He looked up as he noticed a single streak flying through the sky. A purple cape fluttering behind them as they sailed through the clouds.

His eyes fell, looking down at his feet as they dangled in the air.

A sigh escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey.” A soft feminine voice spoke to him.

He opened his eyes slowly, his gaze meeting a pair of soft purple eyes. Her lavender hair fluttered in the breeze as she hovered in front of him, looking at him gently.

He didn’t respond to her greeting, and he let his gaze fall away from her. He stared down at the distance below him, shifting his feet that dangled over the edge.

“Mind if I sit with you?” she asked him softly.

He just shrugged. He didn’t answer her, but at least he didn’t ignore her.

She took that as a yes, and floated next to him. She sat down on the edge, dangling her feet just as he was.

“What’s your name?” she asked, looking at him in the corner of her vision.

She watched as his expression became sad, and he looked away from her.

“I’m-” She began, but he interrupted her.

“I know who you are.” He mumbled quietly.

She looked over at him, then back down at the view below them.

“Are you going to talk to me?” she asked quietly.

He let out a deep, drawn out sigh.

“Isn’t it your job to convince me not to?” he said with a half-hearted attempt at a laugh.

She smiled sadly at his reply, her eyes showing pity.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s kind of my job.”

He glanced over at her, then away again quickly.

“Don’t you get sick of this? Talking people out of suicide?” He asked, his voice was low and he sounded tired.

“Not really. I think about what the world would be like if I just let them do it. It’s kind of scary to imagine a world without them.” She replied. “A world without you.”

He laughed slightly at her answer.

“You don’t know me at all.” He said.

“I don’t need to know you to want you to stay.” She said, looking over at him with a soft expression.

He shook his head with a sad chuckle.

“You only feel that way because it’s your job. I’ll just be another person to forget eventually.” He sighed. “I get that you convince a lot of people not to go through with it, but what about the ones who do it anyway?” He looked over at her. “Do you remember them?”

She met his gaze, and he found himself not being able to look away.

“Yes,” she answered softly. “I remember every single one of them.”

He watched as her eyes became sad and she looked away from him.

“And it hurts just as much every single time, because each and every one of them is important. They were important to someone in their lives, and even if they didn’t know it, they were important to me too.” She looked back at him, her eyebrows drawing together. “Just like you.”

He looked down as he shook his head.

“Amethora. The super hero who tore through a burning school last spring and carried every single kid out before the roof came down. The one who stopped two active shooters in the same week—one at the train station, one outside the courthouse—without a single bystander getting hit. The woman who held a collapsing bridge together with her bare hands long enough for the last cars to clear, who pulled a passenger jet out of a nosedive over the bay, who stopped a runaway train before it hit the stalled school bus full of children, who-”

“Stop. Okay, stop.” She begged, a hand over her face in embarrassment.

He laughed lightly, shaking his head again.

“I don’t understand why you do it, if you hate the attention.” He said, looking over at her with a small smile.

Her hand fell to her lap and she glanced over at him.

“Somebody’s gotta do it. Somebody’s gotta save those people.” She shrugged.

He looked away, his face becoming sad again.

“It’s just, for me, it’s hard to watch people get saved all the time. It only reminds me that nobody is going to save me.” He spoke quietly.

“Hey,” She said softly, drawing his attention back to her. “Maybe I can be the person who saves you, just this once.”

He smiled sadly and shook his head.

“I appreciate it, but I think I’m beyond saving.” He sighed.

She looked over at him with soft eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true.” She said, giving him a sad smile.

He smiled back at her and sighed, returning his gaze to the view.

“I have posters of you in my bedroom, you know.” He told her, his voice quiet.

She let out an embarrassed laugh and smiled.

“Oh yeah?” She looked over at him. “Which ones? The one’s where I’m fighting villains or the one’s where I’m just standing around being awesome?”

He laughed a little, then smiled.

“I have the ones from the official swimsuit set. You know that purple bikini that barely covered anything? The way you’re arched back on the rocks with water running down your stomach. The one where you’re stepping out of the ocean, all wet with water dripping off you. The one where you’re laying in the sand at sunset...” He trailed off, then looked over at her with a sly smile. “I also have ones like that time an explosion tore most of your costume away, but you still beat the crap out of the bad guy, even while you were holding your boobs in with your hand. Oh, and there’s the one where you were on that late night show and you wore that tiny little black dress that barely covered your ass.” He finished with a laugh.

“I don’t think some of those are officially endorsed by the League of Heroes.” She said quietly as she kicked her feet.

“Most aren’t. The internet is a great resource for that kind of thing. Actually there’s a whole subreddit dedicated to Amethora’s wardrobe malfunctions, accidental nipslips, panty shots, bikini malfunctions ... There’s no shortage of horny fans that will post that stuff.” He continued. “I can’t really blame them, I’m just as guilty. I’ve jacked off to those posters on more than one occasion. Sorry.” He told her, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“It’s fine.” She giggled. “It’s honestly flattering that you guys think I’m hot. I’ve even googled myself a few times out of curiosity. Oh, the things you can find in the deep dark corners of the internet. Some people are very creative with photoshop.” She laughed.

“Have you seen that one set of photo’s going around? There was a gallery of pictures taken of you at a nude beach one weekend last year. Apparently some photographer managed to find you there and snapped several pictures of you tanning and swimming in the ocean before they got chased off. There were pics of you laying on your back, your tits on full display, your legs spread a little, just enough to see your slit. There was a couple of you standing up, showing your amazing body, the slight curve of your hip bones, the way your abs lead down to your pubic mound, and your tits, god, they may be small, but look so soft. Then there was one where you bent over and you can see your perfect little asshole peeking out from behind your cheeks. I came so many times looking at those pics.” He explained, feeling his cock starting to swell in his pants.

She was blushing as she listened to him describe those picture.

“So?” He asked.

“Hm?” She hummed, looking over at him.

“Are they real?” He asked her.

She looked away for a second, then bit her bottom lip, glancing back at him shyly.

“I mean,” she sighed quietly. “Yeah. They’re real. How the guy managed to get those shots without me seeing him is a mystery to me. Normally I’d be able to spot him and stop it, but, well ... I was distracted that weekend.” She smiled, thinking of that trip.

“That guy has some serious balls.” He chuckled.

“You can say that again.” She smirked. “Most guys who sneak a peek end up with their nuts in their throat.” She gestured a punch with her fist.

They both shared a laugh.

“Is this the part where you say now that I know the truth, you’re going to have to kill me?” He asked with a chuckle.