Chapter Two
Pens?
The title of the movie that Ben Grimm took Alicia Masters to he couldn't recall for the life of him a half hour after they left the theater. They'd gone in, taking a seat in the back of the dark movie, and he'd been glad not too many people had been present. The ticket girl at the outer booth, the popcorn woman, the ticket taker guy had each, in their turn, gotten an eyeful of him, returning in their turns stares of blank astonishment at his shocking features. He was very glad no one would see him in the theater itself.
He'd settled in, prepared to very quietly whisper to Alicia what she would need to know from the screen to follow the movie. She'd settled in, folded and pocketed her white cane, and put her arm through his.
When the movie started, she cuddled close to him, and made it very plain she did not care a whit about what was on the screen. She just cuddled close to him, and that was enough for either of them.
xxx
It was early evening by the time Ben Grimm returned to the Baxter Building, giving a casual wave to the doorman before heading back to the freight elevator in the rear of the building. The main lobby cars could not support his new mass when he was aboard with anyone else, and he did not want to tax their capacity at other times. It was an unnecessary risk, putting one of the few public elevators out of commission, and he did not feel demeaned by using the freight elevator. After the afternoon he had had, nothing could make him feel bad.
He found the other three members of his 'team' as he'd left them, though letters had been replaced by dinner.
"Ho, big guy. How was the movie?"
"It was okay."
"What did you see?" Susan asked. He opened his mouth to answer, and suddenly realized he had no idea what the answer was. He had not looked at the screen much more than Alicia had. Finally, he gave up trying to recall the title.
"Alicia." Susan smiled knowingly as he sat down carefully in a chair. The days of plopping down into any furniture were quite definitely over.
"So, what was in the mail?"
"Thirty two Polaroids, eleven eight-by-tens, sixty-two phone numbers with the best times to call and plenty of letters so hot I had to wear asbestos gloves!" Johnny enthused.
"Forget it, Johnny, its too dangerous." Susan protested, what was starting to sound even to her like a wasted refrain.
"You're just jealous."
"Jealousy has nothing to do with it. You cannot go out with these women." All three men looked at her, surprised.
"Come on, sis." Johnny began with a derisive tone that was starting to get some fire into it. The refrain was lately going from irritating which he could wave off with a flippant response through annoying to aggravating. "You said the same thing about me before I got my powers. I didn't listen to you then, and now's no different."
"Well, until you learn how to control those powers, it's too risky." She shot back, her own frustration turning to anger, which grew in response to his heat. "You don't know the extent or limits of your powers. You have no self control, and that's dangerous."
He stood up, glaring down at her with growing heat. Reed and Ben wondered if they were going to have to separate the siblings. "Yeah? So tell me; what danger can there be?" She looked up at him, returning coldness to his heat.
"You two are 'together', she hollers 'flame on.' and you do."
x
Johnny Storm stared at his sister, utterly silenced. He wished he could dispel the image her words created, but in spite of the cocksure bravado he showed the world, he had to admit he did not know the extent of his powers. None of them did – and the thought that someone else could inadvertently call on them was a sobering one indeed.
Not having any answer, he turned away from her, trying to save as much face as he could while at the same time looking at no one.
"So, Suzie…" Ben began, trying to find some way to ease the tension while at the same time dispelling her image from his own mind. "What mail did you get?"
She picked up a piece of paper, sighing feelingly as she read the tabulations. "Eleven magazine offers; most notably a special spread in Playboy – and forget it!" She said sharply, looking up at Ben.
"I didn't say anything."
"Just so you don't." She consulted the sheet again. "Sixty two marriage offers; they obviously weren't on the boat. A hundred fourteen letters asking about everything from 'how my costume disappears with me' to 'can I make it vanish on its own'. Sixteen letters about the force field and what I can do with it - with them. Two hundred seventeen letters I shredded halfway through! One letter inquiring about my scientific skills that led me to being on the space station in the first place."
Ben considered himself very wise in that he said absolutely nothing. He turned, instead, to Richards. "What about you, Stretch?"
