The sky of the metropolis was the clearest it had been in years, the day so hot even the clouds had gone into hiding. On the streets, people only ventured out of the shade of the city's skyscrapers and apartment blacks if needed. A child, face already red with sunburn, began to bawl as a precious ice cream lay on the sidewalk, toppled from the cone by a careless movement.
A young woman sat atop one of the apartment buildings that lay a little closer to the suburbs than most. Bare feet lay still, one hung over the edge, the other pulled into her body, knee extended to the side. Her hands fingered her toes distractedly, tugging softly at dark red nails. She was soundless in her calm observation of the city, oblivious to or uncaring of the growing sensation of burning upon her cheeks and nose.
After a while she stood, balanced gracefully on the broad concrete edge of the building. She faced the city.
"Are you alright ma'am?"
She barely blinked, apparently unsurprised by the previously unseen newcomer, whose red-booted feet floated a foot above the apartment roof behind her. She paused, then turned to face him.
Blue eyes and a face many would, and did, swoon over stared back, filled with concern. A red cape rippled slightly in a breath of breeze, and the woman's head tilted to one side questioningly.
"Do I really look like a 'ma'am'?" she queried lightly. A brow of steel furrowed faintly.
"I'm sorry if I offended-" he began, sounding confused, but she cut him off with a laugh.
"No, no, don't bother," she chuckled. "Random question, I know."
She smiled and watched him curiously a moment.
"Well excuse me," she said, turning back to face the city.
"Wait." The word came at the same time as a touch on her shoulder, his hand stopping her from turning. "I-" He paused, at a loss as to what to say. She eyed him over her shoulder.
"What do you think I'm going to do?"
"Jump, possibly."
"Why are you stopping me now?"
"Pardon?"
She twirled slowly to face him, head tilted back to meet his eyes. His hand dropped.
"If I'm going to jump, why not just catch me before I go splat-" he winced "-and then cart me off to the nearest mental hospital?"
"I thought that maybe- maybe you'd want to talk about it."
"Talk about it? If I'm about to jump, why would I want to talk about it?"
"Look, I'm sure it can't be that bad. Maybe talking about it would help."
"You really think that?"
A shrug.
"It has worked. Some people realise they don't want to die any more, after talking about it."
"Interesting."
A raised eyebrow.
"Interesting?"
"Yes, interesting."
Silence.
"Talking about problems doesn't always solve them."
"Sometimes it helps us realise the solutions."
"What if my father had raped me?"
"Go to the police, they can arrest him."
"What if they don't believe me?"
"They can tell if-"
"What if it happened months ago, and all the evidence is gone? What if, because I've talked about it and gone to the police, and they didn't believe me, Daddy got angry and beat me?"
"Well maybe he wouldn't dare. If you've gone to the police once before, you could go again if he did anything."
The young woman smirked.
"You're good," she commented. "But Daddy didn't rape me."
"Didn't really think so."
"But what if I'm about to jump because I have some mysterious, deadly disease?"
"What if they find a cure tomorrow?"
"What if they don't?"
"You must always have hope."
"What if there is no hope?" She bent a little, and he tensed, ready to grab her again. "Don't worry, I'm just sitting down. My feet hurt." She sat, back to the edge. "What if there is no hope? What if I- I made a mistake, dated some mob boss' son and now there's a pissed-off dumpee with a price on my head?"
"Witness protection program." He sounded amused now.
"I probably dumped him due to bad breath, not 'cos I saw his dad 'ice' someone."
He started to speak, but stopped.
"Stumped, huh? If that was the case, would you have let me jump? Let me choose my own way to go?"
Silence.
"What if I'm not here to jump."
She tugged at the bottom of her white hoodie, head slanted back so she could stare at the impossibly blue sky.
"Why else would you be up here then?" he asked, drifting over to sit beside her.
"Maybe I just like watching the city from on high. Maybe I'm a fan girl, willing to jump just so I can get a hug from you." She threw him an audacious grin that won a laugh.
"Pretty hardcore for a fan to try that," he commented. "But unfortunately for you-"
"Spoken for, right?" A nod, met with an exaggerated pout, followed by a chuckle.
Yet another silence.
"Or," the woman murmured, her smile fading and her eyes drifting away from him once more. "Perhaps I can fly. What if I just felt like going for a midday stroll with the birds and the clouds, and you've interrupted me?"
"Should I take that risk?"
"Why not? It's not like I'll fall faster than a speeding bullet. You could catch me if I'm lying or delusional."
"Maybe I don't want to have to." She watched him, made curious by the quietness in his voice. "I've caught people before," he continued hollowly. "People who've jumped. Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they've realised they don't want to die. But others- they'll shout, scream, kick, punch." His voice was incredulous. "They want to die. They want to end whatever tortures them And they hate me for stopping them." The woman was speechless, pity and apology plain on her face.
"Don't worry," she eventually said, reaching out to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "There's always pay-per-view."
"...what?"
There was a shout below, and the two immediately peered over the edge at the two men on the street. Even the woman, without superhuman hearing or sight, could hear the anger in their voices, see the flash of poorly hidden flick blades. The woman watched as her companion shot down there in a streak of blue and red, and within seconds flick blades were confiscated and the two men hurriedly departed.
Hands of steel crushed the blades into a ball of metal and cracked plastic, then carefully dropped the previously deadly ball into a nearby bin.
He looked up.
The sun was behind her, making her cloud of black hair a burning halo as it wisped around her face. She stood at the edge, toes curled over the corner of the concrete, hands pushed into the pouch at the front of her hoodie.
"Let's see what was true."
It was barely a whisper, but he heard it as clearly as if she stood beside him.
She lifted her arms, featherless wings of white cloth.
He moved as though to catch her, forgetting he could fly.
She stepped forwards.
He watched her fly.