Chapter Text
The months after the end of the world were a mess.
Buildings were in the process of rebuilding, the destruction caused being covered up with brick and steel. People were reuniting with those they had previously confessed their final goodbyes to in the frenzied fervour of imminent death. They moved back into barely standing homes and demolished offices, foraging the wreckage of their previous lives for anything of the past to grasp.
Even standing at the quieter piers of New York City, Johnny still heard the murmurs of a woman confiding her fears to her lover, a lost job during a period of global instability. A child wailed just within what Johnny could hear in his state of mind, despite his tries to shut it out. He never could, not now or ever before.
His sister and Reed were still working out the kinks of raising a baby boy and Ben had gone out to a ‘meet-and-greet’ at a middle school further downtown, no doubt pining after a teacher there… Probably the redhead he had caught Ben glancing at a couple too many times. Johnny couldn’t help but crack a faint smile. Ben, the kind and calm man that Johnny knew, deserved someone. And he knew Ben had gone far too long learning to stretch his rough skin around his larger heart to still fear connection. He wished him the best of luck, hoping that right now, in a coloured paper strewn classroom, he was having the time of his life.
The world longed for a semblance of normality, and they knew they had to build it from the ground up. The National Geographic had gotten to its feet and resumed the documentation of animals again, this time observing the ways the birds flew slightly farther east, flew lower as they migrated, as though they too feared the skies would crumble and the sliver of hope that had been gifted would be cruelly snatched from their grasps. The Daily Bugle redirected its focus to promoting volunteer efforts to rebuild broken communities and infrastructure, and influencers raised money for ravaged finances. It was almost heartwarming.
Johnny spent his days helping with the reconstruction efforts, whether it be welding concrete together with a concentrated flame or simply lightening the tensions of the construction workers with his iconic charms and winks. All between babysitting Franklin for a scientist who had taken up assisting roles in far too many projects and a sister who practically slept on stages and meeting rooms, preaching to cotton-stuffed ears about having more ‘empathetic’ governments and policies.
‘Of course, homelessness rates increased. People can’t pay for rent when so many houses were destroyed and landowners hiked up the prices for demand.’
‘Of course, theft increased— are you even listening?’
Johnny was never truly a pessimist at heart, but he couldn’t help the flickering of hope at some of the governors’ selfish complaints. Perhaps Sue was learning the art of ‘gentle parenting’ for Franklin through this. He could applaud her for her patience.
“Miss Richards—“
“Storm.”
“Miss Storm, we understand your concerns, however, many of our ministers have also been deeply affected by this ‘Intergalactic Incident’. I, myself, have lost two levels of my home—“
Johnny did not wish to replay that clip fully. He knew Mr Alderman owned another beach house the size of a golf course.
He exhaled, forming a cloud at the warm breath. At least politicians’ audacity stayed normal. He nearly laughed at the thought.
But nothing else felt normal. Sue treaded carefully around him nowadays. Nobody really mentioned it. It almost hurt as much as hearing it.
“Shalla-Bal.” Johnny let the softly spoken name linger once, then drift past the pier into the Hudson River.
Her name was a phantom now. Nobody in his family dared to say it, not around him at least. He wondered whether it was in fear of a breakdown they’ve never had to witness before, or it was simply an innate belief — say Her name and invite misfortune and conflict into the family once again.
The public never used the name either. ‘The Herald’, ‘The Silver Surfer’, never her name.
Even on his sickest days, he couldn't blame them. The name personified the very being that had threatened to end all that is loved. Her titles were conclusive. She had come into the world twice, bringing a fate far worse than death — She was an executioner, a Herald. Not a person.
Yet, with Her name so rooted in the crevices of his mind, he couldn't help but mourn Her. He still remembered the shine of her skin every time his flame flickered and his lungs burned from flying too far out into the atmosphere. And all at once, he'd be falling again.
