Falling Apart (And Rolling With It)

Chapter Four

Gillian clocked out, ending her shift. Usually, after work, she would take her time getting home and embrace what Livingstein had to offer, from the trees planted by the sidewalk to a long line of local business with cute signs. There were times she would get a glimpse of the small town Livingstein used to be before the economic boom ten years ago, and she'd wonder if it could have stayed adorably small for just a little longer. Even villains have a soft spot, and Gillian was all about small towns.

Since the accident, however, she would rush home after every shift if Frankie didn't want visitors that day. For the life of her, Gillian couldn't remember if it'd been a week or a month since Frankie was admitted to the hospital. The days blurred together so much that she stood outside of her favorite cafe, waiting for it to open for an hour before realizing it didn't open on Mondays.

After two weeks of "bad news bears" and too much time to spend doung nothing, Frankie's discharge was happening today. The pyro hummed as she entered her apartment building. In her cozy bedroom, Gillian switched out of her work uniform and into a hoodie and sweats. She passed by her super suit, hanging from her closet, untouched. For a moment, she reconsidered her outfit.

I don't have time for it, she thought, exiting the apartment.

Outside the building, a big, blue van idled in wait for her. A middle-aged, Hispanic man leaned against the vehicle. He stood straighter when he saw Gillian. They nodded at each other in greeting.

"What do you have, Hench?" she asked, polite and formal. Over their previous interaction, she already knew, but still wanted to act out this interaction like it was a movie scene. He knew that she knew, and still went along with it like a pro.

Slapping on the hood, he informed her, "Had this one for two years. It's completely wheelchair-accessible. Easy to drive. Everything you need for transport is in here."

Nodding in thought, she walked around the vehicle, eyeing the condition of it. So far, it's decent. "How good do you think it is?"

With a scoff, he said, "Even my ma loves it, and she's the reason I got this van."

Gillian smiled. She opened the sliding door and looked over the big, empty space for the wheelchair. Right now, there was a ramp and some seatbelt extensions, neatly put away. "That's good. How is your mom, by the way?"

"Couldn't be better. She's visiting my aunt for two weeks, so I expect the van to come back by then."

She got into the driver's seat and adjusted the settings. She even straightened the handicap parking permit hanging from the mirror. Prepared, she gave him a thumbs-up. "Thanks for the car, Hench," she said.

"You can call me Joe, now. I think that movie scene of yours is over."

"Good point. Will you still be around when I need a henchman again?"

"I'm not your henchman," Joe reminded her. "But yes, you have my number."

Once Gillian got the van moving, she took her time to drop Joe off at his house before driving to the hospital.