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The stars drift gently as Shalla-Bal sits, watching them dance. Their number is fewer than it had been just a few short days, but she does not regret their absence. Stars are created and destroyed every day. If a few must be sacrificed to keep her friend alive, than so be it.
Johnny sits beside her on the surfboard, their legs hanging down into the void. Before them is a supernova, blooming like a sunset streaked with starlight. It reflects across her metallic skin, and echoes in the precious metals that coat strands of Johnny's hair. She wonders if he'll have them removed. She hopes he'll keep them.
Flecks of white flame spark from him regularly, bright and healthy. There's no trace of purple among them, for which she is glad. She had found none of Galactus' ravenous fury in Johnny's eyes as he accompanied her from star to star. There is no greater relief in knowing her master is gone, and her friend is free from his curse.
There is still a hunger there, yes, but it is not all consuming. It is not nearly so devastating, so heartless. Stars are infinitely more common than life filled planets after all.
He's sleeping now, head resting on her shoulder. There was a certain exhaustion that had hung about him like a cloud, something bone deep and beyond physical. She doubts he has slept once in the years he's been gone. Galactus certainly hadn't, and she thinks that must have only aided his descent into madness. Even his meditation was restless, nose scrunched and breaths uneven. The hunger had haunted him in every moment, but she knows now that he has finally escaped it. There is no love lost between them, but she hopes he's at peace.
Johnny is peaceful, at least. His brow isn't furrowed, his face slack with deep sleep. Shalla-Bal has not been trusted like this in a long, long time. She has not been safe to someone. It feels nice. It feels like home.
She is so very glad that the cold of space has not stolen the warmth from his heart. It warms her now, penetrating her cold metal shell in a way not even magma could do. She has not felt warmth in over a century, and she revels in it.
Shalla-Bal rests her head upon his and lets herself breathe.
Two years later, and finally, finally Earth is in sight. He floats above it, watching vibrant greens and blues and wispy white clouds. Of all the planets they've come across in their travels, none are quiet so beautiful. The sun, his sun, shines daytime upon Eurasia, and North America is cast in shadow. City lights speckle the darkness like stars, but he's never loved the sight more.
"Johnny."
He looks at Shalla-Bal, the gentle look in her eyes, and realizes that his vision has begun to grow blurry. He raises a hand to touch the water the leaves tracks down his face.
Oh. He's crying. They're real tears this time, salt and water instead of hot magma. He hadn't realized his flames would still allow that.
"I…I need a second, I think." Johnny says, voice breaking. "…go ahead, warn them for me?"
"Of course." Shalla-Bal replies softly, and she guides her board down into Earth's atmosphere.
His heartbeat is loud in his ears. In the dead of space the only thing he can hear is his own voice, his breaths, his heart. They're telling him he's scared.
What is there to be afraid of? He's going home. Why does his heart tighten painfully in his chest, why do his lungs stutter and his voice break? Why do tears fall from his face and slowly freeze the further they get from his flames?
Overwhelmed, he pictures his sister's face. She's always been there to calm him down when his anxieties got too loud. She's always been warm arms around him and a kind voice, telling him to breathe.
He breathes. He breathes as he slowly enters Earth's atmosphere, breathes as actual oxygen begins to fill his lungs, sweet as honey.
He breathes as the white edges of his flames turn orange. Gravity takes hold, and he lets himself fall. The rush of wind draws a laugh from his chest, and he grins.
What the hell is he waiting for?
Sue rushes from the kitchen as her comm blares a warning. An atmospheric breach, the data too similar to their initial introduction to Galactus. Reed strides in from the nursery, Franklin asleep in his arms, all of four years old. Ben follows soon after, and they slip out to the balcony without a word.
Like a mimicry of her first arrival, Shalla-Bal descends, alone. Sue is tense, her thoughts stuttering and her heart filling with dread. What if the worst is coming? What if her little brother is really gone? What if Galactus has returned and it was all for nothing? Reed is a steady presence at her side, but it isn't enough. She watches Shalla-Bal like a hawk, every movement examined, every micro expression analyzed. She doesn't doubt Reed is doing the same.
"Greetings, heroes of this world, defeaters of Galactus." She begins, "I herald a debt repaid. I herald the return of your own." She tilts her head ever so slightly, a spark of mischief visible in the corner of her mouth and the glow of her eye. "I herald…Johnny Storm."
Sue's breath catches, but before she can comprehend the message, a meteor falls —no flies— through the sky towards them. It's bright, brighter than she knows meteors or flames or stars to be. It almost hurts to look at, but she can't tear her gaze away because she knows those flames, knows them like she knows her own skin, her own heart, her own flesh and blood because-
Without another thought, she steps forward, arms open to the sky.
Johnny slams into her like a freight train. Her powers react, but she doesn't care to watch the dazzling light show the collision must have made. Arms and flames curl around her, but they don't burn. They never burn because Johnny would never hurt her.
He would only tear her heart out by flying through an intergalactic portal.
She can feel Reed and Ben join the hug, and Franklin must have woken too, but for the first time in four years she's not thinking about her son at all. She's thinking about the boy in her arms, the boy that went and grew up when she wasn't looking. The boy she half raised and who owned her heart first.
The little brother who came back from the dead. God they really were siblings, weren't they?
