A shuddering breath escapes you. Relief floods through your body, hot and shaking. You thank him softly, watching him leave, before pressing a hand to your chest, letting the truth settle: He is going to live.
A gentle tug at your pant leg startles you. Glancing down, you see the elderly woman looking up at you, lips quivering.
"You saved my grandson?"
You shake your head, humbled. "I... found him, ma'am. That's all."
She beckons you to kneel, and you do so without hesitation. Her thin fingers rummage through her purse, curling around something small before guiding your hand open. A coffee-flavoured candy drops into your palm.
"Thank you for saving my Hermy," she says, fragile but sincere.
You stare at the candy as though it were a treasure, a symbol of gratitude that hits you harder than words ever could. You swallow, blinking back the sting in your eyes.
"...Thank you," you murmur.
She pats your hand, then nods toward the recovery ward. "Come. Hermy should see the person who brought him back to us when he wakes."
You start to protest, but she cuts you off with a firmness only grandmothers possess.
How could you argue?
You follow her, the candy warm in your fist, the hallway glowing with the quiet promise that he will wake and that he will be okay, as she leads you to the bedside of her grandson.
He lies there, pale skin glistening, small beads of water running across the plastic covering the bed. Must be related to his powers. He stirs suddenly, blinking up at you.
"Are you feeling alright?" you ask, voice soft.
He lets out a breathy gasp, eyes wide, "A-am I-I... did I d-died... dead?"
"What?" you say, confused.
From his perspective, everything had been a blur. He was helping people, pushing them to safety, when a brutal strike sent him crashing into rubble. The last thing he remembered was a girl, beautiful, determined, running to him, yelling for him to stay alive. Now, bathed in white hospital light, you look almost angelic.
Startled, he shoots upright, water splattering onto you and his grandmother. You blink, wiping your face.
"I-a-a -um, oh god, s-sorry... sorry, did I get you wet? Moist? T-that j-just w-ater... it's my po-powers, I... I swear... maybe," he stammers, eyes wide, cheeks flaming as if he has just confessed a crime.
You cannot help the soft laugh that escapes, shaking your head. "It's alright." Your hand extends toward him. "I'm [Y/N] [L/N]. I was the one who found you," you say, keeping your voice gentle but steady.
His grandmother cuts in, sharp but warm: "No, Hermy! The doctor said she was the one who saved you!"
For a suspended moment, the world narrows. The hum of the hospital fades, leaving just his rapid breathing, the way his wide eyes hold yours, and the flicker of something almost reverent, almost stunned, in his expression.
"Wow..." he murmurs, voice hushed, staring like he is seeing someone out of a dream.
You fidget awkwardly, unsure where to place your hands as he continues to look at you with that raw, open admiration.
"Hermy," his grandmother scolds lightly, smacking his hand, "that's not how you react to someone who saved you."
He flinches, a fresh drip of water sliding down his face, and his cheeks flush pink. "O-oh, I uh... r-really appre—no, n-no, I... T-thank you, [Y-Y/N]," he stammers, words tumbling over themselves as he tries to make sense of what to say. His hands fidget slightly, and he glances away for a moment before looking back, wide-eyed.
YOU ARE READING
Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)
Romance"Dude, I think I miss working as the Dispatcher..." It wasn't supposed to be like this. One minute, I was behind a desk, pushing papers. Next, I was thrown into chaos. I used to only read about it in incident reports. Somewhere along the way, I stop...
Chapter 7: Rescue
Start from the beginning
