Ultimate Fantastic Four fic
Aug. 17th, 2005 03:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardBand starts today! *carols* I mean, it's just the newbie marching, which I don't need to go to, but I got nothing better to do, plus marching! And I have my saxophone back, which makes me oh so happy.
And I'm officially a sophomore now! Yay, now I can order the freshmen around.
Also, I wrote my first Ultimate Fantastic Four fic. I think most of the people on my f-list are actually DC people - *glare* - but I'm a tried and true Marvel girl, and I recently got into comics after lurking around on scans_daily for a year or so. Actually spent money on, I mean. Anyway, the Ultimate line is awesome, and I cannot pimp it enough, and I'm going to be all out of money even before the fall books come out (including S.M. Stirling, Diana Gabaldon, Tamora Pierce, and George R.R. Martin's new books) if I keep buying the TPBs.
Anyway, this is a UFF fic, untitled, just a Reed and Ben moment. A little UFF canon, a little movie nod, and two friends. Takes place between #12 and #13, or between the second and third TPBs.
Most nights, Reed can’t sleep more than a few hours. He lies back and recites the Periodical Table or the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen effect to himself, but sleep refuses to find him and he inevitably finds himself leaving Sue dead to the world in their bed, padding noiselessly down the hall to his lab. He passes faceless Army soldiers, none of which offer him even a nod in passing. Once upon a time he’d tried to learn their names, to talk with them, but they’d barely acknowledged his existence, looking off across the hall and fondling their M-16s as he spoke.
Today he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and shoves his pass card toward the reader at the door. It slides silently open, a security feature only activated after ten o’clock in the evening, and he walks in to find Ben staring at the scans up on the wall.
“Ben,” he says in surprise. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”
Ben turns him, and Reed has to steel himself as always against the inevitable flinch. “I could ask you the same thing,” he rumbles. “Ain’t you got Sue waiting in your bed for you? What’re you doing here?”
There’s a familiar flare of surprised pleasure in his chest at the mention of Sue – sometimes he still can’t believe he has her. Sue Storm. The realization, old as it is, still makes him giddy. He feels a blush heat his cheeks, even as he shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep,” he says, “and I thought I might as well get some work done.”
“You and your work,” Ben snorts.
Reed walks toward his computer to turn it on. “But what about you?” he says. “You need your sleep –”
Ben shrugs, a massive movement accompanied by a sound like grinding stone. “The Human Toaster Oven fell asleep in my room when we were playing X-box,” he says. “I didn’t wanna keep going, wake him up.”
“You still have your soft touch,” Reed says, amused. He remembers another Ben Grimm, one who turned his attention and protection on a young and misfit Reed Richards, and how that younger Reed had flourished under that attention.
Ben grins sheepishly. At least Reed thinks he does – it’s hard to tell any expression at all from his rocky features. “Aw…the kid was snoring so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. Hey – explain this shit to me, will you? It’s all written in nerdish and I don’t get it.”
Reed hides his delight. He has his Ben back again, a joyous occurrence after the neuroses that followed the Van Damme affair. “Well,” he says, “these are Johnny’s scans.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Ben nods. “What with the jets of flame and all.”
Reed blinks. “Well…yeah. He’s kind of hard to read because he superheats – I think he might be able to supernova, but we haven’t experimented with it yet, so I don’t know for sure, but –”
“Wait,” Ben says. “Back up. Supernova?”
He frowns. “Superheats,” he says finally. “To about 4000˚ Fahrenheit. That’s the temperature of the sun. If Johnny did that, he could light the atmosphere on fire.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“It would probably kill us all.”
“Ah,” Ben nods. “A bad thing.”
“Yes.” Reed taps his fingers on his computer monitor thoughtfully. “I’d like to see it, but I guess it’d be kind of a dumb thing to try, at least out in the open. I don’t know if the shields on the Blast Room are strong enough, so I’m reinforcing them with some of the metals Mad Billy created, but it will take awhile to get finished. Once that’s done, thought I definitely plan to try and have Johnny go as hot as he can, as fast as he can.”
“What about that time when Van Damme’s little flying robot bugs attacked us? He got pretty hot then.”
“I don’t know,” Reed admits. “I thought that was his maximum heat, but he was able to get even hotter last week.”
