April Trudeau Jimenez used the micro-welder to connect the last elements of the computer chips into the new bracelet. She had finally moved it from theory to reality, and completed the unit. Its very nature would give it only very limited use, but it only needed very limited use.

April looked at the time. She was running late, but didn’t need to take time to change into her Elevator Girl uniform. She had always promised herself she would complete this bracelet while she was in her Elevator Girl identity, just for what that would mean for her mother. She had accomplished it, and just barely in time. In a short while, she wouldn’t be Elevator Girl anymore. She just hoped Elevator Woman didn’t say anything to complicate their plans at this late stage.

At the same time, Dakota and Lakota Greene sat on the stage in front of the building that housed the Greene-Ross Foundation. Lakota’s grown daughter, Rosie, sat in the reserved seating near the stage. Lakota’s son, Cody, was still in school.

Dakota smiled at his niece. “I’m glad Rosie’s here today,” he said. “That’ll mean a lot to Kellie.”

“It will, Lakota said, patting her brother‘s thigh. “What’ll mean more is that you’re here.”

Dakota hung his head. Lakota could see the heartache in his expression as he said, “It’s a big day for Kellie. I couldn’t be anywhere else.”

Lakota looked at the screen on her cell-comp. The clock showed that it was time for this to begin, which meant Kellie and April, as Elevator Woman and Elevator Girl, should be arriving at any second. There was also the matter of explaining Kellie’s absence. She’d held off on doing that, telling Dakota to leave that to Elevator Girl. Lakota knew that what Elevator Girl said would be of the biggest importance possible for everyone that mattered to Kellie.

Also in the seating area were Gemma and Stamitos Stone, Kellie’s mother and stepfather. Gemma had been on the Greene-Ross board until Kellie, who actually held the rights to the technology that started the foundation’s work more than 35 years ago, was of age to be on the board herself. As such, she was invited to be present.for this event, although Kellie undoubtedly would have found a way to invite her, anyway. Dakota’s father was invited, but was in such ill health that he wasn’t present. Dakota’s mother was at his side.

Stamitos looked down into Gemma’ eyes, a hint of tension in his expression. “Do you think April will get things finished in time to make this work?” he asked.

Gemma patted his hand. “If anyone can do it, it’s April,” she said.

Suddenly a shadow fell over the stage area. Everyone present knew what that meant. Almost in unison, the crowd looked up.

There, leaning lightly over the Greene-Ross building so as not to damage it, was Elevator Woman, smiling down at the crowd. Towering 300 feet tall, she gave the crowd a finger wave. “Hi, everybody!” she said. “What’s up?”

The governor pointed jovially up to Elevator Woman. Holding a microphone to her mouth, the governor said, “You are!”

The crowd erupted in a roar of cheers and applause.

Elevator Woman grew to 500 feet and stepped over the building, placing her feet in the area saved for her to do so. She shrank as she moved to the stage, stopping at her standard heroine height of 7 feet tall.

Kellie paused as she stared at the signs being held by people in the crowd. They bore a variety of slogans. She could make out several reading, “We love you, Elevator Woman!”, “Thank you, Elevator Woman!” and “Good luck, Elevator Woman!”, along with a couple that were asking her to grow to giant size and perform acts that she would never perform in this identity, and only would as Kellie with the right man.

Then she looked up at the banner over the stage. A tear ran down her cheek as she read what it said: “Happy Retirement, Elevator Woman!” In smaller letters below the main message were the words, “We’ll miss you.”

Gemma looked concerned.  “Where’s Elevator Girl?” she asked.

Stamitos wiped his cheek. “It could be an emergency, or she could be finishing that special project you were in on,” he said. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

Gemma looked up at him. “Stam, are you crying?”

Stamitos wiped his cheek again. “A lot of good heroes don’t make it to retirement,” he said. “Some were good friends. And Elevator Woman has been one of the best. I’m glad to see her get to this day, and not just because she’s … well, you know.”

