"We're ready when you are."
Ready? She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready at all.
She'd had a feeling that she was going to die today.
She'd told Ben that she didn't want to get out of bed. Ben had told her that she had to go to the meeting with them because they were a team.
She'd told Johnny about the feeling. Johnny had stood on her bed, and forced her to go to the meeting with them.
Then she'd told Reed.
She hadn't meant to tell him. It was just a kind of spur-of-the-moment thing where she'd needed to say it to him. She wasn't sure why, but it was as if she knew he'd have some kind of answer for her - a reason why she didn't need to have a feeling.
He'd told her that he got them sometimes.
And that had comforted her, knowing that she wasn't the only one who woke up with a feeling. Of course, he hadn't told her that his felt like he was going to die that day, but he still woke up with a feeling that something, anything, was going to happen that day. A feeling that leaves you dreading it, and awaiting its arrival with such a sick anticipation that by midday, you're begging for it to happen just to get it over with. The waiting is so much worse.
Although, having her hand stuck inside of a living man's chest, touching a live explosive that could go off at any second if it moved in the slightest, and being told that she needed to remove it herself...that was slightly worse than waiting.
----
Johnny went back downstairs, finally arriving in the now almost deserted lobby. Walking away from Sue like that had felt awful - almost as if he were giving up on her, but he couldn't show that for her now. He couldn't show how worried he was, or how scared he was. He had to compose himself, go over to the others, and pretend that nothing was wrong. He had to pretend that it was someone else up there; someone else holding that bomb. Not his sister. Not the girl who, at eleven years old, raised him after their mothers death. Not the girl who, at nineteen years old, had nursed their father through his final days. Not the girl who, five minutes ago, had turned to him and asked him to tell Reed that she loved him if she didn't make it.
Reed, of course, was the first person to notice he was back. Any presence around them might be Sue's, in his mind. He was waiting for her to come down the stairs and tell him off for worrying about her so much. Then they'd go home, have a relaxing evening, and that would be it. It would all be over. No more bomb threat. No more hospital. Just home. That's all he wanted. Just home.
"What's happening up there?" He asked, as Johnny came back, and sat down in a vacant chair opposite him.
Johnny took a deep breath. "Everything's fine." He said falsely, careful not to catch Maddie's eye.
"Sue?" Reed enquired.
Johnny nodded, trying to convince himself as well. "She's okay. She's fine."
"How's..." Maddie began to ask, casting a careful look at Reed as she rephrased herself. "How's...the girl with the bomb?"
"Wait a second." Reed interrupting, realising Maddie's mistake instantly. "I thought the girl with the bomb left?"
As Reed's realisation hung in the air, Johnny bowed his head, supporting it with his hands. "She did." He confirmed.
"The only other woman up there was..." Silence fell over Reed as he realised what was really going on, what had been kept from him... "Oh, please no."
"It's Sue." Johnny confirmed helplessly. "The girl with the bomb is Sue."
Reed was still for a moment, contemplating what this meant, but when all he got were negative images of pain and corpses, he got to his feet, heading for the stairs. "I have to go up there."
"No!" Everyone called out at the same time, all grabbing hold of him in a different area to keep him steady.
"It's Sue!" He cried out. "I have to go up there!" He had to do something.
"That's not going to help anything." Maddie told him calmly.
"But-" Reed protested, while Ben held him fast.
"Look, I just talked to her and she was fine." Johnny tried to assure him.
"She's got her hand on a bomb!" Reed almost exploded.
"And she's okay!" Johnny shouted back, causing Reed to stop fighting against Ben. "They moved away from the oxygen line, and they're working right now to take that bomb out. Sue's gonna contain it so that even if the bomb goes off, no one will get hurt."
Falling into a calm surrender, Ben released Reed, who stood motionless as he stared at the flight of stairs that separated him and Sue. "I...I can't leave her up there on her own." He said softly, helplessly, even.
Johnny put his hand on his shoulder. "She'll be okay." He tried to assure him. "She has to be."
----
She'd had her hand inside of Mr. Pollard's body for a little over an hour now, and whilst it had been there, still, not moving, nothing to distract her, nothing for her to panic about generally, she'd been fine. Now, however, when she was told that it needed to come out, she was starting to get more than just a bit scared.
Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. Her knees felt weak. Her head was reeling. The butterflies in her stomach had suddenly developed a mind of their own, and were beating against her insides, causing her to feel nauseous. In fact, the dizziness was starting to increase to the point where, had she not been in a position where movement was out of the question, she would have needed to sit down again just so that she could breathe; but there was only one thing that she could clearly focus on.
She still couldn't remember the last time that they kissed.
Reed.
She needed him. She was ashamed to admit that she was so desperate for him at that moment, but she knew in her heart that she couldn't wait around for the day when she became perfect enough for him to realise what he was missing when he chose science over her. God, she needed him right now.
"Okay, she can go."
She hadn't realised that things were going ahead until Dr. Bishop stepped away from her. Without her realising it, he had extended the wound by her hand so that it was large enough for her to remove the explosive. She snapped back into focus. "What?"