"An interesting assortment. I've been asked to speak at three Universities, eleven Colleges and seventeen Talk Shows; the fees alone should get this place out of debt. 'Scientific American' wants to do a story on me, and there are inquiries from more scientists than I've met before today. The A.M.A. is interested in a paper, and wants to know if my stretching abilities can be finely tuned enough for limited-access surgery. Also, we received compliments and 'welcomes' from the Avengers, the X-Men, Spider-Man (no return address) and a Dr. Steven Strange."
He did not mention, in consideration of his fiancé's feelings, the numerous women who wrote in response to the rather unfortunate speculation of a certain female reporter who, in an impromptu interview with Johnny, had questioned his ability to expand any part of his anatomy.
Ben would have commented that each of them had received mail geared to their 'type', but he doubted even he would have survived Susan's response. However, a quick mental count gave him another thing to say. "That doesn't seem to cover two huge sacks of mail."
"It doesn't." Reed admitted. "That was just ours." He stretched his arm out, and further, all the way across the room until he pointed down at an overstuffed sack clearly fuller than either of the earlier two had been alone. "That's yours."
"Come on." He stared at the thickly stuffed sack. "You're joking." The sack was surely stuffed with pillows, with a few envelopes jammed into the top. It would be just the sort of joke that would amuse Johnny.
He walked over to it, but the closer he got, the less like pillows it looked. He stared down at the pack at his feet. As deeply as he could see, it was letters; or at least envelopes. "Come on, this is ridiculous. Who'd write to me? This is your phone bill, your electric, your cable –."
"Ben?" He turned at Reed's voice, catching his friend's expression. "This is me talking to you." He stared at his friend, having no answer.
Turning back to the sack, he pulled out one of the letters. It was handwritten, the penmanship very careful, but clearly such as a child might write. It was addressed 'Mr. Ben Grimm, Baxter Building' etc. The return address was also handwritten, from an address in Yonkers. He turned it over, and tried to open it. But his four massive, rocklike fingers could not handle the envelope, could not find the right spot to open the delicate paper without tearing it completely in half. He tried again, and again. Finally he dropped the envelope back into the pile.
"Ben?"
"Ahh, what do I want to read mail for? The way the rest sounds, who wants marriage proposals when I've got Alicia? I'm not going to disappear or go on the Lecture circuit, and my days of piloting are over now that I'm heavier than the rocket. I'll be in my room."
He turned, lumbering away, not caring to soften his footfalls. He'd really wanted to open that letter, but being unable to do so had left his heart heavier than his body, and not for anything in the world would he admit it.
xxx
Ben Grimm lay on his bed, watching a late night movie, unable to sleep. The others had all turned in hours before. It was well past midnight, so it was quite surprising to him when he heard a soft, tentative knocking at his door. "Ben?" He was even more surprised that the soft voice that filtered through the door was Susan's. "Ben, I know you're awake. Can I talk to you?"
He got up, curiosity warring with surprise and winning. He opened the door just far enough to see her face. "Suzie?" He looked back at the clock on his bureau. "It's two thirty."
"I know. I also knew you were awake." She said softly. His expression asked his question. "I heard the television from my room next door, and as long as I've known you, you couldn't sleep if a bird was chirruping outside your window."
"Yeah, well - ."
"Can I talk to you?" It was just the sort of question, coming at two thirty in the morning, from a friend like Susan Storm, which he could not bring himself to refuse. But when he opened the door all the way and she stepped in, he was even more deeply surprised to see her holding a sheaf of papers to her chest. A large sheaf. A very large sheaf.
"What's this?" She looked down to where he pointed; then just raised her eyes to look at him.
"Your mail." She admitted sheepishly. "Or much of it. I couldn't carry it all."
"You opened it?" He asked unnecessarily. Actually, he was rather grateful, and touched. But; "You read them?"
"Some." She admitted, trying to hide any sense of guilt. "I think you should."
He shook his head. "Suzie."
She pushed the papers into his hands. "I think you should read them." She insisted. "Then, if you want to talk, let's talk."
She left him alone faster, it seemed, than she could even disappear; closing the door quietly behind her, leaving him with an armload of papers and no way to protest.