Too Late

Written for the prompt : Fantastic Four, Johnny, Nobody knew he had kept the doll he found amidst the fallen building's rubble.

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Too Late

He'd torn through the remains of the building, searching high and low, desperate to find survivors . . . anyone, anywhere, someone to save, someone to say "You weren't too late." He found no one alive, no one left breathing, no one to forgive him.

He stood, breath heaving in and out, wanting to scream and yell and let everyone know just how unfair it was; how they had all done their best; everything they could to save people. If they'd known in time, known just what Victor Von Doom had planned . . . Lifting his arm up to cover his face, he wiped his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

He leaned back against the wall for a moment to gather his thoughts, collect himself before he had to face the world with his failure. His eyes settled on a small blonde doll, he bent down to pick it up. Not a Barbie, just some generic nameless doll from a dollar store, clothes home-made by a mother who probably hadn't been able to afford the real thing. Somewhere below the rubble lay the doll's owner.

Clasping the doll tightly in his hand, he wearily made his way out of the building, doing his best to keep away from everyone.


Months have gone by, rescues made, disasters averted, bad guys brought to justice, but every day he opens the drawer, shifts the clothes inside and reaches for the tissue –wrapped package at the back. Every day he unwraps it carefully and looks at the doll inside and whispers his apologies, hoping that one day he might be forgiven for not being quick enough that day.