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The thunder and lightning awoken Johnny up. Annoyed at having his slumber disturbed, he tries to turn to his right side, not knowing why he expected to see Shalla-bal's reading figure on the cushioned couch. He sighs, not questioning why he felt colder and emptier.
She wouldn't be there, not when she helped Sue with taking care of Franklin almost the whole day.
He looks at the empty side of his bed, his mind conjuring an image of her beside him, and an infant in the middle.
He sits up straight, the hair on his arms and nape rising at that thought. Franklin is even barely one! This rain… He clears his throat, only to find it parched. Might as well walk to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water.
He didn't bother opening the lights, nor did he bother lighting his arm up. He can navigate quite well—
He hears a gasp and he quickly turns around to see who it was.
Was he hallucinating?
He drinks and then he hears it again.
Dude, he has no time for ghosts right now.
Instinctively, his eyes find the direction of Shalla-bal's room, the guest room fully turning hers. He sometimes wishes they just share one but it won't make sense with how big the building is and how she will need some privacy.
Besides, they're not even married—
Stop it, Jonathan!
He's in the kitchen, might as well walk to her room to confirm if she was the one who made that sound.
He raises his fist to knock, only to notice that it was slightly open, he slowly opens it to take a peek. His heart drops at the sight, Shalla-bal is sitting on her bed, hunched over with her fist on her chest, like she couldn't breathe.
Johnny wants to throw all decencies out the door and to rush to her and ask her if she's okay, but that might shock her more, and the last thing he wants is distance when Shalla-bal made it a point to allow him closer and closer. So he swallows the need to comfort her upfront and decides to take it slow, as all things are between them. Sweet and slow.
He leans on the door hinge and crosses his arms, "I hate the rain too, you know?"
She gasps once more, turning her head to his direction, astonished that he came, wondering if he heard her or if he just felt that there was something wrong. It doesn't matter, she just feels a both of relief and embarrassment over Johnny seeing her.
If he sees the tears in her eyes, he didn't comment on it, too focused on how her cold blond locks frame her face so beautifully. He continues, "I hate water. Because, you know, I'm a human torch, a firebender basically."
She blinks the tears away, not knowing what to say and now Johnny feels stupid over not having a glass of water for her. He hides his lips and takes a deep breath, "what I'm saying is… I," he pauses and exhales through his mouth, he never wanted to confront the reason of her grief right now and punch it straight to its face, even though they both know he's in some hellhole Reed locked him into.
He starts walking to her until he's standing right in front of her.
"I can comfort you, if you'd allow me to."
She adjusts her legs and he sits beside her, she carefully studies his face, not to look for any pretenses but to actually look at him just because she wants to, just because she has the luxury to.
"Can you?"
He wouldn't have heard it if he hasn't been waiting on her every word.
He smiles and Shalla-bal doesn't notice that she traces the lines of the skin beside his eyes, he wanted nothing more but to kiss her fingertips. "Yeah, yeah I can comfort you, I can do that."
"Okay."
His heart skips a beat, making him lean back, her hand dropping to the bed. He didn't expect she'd actually agree. "What."
"Okay." She repeats.
He clears his throat, "yeah okay, okay yeah."
He lets her lie down back first before he does, shielding her from the view of the pouring rain outside her window, so she won't see anything and anyone but him. He wraps his arms around her almost instinctually, not because he's been dying to do it, but as if he's been doing it for so long.
He feels awkward, she doesn't mind but he does, "you know, if you feel cold, I could flame myself up."
She sighs and Johnny knows she rolls her eyes, "that would burn me."
"Oh it'll burn you? Of course, it'll burn you, what was I thinking?"
She snuggles closer and he leans on her head and he wonders how he has been surviving for so long without her by his side, realizing how he has been missing out his entire adult life.
Her hair smells of the raspberries and strawberries and he doesn't know if that is what is causing his addiction or because he finally get to be this close with her, to hold and touch her like his hands crave. Her arms are by his chest, her hands holding each other and he finally tucks one of her cold blond locks behind her ear.
He can see she's still blinking, good, he can talk, "what I'm saying is I can be warm enough for the both of us— you know what? I'm ruining this, I should probably just shut up and…"
He clears her throat and hugs her tighter so she won't see the absolute regret on his face.
"You're not."
Shalla-bal feels his lips smile by her head, "that's good to hear." He leans his cheek on the top of her head, his thumb caressing her shoulder while his other hand glides from her back to her arm then to her wrist, "do you want to talk about it?"
Thunder roared and she jolted a bit, he can feel her heart quicken, what a way to ruin the moment! He sulks.
She thinks of him, the one she once herald, how his devouring of planets sound exactly the same as the thunder that roared just now, how the raindrops hitting the window sound like the cries and pleas of the people at their planet's destruction— lightning flashed and she thinks of the burning and exploding and then the nothing that comes after.
Foolish, she realizes when she once thought that a natural phenomenon such as thunder and rain and lightning and an unsatiable hunger were both as essential as the stars.
How could she even begin to atone for her sins? How can she even have the ability to choose to be cooped up in the arms of the man who chose to see her for who she was? How? When she chose the deaths of countless worlds and people?
Over what? Her own world? Her own daughter? Her—
"Hey," Johnny's soft voice brought her back, "you're here, you're safe now."
He must've felt her panicking, his hand gentle on her cheek so they can look at each other, she couldn't help the sadness in her eyes and how her lips showed it through a frown. Her eyes dropped his gaze, second guessing her second chance at life that he has given her, "for how long?"
And he doesn't like it when she avoids him, unstable as a moon-less ocean. So Johnny could only give him the one answer he knows he can stand behind, "as long as I'm here," a pause, "as long as we are here."
She clutches on the collar of his shirt and he wishes she would cry, so he could catch her pain, so she could share it until it empties out, he doesn't even know where and how to begin to tell her how her atonement started the minute she chose to sacrifice herself for him and for his world.
But maybe, a words from a fellow mother would comfort her, so he tries, he presses a hand on her back to pull her closer if she needs to hide her tears from him, "Sue already forgave you."
"Did she?"
"They all did. But the minute I told my sister you had a daughter, she understood you more. What she did for Franklin is what you did for your daughter."
Then, Shalla-bal breaks. He lets her weep for as long as she needed, wiping her tears with his thumb and fingers, telling her the words he just offered, that she's okay, she's safe.
When her crying ceases, so did the rain.
He caresses her hair, tucking behind her ear the ones stuck on her face, she seems asleep, peaceful, and he couldn't help but to think of the nights she might've cried herself to sleep— if she ever did.
It doesn't matter, Johnny is full in his resolve that she'd never have to be alone again, not at least in the moments she thinks of the choice they would've made too.
"Good night, Shalla-bal." He whispers, staring at the face he never once forget, then he places a kiss on her forehead. He settles on leaning his head atop hers.
Right before Johnny wishes he could visit her in his dreams, she speaks, like she was just waiting for him to stop looking at her face, "thank you, Johnny."
His heart skips a beat as his eyes shot wide open, he can't even stop his face and neck heating up, and he thinks that he might as well actually burn the two of them. He grips on the back of her shirt, but the way her lips form to a smile sends him a signal that she doesn't mind.
Not at all. Not when his heartbeats, slow and steady, fast and rampant, lull and calm her to sleep.
And for the first time in a very long while, Shalla-bal's slumber didn't have nightmares.