Sally's Story: Heroes

	The air was clean again, the anarchic raging in the city stymied by the police, fires extinguished and perpetrators rounded up. There was still the issue of the smouldering pile of debris where once stood the Beacon City Bakery, but that would have to wait. Outside it was snowing just a little, tenuous drifts of white mixing to a dismally grey, toxic slurry in the still-ashen streets. Inside, though, there was the frantic hustle of hospital staff scurrying to and fro, the dramatic chorus of sirens replaced by the odd, singular cry now and then. Aside from that, it was mercifully quiet again, the forecast of more snow coming welcome news for children still too young to process what had happened the other day. And outside that hospital, wading through the silent curtains of snow, a red-haired woman found her way up to the third floor. She’d gotten the call from another lady-like voice on the line, time dripping at glacial pace as they anxiously waited outside the theater, neither having the stomach to leave. The robot, still dazed from the day before, offered a sympathetic hand to hold for her. She took it gladly, not wanting to bother the other two men, idly smoking or laughing with each other, with her want of comfort. She’d never expected it to come to this, frankly. Hours later, the two sleepily leant on the other’s shoulder, they were jostled awake by the burlier of the two men.
	“He’s out, barely,” he sniffed.
	“Can we see him,” Sally asked.
	“You can go in, but he’s still, uh, knocked out,” he snorted lightly. The robot took up a seat in the room, watching the gentle rise and fall, perilously shallow, of the man’s chest. All manner of machinery ticked gently beside him, girding him closer to precious life should he start to slip. The woman took a seat besides her, the two idly watching him; up and down, up and down. That was all there was, Sally excusing herself so she could return to work- there were reports to be submitted and, after all, the case wasn’t *closed*, just gruesomely blown apart, and they’d need a robot’s touch to correct that. Shallow white light turned to blissful blue nighttime by the time he was awake.
	“Vincent?”
	“Sherry,” he whispered. He’d like to laugh, but it would likely tear a stitch, or hurt like a sumbitch at the least. Best not to. “Wazzup?”
	“Not much,” she twirled her hair. “It’s cold out today, huh?”
	“I dunno, I haven’t been able to turn my head yet.”
	“Well, it’s snowing outside!”
	“That’s nice,” he coughed. “Can you tell me what else is outside?”
	“Well…,” she languished, the city not exactly in the right shape for that. “It’s nighttime, not sure if you knew.”
	“Mhm…”
	“And- oop! A taxi went by! A lot of the snow’s starting to stick, now. No more slush, huh?”
	“Yay…”
	“Hey, not like you’re the one who’s gonna be shovelling out there tomorrow!”
	“Knowing Crawley,” he mumbled, “I’ll be out there in the morning, salting.” She giggled at the joke, knowing all too well the rather pressing attitude of the commissioner. It was terribly dark outside now, the play of streetlights in the sheets of snow falling telling her it was either go now, or stay the night.
	“Hey Vince, it’s snowing real hard out there. I, uh, don’t wanna get snowed in.” He gulped, worried again. He wanted to ask her that thing he’d been meaning to but had never gotten the courage to say, to spit out and relieve the aching pressure it left in his chest. He couldn’t do it now, like this- but an approximation would do well enough.
	“Will you come visit tomorrow?” He wedged his eyes open enough to meet the green little orbs, softer and kinder looking back at him. He watched a smile creep to her face, gently creasing her lips.
	“I will, Vince. That sounds nice.”
	“Thanks, I’ll see you at my place.” He could risk laughing here if it meant seeing her smile a bit wider, her tender face sending him reeling. He hid the agonizing stab in his abdomen from that chuckle until she’d left, shutting the door behind her. Rolling his head over to sleep again, he dreamt of seeing her the next day, getting the time to ask her a question that would be answered when he took his first steps out of his sterile room.