"Alright now, Susan." Dylan said, stepping near to her and speaking calmly. "Wrap your hand around the nose cone." She stared directly at him, but didn't take in a word he said. Tears formed in her eyes again. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to be strong...the only problem was that she couldn't find strength when she might be about to die. "Susan."
"Susan." Dr. Bishop also prompted.
"Johnny should get everything." She suddenly blurted out.
Dylan shook his head, understanding where she was coming from. "No, you listen to me-"
"You should make sure." She continued, as if she hadn't hear his interruption. "We have inheritance from our parents. The documents are in my room, in the nightstand. Make sure that he gets it all."
"Susan.."
"And there are photographs in there as well." She remembered. "Reed should have those. I know it seems small, but he should have them."
"Susan, look at me." Dr. Bishop said calmly.
However, their calm was not transferred to her. She shook her head firmly. "No, I can't. I can't. This is crazy." Both of them made to step towards her, and she responded by focusing her strength, the last shred she had left, and a protective force field separated her and Mr. Pollard from the others. "You should go. Both of you." She told them. "I can contain the blast and it won't hurt you, and it won't destroy anything, and I'll just--"
"No one's dying today, Susan." Dr. Bishop cut into her emotional plead.
"Susan, I want you to look at me. Look at me." Dylan told her. Finally, she did, only both saw the other through a shimmering invisible surface. Dylan lowered his voice and stepped right up to the force field. "I know that this is bad, and I know I'm the jerk that's been yelling at you all day, so I want you to pretend that I'm not me. Pretend I'm someone you like; your brother, one of your friends...whatever you need, but you need to listen to me."
Sue closed her eyes, looking down. She needed to pretend that it was someone she liked; someone she trusted...someone she'd listen to if they were standing there trying to assure her that she wasn't going to die.
"I'm so scared." She admitted with her eyes still closed.
"I know."
The voice that replied to her was that of the image she had summoned. She knew that he wasn't really there, and that it was really Dylan speaking the words, but it was Reed's voice that replied to her comments.
"I can't do this." She continued, feeling the tear slip down her cheek.
"You can do this." He replied surely. "I know you can."
"I'm not strong enough." The tear was followed by another. And another. And another.
"You are." He continued. "I'll all be over in a second. You can do this, Sue."
He believed in her strength, so she had to as well.
"Okay." She said, her voice quiet, but containing as much certainty as his had.
"Okay." His voice whispered.
"I can do this." She psyched herself up as she opened her eyes again; the room and the real people speaking to her reappearing before her eyes.
She'd been told to imagine someone that she did like; and she'd chosen to imagine the one person that she loved. He was the first person that came into her head. He was always the first person on her mind, even if she hadn't wanted him to be. He'd been the only person to offer her any sort of comfort with the feeling she'd had that morning, even if he had crushed her feelings before, and now, when she was convinced that her feeling had been right, she was standing with her hand on a bomb, listening to the voice of the man that was telling that it was okay.
She'd told Johnny that she was going to be okay.
Dr. Bishop had told her that she was going to be okay.
Dylan, the head of New York's bomb squad, had told her that she was going to be okay.
But the only voice she had believed those words from, had been the one of Reed's that she'd imagined. She needed him there. She was grateful for Dr. Bishop standing beside her, coaching her through in a way that he seemed to know that she needed, but Reed would be doing so much more.
He'd be able to look into her eyes, give her that gentle smile he reserved only for her, and the fear would melt away into an insignificant puddle. He'd put his hand over her free one, gripping it ever so slightly, and the shaking that was threatening to endanger all of their lives would be ceased. He'd gently place his lips against the side of her head, just above her temple, and the way that his breath would tickle against her skin would reassure her that she was okay, and that she could do it.
It would make her believe, more than any words could, because he was the comfort on her mind, and somehow, he was with her all the time, no matter where she was or what she was doing.
Instead, she took deep breaths. It was supposed to be calming, but it wasn't because it made her heart race even more, preparing itself for what was about to happen. She gazed down at her hand, seeing where a white glove overlapped on her navy blue jumpsuit, a colour Reed had once told her suited her because of her eye colour, and she wished that the two could separate. That way, she could walk away without looking back. The red of Mr. Pollard's blood made her wonder whether her blood would be added to the room if she made a mistake. Would she bleed, or would she simply be evaporated on the spot by the force of the explosion?
Dylan, still standing across from her, came back into perfect view once her shimmering force field dropped. He kept his gaze trained on her for the entirety, make sure that at any moment, he could react to her movement. She moved her hand slightly, and a single whisper uttered from his lips.
"Gently."
Gentle. Gentle like the breezes the town had when it wasn't pouring with rain. Gentle like the way she would hold a newborn baby. Gentle like the way her voice had been three days ago when she had comforted a scared child who had lost his mother. Gentle, like the way Reed used to kiss her after spending an eternity gazing down at her.
