Archive of Our Own ^beta

 As it would turn out, when you fly all the way up and out of the Earth’s atmosphere, only to fly back at an equivalent speed to an asteroid coming in for a crash landing, hurling yourself directly into the asphalt of a city street, the human body has a tendency to not like that very much!

 Such a discovery should not be news to Johnny Storm, but alas, even for as smart and accomplished his young genius mind may be, there’s still always opportunity to learn something new every day. For example: the breaking point of human bones, and just how long one can manage to run on adrenaline before noticing they do, in fact, have several broken bones.

 All things considering, Johnny is honestly bewildered that the damage he sustained from fighting with a cosmic god is as minimal as several broken bones, a few torn ligaments, a concussion, a bit of oxygen deprivation, and the general sense of exhaustion that feels like it runs all the way into the very core of his being he knows he’ll have for the next several days after such a taxing battle. All in all, it could be worse!

 It really should have been worse.

 Much…much worse.

 Johnny has to shake his head physically, treating his intrusive thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch, trying to knock away the image of his sister’s lifeless body that has taken residency behind his eyelids. The PTSD from their altered lives and subsequent roles they assumed as superheroes was fairly par for the course according to the last four, nearly five now, years of Johnny’s life. This time though…he knew this one would be following him for a while.

 You don’t just go through your whole life, dependent on one person, trudging through every trauma life has to throw at the two of you together, watch them cry, watch them laugh, watch them at their highest and their lowest, only to watch – to feel them literally die in front of you, and come out of it fine and dandy. Johnny wasn’t a specialist on the ways of psychology, but there probably wouldn’t be much disagreement on the idea that one could be thoroughly traumatized by watching your sister – who had been the only sturdy maternal figure you’d ever had in your whole life – die, watch as her husband – who desperately tried to save her for three minutes straight – tearfully admit she’s gone…and then watch your baby nephew magically revive her like it’s nothing. Yeah, no one should be surprised when Johnny is a little impacted by all of this.

 It's been a long two weeks, to the say the least.

 After the initial fight, there was still a lot going on and a lot to be done. The city had to be cleaned up, the people that had been taking shelter in Subterrainia had to be assisted in relocating, no doubt there were all sorts of panic and press the Fantastic Four should really be addressing.

 Surprisingly, it had been Reed that was hearing absolutely none of it.

 Normally, Reed was the first one to jump at the chance of a to-do list. Johnny had come to accept his odd brother-in-law and the way that checking off things from an itemized list was just something that rocked Reed’s socks, to put it nicely.

 To hear that Reed – of all people – was the one to insist that the mountain of work laid out for them “could wait”, had both Johnny and Ben exchanging looks, immediately worrying about Reed’s health. Maybe he’d smacked his head really good in the battle? Maybe Galactus had stretched him out just a bit too far that something in that big brain of his finally snapped?

 Reed insisted he was…well, not fine. Much like the rest of them, Reed wasn’t going to lie and say that he was fine, not after all that. Similarly to Johnny, you don’t just watch the love of your life, the person who made you give thought to the potential of such a fantastical and wildly improbable possibility of something like ‘soulmates’ actually being a thing, the one person in the whole entire world who seems to understand you in the way that no one else ever had, die, come back, and just walk it off like it’s all okay. No one was fine.

 But Reed was still as much of himself as he could be. He was prioritizing his family first and foremost in that moment. The city would have to survive without them for a bit, because Reed insisted all of them were to have a complete medical check-up, sustenance, and then several hours of rest. Doctor’s nonnegotiable orders.

 It was in that time, laying on the bench in Reed’s messy but intact lab (a much better state compared to their living room, tragically), waiting for his mandatory turn under the inferred scanners that would dissect him for Reed’s assessments, that Johnny began to feel. The adrenaline left him, slowly at first, then all at once. The exhaustion was quick to settle into the place it left behind. Then came the pain.

 Every breath, every minute twitch, every moment the pain mounted and doubled on itself. His arm up into his shoulder, his legs, his chest, his spine, his head. All of it screaming in pain until it felt like just a symphony of noise he couldn’t escape from inside of his own head. He hadn’t realized he’d started outwardly making noise until Ben and Reed’s concerned faces appeared, hovering over where he was laying, starting to curl in on himself pathetically in pain. They were calling out to him with voices that he knew shouldn’t be as distant sounding as they were given how they were clearly stood directly above him, but his tired and hurt brain couldn’t put more effort into thinking about anything other than the all-consuming pain.

 It’s funny – that cosmically altered DNA he has. Reed has it, and it makes him nearly impervious to fall damage, what with his rubber like internal organs. Ben has it, and he’s a rock now, so you’d have to drop him, or throw him more like, really, really hard at the ground to even slightly break him at all. Sue even has built in defenses for falling with her altered genetic make-up, having the ability to brace her own fall with her shields and forcefields.

 Johnny, despite how it might appear when his entire body has the incredible ability to just completely burst into flames and survive unharmed, is frustratingly still pretty fragile.

 You’d think that wouldn’t be the case given how his body has managed to develop a tolerance for the atmospheric pressure he puts himself through, the G-forces he undergoes, the general strain of being on fire and using said thermodynamics to propel himself through the air. All of those feats make him seem pretty invincible.

 It’s probably that exact line of thought that has been known to make even Johnny himself forget that, underneath that fiery exterior, is a fairly fleshy, average, human body. No rock to protect him, no super flexibility to adapt to him, no force fields to defend him. Just skin and bone, that, when hurled at the ground with enough propulsion, breaks just as much as an average person would. The only difference being that he can automatically cauterize any open wounds right away, which can occasionally be a negative when his body does this before he notices he'd been injured in the first place. Hidden internal injuries can be such a hassle.

 An hour of scans, a thick cast for his arm, a sling to keep said cast and associated shoulder in place, a walking boot on one leg, and enough superhuman grade pain medication mixed with saline in an I.V. to rehydrate his beyond exhausted body later, Johnny was in his bed, dead to the world, not even physically capable of worrying about the state of the city or what they’d do without his help. The city of New York would have to survive syn Johnny Storm for a bit. The Human Torch had officially clocked out.

 From that point, Johnny was only vaguely aware of the world around him for an unknown number of hours. He remembers waking up to Reed poking and prodding him, scanning him again with a handheld version of his infrared machine, taking his blood pressure and other general vitals, but Reed could’ve been physically manhandling Johnny around and he wouldn’t have been any the wiser or cared in the slightest.

 The same superhuman metabolism that burns (no pun intended) through his calories and keeps him able to function on his superhuman level, also chews through standard medication like it is a joke. So, the pain-relieving medication Reed had specifically developed for Johnny has to be intensive.

