The adventures Reed and Ben shared throughout their time at MIT created a bond that neither had expected when they first became roommates. Reed found himself actually looking forward to physical challenges when Ben was there to make them feel less intimidating. Ben discovered that Reed's way of breaking down complex problems often helped him see his own engineering work from completely new angles.
Their research partnership had evolved naturally alongside their friendship. Reed's propulsion work was starting to attract attention beyond MIT's campus, while Ben's insights into structural design were solving problems Reed hadn't even realized he had.
"You know what's wild?" Reed said one night as they worked side by side in the lab, Ben running calculations while Reed fine-tuned field equations. "I used to think good engineering was just about making things work. But watching you approach problems, there's something almost artistic about it."
Ben glanced up from his stress analysis printouts, raising an eyebrow. "Did you just call my homework artistic?"
"I'm serious," Reed continued, gesturing at Ben's latest structural designs spread across the desk. "Look at these load distribution patterns. You're not just solving for strength and weight. You're finding solutions that are... I don't know, elegant. Like there's a right answer that's also a beautiful answer."
"Well, when you put it like that," Ben grinned, "I guess I am pretty much the Michelangelo of structural engineering."
Reed laughed. "Exactly. Except instead of the Sistine Chapel, you're designing spacecraft that won't fall apart when my propulsion systems try to push them past the speed of sound."
"Speaking of which," Ben said, turning back to his calculations, "your latest field strength projections are looking pretty ambitious. You sure these materials can handle what you're planning to throw at them?"
"That's where your genius comes in," Reed replied. "I figure out what should be possible in theory. You figure out how to make it actually work in practice."
The partnership felt natural in a way that surprised both of them. Reed had always worked alone, assuming his ideas were too complex or unusual for others to follow. Ben had gotten used to being the guy who implemented other people's designs rather than contributing his own innovations. Together, they were creating something neither could have achieved solo.
Dr. Garrick's words about making the impossible merely improbable kept coming back to Reed during late night sessions like these. It wasn't just about scientific breakthroughs anymore. It was about discovering that the right collaboration could push both people beyond what they thought possible.
Reed's academic reputation continued to grow throughout their partnership. Professors had started asking him to review graduate student proposals, and his questions during lectures had become legendary among the physics department. By senior year, he was occasionally guest lecturing in undergraduate courses, sharing insights that would have challenged PhD candidates at most other schools.
The football team's success had become the stuff of legend. MIT's Engineers had won their third consecutive championship in 1992, then followed it with their fourth straight title just months before graduation. Reed's defensive innovations had evolved to the point where opposing coaches no longer even attempted to predict MIT's schemes, instead focusing on executing their own plays as perfectly as possible and hoping for the best.
"It's not fair," complained one rival coach after MIT's defense forced six turnovers in the championship game. "They're not just better than us. They're playing a completely different sport."
Ben's development had been equally remarkable. His academic performance had earned him recognition as one of the top aerospace engineering students in the country, with multiple companies offering him research positions that would have been the envy of graduate students. More importantly, his leadership on the football field had attracted attention from every NFL team in the league.
"Ben Grimm represents everything we look for in a professional athlete," said Bill Belichick during a recruiting visit. "Intelligence, leadership, physical ability, and the kind of character that makes entire teams better. He could start for us immediately."
The New England Patriots weren't alone in their interest. The New York Giants, San Francisco 49ers, Dallas Cowboys, and a dozen other teams had made increasingly generous offers, each trying to entice Ben with promises of starting positions and substantial contracts.
Now, on this perfect May morning in 1993, they stood together on the threshold of graduation and the beginning of adult life. The MIT campus was alive with celebration as families gathered to witness their children receive degrees that represented years of dedication and sacrifice. Colorful banners hung from the academic buildings, and the scent of spring flowers mingled with the excitement that seemed to crackle in the air itself.
Reed adjusted his graduation cap for the third time, his nervous energy evident despite his outward calm. The same hands that had once struggled to hold Gary's heavy wrenches now moved with confident precision, adjusting the tassel with the unconscious grace of someone who had learned to trust his own abilities. "I can't believe it's actually over. Four years at MIT, and it feels like it went by in about four minutes."