Gemma hugged her husband. “Yeah, I know,” she said.

Elevator Woman turned toward the crowd. She waved, and they cheered. She walked up to the governor, then to the Greene-Ross board members. She shook hands with all of them until she got to the Greenes. She hugged Lakota first, then gave a particularly big hug to Dakota. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered in his ear.

Dakota pulled back and smiled a sad smile. “Where else would I be, especially today?”

Elevator Woman had to fight to keep from kissing Dakota’s cheek; it would have been too big a risk because of Kellie’s relationship with him in their youth. She sighed. He still looked so young, so handsome, because he was. Twenty-five years in suspended animation had separated them in so many ways. Her heart still beat faster when he was around, but she couldn’t allow that to ruin his life.

Elevator Woman returned to the area immediately behind the podium.

The governor asked, “Should we wait for Elevator Girl?”

“I don’t know,” Elevator Woman said. “I have to assume there’s some sort of emergency, or she’d be here. She was supposed to come in with me. I don’t think we can wait more than a couple of minutes; that’s not fair to everyone else here.”

Then a shadow fell over the stage a second time. Without looking up, Elevator Woman smiled at the governor. “There she is,” the retiring heroine said.

“Sorry I’m late,” Elevator Girl said. She continued talking while changing sizes and stepping in as her mentor had. “I was delayed dealing with an emergency that’s keeping another Greene-Ross board member from being here. I’m afraid Kellie Trudeau was in a rather unusual accident. She should be fine, but she’ll be … out of commission for awhile. I‘m not at liberty to say anything else, at least for now.”

Kellie raised an eyebrow. Providing a cover explanation for an absence was within the protocols they’d established when April became Elevator Girl, but an explanation this outlandish-sounding and attention-getting wasn’t.

Lakota sat up. Her eyes widened as she looked first at Rosie, then at Gemma and Stam.

Rosie started bouncing in her chair like a schoolgirl at a concert for the teen rocker of her dreams.

Gemma looked up at Stam, trying to feign concern for her daughter and failing miserably. “It’s a go!” she said.

Stam kept his mouth stoic, but Gemma could see the twinkle in his eye.

Elevator Woman sidled up to her partner. “Why haven’t I heard about this, Girl?” she asked, then whispered, “Where were you, really?”

Elevator Girl smiled. “Mrs. Trudeau will be fine, Woman. I’ll explain it all later.”

The governor made a short speech about the history of Elevator Woman, dating back to her career as the original Elevator Girl, and all she meant to the community, the state, the nation and the world. He cited not only her work as a superheroine, but her effort that led to the creation of the Greene-Ross Foundation, which had saved untold thousands of lives.

Then  next to speak was Dakota. He walked quietly up and said, “I think you all know me. Elevator Woman has saved my life twice, the first time when she was Elevator Girl. The … odd circumstances of my life have made me a household name, and a well-known face. Since I was rescued the second time by Elevator Woman, I’ve been working with the Greene-Ross Foundation for almost a decade now, often as its spokesman.

“Elevator Woman has made a huge difference in untold thousands of lives. Remember, every one of those lives has a face and a name. All of us are people here. On behalf of all of us who you’ve helped and saved, I have the privilege to say, ‘Thank you, Elevator Woman. You mean the world to us.” Dakota had to pause to wipe tears from his eyes before he continued. “May your retirement be as good to you as you have been to us. We love you.”

The crowd erupted in applause.

Elevator Woman raced over and embraced Dakota. It was, perhaps, a little too intense a hug lasting a little too long, but Elevator Woman’s friendship with Dakota was well known, if not the full extent of their history. What he said meant too much for her not to take this moment.

As they were hugging, Dakota whispered, “Meet me in one of the family rooms inside when we’re done, please.”

“Eighth floor,” Kellie whispered back.

Then the governor hit a control and a holo-screen appeared behind the stage. The president of the United States appeared, thanking Elevator Woman for her efforts and wishing her well in retirement.