 Johnny wasn’t even really sure what it was that made up his special pain relief juice. No doubt he could ask and find out if he really wanted to, but it honestly didn’t matter too much to Johnny. If it worked, it worked. So what if it consisted of horse tranquilizers and enough Tylenol to level a city block? It goes in the I.V. bag, and Johnny’s physical ailments are put on hold for several, lovely hours, and that’s what counts.

 …Until it eventually wears off, that is.

 For a while though, everything was fuzzy and fine. Johnny became one with his bed and his bed with him. Reed was in maybe a few times. He had been kind enough to help Johnny get to the bathroom at least once, acting as the glamorous role of a bedside nurse he’d assumed.

 When the meds did start to wear off though was when the sticky haze of sleep Johnny was in became progressively more uncomfortable. The dull aches of his broken and bruised body transformed his previously dreamless sleep into a Top 10 Greatest Hits of Johnny’s least favorite parts about the fight with Galactus they’d just survived. His subconscious became more and more aggressive as the pain became more and more real, subjecting him to a terrible montage of realities where they hadn’t won, where they couldn’t save the world, they couldn’t save Franklin, and where Sue’s lifeless body remained cold on the pavement as the world crumbled and disintegrated around them.

 Johnny was flying through the air, pushing his body to its limits. The flames of his fire were dwindling beneath him as he flew out of the atmosphere, running out of oxygen to fuel himself faster than he liked. He’d practiced this over and over, desperate to touch the stars, to fulfill his own craving itch to be one with them again. Now though, it wasn’t just about him and how far he could reach for his own personal vanity. Ben was flying rapidly out into space, turning to ice and struggling to breathe already, having been flung (or yeeted) by Galactus like he was a children’s toy that weighed nothing. Ben was flying, and he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. It was now or never for Johnny to reach out and touch the stars, to touch Ben, he was right there, right in his grasp, right at the tip of his fingers.

 His flames flickered. The propulsion ceased. Air escaped his lungs. The very fingertips of his white gloves scraped Ben’s stony, frozen hand, but just barely couldn’t reach.

 Ben began floating further and further away, drifting further out into space than Johnny had ever gone, but Johnny could swear he heard Ben calling out to him. Panicked, Johnny desperately tried to pull anything from within, ignoring the furious pain his body as he also began freezing over. His chest ached, begging for oxygen the thin vacuum of space greedily stole from him, but he ignored it and tried to focus any reserves he had left into trying to propel himself just a little further towards where Ben was disappearing, still calling out to him.

 Nothing was working though. He couldn’t conjure any flames. He couldn’t stop Ben’s ascent into the void of space. He couldn’t do anything as he began to float adrift himself, suffocating and useless, turning to watch as the Earth below him suddenly began to glow an unusual cherry red before a furious engine whirred through it entirely, and consumed the planet, his home, his people, his family, from the inside out. And all he could do now was watch, body aching and broken, suffocating and freezing, arm outstretched to the nothingness that once was his home.

 “Johnny!” Ben actually called out to him.

 His blue eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up in bed, his breathing ragged, shallow, and painful as his cracked and bruised ribs cried in a mimicry of being suffocated in space. Johnny’s one hand that was free of any cast immediately latched onto the sleeve of Ben’s shirt, his foggy brain needing something to touch to ground him…and to convince himself that Ben wasn’t still floating away.

 “Easy, kid,” Ben was saying, tone gentle and soothing. “It was just a dream. You’re okay now.”

 One of Ben’s larger hands came to rest on Johnny’s uninjured shoulder, helping more in grounding Johnny back into reality, even as painful as the present state of his body was. Looking up, Johnny met Ben’s eyes and found a mix of concern there, but also certainty that Ben knew exactly what was going on. No doubt, the effects of the last few years of their lives had been a ripple felt uniquely by all of them. This traumatic occurrence would be no different.

 “We’re okay,” Ben said, quiet, confident, assured.

 Johnny managed to nod his head in acknowledgment. He exhaled shakily, his ribs still furious at the motion, but becoming less so as he inhaled again, slower this time. After a few measured breaths, the dream became less real, and his white knuckled grip on Ben’s sleeve released.

 Satisfied Johnny wasn’t going to lose his shit, Ben gave him a grunt of approval as he gave the kid’s shoulder a gentle pat. “Here,” he said, leaning over to the bedside shelf and retrieving a cup before presenting it to Johnny. “Drink.”

 “Thanks,” Johnny croaked, his voice resisting working after having been unused for several hours.

 He had been anticipating just a glass of water, so he was perturbed when the sugary tang of fruit hit his tastebuds instead. His expression was no doubt telling of his shock when he pulled away from the straw, getting a chuckle from Ben.

 “Relax, Matchstick. It’s just strawberry and banana. It’s not going to bite ya,” Ben said.

 Johnny couldn’t resist smiling along with Ben, but he did give the bigger man’s arm a playful shove before he went back to drinking his surprise smoothie. Obviously, his ‘shove’ did nothing to move the stone man, but Ben was kind enough to mimic the motion of being jostled, rocking to one side dramatically before settling upright again.

 When Johnny made to set back against his pillows, he cringed in pain, his body protesting at the movement. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, groaning in discomfort as no sensation, breathing, not breathing, resting, not resting, none of it made a difference.

 “Where does it hurt?” Ben questions, watching with concern as Johnny tried to balance between careful, shallow breathing, and leaning back slowly against his pillows.

 “Yes,” Johnny answered, his eyes squeezed closed as he tried not to think about the pain. His spine was apparently okay, but very, very bruised. That injury, combined with his cracked ribs, made existence feel pretty miserable right about now.

 Ben just huffed a laugh and shook his head. Once Johnny had seemingly settled into a resting position that wasn’t causing immense amounts of pain, Ben carefully reached around the younger man and adjusted the remaining pillows around him in an attempt to make him marginally more comfortable. It was a sweet gesture, but Johnny wasn’t sure there was anything that would alleviate the pain…besides being too unconscious to feel anything, that is.

 “Finish your smoothie,” Ben insisted as he stuffed a fluffed pillow under Johnny’s casted arm. “If you can keep it down and get through a session with Doctor Reed, he’ll get you more of the good stuff.”

 Johnny hummed. “The good stuff.”

 Getting more of the superhuman pain medication sounded pretty damn good right about now. Johnny drank his smoothie as quickly as his stomach would allow, which wasn’t as fast as he wanted, but his stomach wasn’t exactly thrilled about all the pain he was in either. Gambling the risk of tossing back up the next best shot he had at more medication kept him mindful of each roll of his gut, making himself drink slower.

 “How are you feeling?” Johnny asked on the next occasion that he took a break from his drink, his stomach considering the protest.