“Oh,” Ben says. “When he passed out in the Blast Room?”
Reed blushes. “Yes,” he says. “When he passed out in the Blast Room.”
“And was unconscious for two days?”
“And was unconscious for two days, yeah. I think he’s catalyzing his calories in order to produce energy.”
“Huh?”
Frowning in concentration – he’d gotten out of the habit of explaining the technical terms the Baxter Building students and teachers had known – Reed says carefully, “He’s burning fat to power his flames.”
“This is bad?”
“Remember when he passed out?” Ben nods. “Well, what happens when you work too hard, or run too fast, or whatever, when you’re playing football?”
“You pass – oh,” Ben nods again. “I get it.”
“Yeah,” Reed says. “As far as I’ve been able to tell, the same thing happens with Johnny. With Sue, too.”
“You?”
“Strangely enough, no.” He hesitates a moment, then admits what he and Sue figured out weeks ago. “There’s nothing to burn,” he says.
“Huh?”
He chews on his bottom lip, feels it give and bend beneath his teeth. He can’t even chew properly anymore. “Sue put me in the bioscanner a few weeks ago,” Reed says. “There’s not – I don’t have any internal organs anymore.”
“What?” Ben sounds bewildered. He’d probably look bewildered too, but his rocky features can’t configure themselves into anything that intricate.
Reed reaches across the room to snatch up a printout, then shows it to Ben. “I guess it makes sense,” he says. “Like Sue said – where would my – my liver go, when I stretch? Or whatever I just ate?”
Ben pokes Reed in the gut – or what would be his gut – and it feels like being hit like a miniature battering ram, even though his stomach twists and bends back along with Ben’s finger. “So where does the stuff you just ate go?”
There’s no easy way to put it. He says, “I haven’t eaten since the accident.”
Ben gives him a long look. “Okay,” he says, “that’s gross.”
“It is,” Reed admits, “but it’s also the truth. I didn’t think about it until Sue pointed it out, but –”
“Hey,” Ben says suddenly. “Does this mean you’re heartless now?”
Reed thinks this over. “I guess,” he grins, and laughs as Ben slings an arm around his shoulders and rumples his hair, knocking his glasses off his nose.
And I drove for the first time today. Sort of. In our driveway. I didn't run over/into anything, though.
Two hours till band!
And I'm officially a sophomore now! Yay, now I can order the freshmen around.
Also, I wrote my first Ultimate Fantastic Four fic. I think most of the people on my f-list are actually DC people - *glare* - but I'm a tried and true Marvel girl, and I recently got into comics after lurking around on scans_daily for a year or so. Actually spent money on, I mean. Anyway, the Ultimate line is awesome, and I cannot pimp it enough, and I'm going to be all out of money even before the fall books come out (including S.M. Stirling, Diana Gabaldon, Tamora Pierce, and George R.R. Martin's new books) if I keep buying the TPBs.
Anyway, this is a UFF fic, untitled, just a Reed and Ben moment. A little UFF canon, a little movie nod, and two friends. Takes place between #12 and #13, or between the second and third TPBs.
Most nights, Reed can’t sleep more than a few hours. He lies back and recites the Periodical Table or the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen effect to himself, but sleep refuses to find him and he inevitably finds himself leaving Sue dead to the world in their bed, padding noiselessly down the hall to his lab. He passes faceless Army soldiers, none of which offer him even a nod in passing. Once upon a time he’d tried to learn their names, to talk with them, but they’d barely acknowledged his existence, looking off across the hall and fondling their M-16s as he spoke.
Today he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and shoves his pass card toward the reader at the door. It slides silently open, a security feature only activated after ten o’clock in the evening, and he walks in to find Ben staring at the scans up on the wall.
“Ben,” he says in surprise. “It’s late. What are you doing up?”
Ben turns him, and Reed has to steel himself as always against the inevitable flinch. “I could ask you the same thing,” he rumbles. “Ain’t you got Sue waiting in your bed for you? What’re you doing here?”
There’s a familiar flare of surprised pleasure in his chest at the mention of Sue – sometimes he still can’t believe he has her. Sue Storm. The realization, old as it is, still makes him giddy. He feels a blush heat his cheeks, even as he shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep,” he says, “and I thought I might as well get some work done.”
“You and your work,” Ben snorts.
