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i.
Johnny burns himself out.
He takes off before any of the others can stop him, fast enough that even Doom can’t stop him coming. It’s better this way, he figures, it’ll be over quick, if it’s him on one side of the scale and the world on the other it’s no contest anyway, and he wraps his arms around Doom like an embrace. Johnny burns and it’s an apology, almost, to his sister, to his father, let me do this one thing right by you, let me do this right.
It doesn’t hurt for long. He was right about that much. By the time Doom collapses in a smoldering heap, Johnny is gone, but that doesn’t matter, not really, not in the face of what he’s managed to save.
(Somewhere far away, Sue is screaming, and only then does Johnny realize that he’s left her on her own.)
But Doom gets up. He’s melted and ruined, even more unrecognizable before, but Doom gets up, and Johnny didn’t stop him at all, and how is he still aware enough to know this is happening? Because he’s dead, he’s scattered across the surface of the planet, he can’t protect them, he needs a second chance-
-the world thrums green green green -
-and Johnny’s ashes sweep themselves back together as the deal is set. He sets his reconstructed eyes on Doom, and he thinks, I’ll do better this time.
ii.
Sue’s precise. She always has been.
So when she comes back, once her spine finishes realigning and her neck unsnaps itself, she doesn’t waste her time. Maybe before, she might’ve been more cautious, might’ve tried to understand this new power before she moved to use it, but she can’t bring herself to hesitate now. Not with Doom paused on the horizon, and all of that potential swelling up in her, crying out to be used.
Doom halts when he sees her standing there, but then, that’s his mistake. He doesn’t get the chance to make another.
The spark trapped in Doom wants to come back to its source as quickly as it can. Still, Sue thinks, as she unravels it from Doom one thread at a time, patience is a virtue. Doom doesn’t make a sound, despite Sue unmaking him shred by shred. The process must be agonizing.
But Doom killed her, see. He killed her father. And Sue’s precise, but she thinks Doom deserves a little of that hurt for himself.
So Sue takes her time, and Doom’s energy takes the long way back to home.
iii.
“I’m not leaving you.”
The portal casts strange light across Reed’s face, scattering the shadows. Ben looks down at himself. He’s wearing the old environment suit, whole and unmarked like nothing bad ever happened while wearing it. Like transforming into a giant rock monster. Or taking a stalagmite through the chest. He brushes a gloved hand over where the wound should’ve been, and thinks that if it were up to him, he’d rather have his old clothes back, from before that trip to Planet Zero ever happened.
And then Ben really is wearing his old clothes again, like he remembers them. The perks of becoming the undead guardian of an extradimensional planet, he supposes. The old Reed would’ve probably chosen to focus on that.
This Reed ignores it. “Why did you do it?” There’s a wildness in Reed’s eyes when he says it, like a confusion, like a failure to understand. “You died. Doom was aiming at me and you died, Ben, why did you- why was I-” He struggles with himself. “Why?”
Ben doesn’t have the words to answer that. He starts forward, and Reed freezes, like he thinks he’s about to be hit.
Ben kisses him. Kisses him like all the unsaid things they’ve got between them. Like it’s enough. Like it has to be enough.
He has just enough time left to see the stunned look on Reed’s face before he shoves Reed through the portal back to Earth.
iv.
Planet Zero is not as it was.
The plant creeping over the ground is almost ivy, save for the shape of the leaves, but it crunches the same way beneath their boots. Spires jut out from the horizon, and the sun and its two companions hang steady in the sky. The exploration party murmurs amongst themselves, their flashlight beams darting from wonder to wonder, like they can’t decide where to look first.
Then a tall, familiar figure sprouts up out of the earth, taking shape before their eyes, and a world away, Area 57 collectively catches its breath.
The stooped posture is the same, but Victor’s eyes burn an alien green, and for the first time he looks almost at peace. And why shouldn’t he? It’s been more than a year since he was reborn. He has a purpose now, something to keep working towards. Planet Zero is not a place to be conquered anymore.
“Welcome,” Victor says, and the very air shivers in his wake.
v.
There used to be a somewhere else.
Doom is fairly sure of this point, though he has no real evidence to prove it. A gate must have two sides, after all. It’s only logical. Doom is very logical.
Fragments come back to Doom, now and again. Faces. Voices. Feelings. Nothing important. Doom only remembers important things. Even his own death and rebirth are faded sensations, beneath his notice.
Doom’s planet is empty. He knows this because he and it are intertwined, and absence echoes through him with every step he takes. This is a place of potential, raw and unformed. Doom could shape it if he wanted to. But why should he? It’s better like this. It can’t be ruined. It’s perfect. The same way Doom is perfect.
Doom is Doom. And he is all that is.
vi.
Franklin falls silent and the world falls away.
Distantly, he recognizes that Sue and Johnny are still clinging on to him, even as Sue’s forcefield reaches out to envelop them all. Franklin feels nothing, not even the pain of what Victor did to him. He thinks he might be beyond that point.
By the time Sue’s field lands, Franklin is almost gone. He can hear the children talking. There’s nothing he can do for them, not like this. But there’s a pull from the ground beneath him, like a heartbeat, like a promise on the verge of being made.
Franklin’s eyes glaze over. Just let me keep them safe.
And Planet Zero answers.
When Franklin gets to his feet again, Victor is the first to speak.“Franklin-” For the first time since he was recovered, he looks uncertain, but Franklin already knows what must be done.
“I’m sorry, son.” He reaches, and the light in Victor’s eyes dies out. Only then does he call Victor’s energy back to him, when he’s certain that Victor is dead.
No, Franklin amends, Victor was dead long before this. It’s only that he hadn’t realized it yet.
Later, he’ll have time to ponder exactly what kind of deal he made with this place, time to mourn and time to set things right. But now, holding Sue and Johnny close in his arms, like he hasn’t since they were young, all Franklin can think is that this was worth the trade.