 Ben, who had finished propping Johnny up with pillows and covering the younger man’s lower half with a blanket, looked a bit surprised by the question as he sat back on the edge of Johnny’s bed. “I’m in one piece, ain’t I?” He replies with a half-hearted smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 Johnny gives his friend a knowing look. That’s not what Johnny meant and they both knew it.

 With a heavy sigh, Ben looks away, resting his elbows on his knees, slouching under the weight of a lot of unspoken concerns and who knows what all. “I’m tired, kid, but I’ll be okay,” he says.

 Careful not to push off the blanket that Ben so delicately covered him with, Johnny prods at Ben’s side with his foot that’s not currently in a boot. “It’s okay not to be okay though, right?” Johnny says, tilting his head to try and catch Ben’s line of sight. “You’re the one who always tells me that.”

 Ben huffs another laugh, a more genuine smile crossing his face this time. “Yeah, kid. You’re right,” he admits. With a deep breath, Ben straightens his posture, making him look more like himself already according to Johnny.

 Ben turns back to Johnny, smiling. “I’ll feel a lot better when we get the city and our house cleaned up again,” he says.

 Johnny has to agree. “And when we get H.E.R.B.I.E. back.”

 Restoring their live in, robotic household companion, and occasional space shuttle copilot, was on the top of Johnny’s personal to-do list. He had been responsible for the majority of H.E.R.B.I.E.’s physical and mechanical make-up anyway, with a few suggestions and tweaks from Reed, so it was natural that he had already assumed the task of putting their friend back together again.

 “Yeah, I didn’t realize how much I missed the little guy,” Ben nods, humming in agreement.

 The bed creaks at the effort as Ben pushes himself to stand. Turning back to Johnny, Ben reaches down and ruffles the already messy bed head Johnny’s rocking. “Call for Reed when you finish your drink,” he instructs, smiling as Johnny twists his head but is unable to really get away from his menacing.

 “Wait! What about the others?” Johnny calls out as Ben starts to turn away from him. “How’s Sue? And Reed? Is Franklin okay? And what about the city? How soon can we get out – “

 “Johnny, breathe.” Ben holds up his hands in a placating motion. “Everyone is fine. Sue is on bed rest too. Her ribs got pretty busted thanks to Reed’s CPR.”

 As if triggered by the mere mention of his sister being also hurt, Johnny’s ribs randomly shoot pain through his own body, choosing to sympathize with Sue in the most uncomfortable way possible. Johnny stifles his pain to be just a groan and a cringe, going back to his drink with a renewed desire to finish it and obtain more medication.

 “Reed is being his normal, worrying self, which is a good sign, all things considering, and Franklin’s perfectly healthy, according to all of Reed’s tests,” Ben continues, not missing Johnny’s pain but unable to do more to help. “And the city is still standing for now. They’re doing surprisingly well without us so far.”

 Ben’s expression changes to one that Johnny recognizes as the closet to what he imagines Ben would look like if he were to try and insist on a household rule to a child. Johnny immediately hates when that expression is directed at him.

 “But you’re not allowed to even consider any public service until that cast is off,” Ben insists, pointing at Johnny’s accursed limb stuck behind its hardshell cast.

 Johnny groans. He goes to dramatically roll his head with his eyes, but his spine protests the action, and he ends up hissing in pain instead.

 “Exactly,” Ben says, smirking knowingly. “Rest up, hothead. It’s the fastest way through this.”

 With that, Ben turns and walks out of Johnny’s room, leaving Johnny to finish his special drinky drink and then have another check-up with Doctor Reed, the habitual worrier. Maybe he can manage to squeeze in a shower between his appointment and his inevitable return to bed.

 Judging by how it was late afternoon outside of his bedroom window when he’d first gone to bed, and how now it was a light, dusky blue as the sun began to rise on a new day over the city, Johnny would reckon to say it’s been a few hours and he could probably benefit from getting cleaned up a little more than his quick rinse when they’d first gotten back and stripped of their uniforms.

 So goes Johnny’s life. He makes it downstairs to Reed’s lab, where he gets confirmation that his body is at least not worse than it was, even if it hasn’t gotten better yet either. He was administered more meds, snuck in a quick shower where he pointedly avoided looking at the state of his black and blue bruised body, confirmed with his own eyes that Franklin and his sister, both sleeping in their room, were well and alive, and then returned to his own bed that was becoming more like a cocoon with the way the pillows and blankets were surrounding him in his desperate chase for support that didn’t make his body feel quite so horrendous. Once the medication kicked in though, it didn’t matter how he was supported or not, he was lost in the void of a dreamless respite.

 Another indeterminate amount of time was sacrificed to the abyss of sleep. Much like the first time around, it was comfortable, restful even, until the pain medication began to wear off.

 It felt as if the second his traitorous subconscious had something to latch onto, like full body pain, it immediately launched him straight into nightmares made up of new and old stressors and fears. Everything and anything, from his childhood to their most recent battles, was free game to his pained body and mind.

 One moment, he was in the car accident that had killed his mother. The next, he was in the cosmic storm that changed their DNA. In another dream, Galactus had crushed them when they boarded his ship, but then it changed to look like New York, and Galactus was winning. Every which way, for what felt like an endless stretch of time, Johnny was constantly struggling, fighting, failing inside his own mind, paralyzed inside his own nightmares.

 He was soaring high above the nighttime cityscape he knew so well. The wind was rushing past him as he glided through the cool, winter air. It was late, but the world below him was awake and lively regardless. Festivities and parties seemingly lit up every building. It was New Year’s Eve, and everyone was celebrating.

 The countdown begun. The chorus of the city that he knew were so far below him also somehow equally sounded like they were chanting right in his ear.

 “10! 9! 8!”

 Johnny remembered this moment. It was the first New Year’s after the space launch. They had only debuted as the Fantastic Four a few months prior, but already people were celebrating them as heroes. Johnny had wanted to be among them on this night.

 “7! 6! 5!”

 Unfortunately, criminals and ne’er-do-wells don’t take breaks for the holidays, and Johnny remembered he was supposed to be chasing down the Red Ghost’s Apes that had made off with a couple dozen duffle bags full of important research materials and artifacts that had been on display at the local museum of science.

 “4! 3! 2!”

 He focused as best he could at the maze-like city below, willing his eyes to pick out any movement that could be the apes moving through the streets. He remembered he had zeroed in on them eventually, but felt like he couldn’t this time for some reason. The world beneath him was too confusing, it kept all blending together, moving too fast, he was losing his place.

 “1! Happy New Year!”

 Johnny remembered suddenly what else happened that night.

 All at once, colorful flames came rocketing from the rooftops he was flying over, shooting right for him. Johnny dodged left, barely missing the whistling rocket that screamed past him, exploding into a beautiful firework array inches above his head.

