Chapter Text
Reed stood at the top of the Baxter Building and looked at the stars. He wanted to explain how much the unknown fascinated him, and how his dreams had finally come true. He could reach the stars for real now, and even far beyond, into alien dimensions previously untouched by mankind.
Instead, all he could manage was a terse "goodbye" before ending the phone call, cutting his father off mid-sentence.
It was a small act of defiance, at least. Usually he would spend a lot of time apologising over any minor grievance his father would bring up, desperately attempting to end the conversation on a hopeful note. It never worked.
The first drops of rain began to fall as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. He supposed he should head back inside before it got worse, but he felt rooted to the spot, a sense of numbness creeping over him.
He liked to think he'd left behind the scared, pitiful child he once was. It seemed ridiculous for those old memories to weigh him down even after all he'd accomplished, the many brutal fights and life-threatening scenarios he'd survived.
And yet, one mere phone call was enough to send those familiar fears surging back, their presence as sharp and callous as ever. He saw images of himself curled up in his darkened room, hands covering his face as he rocked back and forth, trying to block out the rest of the world. Thin streams of blood trickling from his nose, bruises still fresh and throbbing with pain.
He knew he didn't have to keep in contact. The security measures at the think tank had only increased since the Fantastic Four had been revealed to the general public, and, oddly enough, it was those exact restrictions that offered him freedom.
It would be so easy to cut his family out of his life and pretend all the pain and humiliation had been one long, gruelling nightmare. He could put an end to his tortuous attempts to help his father accept and understand him. He could instead focus on reinventing himself, really lean into the Mister Fantastic persona, become the slick super scientist with all the answers, and a mysterious past that absolutely no one ever needed to learn about. The opportunity was there, so tantalizingly close, waiting for him to have the courage to take advantage of it.
The problem was that he couldn’t just leave his mother and sister behind. To act as though their love and acceptance meant nothing to him would be a cruel betrayal. The urge to forget them was a horribly selfish thought, lurking in the corners of his mind, refusing to leave, and always ready to resurface at the worst moments.
And there were other thoughts, even darker ones that he felt helpless to refute.
Everything would be fixed if only he would just die.
His father had always been disgusted at the weakness and abnormality he perceived in him; he expressed those frustrations through verbal and physical abuse. And he had other spiteful methods, like making a big show of praising Ben's athletic prowess in front of him, and emphasising what a great example of a real man Ben was.
But everything was different now, the accident had granted Reed immeasurable control over his body, made him immensely durable and granted him tremendous strength. It was common for his enemies to underestimate him, to consider his powers absurd, and he always felt a rush of triumph whenever he proved them wrong.
I could strangle him to death. And I could do it so easily. He'd never have a chance of fighting back.
A wave of disgust and horror engulfed him as the enormity of what he was contemplating fully sunk in. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the intrusive thoughts from worming around his mind, but they proved frustratingly persistent.
I'm not a vulnerable child anymore. I could show him how the tables have turned.
No. He could never go that far, not even under the most dire of circumstances. He was a superhero, dammit, and to commit such an act would be the complete antithesis of all that he stood for—
"Reed?"
He gave a sharp gasp and turned around to see Sue. She was lit up with the soft blue glow of a force field, illuminating her features with an ethereal beauty that he always found so mesmerizing.
The rain dripped off her force field in rivulets, and he abruptly realised the initial drizzle had gotten considerably heavier while he'd been engrossed with his thoughts. Sometimes when he zoned out the world around him seemed to dissolve into television static, and things like that ceased to matter.
"You've been up here quite a while," she said. "I got worried."
He ran his hand through his hair, which was flattened against his head by the dampness. "Sorry about that. I was just calling my parents."
"That was one of the main reasons why I was worried." She gave a deep sigh. "And in the pouring rain? Seriously?"
"Er, well, yeah." He had no hope of forming an appropriate response to that one. He was feeling more than a little foolish now, moping about in the downpour, on the very top of the building no less. Sue's presence always did seem to bring clarity to most situations.
As she moved to stand beside him, her force field expanded to cover him. Instantly, the sounds of the city faded into dull murmurs, and the world outside the shimmering dome was tinted blue.
