Disclaimers:
Ultimate Fantastic Four, Mary Storm, and company are property of Marvel Comics and company. This is a work of fan fiction, no infringement intended, no profit earned.
Spoilers for Ultimate Fantastic Four end of #23 to #27.
Please send any and all feedback to Archiving is permissible, but just let me know where.
Drabble format, Rated PG13.
Categories: Angst and Introspection.
Thinking of You
An Ultimate Fantastic Four Fanfic
By Meiya Mie
Mary Storm had always been sure of herself. It was that confidence that got her accelerated through four year levels, and the Baxter Foundation.
Franklin was her lab partner. They battled and shared the top spot up until they dated and eventually married. How many other women can say they get married for their minds? Franklin was lucky enough to get her mind in a size two body.
Willpower is what saw Mary through. It was all she had to walk out on—no.
It's what it took to--no, not right either.
She would have gone back, eventually—no, they wouldn't buy that. She arranged for a 'proper' wake, death certificate, plot of land, even a casket with a body.
It was Franklin who cried when she first told him. Franklin always cried. She pursed her lips, gritted her teeth, and did what she had to. She did that often when it came to reminding him of the little details, passing on her 'instructions'.
How does she say it? She turned her back on—no. Five languages, a little bit of Latin, and she still can't find a way to say it without making her look bad. Never mind, this same bright mind thought of making her look as if she couldn't sort her way around a steering wheel.
She sometimes thought about going back. She wondered how she'd feel about seeing Johnny and Sue again.
The thought never clung onto her long. Mary vaguely remembered what they looked like. She had a picture in one of her drawers, she meant to take it out and put it on her desk. It held down some papers she meant to send to Franklin.
Those papers could wait.
At the corner of her desk, right after the incoming and outgoing papers was a music box given to her by Mr. Von Damme. She kept postcards in it, all of them with message after message scratched out or slathered with correction ink.
For all her will, for all the knowledge in the world and beyond, she finds herself at a loss in writing postcards.
"Thinking of"—No.
"Wish you were"—No.
No.
Back to work.
-END-