 Before he could register the firework he had only just barely avoided, another two were coming up from his right. He sped up his flight through the air, weaving away from the different fireworks that were being set off at random, listening as people cheered and sang, ringing in the New Year with their festivities. He wondered if they thought he was just a part of their fireworks shows on purpose, or if they could see him panicking.

 More fireworks shot up all around him as he flew in evasive maneuvers around the city. He was still trying to look for the giant apes. He knew it was important he not let them get away. He knew he didn’t want to let his team down. Despite his best efforts to keep searching the city though, he was constantly being forced to out run an impossible number of fireworks shooting out all around him.

 This was not how he remembered this moment. He definitely knew there had been some fireworks that he had to avoid, but he swore it wasn’t this many.

 Constantly weaving in and out of the blindingly colorful explosions happening all around him was exhausting. Johnny began breathing hard, his chest aching with effort, feeling like he was on the tail end of a double marathon instead of just flying.

 Had he been fighting before this moment? Is that why he felt like his body was tired and achy already? Maybe that would explain why his movements even in the air felt more sluggish and clunky than he remembered them really being. But he swore he hadn’t been fighting before this, had he?

 There was a whistling noise before pain erupted in his shoulder as the inevitable firework he definitely remembered from that night finally hit home. He cried out, pulling his damaged arm closer to his body in a desperate hope it would make the pain stop if he protected himself. The flames carrying him through the sky flickered and dwindled out around him, and Johnny felt as he began to fall to the ground, a sea of colorful fireworks still whizzing past him as he started to plummet.

 Suddenly, it wasn’t New Year’s anymore. It was Galactus.

 Johnny had just flown in with Ben through the atmosphere, turning them both into an asteroid that ran straight into the Death Star knockoff’s jaw. It had been successful if only of freeing Reed who had gotten himself in a terrible bind, and also in forcing Ben to comply with saying his iconic line. But now, they were hurtling towards the unforgiving, unmoving Earth, and Johnny knew it was going to hurt.

 The cement approached too fast. He couldn’t slow his descent. He closed his eyes and braced.

 Hitting the asphalt road of the city was a feeling Johnny couldn’t really equate to anything else. He’d fallen out of plenty of trees and off of various high places he probably shouldn’t have been as a young kid. When he’d first been trying to figure out how to fly via the propulsion of his flames, he accidentally knocked into a good number of walls, bumped ceilings, and even dropped to the ground too rough several times to know well enough that it could hurt.

 The feeling of hitting concrete and bouncing though, was a unique pain.

 Gasping for breath, Johnny’s eyes flew open, and he was back in his bedroom. Or still in his bedroom, given that he had technically never left it.

 His whole body radiated in pain, his breathing shuddering as his ribs protested the heaving of his lungs. The pain medication had definitely worn off again.

 It took some time and a lot of steady breathing, but eventually Johnny was able to get himself sat up and more awake. The more the dreams were replaced by the grounding nature of reality, the more the pain dulled to something more manageable. It wasn’t healed, and it certainly wasn’t pleasant, but he wasn’t dying either, so he’d count that as a small victory.

 Carefully, Johnny got out of bed. It appeared to be late afternoon, according to the sunlight streaming in his bedroom and by the way his stomach growled, his breakfast smoothie long gone by now.

 It was slow, hindered by the damned cast on his arm and the clunky walking boot on his leg, but Johnny managed to dress himself in fresh clothes and get himself settled into his sling. Even if it was just swapping out pajamas for sweats, it made him feel more awake and alive. A little less sleep rumpled, as it were.

 Braving the rest of the house, Johnny made his way down the hallway that was deceivingly intact. It wasn’t until he made it to the end of the hall that opened up into a balcony that overlooked their living room that the destruction was apparent. Surprisingly though, it appeared already not as bad as Johnny first remembered it being. The stairway was at least clear, save the baby gate still in place, guarding the top.

 It was slow goings down the stairs. Each step was enough to irritate his ribs and spine, making the process unpleasant. Johnny considered the potential of getting more superhuman pain meds after eating, but the thought of more nightmares sounded equally awful to endure. Food first, maybe medication later. One thing – and one step – at a time.

 Eventually, through the power of careful breathing and a lot of leaning on the railing, Johnny made it to the bottom of the stairs, where more destruction could be found. He watched his feet…or his one foot that wasn’t encased in a heavy walking boot currently, careful to look out for any glass or otherwise dangerous rubble that hadn’t been swept up yet.

 Surprisingly though, it looked as if a cleaning crew of sorts had already been through for the stray debris. The big things were still thoroughly busted, like the glass wall that led to the outside balcony – or his launch pad, as he called it – was thoroughly shattered, the wind of the city still freely blew in. The conversation pit and associated fireplace in the center of the pit was completely lost among the chaos, the ‘pit’ being filled in now with chunks of the ceiling that had fallen in. And the space they’d designated as the dining area was tossed and there were only fragments of the table left behind in the spot they’d once sacredly gathered regularly.

 There was no doubt in Johnny’s mind though that everything would be repaired and made new in a timely manner. As soon as Sue was back on her feet, Johnny was confident she’d take this as an opportunity to redesign and upgrade some of their interior designs. Surely there was a Sears catalogue she was browsing through right now.

 …And she wasn’t dead. He just kept reminding himself of that fact, ignoring the images of his sister’s dead body that kept violently pushing their way to the forefront of his mind, over and over.

 Leaning against the solid wall of their messy, but still standing kitchen, Johnny let the wind breaking into their living room help fill his aching lungs as he focused on breathing. His first instinct was to go to Sue’s room. To go verify that she was okay with his own eyes. To confirm that nothing had happened while he was in a medically induced bed rest. His anxieties were insisting that he couldn’t be positive she was okay unless he saw it with his own eyes, like Schrödinger damned cat.

 “Johnny, are you alright?” Reed’s voice suddenly questioned, startling Johnny both out of his anxious spiral and within an inch of his life.

 Looking up, Johnny was met with the sight of Reed, looking extremely concerned as he surveys his brother-in-law’s physical state, cradling a sleeping Franklin close to his chest. Johnny wondered if Reed was even aware that he was gently swaying back and forth, or if the constant rhythm he fell into whenever he held his son was simply second nature now.

 Realizing that Reed was waiting for a response, Johnny quickly flashed a smile that he hoped looked believable. “Never better,” he said, unbelievably.

 “What are you doing up?” Reed continued, not giving much thought to Johnny’s lame lie. “You’re still supposed to be on bed rest.”

 Johnny tried to shrug in response, but immediately regretted the movement that pulled at both his swollen shoulder and banged up ribs. After taking a moment to cringe and hiss at the pain, clutching his chest with his free arm, he looked back to Reed – who looked even more concerned now – and shot him an even more bullshit smile. “Just thought I’d take a stroll, stretch the legs a bit, survey the damage,” he says.