Silently, he was grateful for the chaos of the new world. The construction workers he helped invited him out for drinks, Sue forced him into stiff suits for charity events, Franklin still giggled and cried all within a heart beat, and Ben still had an endless supply of quips. It all distracted him from the thoughts of Her death.
Death? Disappearance? Could she even die? Johnny couldn't care anymore. She was gone.
He didn't know why it affected him so much — Her sacrifice. The rest probably thought he was mourning what he could've never had anyways. Maybe. But there was something about the way she looked at him then, floating between the ozone and atmosphere. She, a woman with no impression of human customs and no experience of socialisation, had seen him. She looked at him like he was something more, more than The Human Torch, more than a man of science and flirts. It had exacerbated a fire, one that now felt like it burned his guts and caved his ribs into itself.
Ben just teased him that he got 'ghosted'. He laughed with him, knowing that Ben and everyone else knew that wasn't genuine.
He couldn't care anymore. There was something wrong, there always had been, even if they just noticed now.
So now, here he was, letting the night breeze trail his face and welcoming the cold to settle in as he strummed his fingers to a tune he couldn't name. The rails of the pier chilled his forearms, the wind messed his hair and the setting sun casted a golden glow that was slowly waning. He should start heading back now. It was almost time for dinner.
His feet stayed planted to the wooden planks of the pier as he simply watched the sun drown into the structures and buildings on the other side of the Hudson River.
He found himself taking these nightly strolls more often — sometimes strolls, sometimes fuel-burning flights after dinner to leave him so exhausted he had no choice but to drift to sleep as soon as he returned. It helped him not stay awake at night wondering what could've been with Her.
He told the others he was making sure the high crime stayed simply shoplifting and not murder, told them he was flying over buildings to make sure constructions were going smoothly.
It wasn't entirely a lie, but he knew he was fooling nobody. Still, they never questioned it. Beyond Sue's occasional nudges towards attending therapy, she never imposed anything. Simply requested that he never miss a family dinner. As if if was ever the one to miss them, that was her and Reed's job.
Still, he knew she recognised that something had gotten worse when he nearly sacrificed himself.
The Daily Bugle called it 'The Human Torch Attempts Suicide….', the International News Network (INN) called it a 'self-sacrificial move.' Johnny preferred 'heroism'. Besides, The Bugle wrote anything on their papers to stay relevant and the INN was infamous for stealing headlines and articles from indie news outlets. He was literally saving the world. Nothing more.
Sue didn't seem to buy that, but she seemed to shut up.
Johnny pushed off the rails of the pier and started walking, putting his hands in the pockets of his dark leather jacket — a beauty he'd thrifted from '89. Of course, Reed had engineered it to be flame-proof first. It would never survive a day of wear without.
He had another commercial photo shoot in the morning for some shoe brand he hadn't bothered to look up yet.
Johnny dragged his feet, not letting his excess energy show itself, allowing himself to hide amongst civilians. He still looked unmistakably like The Human Torch, no amount of gloom and doom could change his striking looks. But he hadn't put any effort into looking striking today. Not even wearing any article of clothing with the Fantastic Four's signature blue. He looked normal. Besides, paparazzi photographers should a better things to do on a Wednesday evening.
He navigated his way around blue cloth scaffolding and steel beams from the edges of dimly-lit construction sites he walked past, eventually making a detour for a couple kid — most of them looked younger than 12 with the exception of one who appeared slightly older — likely one of the younger kid's older brother. Nevertheless, they all wore equally dirty jerseys of different leagues. No doubt after an eventful evening of fooling around.
All they asked of him in the end was to retrieve a soccer ball for them which, unfortunately, got stuck on top of a very unstable, brittle tree. Johnny was almost glad none of them had tried to get it themselves yet, it would have surely broken somebody's rib when it falls.
He, of course, obliged — propelling himself upwards to grab the ball swiftly and falling back onto his feet gently. It was a simple gesture that Johnny did just to procrastinate going home, but the boys seemed happy enough.
