Kellie felt a gentle shake on her shoulder.  “Kellie.  Kellie, honey.”

Kellie sat up at the desk where she had fallen asleep.  Bits of electronics were scattered around her.  She looked up to see her mom standing over her.

“Honey, it’s three in the morning,” Gemma Ross said to her daughter.  “You need to get some sleep -- in a proper bed.”

Kellie groggily shook her head.  “Mom, I’m so close,” she said.  “I’m pretty sure I’ve got this figured out.  I just need one more piece of the puzzle, and I’ll be there.”

Gemma knelt beside her daughter.  “Kellie, I know how important this is to you --”

“Important?!” Kellie said.  “Mom, this is a matter of life and death -- Dakota’s life and death!”

Gemma nodded and closed her eyes.  “I understand that,” she said, “but wearing yourself down to a nub won’t help Dakota at all.  He needs you.”

“I’ve been seeing him,” Kellie said.

“Yeah, when you can do it with his parents or sister around,” Gemma said.  “From what I hear from the Greenes, what he really wants is to talk to you alone, and you bolt when that possibility arises.  What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Kellie said.

“Kellie, something happened two weeks ago between you two,” Gemma said.  “I don’t know what it was, but it’s hurting both of you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mom,” Kellie said.

Gemma stood up, sighing.  “All right,” she said.  “But remember, your time with those you love is precious, especially in a situation like Dakota’s is now.  Don’t waste it.”

Kellie looked back at her mother.  “Who said I love Dakota?”

Gemma smiled knowingly.  “All right, substitute ‘people you care about.’  It still applies.  Try and get some rest, honey.”  She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Two days later, it was as Elevator Girl that Kellie approached the Greene house.  She was wearing her pink costume, the one she knew Dakota liked.  She was 50 feet tall when she walked up, being careful to approach from a direction other than that of home.

In his room, Dakota smiled as he heard the thud of Elevator Girl’s colossal feet as she walked.  He knew that sound, and he knew that, if she was in the neighborhood, there was a good chance she was coming to see him.

Kellie shrank to her customary 7-foot height for Elevator Girl “at rest.”  The height difference made her voice sound different, and gave people a different perspective on her body so she looked less like Kellie Ross to most people.  Then she knocked on the door.

Lakota answered.  “Oh, hey!” she said.  “Elevator Girl!  What brings you here?”

“Your brother,” Kellie said.  “Are your folks here?”

“Yeah,” Lakota said.

“I’d like to talk to the family, if I can,” Kellie said.

“Absolutely,” Lakota said.  “Come on in.”

Dakota’s medication had left him temporarily too weak to stand, having taken two different prescribed medications a little too close together.  As a result, the family met in his room.

Once they were all there, Kellie started.  “I’ve heard about Dakota’s condition,” she said.  “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to help, and I think I have.  It’s using the technology of two members of the old Super 6.  But it’ll involve a risk to Dakota, and to me.”

“I don’t understand,” Dakota’s dad said.

“My size-changing powers are technology based, and that technology creates mini-warps in the time-space continuum to warp space and result in size changes.”

“That must take a tremendous amount of energy,” said Mr. Greene.

“Elevator Man found a way to harness the energy of the warps themselves to power the devices,” Kellie said.  “The challenge for him was the first warp so he could use it to power the later ones and his belt.  Anyway, using the tech available to me, I’ve been able to create a blaster that can warp space-time around individual cancer cells or cell clusters.  The thing is, I’ll have to use it in person.  I‘ll have to shrink to microscopic size and go into his body.”

Lakota frowned.  “How will you do that?” she asked.  “How will you breathe?”

“I’ve got a special environment suit from another Super 6 member,” Kellie said.  “I’ll use it.  I’ll work with the doctors to rig a communication and camera system so they can guide me to the right cells to remove.  It’ll be time consuming, and I can’t guarantee I can get everything, but I believe I can get most of the cancer.”

“But how can you do this for just Dakota?”  his mother asked.  “There are so many others with cancer, and you can’t go into them all.”

“You’re right,” Kellie said, “but I can give medical technology companies the rights to a few patents I hold, so they can work on building the technologies to share this with others.”