"Speak for yourself," Ben laughed, straightening his own cap with the easy confidence that had come to define him. "Some of us actually had to work for our grades instead of just absorbing knowledge through osmosis."
"You worked harder than anyone I know," Reed replied, his voice carrying the deep respect that had grown between them over four years of shared struggles and triumphs. "Your aerospace engineering thesis on composite material applications in high-stress environments is genuinely groundbreaking. Professor Martinez told me it's being considered for publication in the Journal of Advanced Materials."
Ben's expression grew thoughtful, and Reed could see him processing the magnitude of how far he'd traveled from that first desperate night asking for calculus help. "That's actually kind of surreal. Three years ago, I was just trying to pass my classes so I could keep playing football. Now I'm supposedly contributing to scientific knowledge. It's crazy how much things can change when someone believes in you."
Reed felt his throat tighten at Ben's words. "We believed in each other. That's what made the difference."
The outdoor amphitheater was packed beyond capacity, with families crammed into every available seat and latecomers standing along the perimeter. Reed could see Professor Williams in the faculty section, his first real mentor at MIT beaming with paternal pride. Dr. Morrison sat in the VIP section reserved for distinguished guests, representing NASA's investment in Reed's future. But most importantly, he spotted his cousins in the crowd, Enid jumping up and down with excitement while Hope held a homemade sign that read "Mr. Fantastic Graduates!"
Dean Richardson took the podium with ceremonial gravity, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd through the sound system. "Ladies and gentlemen, we gather today to celebrate not just academic achievement, but the transformation of brilliant minds into the leaders who will shape our future."
As the ceremony progressed through the alphabet, Reed felt his stomach flutter with anticipation. This was it, the moment that marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. When Dean Richardson reached the R's, Reed's heart began pounding.
"Reed Franklin Richards," Dean Richardson announced, his voice filled with unmistakable pride, "graduating summa cum laude with dual degrees in theoretical physics and mechanical engineering. Recipient of the NASA Outstanding Undergraduate Research Award, the MIT Chancellor's Award for Innovation, and the Norbert Wiener Prize for excellence in applied mathematics."
As Reed stood and began walking toward the stage, something magical happened. From the section where the football team was seated, he heard the familiar chant beginning: "Mr. Fantastic! Mr. Fantastic!" Tommy Morrison had started it, but within seconds the entire team was on their feet, their voices carrying across the amphitheater. The chant spread like wildfire, picked up by other students who remembered Reed's legendary defensive schemes, then by professors who had witnessed his intellectual breakthroughs, until half the audience was chanting along.
Reed felt tears spring to his eyes as he climbed the steps to the stage. This was so far beyond anything he had imagined when he'd first arrived at MIT as a scared, isolated teenager. The boy who had hidden in the library, who had been terrified of drawing attention to himself, was now being celebrated by thousands of people who appreciated not just his intelligence, but the unique way his mind worked.
Dean Richardson shook his hand firmly while presenting the diplomas. "Congratulations, Mr. Richards. Your contributions to this institution have been truly extraordinary. I have no doubt you'll continue to amaze us in graduate school."
As Reed turned to face the audience, diplomas in hand, the applause was thunderous. He could see Ben leading the football team's celebration, Professor Williams wiping away proud tears, and his cousins screaming with joy in the crowd. The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect crystallization of everything he had worked toward since losing his parents.
Ben's moment came shortly after, and Reed made sure to cheer just as loudly. "Benjamin Jacob Grimm, graduating magna cum laude with a degree in aerospace engineering. Team captain and four-time championship winner for the MIT Engineers."
The football team's celebration for Ben was deafening, with players stomping their feet and chanting "Apollo! Apollo!" in reference to the nickname that had stuck since Reed's incredible marathon transformation, when Ben had jokingly compared himself to Apollo Creed training Rocky. Reed watched his best friend accept his diploma with a grin that could have powered the entire campus, knowing that Ben had earned every bit of this recognition.