Her eyes, streaming with tears, flickered from Dylan, back down to where her hand disappeared into the crevice of Mr. Pollard's injured chest. Her deep breaths were still making sure that her brain was functioning, but her body seemed to move of it's own accord. She wasn't sure what her other hand was doing. She wasn't sure whether she was still blinking. In fact, if she hadn't been so convinced by the emphasised rising and falling of her chest, she wouldn't have been sure if she was still breathing.
And then, she did it.
The minute her hand moved, she felt her mind hesitating, screaming out every word that she had never said, but should have. None of them formed on her tongue though. All she could do was breathe, very gently, when she started to slide the bomb out of the chest wound. Slowly. So slowly, she could almost imagine how loud Mr. Pollard's screams of pain would be had he been able to feel what was happening around him. So slowly, she thought that she could step out of her body and watch it in slow motion before going back to the situation.
So slowly, that she saw Reed's face in a thousand different places in her mind before the bomb was even halfway out of the wound.
----
Sue was the girl with the bomb.
Somewhere up on another floor, Sue had her hand on a bomb. Sue. Susan Storm. His Sue. The moment Reed thought this, he stopped himself, almost ashamed of calling her 'his'. She wasn't his, even if he was the closest man to her heart. She wasn't anyone's, yet he felt so strongly for her that she was the only person who belonged in his heart. He needed to tell her that.
If it wasn't too late.
He'd been there when the decision had been made to move down away from the oxygen line. If they'd stayed across the hall, the whole hospital could have blown up. Not that Reed would have minded of course. He'd already have died alongside her if Sue had been the bomb's victim. He could even understand the knowing look that the head of the bomb squad had given him in the Chief of Surgery's office. By then, Sue would have been touching the bomb, and he knew it. He knew it, and he wouldn't tell him.
He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be there to help her. To stop her getting scared. He'd look into her eyes, give her a gentle smile...the one that only she could bring to him. He'd put his hand over hers, the one that he knew wasn't encased inside of a chest near to a deadly explosive, and he'd grip it ever so slightly, gentle enough so that it wouldn't hurt her, or pass his own panic onto her, but strong enough for her to know that he was there. He'd kiss her on the side of the head, not on the lips, because then he'd want to kiss her forever, and that wouldn't help the situation. Instead, he'd kiss her on the side of the head, in the spot right above her temple, where he knew from many late-night study groups in M.I.T that it would instantly melt away any anxiety that was cooped up inside of her body.
He'd do whatever it took, just to make sure that she was okay.
----
Three-quarters out.
It was almost over.
That's when a tiny sob escaped her. It was almost over. She wanted so much to give into the hope that was starting to fill her, but knowing that it could still go wrong was enough to keep her rock steady, still scared that she was going to die.
She still had the feeling, even as she passed the black mass in her hand into that of Dylan's. She'd never had so much blood on her hands before, but then again, she'd never plugged a body cavity with her hand before. The sight of so much blood covering her made her feel sick.
There was a pleasant weight that seemed to leave her shoulders when she felt the added touch of Dylan's hands against the underside of the bomb. Instantly, she played her next part in the situation and encased the bomb in a protective force field. She waited for his silent confirmation that it was safe in his hands, before she stepped away. Instantly, her head pounded with the concentration it took to keep the force field intact. The added stress gave her such a headache that she was sure it hadn't been this strong since she had first contained Johnny's supernova.
"You did good." Dylan told her, as she gently brought her arm back into its natural position at her side, too numb from fear and shock of the situation to notice the additional ache in her body that had formed from keeping her arm in one position for too long. All she could feel was the pounding headache, and the succession of tears that were still falling down her cheeks.
Dylan started to move away from her, stepping backwards and turning so slowly, so gently, so professionally. How many bombs had he removed in a situation like this? Every day, almost, she worked to ensure that the city was safe, but he went to work every morning knowing that he could die no matter where he was, or what he was doing. How did he do it?
Her right hand was still raised over the body, the blood stained glove contrasting greatly against the Kevlar jacket, blue medical overalls, and the white of the surgical gloves. Her left hand was placed at the side of the body, but she didn't move it. She was so focused on not moving her right hand for the past hour, that she wasn't sure what had been happening with any other part of her body, but she was aware now that her whole being was shaking.
She quickly took a step backwards as soon as she felt able to move, and Dr. Bishop, and the remaining medical staff, began to work on stopping the bleeding of the man who had the whole hospital under an immediate evacuation.
Her eyes weren't focusing on Mr. Pollard as she watched Dylan continuing to remove the bomb from the room. He was at the door now, steadily walking out of the opening with even slow steps that had already taken him around thirty seconds to get to the door only a metre away. Even with Sue's force field around the bomb, he was taking all regular precautions.
When he was out of sight, she moved again, heading towards the door with a curiosity that had overcome her feeling. She followed Dylan, keeping a safe distance away, but still focusing all her attention on the force field bubble that protected the weapon. For a few seconds, she managed to keep it intact, but the pounding in her head and the stress of the last few hours crept up on her, and her vision started to blur. As nausea overtook her, she realised with a terrifying thought that Dylan's sharp intake of breath at the other end of the corridor meant her force field had dropped.
Then the bomb, and Dylan, just exploded. Right before her eyes.
