chapter 3: i can do it

She doesn’t need lightning to save a life

The radio crackles, harsh, warped by urgency.

— "unit 14 to white ashes, we’re bringing in a firefighter, major smoke inhalation, cracked helmet, irregular breathing, eta two minutes"

The silence in the emergency room vanishes in an instant.

Pens freeze. Eyes lift. And dana noctielle, bent over a routine chart, recognizes the voice.

samuel.

Unit chief, thirty-four years old, father of two. The one who visited the hospital in civilian clothes, with warm croissants, and always apologized when he laughed too loud with the nurses.

dana freezes for half a second.

Then she stands up.

Not like lightning. Not like a goddess.

Like a doctor.

She grabs her gloves, her stethoscope, and runs toward the decontamination room. Her steps are heavy, precise.

She doesn’t think anymore. She acts.

The arrival.

The stretcher enters like a contained storm.

Voices shout, wheels slam against the floor, doors slam open against the walls.

samuel lies unconscious.

His chest rises too fast, too weak. Red marks lash his throat. His eyelids tremble. His eyes stream with tears.

Firefighters in uniform shout over the machines.

— "he was inside, he pulled out two kids, but a beam fell… he got a full breath of it— the visor melted, he kept going anyway"

Hands move. Tubes. Masks. Monitors.

But dana doesn’t speak yet.

She steps forward.

And her hands are calm.

— "high-pressure mask, prepare salbutamol. intubate if saturation drops below 80. we’re going to stabilize him."

A nurse hesitates. A med student trembles.

But dana keeps walking.

She places her hand, slowly, on samuel’s burning chest.

She closes her eyes.

She listens.

And she chooses.

Inside her, a shiver.

An ancient instinct. A breath from another world.

She could heal everything right now.

A single pulse. A wave of speed. A red flash. And his body would be whole again. No scars. No pain. Eternity in his lungs.

But she doesn’t.

— "you want to be human? then treat him like they would"

She breathes in deeply.

Opens her eyes again.

Watches the numbers fall.

And she stays.

For one hour and fifteen minutes, dana stays at his side.

She adjusts doses. Encourages the team. Wipes away tears. Supports without speaking too much. She doesn’t move.

No tremble. No break.

Just presence.

The fire in samuel’s lungs fights against the calm in dana’s hands.

And then…

A cough.

A long breath, painful, but full.

The machines adjust.

The monitor stops screaming.

And samuel opens his eyes.

Red. Wet. But alive.

— "...doctor…?"

She smiles gently.

— "welcome back"

A silence. Then, without irony:

— "you’re an idiot… but a hero"

Later, in the locker room, alone…

dana looks at her hands.

They tremble, finally.

The calm has passed. The speed returns. Not in her movements, but in her blood.

She pulls out a small pocket mirror.

Her red eyes glow with a shine she holds back.

— "i could have saved him in one second…"

She doesn’t finish the sentence.

She looks at her reflection. It gives back a calm face. A bit tired. But still standing.

She smiles.

A sad smile. But proud.

— "but i chose to save him like a human… and i did"

It’s not speed that makes a hero.

It’s the choice to stay, to hold on, to heal… even when running would be easier.

End of chapter 3 – i can do it