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.

Kellie Trudeau stepped out of her car, looked up at her cabin and sighed, smiling. This was her new home, her dream home for retirement, and it was a perfect-looking as she had remembered.

The cabin was not a true log structure, but had wooden exterior and interior walls. Despite appearances, it was well insulated. It was hooked into an electrical grid, and had electric heat and cooking; Kellie would have preferred a gas range and oven, but shipped propane would have been her only option for them, and she knew she wouldn’t be using those things too often here, anyway. It had a septic system, newly installed, and well water, as well as access to a nearby natural spring.

The cabin had a living area and kitchen that were essentially one room. There was a wonderful porch out front, looking down over the Appalachian mountains. The view was breathtaking, and one of the reasons she bought the cabin. Inside were also two bedrooms, one of which was a loft overtop the other. And there was, of course, a restroom.

Another reason Kellie had bought the property was the barn. It was large, unusually so for this location. It had been restored before she acquired the land, and was perfect for the special furnishings she and Gill had kept in the barn at his cabin in Canada. It would give her a needed change of scenery from time to time, and a chance to stretch out.

Kellie looked wistful as she thought of the Canadian cabin. It belonged to Gill’s family before they were married, and they had enjoyed it immensely as a young couple. It was their private retreat, and a much-needed getaway for her from her Elevator Girl duties. After April was born, it had become their family spot. There were even a few times when the Greenes had been up at the cabin with them, enjoying the time with friends close enough to be part of the family.

Then came that fateful day when Dakota was finally rescued after 25 years in suspended animation. He and all of the Greenes had used the cabin as a place to reconnect and to get him more caught up with the world. From then on, it became their special spot, too.

After April was out on her own, Kellie and Gill had decided to use the cabin more for themselves, while still keeping it available for April and the Greenes. But then April fell in love with Gabe Jimenez, and announced that they were engaged. Kellie and Gill decided they would give the cabin to the newlyweds as a wedding gift, and get themselves another, smaller cabin -- one that could really be theirs.

That plan ended on the awful day, almost a year ago, when Kellie came home from an Elevator Woman mission to find Gill dead on the floor. His body was already cold when she got home. Doctors told her it was a sudden death heart attack, and that there was little chance he could have been saved, even if she’d been home. It didn’t matter. Gill was gone, and she still felt she might have been able to find a way to save him if he’d been there.

After Gill’s death, Kellie had looked for a cabin in Canada, but quickly realized that it wouldn’t be the same there without Gill. At the same time, she discovered the wonders of some locations in the Appalachian Mountains. There were cabins that were so isolated as to be at a distance from anyone else. Kellie had found one such cabin in northern West Virginia, near the tri-state area with Ohio and Pennsylvania.

This one had a special appeal to Kellie. There was room here for a series of dollhouses inside, including one that was actually engraved in a small piece of gold, allowing the size-changing woman to shrink to nearly microscopic size if she wished. The barn gave her a place to lounge as a giantess of up to 30 feet tall, and the cabin’s isolation would allow her to even go for hikes at more than a thousand feet tall if she so desired. She wouldn’t be completely cut off from the world; the cabin had Internet service, so all Kellie’s communications tech would work. But it was a true retreat unless she allowed information in, or sent some out.

Kellie opened the trunk of her car and got out the two suitcases inside it. She had already gotten all the furniture, including the oversize furniture for the barn, moved in, along with all of her other belongings. She had been planning to come directly here after the retirement ceremony anyway, but April’s odd excuse for Kellie Trudeau’s absence had guaranteed that move was necessary.

Once she was finished unpacking, Kellie made a simple supper and settled in. The front porch faced west, giving her an ideal look at the sunset. She took a large glass of iced tea and sat on the porch, smiling at the gorgeous view of the sunset.

Then Kellie went into the bedroom. She climbed into the bed, then turned to the three framed pictures that sat on the nightstand beside her bed. She kissed first the photo of April, then the photo of Gill, and finally the photo of Dakota. Then she snuggled in and went to sleep.

