"Are you even hearing yourself right now? Twenty-two hours is like.. two hours short from being a full day." Math was never really his strong suit, but he was pretty sure that was right. His sister looked exhausted, but he knew that she wasn't going to want to give up on all of this until it was fixed. No matter how long it took.
So maybe he leaned into her protective nature, nodding slightly when she asked if he was hungry. If it was gonna get her to eat, then he'd let her cook for him. The whiteboard full of equations was reminding him all to much of the state of the labs a year ago, after their accident. And that level of productivity and constant calculating hadn't been good for Reed or Sue then, either.
It also ended with them accepting their circumstances for what they were, but he wasn't going to go there yet. They didn't know what was going on with the multiverse, and for all he knew they were right on the cusp of a solution that could help everyone who was displaced.
"Yes. Please, make me something. And maybe take a nap afterwards."
Two hours less than a day. That would be 120 minutes. 7200 seconds. It was without thinking that Susan's brain did the conversions, the pressure of time weighing heavily on her mind. Jesus, she needed a break. "It is," she confirmed. "And Reed did a day and a half. So, by that standard, I'm looking really good."
Then again, Reed Richards was not the standard to measure ones self against in some situations. Reed had a single mind focus that could consume him. Susan had watched him slip into the depths of his own mind since the accident, and she had tried in vain to try to pull him out. But they couldn't both drown in his guilt, could they? So they drifted apart, occupying the same space but no longer the same frequency.
Pulling the pencil out from behind her ear, Sue set it down on the table next to her notebook. The scribblings — usually neat and orderly — were beginning to look like hieroglyphics. A part of her feared leaving the lab. What if she lost her train of thought? Sometimes, it felt like she was right on the cusp of a breakthrough. Just a few more minutes, a few more hours. Maybe she'd finally crack it.
But she hadn't. Not after all these hours. Tossing her phone into her tote, Susan gestured with her chin for Johnny to follow her to the door. "What are you thinking? Classic like grilled cheese?" She had made that a lot for him in the early days. Their mother was gone and their dad was locked in his office or the labs. Sue had looked across the table at her brother and felt such a strong protective urge to protect him. She had tried to do so ever since. Sometimes it worked out better than others — the whole failed flight thing wasn't a great moment — but they were still here. Together.
"I don't think I could nap if I tried. You don't want to know how much coffee I have in me right now."
















