There's a Hero to save me, I'm not gonna stand here and wait

An ice cold sensation on my hand was nothing compared to the suffocation I started feeling. My lungs felt like they were tearing apart from the inside. I couldn't breathe through my mouth or my nose…my throat was burning and nostrils were filled with some kind of soot.

My vision became blurry. So much that I couldn't exactly define objects in front of me as I stumbled on the floor, my bare legs tripping on something. The sounds were a vacuumed mess around me.

When I was ready to give up and succumb to the unconsciousness two strong arms grabbed me and effortlessly spinned my body around so I would be on my back.

"You're ok, Miss. Can you hear me?"

I could. I don't know how coherent my answers and thoughts in general were but I knew three things: the house was on fire, I could hear him and this man has probably saved my life.

It was 3:50 in the morning as I bolted from the restless slip with cold sweat covering my face and neck, my left hand – firmly bandaged and dripping of some cream that would heal the burn – was itching disgustingly.

Pulling a see-through gown over a wife beater and a boy shorts I tiptoed to the kitchen trying not to tumble over something and wake my sleeping friend Jen on the couch. She's been staying over for a last couple of days after I've been released from the hospital.

I took a bottle of water out of the fridge and took a big gulp instantly regretting it. The water came back up as fast as it went down the pipe as the pit of coughs erupted from my aching throat.

"And all of this because you refuse to listen to the doctor's orders." A faint sleepy voice of Jen announced from the couch, her body still twisted in a position I'm not sure anyone could sleep at all in. "Your windpipe was slightly damaged with all the smoke inhalations and while it's healing you need to drink only warm liquids – no hot, no cold. Ice cold water doesn't do the trick."

"Thanks, Doc!" I sent the fridge door flying after storing the water back inside.

"Don't be moody! Or you'll be talking like Mickey Rourke for the rest of your life!" She finally turned her head in the direction of the kitchen island.

"I don't talk like Mickey!" I snapped back. But I did. My voice was raspy and it seemed that I was a good old addict.

Jen produced a small laugh and finally made herself stand up and join me in the kitchen. We both stared through a large wall-long window at night Chicago.

"Still can't sleep?" She asked.

"No sleep for me." I confirmed. "Sorry I woke you."

"Don't be, I'm here for that."

I made my face produce a half-smile. That's really all I could.

"Thank you. Like really…thank you."

We stayed that way for some time just gazing at the night sky, lighted streets of our favorite city. Jen went back to the couch in some time but I stayed there on the bar stool with my back to the counter and legs on the window shell watching the sunrise. No sleep came my way.

-\-

"Your hand is healing very good. I'll need to see it couple more times and keep the bandages out of the water. As for your throat, it should be as good as new in a couple days."

"Thanks, Doctor Sampson." I nodded to a dark-skinned thirty-something man in white robe and light-green scrubs. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow then?"

"Yes, you will."

I used my good hand to take a purse and my jacket when the good doctor called out:

"Harper?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel apart from the injury? Headaches? Depression? Sleep deprivation?"

I calculated my options for a minute.

"Maybe it's a little harder to sleep but I don't think it's anything important." I replied with a fake smile. But I was looking at his forehead and I think he realized I was lying.

"Well, if it gets worse, tell me. I'll write a prescription for some sleeping drugs."

"Ok, thanks." And I was out of his door.

I was in the elevator in a moment all the while pulling on my leather jacket and finding a floor extremely interesting and void of the things that could destruct me of my thoughts so when the sensor suddenly indicated the first floor and I still caught in the abrupt difficulty of my jacket clumsily stepped out it was no wander that I swiftly collided with a solid object. I produced a low noise and was close to hitting the floor when I felt arms. A pair of strongest arms grabbed me by the shoulders and steadied me. A sense of déjà vu engulfed me and I urgently searched my memory for the recognition, getting nothing.

Managing to stay still I looked up to see a very very solid chest on my eye-level. I have an exceptionally small and delicate figure so it's not exactly an achievement but this man was very athletic with broad shoulders, strong arms and by the way the simple black shirt covered his stomach it wasn't wrong to assume that all nine yards are hidden behind it. I made myself snap out of it and look up to be met with a pair grayish green eyes and a stubble of at least three-four days.

"You ok there, pixie?" Now that got me out of the moment.

"I'm no pixie!" He was still holding his arms on my shoulders and his greyish eye were dancing, and I felt warmth from his palms. My voice aimed for high undertones but it was still raspy and traitorous caugh eatched somewhere at the edge. That seemingly made him supply a little laugh and a small smirk. Or was it a smile? "Well, maybe I am but you don't call me that!"

"Ok, pixie." He said dumbfounding me. " Careful with that hand."

He added after seeing my bandages and a moment later was in the elevator I've just exited. I turned to look at him as the doors closed but not before he winked at me.

"Agrr.." I let a frustrated sound and made my way out of the Lakeshore Hospital.