Extra Ordinary

Chapter Twelve - 'Thanks For Asking'

Someone...

Was someone holding me?

Had I fallen asleep in an alleyway? I just about panicked until I quickly realised the person carrying me was Super Psych, I didn't have to open my eyes to figure that out; his hold was uncomfortable but his cologne was comforting- which kind of explained his personality.

"You took forever." I mumbled into him. I felt like a child in this position, but I didn't complain, I could barely even find the strength to move.

He sighed, "Sorry...hold on tight."

I do as he says and I suspect we're back in San Fransisco, the atmosphere seems different now, "Why were we in New York?" I asked quietly.

"There was a crisis." he mumbled. I would've pressed further if I wasn't in such a tired state, both mentally and physically. And I didn't even do anything.

I'll be sure to ask later...

I turn my head away from his chest and open my eyes to see that we're in Jackie's backroom, the same place Super Psych and I had our second encounter. I let out a relieved sigh, glad I'm somewhere familiar.

It was then that the realisation began to sink in- I had never been anywhere out of San Fransisco and my first experience travelling anywhere was with Super Psych of all people. Using teleportation of all methods. Despite my love for this particular hero, I couldn't bring myself to feel the slightest bit lucky.

"I'm putting you down." Super Psych said, he stayed true to his word, dropping me before I could even process them.

I fall straight down onto my hands and knees, thankfully it's carpet this time- though that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less. "Shit." He muttered, "I expected you to land on your feet, not like a fucking cat."

I ignored him, scowling. I get off my knees and onto my butt, noting the burning, I find that my legs are all scratched and even bleeding, I should've changed out of my uniform before I came by, it consisted of a black button up shirt with a matching pencil skirt, exposing my pale legs- blood was never a good look on me. I flinched, touching one of the little cuts. "You're bleeding..." he now noticed, surprised. "From falling on the carpet?"

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "It's not from the carpet, I fell on the gravel."

"Gravel..." He repeated slowly, "What happened when I was gone?"

I laugh, and when I do, it sounds so humourless and cold- when I really just feel delirious more than anything. "I should be asking you that."

"What happened?" he persisted, words clipped and patience wearing thin. I can't place where his irritation is directed though, a logical assumption would be me, but I find myself doubting it.

I sighed, recalling the horrid event that took place barely an hour ago. "Hysterical girl's father was in that bank...she ran into the alleyway and straight into me. I fell over. I'm relatively unscathed." I explained grimly.

"Is the little girl okay?" he asked after a moment, concern laced his words. Not looking at him is starting to become easier, I had remembered to keep my eyes on the floor the whole time.

"Physically, yes. Emotionally, no...she saw her father get shot." I muttered, recalling the little girl's distraught, reddened face.