Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 3: Blondie

You flinch at that, jaw tightening. Your fingers curl around the corner of the folder like you're holding the memory shut.

"They were about to tear through an orphanage," you snap. Then quieter, "I admit it wasn't the best way at the time... but they were hurting kids. Innocent people. Someone had to stop them."

Before you can retreat into your guilt again, she reaches across the table.

Her hand covers yours, warm, steady and grounding. Her thumb drags gently across your knuckles, a single, deliberate sweep that makes your chest tighten.

"I know," she says softly. "And I'm sorry you were the one who had to do it."

Her eyes lift toward you, lingering in a way that feels too intimate for a fluorescent-lit meeting room. "But because of you, I wanted to clean this place up. I didn't want something like that to ever happen again."

You roll your eyes, trying to dull the ache forming in your ribs. "Well, it's not really working. I still end up cleaning after them. Just... more hero-shaped trash now."

She deflates a little at that. You scramble to fix it.

"It's not your fault," you say quickly. But she shakes her head.

"It is, in its own way," she says quietly. "You're still dealing with the fallout, while the people who caused it get to put on capes and drink cocktails three blocks from ground zero."

Her gaze sharpens, not hard, but fierce in that soft, steady way she reserves for injustices.

"You shouldn't have been the one carrying all of that alone. Not back then. Not now."

And like a passing breeze, his words echo in your mind.

You exhale slowly.

"...Someone has to," You say, voice low. "Because it matters. Because it's the right thing, even if no one notices. The choices I made then, the ones I make now... even when it's ugly, even when it hurts...I just-"

You stop, jaw tightening. "The world doesn't give a shit, so someone has to."

When you look up, she is staring at you like you have said something profound and world-changing, though all you did was pass along the words someone else once told you on a night out.

You swallow, suddenly aware of how close she is.

"Hey," you murmur. "You've come a long way, too."

Her brows lift, surprised.

"You're... not just the poster girl," you continue, your throat tightening around the truth. "You care. You're trying. You give everything, to the job, to people..."

Your voice dips before you can stop it.

"...to me."

Heat surges across your face, but you push on, reckless with honesty.

"You're kind, Mandy. Generous. You see the good in everyone. We need that. We need you. Both the hero and the person."

Her breath catches, just barely, but enough for you to notice if you weren't staring at the folder like it owes you money.

Colour rises across her cheeks, spreading slowly but unmistakably.

Her expression softens into something fragile, hopeful, almost trembling in its sincerity.

"Don't look at me like that," you mutter, shoving your attention back into the files before your heart leaps out of your chest. "Mushy stuff makes my skin crawl."