 “And clearly that’s going well,” Reed states, deadpanning without even meaning to as he’s so apt to do.

 “Mm, just peachy,” Johnny hums. Letting go of his useless hold on his own ribs, Johnny reaches out his hand and gently pets at Franklin’s hair, noting to be careful to not disturb the sleeping baby resting against Reed’s chest. “How’s the little magical guy doing?” Johnny asks, grateful for the distraction off of himself.

 Reed shuffles closer to Johnny, turning so he can better see Franklin’s sleeping face for himself. “All of my observations and tests have come back completely normal. He is still not displaying any signs of anomalies somehow,” Reed replies, while also looking down at his sleeping son in his arms. “Whatever the source of his powers may be, Franklin is certainly capable of hiding it, whether intentionally or not.”

 “That’s sick,” Johnny says, unable to contain his very real smile.

 Only when Reed shoots him a very confused look, does Johnny consider that his brother may not fully agree that such abilities would be considered as ‘sick’. “Come on, man. You made a freaky little space god that revived his mother and has the face of Gerber baby. You gotta admit, he’s pretty cool,” Johnny continues while rubbing the back of the said freaky little space god baby. But, based on the still confused glare Reed is giving him, Johnny imagines he lost Reed again somewhere between ‘freaky little space god’ and ‘Gerber baby’.

 Johnny just shakes his head and sighs. Pushing himself off the wall, Johnny leans forward and plants a soft kiss on the side of Franklin’s head not pressed into his father’s chest.

 “Don’t worry, kiddo. I think you’re a cool space baby,” he whispers to Franklin.

 If Franklin is aware he’s being discussed or spoken to, he shows no signs of it. Instead, Johnny’s sleeping nephew continues to snooze, drooling a little on Reed’s shirt, oblivious to the world around him, dreaming about whatever freaky little space gods dream about. …Probably eating.

 “How’s Sue?” Johnny questions as he hobbles his way slowly to the cabinet that stores his favorite cereal box within.

 “Sleeping, thankfully,” Reed replies. “I’ll have her come to the lab for a full work up when she wakes up next, but all her last scans looked perfectly healthy, save her ribs. She’s on bed rest, like you’re supposed to be.”

 “Yeah, yeah,” Johnny just waves a hand through the air, flippantly ignoring the concern. “A man’s gotta eat though, and I don’t have Herbert right now to help me out.”

 With the push of a button, the bottom of the cabinet drops down and exposes his selection of sugary cereals they keep well stocked specifically for him. Just as Johnny reaches for his go to box, Reed’s hand, far extending from his body, appears and grabs the box first. Reed’s hand removes the box, setting it down of the counter, before moving for the cupboard that store their bowls. Surprised, Johnny turns and looks at Reed, who is still gently swaying his son on the other side of the kitchen.

 “You don’t always need a robot to help you while you heal, Johnny,” Reed says simply. “Your family is here and happy to help too.”

 Johnny focuses on swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat and blinking back the wetness that stings in his eyes that must totally be from the stray debris or the city breeze in their living room and nothing else, while Reed easily finishes putting together the simple bowl of cereal, complete with a full glass of orange juice too. Setting both bowl and glass at the island counter where Johnny can have a seat, Reed retracts his hand and inclines his head towards the awaiting stool.

 “Would you like me to also feed it to you?” Reed questions. He sounds completely serious, like he’d be 100% willing to feed Johnny if need be, but Johnny knows that this is Reed’s ‘messing around’ voice.

 With a smile, Johnny hobbles over to his seat at the counter. “You make a great robotic assistant,” he says, winking at Reed. Reed just shakes his head and they share a laugh.

 The afternoon continued. The brothers talked while Johnny ate his cereal. Reed kindly updated him on everything that he’d missed while sleeping. Everything with the city, the press, the cleanup, and the family. They discuss the happenings of the world, although Reed does leave out some details, insisting the Johnny need not worry about certain things while he’s “supposed to be resting”, promising to tell him more tomorrow.

 They probably would’ve continued talking for a while, even after Johnny finished his cereal and OJ, but a pungent smell started to emanate from Franklin. Freaky little space god or not, Franklin was still human enough to need a diaper change.

 “Get yourself back to bed,” Reed instructs Johnny as he begins to walk towards Franklin’s room. “And leave your dishes, I’ll take care of them,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner and down the hall.

 Johnny just shakes his head as he slowly stands. He takes care of his dishes (such a rebel), and slowly makes his way back up the stairs towards his room. It was surprisingly easier on his ribs and spine getting up than it had been getting down the stairs, but his booted leg didn’t like this ascent this time.

 “Always something,” Johnny grumbled to himself as he heavily depended on the railing to help drag himself up each step.

 It took some doing, but Johnny made it back to his bedroom. Instead of laying down again though, he broke left upon entering his room, setting himself down in one of his chairs with a huff. No doubt, his body craved more rest, and sleep would come easily, even without any superhuman tranquilizers to aid him.

 Johnny ignored the lull of sleep that called to him from his disheveled bed however, thoroughly tired of just laying around, and also not particularly in a hurry to let his subconscious take the reins if he could avoid it. Another nightmare where he was in pain, the world ended, and his sister didn’t magically get revived wasn’t really something he would say he enjoyed experiencing over, and over, and over again, if he was being honest.

His body ached in both pain and with the desire to do something, to be active, to be productive. Johnny smiled to himself, confident that Sue was certainly feeling the same way right now if she were awake. Hyperactivity was a Storm family trait that might be better managed by some, but inevitably affected all.

 Catching his breath as he sat, Johnny looked to his window to see the city he already missed being a part of, being able to go out and fly around in. When Johnny looked out though…he saw nothing. Or rather, he certainly couldn’t see much of the city.

 His entire window had nearly been covered with notes, scraps, and papers, all detailing his progressive journey in deciphering an alien language. It had been the most important thing he was working on for the last few months, and now…he supposed it was just cluttering the view.

 A sadness crept over Johnny as he looked down to the floor. Scattered around the place was a mix of more papers and notepads, and the records that contained the deep space transmissions. All his effort, his desperate attempt to reach out and connect to Shalla-Bal, stared back at him. It was a Hail Mary he knew no one else saw the value in like he did, but it must have been worth it after all if Shalla-Bal had been so willing….

 He sighed painfully, looking back to the window. He supposed it was okay to disassemble his Rosetta Stone.

 Standing, Johnny made his way to the window, careful to avoid stepping on any of the records he was mentally kicking himself for leaving on the floor in the first place. He knew he could be such a tornado when in the thick of his thought process, but couldn’t do much to change it.

 Carefully, Johnny pealed off the first page that was a part of his mind vomit collage. It was all carefully organized in a way that had made sense to him, but to try to explain that process aloud to anyone else would be extremely difficult.