The next morning, Kellie went through messages sent for Elevator Woman’s retirement. Most were generic from fans. Two dozen were from people she had rescued over the years. One holovid had particularly tickled her; it had come from Jenna, her best friend in high school. Now a grandma and looking very matronly, Jenna had sent the encrypted message.

“Kellie, I just wanted you to know how proud I am to be your friend,” Jenna said, “and I’m so glad you are able to retire. I wish, as I’m sure you do, that Gill had lived to see this, but you have earned the chance to rest and relax. Maybe this means you can come visit me a little more? Even if it doesn’t, just know I’m so happy for you, and I wish you all the best, always.”

Kellie spent most of her first full day in the cabin working in the garden and on household details. At the end of the day, she repeated watching the sunset view and the bedtime ritual of kissing the pictures.

Over the next few days, Kellie explored all the possibilities of size available to her. She met neighbors on another mountain while mountain-sized herself. They had no idea of her real name, but deduced easily that she was the recently retired original Elevator Woman, and simply took it in stride that she was a neighbor. She realized after a short conversation that they had no interest in sharing the news with anyone else. They, like her, valued their privacy, and understood that sharing such news would end the serenity of this life. Kellie left, glad to know her neighbors, but not feeling a friendly connection made; this was more like a necessity of being neighbors in an isolated and extreme place when there might not be anyone else to rely on.

The next morning, she discovered that the view from her back patio of the sun rising over the mountain on which she lived was almost as great as the one of the sunset on her front porch. She took her morning coffee onto the patio each day.

Two days before Dakota’s birthday, the loneliness hit Kellie. She had only lived alone a few times in her life, and at those times she was still in a community. She had sold the old house nearly 10 years ago, but she and Gill had lived together in a different house, with April for the first few years, after that. After Gill died, Kellie couldn’t take living alone and seeing the spot where she had found him. She had moved into a smaller house, which she rented while she worked on plans for the cabin and her retirement. Now she was really, truly alone. April would be at work, Kellie realized. So would Dakota. Kellie dialed her mom, but got no answer.

Kellie shrank that day, spending a lot of the day nearly microscopic inside the golden dollhouse. In the evening, she called April, but got no answer. She did get to talk to her mother, which helped somewhat.

That night, when she went to bed, Kellie looked at the pictures beside her bed. She was fine when she kissed April’s, but tears can down her cheek as she kissed the pictures of Gill and Dakota. She held them both with her as she got into bed.

Kellie had trouble sleeping that night. Dakota’s words after the retirement ceremony kept running through her head. ““But I still love you, Kel! 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!”

In the course of that night, Kellie realized just how alone she really was. Then it hit her how alone Dakota really was. He had been on a number of dates over the last 10 years -- some set up by publicists, some by her, hoping to bring him some happiness and get him away from focusing on her. But he had never gotten serious with anyone, not in a decade. Her heart ached for him.

By morning, Kellie had resolved that, when she saw Dakota for his birthday, she would relent. If he wanted to try to resume things again, she would agree. The worst that would happen was that they wouldn’t work out, and they’d both finally be free to move on. But, knowing how their love had endured through all the madness they’d faced in life, Kellie suspected it would succeed.

Kellie almost bounced into the bathroom that morning in her excitement. Then she looked at her face and hair in the mirror.

The excitement was gone. So was the resolve to allow Dakota to pursue her. She saw a woman who looked every day of her 50 years old, with crow’s feet and other wrinkles and lines, bags under her eyes and a bit of wattling starting to show at the neck. She saw confirmed again how big a gap that really was between her and Dakota. They had shared experiences from youth, but he had so many more years ahead of him. He had been imprisoned in suspended animation too long; she couldn’t leave him imprisoned again, chained to an old woman when he was so young and vital.

Kellie sat inside that morning and sipped her coffee slowly, staring at the table.

Later that day, Dakota arrived at Lakota’s home in a heavy rain. When he got inside the house, he handed his coat to his sister.

Lakota hung the coat up. As she did so, a small box fell out of the coat’s pocket.