After the ceremony, the campus quad transformed into a festival of congratulations and farewells. Reed found himself at the center of a whirlwind of handshakes, hugs, and heartfelt conversations. Students who had barely known him stopped to congratulate him, professors shared memories of his most memorable questions, and even administrators who had only heard about his achievements wanted to meet the young man who had brought such distinction to their institution.
"Reed!" Professor Williams approached through the crowd, his face radiant with pride and accompanied by Dr. Morrison, who had flown in from Washington specifically for this moment. "Outstanding work today. Absolutely outstanding. I knew from our first conversation that you were destined for great things, but watching you walk across that stage... it felt like watching history in the making."
"More than ready," Reed replied, his voice vibrating with excitement and purpose. "I've been thinking about the research trajectory, and I believe we can make significant advances in plasma containment efficiency while I'm working on my graduate degrees."
Dr. Morrison's eyebrows rose with interest. "Graduate degrees? Plural?"
"I'd like to pursue both a Master's and a PhD while conducting the NASA research," Reed explained, his analytical mind already mapping out the next phase of his journey. "The Master's would focus on advanced electromagnetic field theory, providing the theoretical foundation for more sophisticated propulsion systems. The PhD would concentrate on practical applications, actually building and testing the hardware we've been theorizing about."
Professor Williams nodded approvingly. "That's an ambitious timeline, but if anyone can handle the workload, it's you. The dual-track approach would give you both the theoretical depth and practical experience to really revolutionize the field."
"The beauty of it," Reed continued, his excitement building as he articulated his vision, "is that the NASA research will inform my academic work, and my academic work will push the boundaries of what NASA thinks is possible. Instead of just studying propulsion systems, we'll be actively developing technology that could take humans to Mars within the next decade."
Dr. Morrison exchanged a meaningful glance with Professor Williams. "Mr. Richards, when we first offered you that research grant three years ago, we hoped you might validate some interesting theoretical work. We never imagined you'd revolutionize the entire field of space propulsion while still an undergraduate. The idea of supporting your graduate education while you continue advancing our research... it's exactly the kind of long-term investment that produces breakthrough discoveries."
"The preliminary designs I've been working on show genuine promise," Reed said, pulling out his notebook with the automatic gesture of someone who lived and breathed his research. "With access to graduate-level laboratory facilities and the resources NASA is providing, I believe we can begin full-scale testing of electromagnetic propulsion systems within eighteen months."
"And what's your ultimate goal?" Dr. Morrison asked, though Reed could see she already knew the answer.
Reed's expression grew serious, carrying the weight of childhood dreams and parental legacy. "I want to build spacecraft that can take human beings to other worlds safely and efficiently. I want to turn science fiction into science fact. The technology we develop here at MIT could be what finally makes humanity a truly spacefaring species."
The conversation continued for several more minutes, but Reed's attention was drawn to movement in the crowd. He spotted a familiar group making their way through the throng of celebrating families, and his heart leaped with joy.
Aunt Mary was practically glowing with pride, her face beaming as she approached with Enid, Danny, and Hope in tow. The years had been kind to Reed's cousins; Enid was now nineteen and clearly in college herself, her intellectual gifts having blossomed into genuine academic brilliance, Danny had grown into a confident seventeen-year-old with his father's practical intelligence but none of his meanness, and Hope had transformed from that little girl into a spirited fifteen-year-old who still looked at Reed like he was capable of magic.
"Reed!" Mary called out, pushing through the crowd to embrace him with tears streaming down her face. "Oh, sweetheart, we're so proud of you! Summa cum laude! Did you hear that, kids? Your cousin graduated with the highest honors!"
The hug felt like coming home. Mary's embrace reminded Reed of those precious moments in Gary's house when she would sneak down to the basement to check on him, offering quiet encouragement when her husband wasn't around. Now, surrounded by the celebration of his greatest achievement, Reed felt that same maternal warmth amplified tenfold.