After a couple pictures with the kids and an even shorter detour to a 24 hour convenience store to pick up the instant coffee that Reed had mentioned he needed, Johnny flamed on and headed towards the Baxter Building again.
He dropped to his feet on the rooftop, the original helipad now serving as his very own entrance. He made his way to the elevator, taking off his jacket once inside.
He never needed a jacket — he had his own internal heating — but he still wore one for its optics. Besides, what else would he do with all the vintage outerwear he had thrifted in his college days besides wear them? He didn't have the heart to sell them, though he was sure it would garner a pretty neat bid.
He went down to Reed's lab on the 33rd floor to hand over the grocery run (which consisted only of various brands of instant coffee value packs. Johnny didn't even have to think twice before entering, Reed was most definitely in the lab at this time. He was always the only one late to dinner with little variation in his usual pattern.
This time, however, when the elevator doors opened with a faint 'ding', Johnny was met by the sight of a stranger. Reed letsomeone else inside his sacred lab. It was the only plausible explanation given that there was no way the slender build of the man before him. Besides, even if the man was in dark attire fitting for a thief, no intruder would be writing stuff down on what looked to be some sort of form. It would probably be something along the lines of shoving shit in their pockets.
It really shouldn't have been surprising. Reed had new obligations as a father and as much as HERBIE assisted with the manual and mundane tasks of the lab when needed, Reed had mentioned needing to hire an assistant for a couple weeks now. But Johnny hadn't expected him to hire someone this quickly. Most of all, he expected Reed to hire someone they knew, like one of his colleagues or graduated students of a course he taught. Not really somebody Johnny had never seen in his life. Even if it was open-casting for the role, he expected Reed to scrutinise resumes for a longer time. And definitely not someone who looked as young as Johnny himself.
The guy didn't look like he belonged in a lab — un-ironed clothes that were faded with wear, weirdly long, dark hair that looked to be pulled back into a tiny ponytail that left a couple locks of wavy hair untied, and a set of deeply sunk eye bags. Upon second thought, maybe he was the perfect candidate for a mad scientist.
'Reed must've been looking for someone willing to execute the crazy shit he does sometimes,' Johnny figured.
The man only glanced up briefly before looking away again as Johnny stepped out of the elevator and into the lab to place the plastic bag of caffeinated joys down onto the coffee machine in the corner of the lab.
'He seems suspicious. Or maybe just shy,' Johnny corrected. Either way, the man was a stranger in his home. It irked him.
'Maybe I should say something first?'
He cleared his throat.
"Hey."
'Yeah, real smooth.'
The man looked up with an indiscernible expression before croaking out, "Hi."
It was silent again for a quick second before the man sighed, putting the pen down. "Sorry, I'm kinda off my game right now," he stepped away from the desk and closer to Johnny with an extended hand. "I'm Kajal." It sounded accented, so slight that Johnny couldn’t place its origins
Johnny moved forward to shake his hand, despite his suspicions. He was never really one to be hostile. Even if the last thing he wanted right now was a new person around. "Johnathan Storm. Call me, Johnny," he winked with his usual charm. "You're Reed's new assistant?"
"I guess so?
Johnny raised a brow with a faint chuckle of disbelief. "You don't know? Didn't it say on the application?"
Kajal ran a hand through his hair, brushing his hair off his forehead like it personally offended him. "I uh… didn't quite come in through an application basis?" He sounded unsure. Like it was a secret of sorts.
Johnny wanted to follow up. But as he glanced at the time on the clock, his thoughts melted away. Fuck, he was late for dinner again. It was ironic now, being the man who frequently attended late now when he used to be the one always early and helping Ben to cook. He might've overthrown Reed's lousy attendance now.
"You know what? I'll see you tomorrow. I'm too hungry to deal with this," Johnny muttered as he backed away towards the elevator again, leaving the mystery man in the dust. "See ya. Don't blow us up, yeah?" He teased finally before the doors to the elevator closed with another 'ding' and left the conversation behind.
He had to reserve his energy for dinner talk anyways.