Chapter Text
‘I will not sacrifice my child for the world. But I will not sacrifice the world for my child.’
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‘…I will listen to you tell me who you are.’
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‘If he were old enough, he would do it himself.’
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‘I will not sacrifice my child for the world. But I will not sacrifice the world for my child.’
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He has Franklin. Galactus has Franklin.
They’ve failed.
He’s failed.
Reed, ignoring every ache in his body, runs towards Galactus anyway – towards his son anyway.
His mind whirs, reaching frantically for any openings, any opportunities, any ideas, any plans, any chances…
…and then, a very familiar force-field appears, pushing Galactus back. Forcing Galactus back.
It’s beyond the limits of Sue’s powers. It’s too much for her, she’ll-
Reed looks around, franticness he cannot think about right now clawing and tearing at his insides.
(It barely shows on his face.)
Sue is only just crawling out of the wreckage of the crashed car, flickering in and out of visibility.
Likely concussed, some faraway-feeling part of his brain supplies.
She looks at the force-field too, recognizes it, and if Reed hadn’t already reached the correct conclusion, the look on Sue’s face, in her eyes, would be enough to get him there.
The force-field pushing Galactus back is not Sue’s.
It’s not her, so it must be…
Reed realises that he’s running as fast as he can, as The Bridge somehow activates despite the lack of anyone at the controls, as Galactus, as Franklin, approach the resultant portal.
The part of his brain not overtaken by that clawing, tearing, desperate franticness registers familiar presences joining him as he runs and stretches – Ben’s heavy tread, Sue’s light one (not as steady or constant as usual), the heat and light of Johnny flying, before he lands, offering an arm and a shoulder to Sue, who both takes the support her brother offers and runs faster.
They get close enough that they can see the purple in Franklin’s eyes…
(He has Sue’s eyes.)
(Franklin has Sue’s eyes.)
(Babies with his and Sue’s ethnic background typically have blue eyes at Franklin’s age, but Reed realises then, when he can no longer see them, that Franklin has Sue’s eyes.)
They’re close enough to see the purple of his son’s eyes…but they can’t get any closer.
They can’t even get to the force-field.
Something, some invisible force – and not even invisible in the way Sue is invisible – pushes them back.
It’s clumsy, but surprisingly strong.
(Like a hand reaching up to tug on Sue’s hair, or feel his Uncle Ben’s new beard, or out in curiosity when Uncle Johnny flames-on a hand, or for Reed’s face when he smiles, like he wants to feel it, in a tactile fashion.)
Reed stretches and twists himself, not even noticing the discomfort it causes (no, he corrects himself as he realises, pain, this sensation is pain), trying to get around that clumsy-yet-so-strong force.
Sue turns herself invisible, then, when that fails, attempts to counter it with her own force-field.
Johnny flames on and flies right at it.
Ben grabs a car, and then a truck, and throws it, as if to try and break that invisible barrier.
37 seconds. The portal will stay open for 37 seconds. They lost time running to The Bridge, they’re losing more time…they’re running out of time…
10…
9….
8….
And in Reed’s mind, that countdown ticks down as they try desperately to get through to Franklin – to stop- to prevent- to save- to – they have to-
3…
2…
1…
Galactus reaches out with a desperation that still cannot match the franticness clawing at Reed, but he cannot move against the invisible force – against Franklin – enough to escape, not with the time he has left.
The portal within The Bridge winks out, and Galactus and Franklin are gone.
Galactus is gone.
Franklin is gone.
Gone.
The world is saved, that dim and faraway part of Reed’s mind notes. Additionally, The Bridge works for far more than teleporting eggs several feet.
Reed has a sudden and inexplicable urge somewhere within him to destroy all the eggs in his laboratory fridge and all the eggs in the refrigerator in the kitchen (Ben insists on separation of eggs for scientific purposes and for nutritional purposes and Sue agrees), as well as the various egg-holders he created specifically for the purpose of testing The Bridge.
(It seems vastly inappropriately and anger-inducingly trivial and irreverent when the most precise location and most optimistic status for his son that he has is that he is alive somewhere out in the known-or-unknown universe.)
They’ve failed.
He’s failed.
Sue runs. Johnny flies. Ben’s footsteps thunder.
Oh, Reed realises, a second after he wraps his arms around his wife (twice around), they’ve all run to the centre of The Bridge.
There’s nothing left of Galactus.
The only sign he was here is the destruction he has wreaked on New York.
There’s nothing left of Franklin.
The only sign he was here is in their reactions, in…in them.
(They knew that, Reed realises, they already knew he was gone. Something inside them has told them that Franklin is no longer here, no longer in their reach, with complete and absolute certainty.)