"We've been following everything," Enid said, her voice thick with emotion as she waited her turn to hug Reed. "The football championships, your interviews after the games, that article in the Boston Globe about your NASA grant. Reed, I've been saving every newspaper clipping about you for four years."
Reed's eyes widened in amazement. "You've been keeping track of all that?"
"Are you kidding?" Danny laughed, though Reed could see his cousin was fighting back tears of pride. "We watched every single MIT game that made it onto TV. Hope made us all wear homemade 'Mr. Fantastic' t-shirts to the sports bar downtown. Half of Springfield knows about our genius cousin who revolutionized college football."
"And when they announced your NASA research grant on the news last year," Hope added, launching herself into Reed's arms with the enthusiasm that hadn't changed despite her growth into a teenager, "I literally jumped up and down screaming in our living room. Mom had to calm me down because I was so excited I couldn't breathe."
Reed felt his throat tighten with emotion he hadn't expected. He'd known his family cared about him, but hearing that they'd been following his achievements so closely, celebrating his victories from hundreds of miles away, meant more than any academic honor ever could.
"I kept every article," Mary said softly, reaching into her purse to pull out a worn manila folder stuffed with newspaper clippings. "From your first game coverage to that interview you gave about electromagnetic propulsion systems. I may not understand all the science, but I understand pride. I understand watching someone you love achieve things that seemed impossible."
Reed opened the folder with trembling hands, seeing his own face staring back at him from dozens of newspaper articles spanning four years. Sports coverage, academic achievements, research announcements, even a few human interest pieces about the young genius who'd found his place on the football field. His family had documented every public moment of his MIT career.
"This is incredible," Reed whispered, flipping through articles that chronicled his transformation from an isolated teenager to a confident young scientist. "I had no idea you were keeping track of everything."
"Of course we were," Enid said firmly. "Reed, you're not just our cousin. You're our inspiration. When I was struggling with calculus in high school, I would think about how you overcame so much worse and found a way to excel. When Danny couldn't decide whether to take advanced physics, he remembered how you always said science was about asking questions. When Hope got teased for being too smart, she told her classmates that her cousin was proof that being brilliant was something to be proud of."
"You showed us that being different wasn't something to hide," Danny added, his seventeen-year-old voice carrying wisdom beyond his years. "You proved that if you work hard enough and believe in yourself, you can achieve anything. Even when Dad..." He trailed off, glancing nervously at his mother.
"Even when your father tried to convince you otherwise," Mary finished gently, her voice carrying years of regret and determination. "Reed, I need you to know something. If your parents were here today, they would be just as proud as we are. Probably more proud, if that's even possible."
Reed felt tears spring to his eyes at Mary's words. "You really think so?"
"I know so," Mary said with absolute certainty. "Your father would be amazed by your research achievements, and your mother would be so happy to see the kind, brilliant man you've become. They would see in you everything they dreamed of when they held you as a baby."
The emotional reunion continued for several more minutes, with Reed's cousins sharing stories of how they'd bragged about him to their friends, how they'd used his example to motivate themselves through difficult challenges, how they'd watched his televised interviews with the same intensity other teenagers reserved for their favorite celebrities.
"The best part," Hope said with a grin that reminded Reed painfully of his mother's smile, "was when that reporter asked you about your secret to success, and you said it was remembering that the universe always has more secrets to reveal. That sounded so much like something a real scientist would say. I wrote it down and put it on my bedroom wall."
"I can't believe you remembered that," Reed said, amazed that his offhand reference to his father's favorite phrase had resonated with his youngest cousin.
"I remember everything you've said in interviews," Hope replied with the earnestness that only teenagers could muster. "Especially when you talked about how your family helped you believe in yourself even when things were difficult. That was about us, wasn't it? About how Mom and Enid and Danny made you feel like you belonged?"
Reed nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. The love and acceptance he felt from these three people was overwhelming in the best possible way. After years of wondering if he truly mattered to anyone beyond his academic achievements, hearing their stories of support and pride felt like a healing balm on wounds he'd carried since childhood.