Five doors to the left. One hundred and thirteen was the number defining his living space, with nurses happy to bring him pudding.

Sarah concentrated for a heartbeat and then knocked on the door. "Jerry?" she said.

"Sarah, you here?" she heard from inside the room.

The door opened and her old friend, the monster, opened the door. Jerry's huge form was a patchwork of scars and lumps, resembling a mining landscape more than a human body. His skull had been split open at one point, and when it had healed, he was left with a visage the shape of a heart. "Come in, come in," the old hero said. "You know how I look forward to your visits."

Sarah walked into the room without shrinking from Jerry. It had that old age home smell - dust, air fresheners, and the slightest whiff of bleach and urine. Jerry pulled up his desk chair and leaned heavily on his walker to settle onto it. This is how it was, every Wednesday afternoon.

They caught up on the recent past, as they always did. Sarah's young grandchildren, world politics, their favorite sports teams. And as always, they would eventually wander into the far past. The good old days, when every morning brought a miraculous discovery - about the world, themselves. As always, Jerry pulled out the photo album. "You were so pretty! Now you look as if a strong wind could blow you away."

"I know." Sarah's tone was flat.

Jerry's mangled but workable fingers smudged the plastic covering the photos. Sarah, back in the good old days, as Spirit, and her husband Joseph as Blaze. Jerry was known as Walker, because he could never think of a good name to describe a guy who just heals damned fast. There were other photos- publicity spots with Strongman and Demon, Catgirl and Aquamarine. And then their true friends, Eye-spy, Tornado, Viper, and Tiger Lily. Viper and Jerry kissing. Sarah's children playing with Jerry, Joseph taking the youngest for a quick flight over the house. Joseph's bright blue eyes, hair turning prematurely gray, square chin. Sarah blinked a little. So many dead. Of their group that had been educated under the old doctor, only she and Jerry remained. On the other hand, most of the bad guys were dead too. And the misguided ones, the ones who had been friends but became enemies. Such was the price of power.

"Did you ever sleep with Don?" Jerry always wanted to know. His memory was fuzzy in terms of getting new information, but it hadn't stopped him from being a gossip. "Yes, back at the Academy. Once or twice." Don was Jerry's best friend and had a crush on Sarah for years before she met Joseph. Don had been Tornado. Don was also dead.

"Sarah, did you ever - you know - see when I'd die?" Sarah had a mild precognitive ability that contributed to her anxiety disorder, now medicated. "No, Jerry," she always said, lying. She knew he wasn't asking out of selfishness. He'd watched her view so many of their friends' deaths, both ways, and he knew the affect it had on her. Towards the end of her visit, he always would get anxious himself. "How does it end for us, Sarah? We're the last. We always fought so hard, we never asked for a reward..."

Sarah would console him a little by talking about the younger generation, but lately that had started making Jerry bitter. "They don't know anything. They don't pay the dues. No more nuclear threats to fight, no environmental catastrophes, no side effects..." Sarah would try to answer him. "We should be happy for them, that it's easier. We have our pensions and they're just fine. They have their own battles, and those aren't easy either." But she knew that Jerry was tired. Tired of watching others lead, tired of waiting.

Today Sarah knew that something different would happen. As she rose to leave, Jerry stared at her. "Sarah, you never hug me goodbye anymore." Hurt shown on the misshapen face.

"It's not you, sweetie," Sarah said and turned to the door, but Jerry, always faster than he looked, reached for her hand...and passed right through it.

"Oh, Sarah," his voice fell. "How long have you been like this?"

"A while. I don't know. A few months." She might as well tell him the truth. He'd probably forget it soon.

"Hug me, Sarah."

"I can try."

Sarah concentrated while Jerry heaved himself to his feet, and managed to feel his terrycloth robe as they embraced. After a minute, Jerry's arms began to close through Sarah's body. He sobbed once and pulled back.

"How long do you have?"

"I don't know. But you'll know, if I don't come back."

"I'll write it down as soon as you go, Sarah."

"I love you, Jerry." Another thing for him to write down.

"I love you too, Sarah."

Then Sarah, a.k.a. Spirit, walked through the doorway of room one thirteen and into the hall, startling an orderly into dropping everything. Striding oblivious through the pills and water, Sarah continued down the hall and onto the street, where she billowed for a moment before continuing on her way.