Dakota dropped down quickly and grabbed the box. He looked up at his twin sister. In that moment, thanks in part to her now being physically 25 years older than him, the expression on her face looked so much like their mother when she’d caught him in some scheme, it made him cringe.

Lakota smiled. “What’s in the box, Bro?”

Dakota fingered the box absently. “You can see what kind of box it is. You can guess.”

Lakota folded her arms across her chest and looked at Dakota slyly. “Now, why would you be carrying a ring box on this trip?”

Dakota shrugged. “I’m just trying to give myself hope. Maybe I can get what I really want this birthday, or who I really want this birthday. And, even if I can’t tomorrow, maybe I can start the process of wearing her down and getting her sometime down the line.”

Lakota looked Dakota in the eye. “But why now, Bro?”

Dakota looked sheepishly at his sister. “I said the words to her last week, Sis. Right out loud. I told her I love her, and I told her I don’t care about the age thing.”

“What’d she do?” Lakota asked.

“She just stood with her back to me,” Dakota said. “But, when I apologized for saying it, she told me never to do that -- apologize for loving her -- again, and she admitted -- very reluctantly, and only with prompting, but she admitted -- that she still loves me, too.”

Lakota patted Dakota’s arm. “Hang onto that thought, Bro. You never know.”

Once the twins were together with Rosie and Cody, Lakota went over plans for the next day. They would join Lakota and Dakota’s parents the next morning for brunch. Then Dakota would get to the airport for a flight to Pittsburgh.

“Pittsburgh?” Dakota repeated. “Why Pittsburgh?”

“It’s close to Kellie’s new cabin, and we’ve got you a room booked in a motel there,” Lakota said.

“I thought Kellie’s new cabin was in West Virginia,” Dakota said.

“Extreme northern West Virginia,” Lakota said. “Pittsburgh is the closest major airport. If you’re going to see Kellie, you need to see here there.”

Dakota looked sulky. “Why isn’t she coming here?”

“It’s got something to do with that excuse Lakota made for why Kellie Trudeau wasn’t at the retirement ceremony,” Lakota said.

“Yeah, what was with that?” Dakota asked.

Rosie giggled as if she were still a schoolgirl. Cody sat looking bored, as he had through the entire conversation.

Lakota shrugged. “Ask April,” she said. “Anyway, once you get to Pittsburgh, call ahead to April, and take a cab to the motel. That way she’ll have time to get things ready for you.”

Dakota raised his eyebrow, frowning. “OK,” he said, his tone sounding uncertain about the idea.

Later that evening, Dakota was alone with Cody in the great room while Lakota and Rosie were on the phone in Rosie’s old bedroom.

“Uncle Dakota,” Cody said, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You’ve dated a lot of hot women, but you’ve never really gone out more than about twice with any of them,” Cody said. “I mean, most guys would fall all over themselves to be in a couple with women like Neesi Miller or Dasha Hireman, but you haven’t. And it’s not like you haven’t had chances. From what I’ve heard some of them really wanted to make a cup with you. Why haven’t you at least gone on a more dates with one or two of them?”

“Make a cup?” Dakota repeated.

“You know, couple up,” Cody said.

“Oh,” Dakota said. “Well, see, Cody, there was this girl I dated in high school, and I’ve never really gotten over her. You might say she left some very big shoes to fill.”

Cody smiled. “You mean Elevator Woman.”

“Back then, she was Elevator Girl,” Cody said. “But, actually, I was referring to your Aunt Kellie, not Elevator Girl. Elevator Girl, or Woman, is just the mask. Kellie‘s who she really is.”

Cody looked thoughtful. “Actually, I always thought it was the other way around,” he said.

Dakota looked confused. “Huh?”

“I always thought Elevator Woman was who Aunt Kellie really was,” he said. “I mean, everything she does in both identities is the same, except she doesn’t use superpowers in one. She works really hard to defend, help and protect those she cares about, no matter what it costs her in the process. It’s just that, as Elevator Woman, she’s got a lot more people to protect … or she did, until she retired. But she does that with everybody, even as Kellie, on the Greene-Ross board, and with everyone around her. Heck, she’s done that with us.”