 …He wishes he could’ve shown Shalla-Bal his process. Would she have had corrections to his work? Would she be impressed at the effort he put in? Would she be able to add more to some of the gaps that his understanding still had? What more could she have taught him?

 Johnny finds himself swallowing hard around a familiar lump that had gathered in his throat again as he continued to disassemble his paper curtain.

 It was just such a shame that they didn’t have more time together. There was so much Johnny wanted to learn from her, so much he would’ve loved to show her. He wanted so badly to learn to break the atmosphere of space like she did. Maybe she would’ve let him study her board, or maybe he could have figured out how to make one of his own.

 More paper was unstuck from his window. A small pile was already amassing on his side table as he reached with his good arm, his bruised body protesting the stretch to reach the pages he had previously stuck so annoyingly high on the glass.

 Could he have figured out a way to free Shalla-Bal from her servitude as Galactus’ Herald? Maybe there was a way to reverse the Silver effect to her body? Would she even want that though? No doubt that was what protected her and allowed her to fly through space without any suit or other protection. It was a pretty sick power Johnny couldn’t say he’d honestly give up if he had it, but also Shalla-Bal didn’t choose to receive the power for herself. Not super willingly at least.

 There were so many questions he still had. He wanted to know everything about Shalla-Bal.

 What type of researcher was she before she had elected to become the Herald? Was she an engineer like he was? What qualifications did her people require her to get in order to prove she was a scientist? If given a chalkboard and time, would she nerd out like Reed did, or did would she prefer pen, paper, and tape like Johnny clearly does? What was her thought process when researching and studying? What was her process for picking planets for Galactus? How long did it take her to pick them? What made up the pros and cons for her? What could she tell him?

 …Why did she stop him from making the sacrifice? Why did she save their Earth? Why did she save him?

 He set down the last paper in the second stack he’d started on the floor next to him, sparing himself from hobbling back and forth when his first stack on the side table got too far away. When Johnny looked back up to the window, ready to reach for the next, he realized there was no next paper. His notes were officially disassembled – from the wall at least. His floor was still a mess.

 Looking out the window, Johnny could see as the afternoon was turning to evening, the sun’s light beginning to cast longer shadows over the city below. Life bustled on regardless of the hour though. Cars honked, people walked, and a few cop cruisers even flew by in the distance. Johnny could see where some cranes were being assembled in preparations for the clean up of the destroyed and damaged buildings throughout the city. Life really was continuing on.

 The world had almost been eaten, but it hadn’t. They had successfully saved every living creature on Earth with several failed, and one really, really lucky plan that nearly didn’t work.

 All those people saved, and none of them would have any idea that it was really Shalla-Bal, the one woman who had doomed them in the first place, that had really saved them.

 The light outside Johnny’s window shifted, and his own reflection staring back at him became more noticeable. He stared at himself, at his broken and battered state, seeing the tears he was physically unable to cry welling in his eyes that looked back him.

 He shook his head as he looked away. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she had to make that sacrifice. That she had to make another sacrifice, after living for centuries as a slave in her first sacrifice. It just wasn’t fair.

 Turning back to his room, a huff of a laugh escaped him as he saw that he really had made no progress at all in ‘cleaning’ his room. The floor was now only more of a mess and his side table was even less useable before with the various stacks of papers he’d gathered on either surface. He wished now more than ever H.E.R.B.I.E. was up and active. The little guy would be happy to help him get a box to put all this stuff into.

 With another groan, Johnny slowly sat himself back in his original seat. At least now he could see out of his window while he cringed in pain and took measured breaths, unsure of what hurt most throughout his entire, aching body. …But at least his window was cleared.

 It took a few minutes, but eventually Johnny caught his breath again, and found an angle in the chair where he could both breathe without feeling like his ribs were dying and also sit without feeling like his spine was going to collapse under him. Once he was convinced he wasn’t going to be getting a rerun of his sugary cereal and orange juice thanks to the pain he was feeling, Johnny was able to relax and take stock around the rest of his room.

 Picking up one of the various vinyl records from the floor, Johnny looked it over, inspecting the individual grooves that made up the different messages that Shalla-Bal’s planet had put so much effort into getting to her. He wondered what their process for their deep space transmissions had been. Was there any process to know where to send them out to, or was it equally a Hail Mary of trying to pass it along to someone who would know to get it to her?

 The thought struck him and he wondered if he could make a return message to them now? If he could share with them how he had passed along their messages to Shalla-Bal (excluding the part where he then proceeded to guilt the hell out of her with much, much different transmissions he’d found and how he now felt like an absolute monster for having done), that she had been a Savior in much the same way for them too?

 Maybe they could work together in looking for her – wherever she might be in the far reaches of space. Because she was still out there.

 No one had asked him about it yet, but Johnny was insistent on it. If Shalla-Bal had survived the initial impact with Galactus, then she still had her board. She could still escape where Galactus was stuck. She could get away. She could come back. Come back to him….

 Perhaps Johnny could convince the others and the city to let them add a visage of Shalla-Bal to whatever monument they’d no doubt want to make in memory of this ordeal. It would make sense, he thinks, seeing as she did make the ultimate sacrifice to make sure their cobbled together plan worked when it all looked like it was about to fail in the last ten seconds.

 …Plus, she was super sexy, so a statue of –

 His bedroom door slammed open so hard that it bounced back against the wall and nearly bounced closed again with the force. Sue had stormed in before the door could have potentially hit her though and was seemingly unbothered by the fact that Johnny’s door nearly came off it damned hinges upon her entrance.

 “Johnathan Storm, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sue demanded to know, fury dripping off of her every word, steam practically coming out of her ears.

 If Johnny hadn’t been severely crippled at the moment, he’d probably be up on his feet, and huddling in the nearest corner for safety from the wrath his sister decided to invoke upon him. As it were though, Johnny had fought hard against his own body to get himself sat in the chair he was now in, and didn’t think he could get back up with any sort of haste, so he defaulted to plan B. If you can’t hide…crack a stupid joke and hope it lightens the blows.

 “Hi. Hello. How are you?” Johnny began, deadpan, trying to be covert about how he really was fearing for his life right now as he faced down Sue’s deadly glare. “All of those are typical greetings one might use upon entering a room. Maybe you should try one of those next time.”

 Sue was not amused by Johnny’s joke. Her glare got somehow more furious than it had before as she took a deep breath, no doubt winding up for the verbal thrashing she was prepared to give her brother. Johnny just cringed and accepted his fate.

 Before Sue could get out a word of her assault though, an out of breath Reed appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

 “Sue, baby, hold on!” Reed was begging his wife.

 “Not now, Reed,” Sue replied, her icy glare never leaving her brother, as if pinning him in place more than he was already stuck there.