(Yet somehow, they all felt the need to verify that fact, by checking and double-checking and repeating that process with all their senses.)
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He’s failed.
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Sue is composed and elegant and always so put-together. She’s calm and controlled in the face of almost everything.
Johnny’s big sister has always been like that.
(In the early days, after they got their powers, she’d controlled them first, soonest, most.)
(She controlled her powers, and used her powers, in the throes of labour, whilst they were being chased by an alien surfer woman who wanted to take Johnny’s imminently-expected nephew.)
But in the second or seconds after Franklin and Galactus are teleported away, Sue lets out a scream, raw and primal and seemingly endless, collapsing to her knees, flickering in and out of visibility, and Johnny feels a force-field pass over him and shove the truck behind him and Ben back a dozen feet.
And the next thing Johnny knows, he’s flaming off in front of The Bridge controls, trying to determine where the other end of that portal was, where his nephew has gone.
If he can just work it out, he can…he can go get him.
‘…if you flame-on, you have ten minutes before your oxygen supply runs out.’
Johnny needs fire to fly. Fire needs oxygen to burn. There is no oxygen in the vacuum of space.
Basic scientific facts, and Johnny’s never been stupid.
(He’s always been brilliant, actually.)
But he doesn’t care about the laws of physics – he doesn’t care that fire needs oxygen – he’ll work something out, he’ll-
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Johnny’s flown off in a too-hot fireball towards the controls, and now he’s frantically trying to work out The Bridge’s destination without frying the control unit – he’s still flamed-on from the knees down, but doesn’t seem to have noticed.
Sue’s still on her knees in the middle of Times Square, flickering in and out of visibility, and Reed’s wrapped around her, stretched out like he’s trying to shield her from the world.
‘…give…give me a lever, tell me where to stand, and I’ll…’
Ben, standing guard over Sue and Reed, hears Reed say that, clear as day, like he’s pleading with the universe, grasping desperately for something, anything he can do.
Sue’s voice, when she replies, is a little like her UN voice, all strength (immeasurable strength) and determination and resolve (nothing will stand in her way).
‘We will move heaven and Earth.’
Johnny curses, loudly, and there’s the heat of him flying the tiny distance from the controls to them.
He lands, barely, and says:
‘Reed, you track Franklin or Galactus or The Bridge, and Uncle Johnny’ll flame-on and go bring him home-‘
‘If you flame-on, you have ten minutes until your oxygen supply runs out. Your maximum speed of flight is-‘
Reed says that matter-of-fact, almost blankly and unemotionally and slightly condescendingly, falling back into the comfort of science and facts and logic like he does whenever he can’t deal with the emotions he’s feeling.
Johnny makes a noise of frustration at Reed in reply, and just takes off, flying towards the Tower, like he’s gonna do that tracking himself if Reed doesn’t get a move-on. He’s probably muttering that as he flies, Ben knows, and he ignores the half-reflexive shout of Johnny that the rest of ‘em call behind him too.
Johnny’s falling back into what comes easy for him, too.
Ben turns to Sue and Reed, holding out his hands to help them both up from the ground.
‘Take a moment, you two.’ He holds up his hands to forestall any protests from them. You need it, you two. Need a lot longer than a moment, but a moment’s all you’re gonna get, and all you’re gonna be willing to take. Ben reaches for a bit of that something that they all really need right now, something real familiar, and manages to dig it out from inside himself. ‘I’ll go make sure Johnny doesn’t get himself killed.’
(He’s falling back into what comes easy for him as well.)
Sue reaches for that something familiar too, and manages to smile a little at Ben.
‘Thank you, Ben.’
Reed nods a little, sort-of.
Ben reaches out, gently and carefully placing a hand on Sue’s shoulder and a hand on Reed’s.
‘We’ll find that lever.’
With that promise – and it’s a promise to the whole family, even if he only said it to two of ‘em – Ben takes off running after Johnny.
He shakes his head a little as he runs, a little bit of very painful-feeling pride bubbling out from inside him.
‘I will not sacrifice my child for the world. But I will not sacrifice the world for my child.’
Franklin’s his mother’s son.
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As he listens to Johnny, then later Reed, analyse the data they manage to get out of The Bridge – and wonder, a lot, how in the world Franklin - who is only just starting to support his own head’s weight - managed to not only operate The Bridge, but also reprogram where it was going, Ben realises that Franklin is also his father’s son.
World’s not gonna know what hit it, as the pipsqueak grows up.
He’s gonna come home and grow up, Ben is certain.
They’re gonna move heaven and Earth to make that happen.