Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 7: Rescue

You offer him a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, Hermy."

He freezes, blush deepening. "I-I... um, a-actually I'm H-Herman, b-but, uh... grandma calls me Hermy, s-so... you can c-call me Hermy if y-you want... I mean, if you... if you like," he says, voice wavering, each word second-guessing the one before, as though the thought of talking to you has thrown him completely off balance. His nervous energy radiates in little stutters and hesitant pauses, but beneath it, there is a flicker of sincerity that tugs at you.

"I'll call you Herman, then. Don't want to step over any boundaries," you say gently, keeping your tone steady, professional, yet warm enough that he knows you mean well. You offer him a small, encouraging smile.

He blinks. The simple kindness has short-circuited him. His shoulders lift in a tiny, nervous twitch, and he nods quickly, cheeks blooming an even deeper pink as though he's trying and failing to look composed.

"I should probably send someone to check on you later," you continue, shifting slightly, ready to give him space and leave him to rest.

But before you can stand, his grandmother reaches out, grasping your hand lightly yet firmly. "No, dear," she says softly but with that unmistakable firmness only grandmothers have. "It should be you who comes to see him. He needs to see the person who brought him back."

Herman stiffens beside her, eyes wide, voice hesitant. "I-it's okay... really... it's fine if you don't... I mean... you don't have to..." His words tumble out in a nervous rush, his hands fidgeting with the edge of the sheet.

You crouch slightly, lowering yourself to meet his gaze, and smile warmly. "I'll come check on you, Herman. I promise."

He freezes, mouth opening slightly, no words coming, just a slow, almost imperceptible nod. His grandmother beams, her eyes misting as she pats your hand. "You are a good child," she says, voice full of pride and relief.

You rise, giving one last smile to both before turning to leave. Herman watches you go, chest tight, not fully believing you'll return, but a small, cautious hope sparks in him anyway. He clings to that hope as he sits back, blinking at the doorway long after you've disappeared.

Herman sits there, still, staring at the closed door. He doesn't fully believe you'll come back, the part of him that has been through so much wary and cautious, but a flicker of hope stirs anyway, fragile and stubborn. Maybe, just maybe, you really will return. And that thought, small as it is, makes him feel a little less alone.

---

By the time you shuffle back into the office, it is already six in the morning, the sun just barely creeping past the buildings, and you feel every ounce of exhaustion weighing you down like a lead blanket.

Your body feels like a hollowed-out shell, every muscle screaming, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, but you know going home is not an option. Even if you tried, there would be barely enough time to collapse before having to head back in. So, dragging yourself across the parking lot like a zombie with a purpose, you resign yourself to another early shift.

The office is quiet, with a few early birds scattered around. One of them, Galen, perks up the moment he sees you, eyes widening like you just walked in from a horror movie. "[Y/N]? What are you doing here so early?" he asks, tone a mix of confusion and awe.

He scans you up and down, eyes widening further. "Dude... you look like you got hit by a bus. A double-decker. While on fire."

"Ah, at this point, I wish it were that," you groan, collapsing into his cubicle slightly, arms dangling. "No, it's worse. Worked all day yesterday, got caught in the downtown emergency last night... night shift straight through. Haven't slept since yesterday. YESTERDAY, Galen."