“Give, or sell?” asked Mr. Greene.

Kellie smiled.  “I’ll give them away on the condition that a foundation be established for cancer patients and their families -- the Dakota Greene Foundation.”

The other members of the Greene family looked at Dakota.  His expression was to their surprise, cold.

“Excuse me,” Dakota said.  “I’d like to talk to Elevator Girl alone, please.”

“All right,” said Mr. Greene.  “Let’s go, folks.”

When they were all out, Dakota said to Kellie, “Shut the door.”  She did so.

Dakota shook his head.  “Why are you doing this?” he said.

“What do you mean?” Kellie said.  “I’m a superheroine!  I save lives!  I’m trying to save yours!”

“What do you care about my life?” Dakota asked.  “You haven’t been alone with me since I told you I love you.  Now you finally are, but it’s as Elevator Girl.  First you hide behind my family, now you hide behind that mask.  I’ve exposed myself to you, and you’re still hiding from me.”

“I’m not hiding!” Kellie said.  “I’m trying to save you!”

“I can’t let you do that, Elevator Girl,” Dakota said.

“What? Why not?”

“There are millions of others with cancer like me,” Dakota said.  “They don’t have a superheroine for a girlfriend who can do this kind of thing for them.  I can’t accept this help.  It wouldn’t be fair.”

Unconsciously, Kellie added a foot to her height.  “Unfair?!  Unfair!”  she shouted.  “Don’t you talk to me about unfair, Dakota Greene!  What’s fair about a 14-year-old dying of cancer?  Nothing!  What’s unfair is when your father dies of brain cancer so fast you barely get the chance to tell him you love him, and you‘re still a kid!  What’s unfair is when you come to depend on your grandpa to be the adult male in your life and he gets sick and dies!  What’s unfair is a beautiful, special 14-year-old dying of cancer!  This is a chance to balance the scales, to make things fair for you, and maybe one that can reach others down the line!  Don’t you dare skip this chance because you say it’s not fair!”

Dakota looked up at her, stunned for a moment.  Then he looked aside for a second, processing an idea.  He looked back at Kellie.  “Oh, my God,” he said.  “Elevator Girl, I’m sorry.  I didn‘t know.”

Kellie shook her head.  “What do you mean?” she asked.

“You can’t say it,” Dakota said.  “I never realized it until now.  You can’t say you love me, even though you do.  You told your father loved him, and he died of cancer.  You told your grandpa you loved him, and he got sick and died.  You love me, but you don’t dare say it, because I have cancer, and you don’t want me to die, too.”

Without thinking, Kellie shrank to her real normal size.  Her lower lip quivered for three seconds as she nodded.

Dakota held out a hand, and Kellie took it.  “You know, saying it won’t kill me,” he said.

“I know in my head,” Kellie said quietly, “but I just can’t let myself do it.  I’m sorry.”

“Then I’ll say it for both of us,” Dakota said.  “I love you.  Is that acceptable?”

“Oh, yes,” Kellie said, louder.  She leaned forward to kiss him.

Then they heard the loud thud from the hallway, right beside the door.

In two seconds, Kellie had stood up and grown large enough to open the door.  Within another second, she had grabbed the person there -- Lakota -- hauled her into the room and pulled the door back shut.

Kellie dangled Dakota’s sister in front of her.  “You were eavesdropping,” she said angrily.

“Yes,” Lakota said faintly.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Lakota said.  “I know you’re … who you are.  Who I spent thanksgiving with.”

“You’re not telling anyone,” said Kellie, scowling.

“No one,” Lakota said.

“Not even Mom and Dad,” Dakota said.

“Not even them,” Lakota said.

Kellie put Lakota down and shrank to her normal size, then removed her mask.  “I don’t approve of how you found out,” she said, “but I’ve needed a girlfriend who knows.”  She hugged Lakota.

“Um, this is all very sweet, but we were in the middle of something?”  Dakota said.

“Right.  Getting out now,” Lakota said. And she did.

Kellie sat next to Dakota.  “Now, where were we?” she asked.

“About here,” Dakota said, pulling her closer and kissing her.  And, for that lingering moment, all was well.