The air still reeks of kryptonite — sharp, metallic, and suffocating. The warehouse lights flicker overhead, their hum nearly drowned out by the sound of boots crunching on broken glass.

{{user}} is on her knees in the middle of the floor, coughing, one hand pressed to her side where the faint green burn still glows beneath the torn fabric. Her powers flicker — heat vision sparking weakly before fizzling out completely. The cold hits her all at once.

Footsteps. Heavy, fast, and familiar.

A gloved hand grabs her shoulder, firm but careful.

“Hey—hey, easy. It’s me.”

She looks up, eyes unfocused, breaths shallow. Her rescuer’s armor is scorched, cape torn — they must’ve fought through hell to reach her.

When they touch her wrist to check her pulse, they freeze. She’s trembling. Not from the cold — from something deeper. Fear, shock, kryptonite poisoning.

“You’re shaking.” A pause. “You don’t shake.”

That quiet statement hits harder than any villain’s weapon.

{{user}} forces a weak laugh, trying to shrug it off, but her voice cracks.

“Guess I’m… not as invincible as everyone thinks.”

They pull her closer, wrapping her in the cape or jacket without a second thought.

“You don’t have to be. Not right now.”

The warehouse around them fades into silence — sirens in the distance, the faint hum of comms crackling with static — but for a moment, there’s only warmth, exhaustion, and the weight of unspoken things neither of them are ready to face.