He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the intimacy of their position. He recalled how just last week he'd watched in admiration as she'd toppled raging monsters and murderous doombots with the very force field they were sheltered under. To her enemies, that blue glow meant pain and destruction, but to him, he'd always associate it with comfort and safety.
"Better?" she asked.
He gave a sigh of content. "Yeah."
She glanced over the side of the building, taking in the sight of the glittering city lights. He started to follow her gaze, but he quickly found his attention wandering back to her face. Even now, he still found himself getting a little dazed with pure happiness at the sight of her. He'd spent so much of his life quietly accepting that loving girls was off limits to a guy like him, and solitude was the only other option he could bear. But then she had came along and changed everything.
"Well, it is a pretty spectacular view up here," Sue said, "and the rain adds a nice atmosphere. Still, doesn't the cold bother you?"
"I'm not sure," he said. "Sometimes it's difficult to process certain sensations, ever since the accident. Might have something to do with the lack of internal organs."
He'd intended the last part as a joke, but couldn't help but notice it came out as more of an unsettling non sequitur. There were still certain aspects about the nature of his body that he found difficult to get used to. Sue, however, just nodded sagely, as if he was explaining a common medical condition.
"That's interesting. I always wondered if low temperatures might hinder your flexibility or..." Her words trailed off as something caught her eye, and a look of frustration crossed her face. "Reed! Please tell me you're not reading those trashy magazines again."
He jumped a little, before casting a guilty look towards the rolled up magazine sticking out his jacket pocket. Another thing that had momentarily slipped his mind, even after he'd spent most of the day trying to work up the nerve to read it.
"Oh, that?" He took a moment to clear his throat as he struggled to think of a reasonable excuse. "There's an article about the Ultimates in there I wanted to check out, and I've always preferred reading physical print over—"
"Reed, please," Sue said, through stifled giggles, "you suck at lying."
He groaned. "Alright, fine; I heard there's something about us in there. And, well, it's not that I want to read it, but I figure I have to keep track of the team's public image. It's my responsibility as a leader, right?"
He regretted that last line as soon as it came out; it sounded unbearably lame and rife with insecurity. No wonder Johnny and Ben made snide comments about almost every plan and decision he made—how could you trust or respect a leader that made it so obvious he had no confidence in his own authority? Sure, some of it was just friendly ribbing, but the trouble was he could never tell for sure, and those moments of doubt all added up.
"It's not your responsibility to listen to the opinions of jackasses. Nothing productive comes from it." Sue paused, before adding, "I can't help but feel that's not the only reason you want to read it."
His shoulders slumped. "They've been doing a lot of digging into our personal lives lately. It's driving me insane."
"I know." She chewed her lip, frowning. "The media frenzy will probably die down eventually, but we'll just have to accept that there’s always going to be people out there incapable of minding their own damn business. Believe me, I hate it too."
"It's just difficult to ignore." The desperation creeping into his voice frustrated him. He tried again to keep his tone neutral. "What if they find out about..."
Dismay gripped him as he found himself unable to finish the sentence, causing his whole body to tense up. For a moment, he was terrified he would lose all cohesion, turn into a melted mess of elongated limbs, something barely human.
Thankfully, he retained his composure. He hadn't lost control like that since the day of the accident, although the fear always lingered in the back of his mind. Still, he knew the true potential his powers could offer him, the chance to be the man he always wanted to be. He couldn't bear the thought of all that progress being taken away from him by careless rumours.
"Listen," Sue said firmly, "they'll probably find some surface level info, sure, but no more than that. Then they'll get bored and go back to obsessing over whatever bullshit Tony Stark is screwing around with. The media is fickle like that."
"You're probably right." Reed hesitated, trying to think of the least accusatory way to express his worries. "I guess I'm mostly afraid of Doctor Storm finding out that way. You've never mentioned how he would react if he knew your boyfriend was trans."
It wasn't a subject he enjoyed talking about, and Sue was well aware of it. He suddenly found himself unable to look at her, his eyes focusing on the ground. Nervous energy coursed through him, making him quiver ever so slightly.
"It's not that Dad would mind," Sue said quickly. "Well, I mean... I suppose he'd make a big deal at first, and maybe even freak out a little, but he'd get over it." A distinct harshness entered her voice. "He'd have to get over it. I would never talk to him again unless he did."
