Disclaimer: The Fantastic 4 are fantastic, and therefore unowned by this poor little fangirl who spends her time writing fanfictions about her favorite superheroes.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Kingsley?"

At the questioning tone in the strange tenor's voice, Erika tensed, warning bells going off in her mind. Her mother's number was significantly different than hers. Besides, everyone who knew both of them knew that their voices were nothing alike. "Um, no, this is her daughter speaking. Can I help you?"

"Miss Kingsley, I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you. Is there any way I could contact your parents?"

A chill ran up her spine. "Bad news? What's going on? Is this about Chris?" Silence reigned on the other end of the line. Erika's hand tightened on the body of her cell phone as cold fear drenched her from head to toe. "Say something!"

There was only a moment's hesitation on the other end, before the man said gently, "I'm sorry, Miss Kingsley."

It was getting increasingly hard to breathe; Erika went over to the window and jerked it open, desperate for fresh air. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

When the response came, Erika felt her heart stop. "Christopher Kingsley was killed in a mine explosion three days ago."

"Three – three days?" Erika stammered, shakily making her way over to her couch. She fell into it with a soft thump that was echoed by the quiet beating of her heart restarting itself. Disbelief and shock froze her mind as she shook her head slowly. "Chris? No. No way. You must have misidentified the body."

"I assure you, it is Mr. Kingsley."

Part of Erika, a very small, very detached part, told her there was no use in denying the truth. It was this part of her that said, very reasonably, that this poor man on the other end of the line probably had to make thousands of these types of calls a year, and that she shouldn't make his job any harder than it had to be by freaking out on him. Freaking out, this part of her said sternly, could wait until after she'd hung up.

The rest of Erika didn't listen.

"No. There has to be a mistake. He can't be dead. He promised he'd come back!" The words burst from her, each sentence becoming increasingly higher and more shrill as she begged between the lines for confirmation that her brother's death was a mistake.

"I'm sorry, Miss Kingsley. He's gone," the officer at the other end replied in quiet, gentle tones. Erika paid no attention to the tone, and instead fixated her attention on the first half of what he'd said. Tears blurred her vision; she tried to blink them away, but succeeded only in forcing them to fall down her cheeks.

"Sorry." Hurt and disbelief warred for dominance in her sharp response. "Right."

"He had your number listed as the person to contact in case anything happened to him," the man told her, obviously trying to calm her down. She squeezed her eyes shut and ran her arm roughly across her face, trying to get rid of the tears. No matter what, she wouldn't cry on the phone, not to a complete stranger.

"Obviously." The word came out more harshly than she'd intended, and despite her dawning grief, Erika winced. "Sorry. I just – I guess I should remember not to shoot the messenger. I'm assuming you called about – about funeral arrangements?" Despite her best intentions, her voice cracked.

Regret defined his tone. "I'm afraid we couldn't recover his body."

There was nothing Erika could say to that. She knew very well that this was polite speak for 'Sorry, but your brother's body has been blown up into tiny bits on some desert road somewhere thanks to terrorists.' She swallowed back the sob that threatened to erupt from her throat. Hot tears burned at her eyes. Chris was really dead.

"Miss Kingsley?" The officer's voice was gentle, but prodding; with a start Erika realized that she'd been silent for well over two minutes.

"Yes?" she whispered.

Even though she was sure that the reply she got was part of a careful script, it sounded heartfelt. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Click.

Erika drew the phone away from her ear and stared at it for well over half an hour, blinded by the red-hot tears streaming down her face. There wasn't any way she could stop them, just as there was no way she could possibly move from that spot and sob herself to sleep in her bed. The numbness that had clenched around her body was both a relief and a curse, but it hadn't spread to her aching heart or her horrified mind. How had such a wonderful day gone so wrong?

A thought occurred to her and she drew in a deep, sharp breath around a hiccup of a sob, which resulted in an impromptu coughing fit. For three days – three days! – her brother had been gone and dead, and she'd just been living her life and enjoying herself! Irrational guilt swept over her and she turned to bury her face in a pillow as she finally let out the sobs that had been building up in her chest for so long.

Hours passed before she felt like she could move again. Exhausted and drained of tears, her body and heart aching for the loss of her older brother, Erika reluctantly dialed a number on her phone and put the contraption to her ear. Tension coiled in her chest. In less than a minute, he'd pick up the phone, and she'd have to explain everything. Explain that all the trouble he went to on her behalf was all for nothing, explain that his old friend from the military was gone forever…

It was a relief when she got the answering machine.

"Hey, this is Ben Grimm. Sorry I didn't catch you. Just leave your name and number and I'll give you a call back as soon as I can."

"Ben?" she started, her voice quavering slightly. Sternly she forced the tremor away, swallowing at the lump in her throat to try to make it go away before she continued. "This is Erika. Thank you so much for talking to Mr. Richards and Mr. von Doom about me, but I can't make it. Something important came up. Family matters." She swallowed again. Chances were she'd get a call back later. She could explain it all then. There wasn't any need to upset him now, not when he was going to go on the biggest adventure of a lifetime. Besides, Erika wasn't at all sure her voice would be able to behave itself if she tried to talk about Chris's death. "You don't need to worry about calling me back. I just thought you ought to know. I'm so sorry you had to go to all that trouble for me. Bye."

As she hung up, her eyes went over to her camera case and new tears sprang to life in her eyes, despite her earlier belief that she was all out of extra water for her body to get rid of. She tore her gaze away from the case and reburied her face in a pillow as she let the tears fall. In one fell swoop, she'd lost her chance for adventure and her brother, and the thing that was making guilt and anger twine around her broken heart and squeeze it until she though it would explode was the fact that she didn't know which hurt her more.

Later, after she told her mother about the phone call, Erika would realize that the disappointment of missing out on the chance of a lifetime had taken a poor second place to the grief that losing her brother had cost her, but for now, the photographer curled up on her couch, sobs wracking her body and tearing at her throat.

A/N: Yep. I've joined the masses in a Johnny/OC story. There really isn't much to say, except that I'm trying something a little different here - no superpowers for little Erika Kingsley! Oops, does that count as spoilers? I promise, the next chapter has much more Fantastic 4-ness. Backstory is, unfortunately, necessary. I hope you guys enjoyed this introductory, and with any luck, I'll be seeing you all next chapter!