 “Babe, come on,” Reed attempted again. He was cautiously stepping into the room, approaching where Sue had stepped in, but was giving her a wide birth, aware not to try to touch his wife while she was in such a fury like this. Johnny thought Reed’s efforts were valiant, but about as worthwhile as a simple man trying to calm an angry lion with nothing but a chair to defend him.

 “You’re both supposed to be on strict bedrest right now,” Reed continued, “Let’s talk about this later – “

 “We are not talking about this later,” Sue bit back, her glare switching to her husband, effectively halting him and his slow advances towards her.

 Turning back to Johnny, Sue holds up a few pages of paper she had in one hand. “I want to know what the hell you were thinking, now,” she demands, practically slamming the papers down directly into Johnny’s chest.

 Luckily, the paper hitting him isn’t enough to jostle Johnny’s cracked ribs. How hard he flinched like a little bitch was though, so he tried to stifle his pained expression as he set down his record and instead picked up the accusatory papers.

 It only took Johnny a second to glance at the paper to know what he was looking at, although it didn’t exactly clarify the reason for his sister’s hellish fury.

 “Mission transcripts?” Johnny questioned aloud, still looking over the pages he held.

 During every mission, the same wrist communicators that worked to keep them connected and able to talk to one another during whatever was going down, recorded and transcribed whatever they picked up onto a computer back in Reed’s lab. This was for the purpose of being able to have some security and proof of knowing what they had done/said while on a mission so no one could try and claim otherwise, including themselves.

 The microphones on the communicators weren’t always perfect, and the computer didn’t always know what to make of the overlapping voices and other noises it heard, so the transcriptions weren’t the most accurate, but they were great when you could speak directly into the device. For the most part though, Johnny didn’t have much interest in reading back what they’d already lived through, so he didn’t have much to do with them.

 This time though, with the date on the top of the transmission pages indicating it was from their most recent battle with Galactus just two days ago now, Johnny really didn’t want anything to do with these.

 “I’m sorry,” Reed said to Johnny. “I had brought Sue to the lab to do a full body check-up and they were on the table – “

 “Enough,” Sue once again demanded, cutting off her husband’s words, this time with an extra flare of a little forcefield that blew a light breeze towards Reed, stirring some of the papers Johnny had stacked on his side table in the process.

 Reed looked as if he wished that Galactus would appear again and eat the very ground out from under him directly so he could disappear.

 “I’ll uh…I’ll just go check on Franklin,” Reed said, lamely excusing himself, scurrying out of the room as he cast one more sorry look in Johnny’s direction as he disappeared out of the door.

 When Sue looked back at Johnny, he couldn’t help but smirk and her, maybe out of fear, maybe out of stupidity. It was a tossup at this point. He wasn’t exactly known for his survival instincts.

 “I think you just made Reed shit his pants.”

 Johnny couldn’t have stopped the stupid comment from escaping his mouth if he tried. When Sue’s serious expression didn’t even so much as flicker in amusement, Johnny swallowed the remains of his smirk and quickly schooled his expression back into something more neutral, hopefully not looking like he was also about to shit his pants.

 “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Johnny Storm,” Sue started, her voice low and almost threatening, “pulling a stunt like that.” She pointed at the papers Johnny still held in one hand, her accusatory finger almost trembling. Johnny wasn’t sure if it was out of rage or maybe something else.

 More confused than ever, Johnny looked back to the pages. It wasn’t the entire battles transcript by the looks of it. It only took him another half second of skimming the page before it donned on him what Sue was so up in arms about.

 There, staring back at him from the page, was the telling evidence of his guilt. He had said it right into the coms, so it transcribed word for word, perfectly clear.

 JOHNNY: TELL FRANKLIN UNCLE JOHNNY LOVES HIM.

 Johnny remembered saying it. He remembered the moment very clearly. Less than 10 seconds to make it count, and one obvious solution. It had been an easy decision.

 What Johnny hadn’t realized was that Ben had apparently called out for him, begging him not to go through with it, according to the transcripts. The fumes of adrenaline and the rush of blood had been so loud in Johnny’s ears by then he must not have heard it. Johnny thought it was touching, but probably not the intended realization Sue wanted for this moment.

 “What were you thinking?” Sue questioned again.

 Looking up to his sister, Johnny watched as her fury was beginning to change. Tears were welling in her eyes. The determination that had blown her into his room was beginning to dissipate. It wasn’t really anger she was feeling, Johnny could tell. It was fear.

 Johnny knows he’s not the most emotionally mature, despite his age, his training, and his experiences through life. Still, trying to force this conversation right now doesn’t particularly feel like it will be fair to either of them, if he’s being honest.

 The weight that is the constant image of his sister’s dead body, lifeless and turning cold on the city streets, is still too fresh in his mind, still too mailable material for his nightmares. It had been so impossibly near to being his reality though, and only had been narrowly avoided thanks to whatever Franklin had managed to magically do in that moment. If Franklin hadn’t been able to heal Sue though, it certainly would have been an entire altercation to everything Johnny had ever known so far to this point in his life, and he wasn’t sure he would have been able to continue to live in such a reality.

There was still a lot to process with everything that had happened, let alone what could have happened, but Sue’s still glaring at him through stubborn tears that she won’t let fall. She always had been one for immediate action when she could. Rip the bandage off quick, and then it can be over.

 If Sue wants to rip off the bandage for her own satisfaction though, then it constitutes fair game for Johnny to let his own emotions – his own fear – get a bit mean too.

 Johnny sighs, cringing as he leans forward in his chair, much to the protest of his body. “I could ask you the same question, you know,” he replies. He holds up the pages for Sue to see them. “You’re missing a couple pages before this where you died, Sue.”

 Sue doesn’t even shudder. She came more prepared for this hashing out than Johnny had anticipated.

 “I didn’t know that would happen,” she shoots back.

 “Oh, bullshit!”

 Pushing himself up to his feet with a groan, Johnny rises to the challenge of facing his sister. He knew she was just afraid. He knew that this was just exhaustion and emotion bubbling over. However, Johnny was still Sue’s little brother, and while he would always be first to her defense in a fight, he was also always the first to oblige if she wanted a fight.

 “I was there, Sues. I heard Reed warn you that it was too much. He told you to stop.”

 “And I did what I had to get Galactus to that portal.”

 “And I tried to do the same.”

 “Johnny, you – “ Sue stops herself midsentence to gather her thoughts, blinking back the still stubborn tears that threaten to choke out her words.

 Her resolve returns as she pokes her finger harshly against his chest. “I made that decision to push Galactus knowing that I was leaving Franklin with his father and both of his uncles. And you went and nearly launched yourself across the whole damn universe with that monster.”