Reed nodded, and forced himself to look up again. He wanted to confess exactly how fearful he was of her dad finding out, how much he dreaded hearing the inevitable accusation: how dare you corrupt my perfect daughter into a lesbian?
Because that was exactly how Doctor Storm would view their relationship, wasn't it? Reed had no trouble imagining that. And how would he even begin to explain himself?
It was all too much, and he ultimately said nothing. He managed to give a vague smile at least, and could only hope she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"If it makes you feel any better," Sue said, "I can assure you that Dad is completely oblivious. He doesn't have access to your personal information files or anything, all that stuff is still confidential." She gave a faint chuckle. "I mean, when I told him you and I were together, the first thing he did was take me aside and lecture me on the importance of keeping up with my birth control."
"Oh, God." Reed couldn't stop a nervous laugh from escaping. "That sounds mortifying."
"I know, right?" She rolled her eyes. "I just politely reminded him that not only am I twenty-one years old, but I'm also a goddamn biologist. Of course he got all offended, but to hell with it. He's supportive of my ambitions, but he's also one of those super overprotective dads with that fear in the back of his mind that I'll get pregnant to the first boy I meet and ruin my entire career. It's insufferable."
"He can be a bit of an ass." The words left his mouth without thinking, and Reed winced. "Uh, sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Nah, don't apologise. You're completely right." A playful grin widened on her face. "Actually, insult him again. I barely ever hear you let loose on someone. You should do it more; I bet it'd be cathartic for you."
"Sue, c'mon," he said. "I gotta practice staying on your dad's good side. I'm in enough trouble with him as it is. You heard what he said when I accidentally let some of those N-zone bugs loose in his office..."
"Ah, yes, how could I forget?" She shook her fist at the sky and took on a gruff voice in an imitation of Doctor Storm. "I'm going to kill that goddamn rubber man!"
She doubled over in a fit of giggles, and Reed couldn't help but join in; her laughter was just too infectious, and such a wonderful sound.
"It was so ridiculous," she said, after she regained her breath. "He was acting like a thwarted cartoon villain or something. I don't know how he expects anyone to take him seriously when he acts like that."
"It's pretty funny now that I look back on it," Reed said, "but I'll admit he did kinda freak me out at the time."
"Ah, right." Sue's smile faded, her expression softening with concern. "I just realised... Did his shouting remind you of..."
Oh. Somehow, it hadn't even occurred to him that she would pick up on that embarrassing detail. He had never told her the full extent of his family troubles, but she had continuously proved herself to be perceptive, offering him the chance to talk about it without needling him.
"No," he said, trying to sound casual. "Definitively not. He's completely different."
"Fair enough." She nodded slowly. "You know, sometimes I worry if I'm overstepping your boundaries—whether it's to do with your dad or you being trans. I'm far from an expert on these subjects, but I want to learn. You'd let me know if I screw up and say something stupid or offensive, right?"
"Sure."
"You promise?" She reached out to him with both hands, gently brushing her fingers against his arms.
He found himself—not for the first time—astounded by her patience. So many people from his past had made it all too clear to him what a difficult person he was to like or even tolerate. He'd come to accept mockery and violence as normal reactions to his existence. And those who did tolerate him only seemed to do so because of the benefits his intelligence offered them, never for him as a person.
"I promise," he said. "And, uh, thanks. I just... really appreciate you. So much."
Dammit. He could've sworn he'd been about to say something more eloquent than that, but the words never seemed to come out right. He decided that was another project he was going to have to work on: finding the right words.
"Well, I appreciate you very much, too." She laughed softly before leaning in and pressing her lips against his, and he was intensely grateful to find he had no issues processing the warmth of her kiss.
When she drew back, Sue looked out towards the city again, a small smirk appearing on her face. "You know, it just occurred to me that we're lit up like a neon sign up here. I really need to work on toning down the glowiness of my force fields."
"I love it when they're all flashy and bright, though," he said.
"But that's the complete opposite of stealth, and I'm supposed to be the invisible woman!" She grinned and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands away from his face. "Well, anyway. Let's go inside and get you dried off. I don't know if you can catch a cold or not, but no point in risking it."