Then it was Elevator Woman’s turn to speak. She stepped up to the podium, working hard to retain her composure.

“Thank you, all of you,” Elevator Woman said. “I’ve been blessed to have good people around me, and to serve a great city, in a great state and a great nation. I know we’ve had our ups and downs at times, and I haven’t handled everything perfectly, but I’ve always done my best on your behalf. It’s not really that my work is done. It’s just that I’m middle-aged now, and my body just can’t do all it used to do, even with all the workouts needed to get away with wearing outfits like these.”

The crowd laughed.

“I think you know that …” Kellie’s lower lip trembled as tears flooded her eyes. “… that I love you all. Thank you for letting me do this, and embracing me like this.”

The crowd roared.

Kellie took a deep breath. “And, since the work still needs doing, the city won’t be without an Elevator Woman.” She chuckled. “The truth is, the only reason she hasn’t been called Elevator Woman before this is that I was in the way.”

The crowd laughed.

Kellie glanced at April, who stepped beside her mentor. “Elevator Girl,” Kellie said, “as I officially retire as Elevator Woman, I officially, and proudly, pass to you that mantle. You are now Elevator Woman.” Kellie hugged April.

The crowd cheered again.

April leaned into the microphone. “I’m honored to be given this name, and I’ll do my best to live up to it. If I can come halfway near what you’ve done, I’ll have done great things. Thanks.”

The crowd started to chant “El-e-va-tor! El-e-va-tor!”

Kellie and April waved. “It’s time for me to go,” Kellie said. “I love you all, and I’ll find ways to work for you without the mask. Goodbye.” She and April waved, stepped into the areas they’d used to step over the building, and went back over again.

Once on the other side and shrunken out of sight, Kellie and April hugged again. “You did great, as usual, Woman,” April said.

“Thanks,” she said. “I wish Gill could have been here to see it.”

“He’s here, Mom,” April said, pressing her right hand over her own heart and her left hand over her mother’s. “He’s here.”

Kellie nodded, then furrowed her brow as she looked at her daughter. “Hey, what was with that wacko excuse for Kellie’s absence earlier? She’s gonna have to lay low for awhile now.”

“I’ll explain later,” April said. “If that whispering I saw between you and Dakota was what I think it was, you need to meet him, right?”

“Right,” said Kellie. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yep,” April said. “Later.”

Kellie leapt into the air at giant size, then shrank to insect size and dived into an open window on the building’s eight floor. She went to one of the rooms in the building where families awaiting medical news could wait in private, and regrew to normal.

A few minutes later, Dakota entered. He closed the door behind him and locked it. “Hey, Kel,” he said.

Now Kellie could allow herself to do what she’d wanted to do before. She flung herself onto Dakota, holding him closely. He held her tightly.

After several minutes, Kellie asked, “How are you, Kota?”

“Me?” Dakota said. “How are you, Kel?”

Kellie pulled back to look at him. “I’m OK,” she said.

“This has to have been hard for you,” Dakota said. “You’ve loved being Elevator Woman, just like you loved being Elevator Girl before that.”

“It wasn’t as hard as you might think,” Kellie said. “I meant what I said about the physical limitations. I’m feeling my age, Kota. When you actually get there, you’ll know what I mean.”

Dakota smiled weakly. “I turn 50 next week, you know.”

“I know,” Kellie said, her voice sad. “But you’re still physically 25, Kota. Believe me, I feel every month of my 50 years.”

There was a pause. “I kinda pointed out the elephant in the room, didn’t I?” Dakota asked.

“It’s OK,” Kellie said. “It’s always gonna be there, Kota.”

After another pause, Dakota asked, “How much of the retirement is because of Gill?’

“I don’t know,” Kellie said, sitting in a chair and staring at the floor. “I’m sure it’s in the mix somewhere.” She looked up at Dakota. “Thank you for coming to the funeral. It meant more to me than I could say.”

“Where else would I be?” Dakota asked. “You needed me there. I was there.”

