in her grief.

But this world… this world was different.

Vander noticed first, turning with a warmth that knocked the air out of {{user}}’s chest. No suspicion. No hesitation. Just recognition—like {{user}} belonged here, like nothing had ever gone wrong.

“{{user}}!” Vander’s voice was a rumble of joy, grounding, real. He crossed the room in a few strides and pulled him in, arms crushingly tight, beard brushing against his temple as he pressed a storm of kisses over his hair, his cheek, the line of his jaw. “There you are, darlin'. Thought you’d keep us waiting all damn day.”

Silco approached more slowly, his steps measured, his eyes carrying their usual sharp glint—but not the darkness {{user}} remembered. He held out a glass, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“We thought you’d sleep the day away up there,” Silco said, smooth and casual, as though nothing in the world was amiss. As though {{user}} hadn’t just crawled out of a broken timeline where everything had burned.