Reed walks toward his computer to turn it on. “But what about you?” he says. “You need your sleep –”
Ben shrugs, a massive movement accompanied by a sound like grinding stone. “The Human Toaster Oven fell asleep in my room when we were playing X-box,” he says. “I didn’t wanna keep going, wake him up.”
“You still have your soft touch,” Reed says, amused. He remembers another Ben Grimm, one who turned his attention and protection on a young and misfit Reed Richards, and how that younger Reed had flourished under that attention.
Ben grins sheepishly. At least Reed thinks he does – it’s hard to tell any expression at all from his rocky features. “Aw…the kid was snoring so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. Hey – explain this shit to me, will you? It’s all written in nerdish and I don’t get it.”
Reed hides his delight. He has his Ben back again, a joyous occurrence after the neuroses that followed the Van Damme affair. “Well,” he says, “these are Johnny’s scans.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Ben nods. “What with the jets of flame and all.”
Reed blinks. “Well…yeah. He’s kind of hard to read because he superheats – I think he might be able to supernova, but we haven’t experimented with it yet, so I don’t know for sure, but –”
“Wait,” Ben says. “Back up. Supernova?”
He frowns. “Superheats,” he says finally. “To about 4000˚ Fahrenheit. That’s the temperature of the sun. If Johnny did that, he could light the atmosphere on fire.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“It would probably kill us all.”
“Ah,” Ben nods. “A bad thing.”
“Yes.” Reed taps his fingers on his computer monitor thoughtfully. “I’d like to see it, but I guess it’d be kind of a dumb thing to try, at least out in the open. I don’t know if the shields on the Blast Room are strong enough, so I’m reinforcing them with some of the metals Mad Billy created, but it will take awhile to get finished. Once that’s done, thought I definitely plan to try and have Johnny go as hot as he can, as fast as he can.”
“What about that time when Van Damme’s little flying robot bugs attacked us? He got pretty hot then.”
“I don’t know,” Reed admits. “I thought that was his maximum heat, but he was able to get even hotter last week.”
“Oh,” Ben says. “When he passed out in the Blast Room?”
Reed blushes. “Yes,” he says. “When he passed out in the Blast Room.”
“And was unconscious for two days?”
“And was unconscious for two days, yeah. I think he’s catalyzing his calories in order to produce energy.”
“Huh?”
Frowning in concentration – he’d gotten out of the habit of explaining the technical terms the Baxter Building students and teachers had known – Reed says carefully, “He’s burning fat to power his flames.”
“This is bad?”
“Remember when he passed out?” Ben nods. “Well, what happens when you work too hard, or run too fast, or whatever, when you’re playing football?”
“You pass – oh,” Ben nods again. “I get it.”
“Yeah,” Reed says. “As far as I’ve been able to tell, the same thing happens with Johnny. With Sue, too.”
“You?”
“Strangely enough, no.” He hesitates a moment, then admits what he and Sue figured out weeks ago. “There’s nothing to burn,” he says.
“Huh?”
He chews on his bottom lip, feels it give and bend beneath his teeth. He can’t even chew properly anymore. “Sue put me in the bioscanner a few weeks ago,” Reed says. “There’s not – I don’t have any internal organs anymore.”
“What?” Ben sounds bewildered. He’d probably look bewildered too, but his rocky features can’t configure themselves into anything that intricate.
Reed reaches across the room to snatch up a printout, then shows it to Ben. “I guess it makes sense,” he says. “Like Sue said – where would my – my liver go, when I stretch? Or whatever I just ate?”
Ben pokes Reed in the gut – or what would be his gut – and it feels like being hit like a miniature battering ram, even though his stomach twists and bends back along with Ben’s finger. “So where does the stuff you just ate go?”
There’s no easy way to put it. He says, “I haven’t eaten since the accident.”
Ben gives him a long look. “Okay,” he says, “that’s gross.”
“It is,” Reed admits, “but it’s also the truth. I didn’t think about it until Sue pointed it out, but –”
“Hey,” Ben says suddenly. “Does this mean you’re heartless now?”
Reed thinks this over. “I guess,” he grins, and laughs as Ben slings an arm around his shoulders and rumples his hair, knocking his glasses off his nose.
And I drove for the first time today. Sort of. In our driveway. I didn't run over/into anything, though.
Two hours till band!