“You always have been,” Kellie said. Tears started running down her cheeks. “I haven’t been for you, though, or for Gill, either.”

Dakota looked at her with a tilted head and furrowed brow. “For Gill?” he said.

Kellie swallowed hard as she nodded. “With you, I didn’t tell you I loved you before Dekker kidnapped you and put you in suspended animation, and then it took 25 years to find you and get you out. With Gill, I should have retired sooner, so I could have shared more time with him. He deserved that.”

“Yes, he did,” Dakota said. “If I had to lose you to someone, I’m glad it was to him. He loved you like I wanted to.”

Kellie smiled at Dakota, then stared at the floor again. “And … I left on an Elevator Woman mission and wasn’t there for Gill when he needed me,” she said. “If I’d been retired already -- if I’d been there -- maybe that heart attack wouldn’t have killed him. I keep failing the men I love, Dakota. I failed you, and I failed Gill.”

Dakota knelt down in front of Kellie. “You never failed either one of us, Kel. I knew Gill well enough to know he felt that way, and I know you’ve never failed me. You can’t blame yourself for things that are other people’s fault, or things no one could control.”

Kellie smiled at Dakota. Then, realizing he was on one knee, she bolted up.

Dakota stood up. “I wasn’t planning to propose, Kel,” he said. “This wouldn’t be the time, if I were.”

“I’m sorry,” Kellie said. “But you know how I feel about … us, Kota.”

“I know,” Dakota said, irritated. “And you know how I feel, Kel. We can both still read each other’s eyes. But I wouldn’t push that idea now. You have too many emotions tangled in to pursue any effort at reviving … us right now.”

“It won’t matter how much time passes, Kota,” Kellie said. “I’m still 25 years older than you, physically. I may look 40 --”

“Thirty,” Dakota said. “You look 30; 35, tops.”

“Whatever,” Kellie said. “I may look younger than I am, but I’m still 50. When you’re physically 50, I’ll be 75. When you’re physically 55, I’ll be 80. You’ll still be fairly young and vital, and I’ll be a really old woman. I can’t do that to you.”

“But I still love you, Kel!” Dakota blurted out. “I don’t care about what Dekker did to separate us! I love you, and I’d embrace caring for you in your old age! I want the chance to do that!”

There was a much longer pause this time. Kellie, distraught, turned her back to Dakota.

Dakota turned toward the door. “I’ve said too much,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He reached for the lock.

“Don’t,” said Kellie, without turning around.

Dakota froze. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t ever apologize for still loving me,” Kellie said, still with her back to Dakota. “It may hurt me like hell, but I still relish that hurt. That hurt still means the world to me.”

Dakota turned toward Kellie. “Because you still love me, too,” he said.

With her back still to Dakota, Kellie nodded wordlessly.

Dakota unlocked the door. “Will you be there for my 50th birthday party next week?”

Kellie turned toward him, her cheeks streaked with tears. “Where else would I be?”

Dakota spread his arms. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Kellie practically fell into a hug. “So will I,” she said. “See you then.”

“See you,” he said. After a lingering moment, he slipped out, smiling as he left.

Outside, Dakota met up with Lakota. They had driven together, and they and Rosie got in the car together for the trip out. Lakota drove.

“It was a nice ceremony,” said Lakota.

“Kellie deserved it,” Dakota said.

After a silence, Dakota said, “Kellie’s coming for my birthday party. We’ll need to plan for it.”

“We kind of already have,” Rosie said.

Dakota looked over his shoulder at his niece, puzzled.

Lakota patted her brother’s knee. “We don’t want to say too much, Bro,” she said, “but several of us have been working on a birthday surprise for you. And, if it pans out, you’ll get the best gift you could, one you’ve been wanting for a very long time.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“You may already have said too much, Mom,” Rosie said.

“Nothing’s definite,” Lakota said. “But things look … promising.”

Dakota thought about his earlier conversation with Kellie. “I doubt you can get me what I want most,” he said.

Lakota shrugged. “We’ll see,” she said.