 “Yeah, Sue, and I would do it again if I had to,” he fires back, his voice elevating.

 “’Don’t say that!” Sue’s hand balls in a fist against his chest, pushing into him as tears spill over and down her cheeks. “Don’t ever say that, Johnathan.”

 “There was ten seconds on the clock.”

 “Stop it,” she tries to cut him off.

 “Galactus was going to escape the portal, and everything would’ve been lost.”

 “You don’t know that!”

 Sue grabs either of Johnny’s shoulders, her grip so tight as if she needed to prove to herself that her brother was still physically there. Her hold was hurting his injured shoulder, but Johnny didn’t try to stop her or shake her off. The feeling of her hands bunching the fabric of his tee-shirt, the burning sting of her weight against his injures, was grounding for him in his own way.

 “I do know that – “

 “No, you don’t! You can’t!” she cuts him off again.

 “And like hell I was going to let that bastard crawl back and let everything we’d done be for nothing.”

 Johnny takes a shuddering breath in, knowing he’d be crying now too if he could. “I knew…I knew I already lost you, Susie,” he admits, voice quieter, the fight in him unable to be maintained anymore against the weight of the truth of the reality they only just barely avoided.

 He can’t meet his sister’s eyes anymore, looking somewhere to the side of her to avoid her gaze. “I don’t know how, but I…I felt it. When you died.” Johnny swallows hard, fighting as the lump in his throat threatens to choke out his words. “And I knew that…if you were gone, I – “ he has to stop and take another breath, dropping the damned mission logs that started all this to join the rest of the mess still littering his floor in favor of clutching at his aching ribs.

 “Johnny.” Sue’s hands move from their iron grip on his shoulders to an extremely gentle touch around his ribs, concern now heavy in her voice.

 Moving his hand from his side, he caught up one of Sue’s hands with his own, holding it tight. The thought of how ridiculous they must look suddenly made Johnny have to laugh.

 Looking back to his sister’s face, he found no remains of the anger she once had, but worry and sorrow instead. “Look at us,” Johnny says as another painful laugh escapes him. “All busted up and bruised, arguing about who had the right to die for the world.”

 Sue smiles and shakes her head at this, a laugh escaping her too. “The average family argument,” she says.

 “Oh, of course,” he laughs along.

 There really was still no explanation Reed had been able to confidently give them to say why the cosmic storm they’d originally been caught in four years ago hadn’t just killed them when it really should have. Why it had affected them all so differently, making them into the controlled chaos that they just existed as now.

 Reed had theories, but nothing solid that would break down why Johnny’s DNA altered to let him burst into flames. All they knew now was that they could, and with that ability came the opportunities they had now to be the heroes that could rise to the unique challenges…like a cosmic god threatening to eat the Earth, for example.

 It also led to the absolutely ridiculous situations like this one, where siblings were still ultimately siblings at the end of the day, and their superpowers and associated responsibilities that came with them were just another thing to bicker and pick at each other about, just like who was supposed to do the dishes or whose turn it was to take out the trash. It all became par for the course between them in the last four years, so of course this was no exception.

 “Here.” Johnny began leading Sue towards his bed, one hobbling step at a time. “I think the doctor’s orders were bedrest for both of us,” he says pushing her towards one side of his unmade bed as he made his way towards the other. Sue just sighed, but she did cooperate, fluffing and setting up the pillows on both sides of his round bed, setting them up against the headboard before either of them sat down.

 It was a slow process, both of them with their hurt ribs making the goings slow and uncomfortable from start to finish. Eventually, they got themselves into Johnny’s bed, side by side, with Johnny putting his cast free arm around his sister’s shoulders to pull her in close so Sue’s head rested against his chest, his chin resting atop her head. It wasn’t super comfortable, but it was less uncomfortable.

 The two siblings lay together in comfortable silence for a while. Johnny couldn’t speak for how Sue was feeling after having had gone through CPR attempts, but he knew his body was tired of hurting already. It hadn’t been much more than 48 hours, but he knew the healing would be the worst part of all of this. …Along with the residual PTSD they all had apparently given each other that would follow them for the rest of their lives. That was just a special bonus though.

 Gently, as not to hurt her bruised body, Johnny squeezes his sister closer into himself, planting a kiss atop her messy blond hair. He feels Sue relax in his hug, her arm wrapping around his torso to hold him equally tight.

 They weren’t always the most tactile of siblings now that they were adults, but this level of physical contact carried no oddities to either of them right now. It was simply what they needed. To hold tight to the other, reassuring that they were alive, that their hearts were still beating because, despite everything that they had been through over the years to get here, despite everything they had been through in the last 48 hours, and despite whatever may come in the next 48 hours, they had survived. Somehow, the Storm siblings had once again survived.

 It was Johnny who broke the silence first, although he kept his voice low, as if he was trying to preserve the quiet of the moment still. “Do you remember when we first moved in with Auntie and I had nightmares all the time?” he asked.

 Sue hummed in reply. “You slept in my bed for almost four months,” she says, not in a mocking or belittling way, but mournfully, remembering her baby brother’s broken and scared heart. She presses her ear over his heart now, letting the steady rhythm and his unnatural – but natural to him – higher body temperature comfort her.

 “Every night, the dream was the same,” Johnny continued, remembering vividly the images his childhood subconscious had burned into his brain, night after night for months straight, and still on the odd occasion even as recently as his adult life. “The cops had shown up because of dad,” he says, closing his eyes tightly, memories and nightmares blurring together too easily still. “They take him away in handcuffs, but then they would always take you too.”

 Johnny remembers waking up, just a little boy, absolutely hysteric, completely besides himself in a panic that he had been left all alone. The only thing that could even remotely make him feel any sense of comfort and get him to calm down was curling up to his sister’s side, practically entirely hidden under her blankets, letting her rub his back in soothing circles while he clung to her like she’d disappear if he’d let go.

 “Do you remember what you’d tell me then?” he questioned, finally opening his eyes again as he felt familiar soothing circles being rubbed into his side.

 He felt Sue huff against his chest as she smiled. “I told you I wasn’t going to go anywhere without you,” she replies.

 “You promised.”

 “I did.”

 Johnny gives Sue a tight squeeze again. “If you had gone, Sue, I was going to go with you,” he admits.

 He feels as Sue makes to sit back because she wants to look at him. He keeps his grip around her firm though, not allowing her to move away, so he doesn’t have to meet her gaze yet. He presses another kiss into her hair until she relaxes back into his hold, feeling the way her breathing shudders in her chest as she tries not to cry.

 Resting his chin against her head, Johnny sighs. “Don’t go anywhere I can’t follow, Susie,” he whispers. He begs. He prays.

 “Okay,” Sue nods, tears drying against her baby brother’s shirt. “Okay, Johnny.”