Daniel stood outside the hospital doors with a paper bag of sushi, a container of green grapes, and a tiny bouquet of lavender he bought at the last minute because it felt like the decent thing to do after... you know... hitting someone with his car.
Her dad's military, he reminded himself with a grimace.
Elle's warning echoed in his head:
"He'll be here soon. You really want him to meet the man who ran his precious daughter over with his car?"
Daniel wasn't a coward.
If the guy wanted to deck him for running over his daughter, fair. He'd take the punch. He probably deserved it. He was lucky she wasn't lunging at him herself. She seemed almost...happy about getting hit by his car?
He took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and pushed the doors open to the hospital, instantly getting hit by the smell of chlorine, and hand sanitizer.
There was a waiting line to the left, a mother holding a sleeping twelve year old smiled at him in approval seeing the flowers and food in his hand.
He smiled politely back as he walked over to the reception area.
The nurse was a tall chubby woman with tired eyes and short dark curls.
She stopped writing something down on her notepad and glanced up at him.
"Hi, I'm here for—" He lifted the food and flowers like a peace offering. "The girl in Room 214? From the uhh," he cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit as if the hospital would know it was him who hit her, "the car accident."
With a tired sigh she checked her computer, short chapped nails drumming over the keyboards with the urgency of a bored cashier at a truck stop.
The nurse blinked at him.
"She's gone."
His eyebrows shot up. "...What?"
"She just left. Didn't sign out. Didn't wait for the doctor." She jutted her chin towards the front entrance. "Ran right out the front."
Daniel felt his stomach fall straight through the floor.
"Oh hell," he muttered. "She definitely lied about the dad."
The nurse frowned. "Dad?"
"Never mind." He dragged a hand down his face, frustration mixing with worry.
He knew something was off—the way she seemed more confused about being alive. And then he remembered the IDs he'd found scattered around her after the accident. Student cards. Fake names. Different faces. A whole pile of someone else's stories.
He had picked them all up.
He gave the hospital the most reasonable one. Just one. He wasn't stupid. He knew what fake identities looked like.
And Elle... Elle was trouble shaped like a girl. He could tell by the unevenly chopped strands of her hair, the way it looked like she had cut it out of boredom but her perfect face saved it from looking chopped.
"I'll just go." He sighed and headed back to his car.
This is ridiculous. You don't even know her.
But guilt gnawed at him anyway. She'd been hurt. He had hurt her. He ran her over with his car and she bolted the hospital the second she got the freedom to do so.
And she was out there right now—barefoot, half-conscious, and wearing a hospital gown like it counted as actual clothing.
He drove, first checked the parking lot filled with cars. Then the side streets. When nothing came up he checked the park behind the outpatient clinic.
By the time he finished the hospital area the sun was dropping behind dark murky clouds and light showers sprayed the dry asphalt as he drove out towards the bridge.
Maybe she had already left this part of the District and moved on.
His headlights swept across the walkway—and there she was barefoot, and standing far too close to the edge of the railing. The thin hospital gown fluttering against the wind.
Daniel slowed, dread twisting his gut, and pulled over.
When he stepped out, he saw him too: a tall, lean man with silver hair and bright blue eyes in all black and...barefoot?
The strange man stood near Elle, watching her with the calmness of someone observing a distant cloud. He looked too poised, too unreal to belong on a damp, miserable bridge.
Elle looked at him, then to her left as if seeing something that wasn't there. The man followed her gaze and nodded.
She stumbled back, gasped out a breathy, panicked, "Holyshit—"
Daniel took one step toward them—
All of a sudden Elle's foot slipped, her body tipping backward over the railing.
Daniel's world snapped.
"Wait—NO—!" he roared, sprinting forward.
The silver-haired stranger didn't move. Didn't shout. Didn't even extend a hand. He just watched her fall with a blank almost curious expression on his face.
Daniel didn't think. Didn't breathe. He vaulted over the railing and dove straight into the black water.
He hit the surface hard, cold slicing into his bones.
The water was dark and glacial, but he immediately caught the sight of her white hospital gown and the glow of her pale skin against the dark water.
His legs kicked and he pushed himself towards her as fast as he could.
The cold instantly latched onto him with its icy fingers, gripping into the pores of his skin and sending a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him.
He saw her float, not moving to save herself or even panicking. Her eyes were shut, a ghost of a smile curled at her lips as her hair flowed around her like a river of dark silk.
He reached her quickly—her small frame already sinking—hooking an arm under her shoulders and dragging her upward. The current fought him, but adrenaline won.
He pulled her onto the concrete bank, breath tearing from his lungs as he sucked in air.
She was cold and silent. Before he could gather his own breath he gasped and reach over for her.
"Come on—come on—" He pressed his hands against her sternum, pushing, counting under his breath as panic gripped him.
He remembered the tune they taught at the school auditorium about CPR. He hummed the tune, pumping his open clasped palm against her chest at intervals.
Water slid from her blue lips, too little, too slow.
"Elle! Elle, hey—wake up!"
Then she convulsed, a violent cough ripping through her chest as river water spilled across his jeans. Daniel nearly collapsed from relief.
She wheezed, trembling, dark soaked hair clinging to her pale moonlit face. Then this girl - this absolute menace - glared at him through half lidded eyes.
"What is wrong with you?"
Daniel was stunned. "That's a weird way of saying 'thank you for saving my life.'"
She shoved him off her weakly, coughing. "Didn't you see I was finally dying over there?"
"Yeah," he snapped, "that's literally why I saved you."
"No, dumbass." She groaned like he was the unreasonable one. "Can't a girl die in peace?"
Daniel actually choked. "What—? No! Absolutely not!"
But she was already looking past him, up toward the bridge searching for something. He followed her gaze just in time to see the silver-haired stranger turning away, disappearing into the dark like he'd never been there at all.
What the hell is going on.
Her violet eyes fluttered as he turned back to her. His heart hammered.
"Elle—Elle!" Daniel caught her just as she slumped, her breath shallow but steady.
Unconscious again.
Great.
Fantastic.
Wonderful.
Not stressful at all.
He gathered her into his arms—her small body cold, limp, and frighteningly light. He ignored how even half dead with purple lips and wet dark hair sticking to her face she looked almost unreal, like an elusive dream he conjured up with retro music spawning from somewhere near him painting a haunting image of an ethereal girl lost in time and despair.
Only she was real and passed out in his arms.
"Okay," he muttered, adjusting his grip as he stood, swaying a bit. "First I hit you with my car, then you escape the hospital, then you jump off a bridge—what next, huh? Skydiving without a parachute?"
She didn't answer. Obviously.
Her head lolled against his shoulder, and something in Daniel's chest tightened. Despite everything, his arms curled a little more securely around her—as if holding her tighter might stop her from vanishing again.
"I'm not losing you twice in one day, weirdo," he murmured, voice low. "Not happening."
With Elle cradled against him, Daniel marched toward the car.