She pulls back, overcome by the desire to see his face. Tears fall from his eyes, unheeding of the fire the might've burned them away. Instinctively, like she had a thousand times when they were young, Sue brushes them away. The flames dull and fade with the motion, his glowing eyes becoming warm, familiar brown once more. Some flickers of white flame still spark from him, powerful and unconfined in a way she isn't used to, but in moments it's Johnny. It's her brother.
Her thumb traces the splash of metal on his cheek, absentmindedly contemplating the way it curves over his cheekbone like fire. He leans into her touch with utter relief.
Sue's vision goes blurry, she's crying.
Johnny smiles, and it's bright enough to light up the night sky.
"Miss me?"
"Woah is that a statue of me?"
Ben turns from the kitchen counter at Johnny's exclamation. The younger man is sitting on the couch, Franklin on his lap. Johnny's eyes are glued to the television, but Franklin is looking up at him like he hung the stars. The limpet had immediately decided Johnny was his best friend, and refused to be in separate rooms for the past week. It was for the best, none of the 4 liked leaving him alone for too long. Johnny or the kid.
On the television is news footage of a celebration, one of many from the past week celebrating Johnny's return. A statue of Johnny had been erected in the square where he had pushed Galactus into the portal. The Torch, they call it. He's pretty sure it's flammable too. A bit on the nose, but whatever makes them happy.
"Yeah, you were missed while you were gone. The sponsorship companies were distraught." Ben says with a laugh, and Johnny echos it. He looks down at Franklin, sticking out his tongue. The kid giggles.
Soft morning sunlight streams through the windows, glinting off the metal streaked through Johnny's hair. Reed had asked after it once everything had calmed down, and in return they'd received a harrowing tale of black holes and stars. It was a relief to know Galactus was truly gone, but shit did Johnny really have to suffer the consequences? At least he didn't seem too fussed about the metal fused to his skin. He said it reminded him of Shalla-Bal. She'd left with an open invitation back, but she said she had something she need to do. Something about closure?
Anyway, there were a few implications that came with Johnny's story, chief of which is the side effects of absorbing some of the 'Power Cosmic', whatever that is. Reed is holing up in his lab even more than usual, and even when he comes up for dinner he's still muttering about cosmic radiation and solar power and how to make mini suns for Johnny to eat. Ben is a little scared Reed's gonna make a black hole in the basement.
There are a few side effects they've noticed so far, including Johnny's increased snacking tendencies, sometimes-white flames, and restlessness. More often than not Johnny is awake at night, standing at the balcony, watching Franklin sleep, or following Reed around the lab. He insists he doesn't actually need to sleep at all, but Reed and Sue are adamant he gets a good eight hours every couple days. Ben's inclined to back them up. He's seen a sleep deprived Johnny and it is not pretty.
"I really missed you guys." Johnny murmurs suddenly. He's still looking at Franklin, carding a hand through his soft blonde hair.
"We missed you too, kid." Ben says warmly, "Now get over here and taste test my soup."
"Soup?" Johnny exclaims, head snapping up. Franklin mirrors him perfectly, baby blue eyes just as wide.
"Yes, soup. Come on, I'll let you both have a spoonful."
Johnny cheers, standing and lifting Franklin onto his shoulders in one smooth move. The kid giggles again, clinging to Johnny's head.
"Soup time! Hell yeah!" Johnny stride stutters as he realizes his mistake, "Fuck I meant heck. Shit I mean- fuck uh dammit, shit." He stops and breathes in, before looking up at Franklin. "Do not repeat any of those words. Your mom will kill me."
Franklin kicks his legs joyfully, and with a bright, cheery voice, he yells, "Fuck!"
Shalla-Bal once more finds herself descending through clouds. Water vapor coalesces and then slips down her metallic skin, and she can almost feel it.
As she clears the clouds, she finds a wine-dark ocean stretching far into the distance, and a long rocky shoreline melting into land. Rolling fields surround a shining city, spiraling towers stretching to the sky. The rooftops are slick with rain, and she breathes in, enjoying the scent of petrichor. It's not a smell her people are capable of perceiving, a side effect or a gift from Galactus, but she enjoys it all the same. Humans can smell petrichor after all, and she rather likes them.
She drifts towards a plaza, and she can see people gathering below. Her people. Zenn-La stretches beneath her like the memory of a dream.
She touches down in the middle of a circle of people. Their faces are like hers was, their hair like hers. Their eyes, like hers. The one thing Galactus let her keep, a remanent of her people.
But Galactus isn't here any longer. He no longer holds the universe in an iron grip. He no longer controls her.
She steps off the board and onto the grass. The moment she does, it loses it's power, falling to the ground. Her people mutter around her, and they speak her heart-language, a music she has not heard in a century, other than Johnny's collection of messages.
Slowly, ever so slowly, silver melts from her skin. It slips from her with the rain, fading into the strands of the cosmos before it can hit the ground.
She can feel the grass beneath her bare feet, the wind blowing through her dress, and the rain droplets soaking into her hair. Blonde strands drift gently in the wind and she guides a hand through them with wonder. Her skin is pale and free of callouses or blemishes. Her skin is free of her metal shell, and she is not a monster.
She is Shalla-Bal, and she is home.