Dakota stared past his nephew for a moment as he began to understand something about the woman he loved. “You’re absolutely right, Cody. That’s what she’s always done, and she’s still doing it now. She’s trying to protect me.”

“You mean I’m right about something?” Cody said. “Can you please tell my Mom that?”

In Rosie’s old room, Lakota was placing a call to April.  “Hey, April. It’s Aunt Lakota.”

“Hey, Aunt Lakota,” April said. “Are we still a go for tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Lakota said, “and, April: He bought a ring, and he’s bringing it with him.”

“Really?” April said.

“He said he’s hoping he can convince her, or at least wear her down,“ Lakota said. “And he said she admitted to him last week that she still loves him, after he told her he loves her.”

“Wow!” April said.

“Is everything ready on your side?” Lakota asked.

“We’re a go here,” April said.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell your mom tonight what’s going on?” Lakota asked.

“Naah,” April said. “Aside from the limits on the tech, you know Mom. The more time she has to think about this, the more likely she is to think up some excuse not to do it, some reason it’s a bad idea, or at least that she’ll think it’s a bad idea. If this is going to work, we need to keep it a secret until she has to just follow her heart, not her head.”

“You’re right,” Lakota said. “Well, the ball’s in your court now, April. We’ll get him out to you. From there it’s up to you … and to them.”

Cody had gone to his room. Dakota went to the back deck of the house. He paused at the sight of the sunset, the final one before he turned 50. He didn’t remember ever seeing one quite so beautiful. He hoped that was a good sign for the next day.

Kellie sat on her cabin’s porch, looking at the gorgeous sunset. At least she would see Dakota the next day. Even if it meant more hurt for her heart, those moments were what that heart beat for now. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough for her. Dakota was better off that way, she thought.

Kellie pulled up to the hotel on the outskirts of Pittsburgh the next day. It was late morning, and she was ready for lunch. At one level, she was looking forward to seeing April and having lunch -- or dinner, as the locals called the noontime meal (the evening meal was supper, Kellie had learned) -- with her daughter. But she had been planning to spend as much of the day as she could not only with April, but with the Greenes, and especially Dakota. Now Dakota was having to travel all the way to Pittsburgh, and the rest of the Greenes weren’t going to be here at all -- all for some special “birthday surprise” for Dakota on which Kellie wasn’t in.

On entering the lobby, April rose from a chair and waved to her mother. The two women hugged.

“How are you, girl?” Kellie asked.

April smiled at the inside joke, referring to their quick nicknames for each other in her mother’s Elevator Woman career. “I’m great, woman. How’re you?”

Kellie sighed and chuckled, a mix of emotions all washing across her face at once. “I’m really glad to see someone I love, and really confused about why we’re not out west with the Greenes,” she said.

April gestured over her shoulder in the direction of the hotel dining room. “Let’s get some lunch, and then we’ll go up to Dakota’s room and I’ll explain.”

On hearing Dakota’s name Kellie looked around. “Is he here already?”

April tugged her mother’s sleeve. “No. He won’t get here until after lunchtime, but we’ll need that time to get his surprise ready -- including your part of it.”

“My part of it?” Kellie said. “Well, at least there’s some purpose to this, but I can’t figure it out. The Greenes don’t have any family history in Pennsylvania or the Appalachians, and Dakota’s had nothing major here, either.”

“You’re here,” April said. “For him, that’s enough.”

Kellie looked a bit sad, and frowned in a way that April knew meant she was losing patience. “But why am I here, April?”

April squared up her shoulders and looked her mother in the eyes. “Mom, do you trust me?”

Kellie smiled. To the young woman who had been her superheroing partner and now carried on her name, that was an easy answer. “With my life,” Kellie said.

April smiled back. “Then let’s enjoy our lunch, and I’ll explain after.”

The lunch was pleasant for both Kellie and April. The loneliness of the last few days was eased for Kellie, and she realized how much she had missed the chances to talk with April. They were, after all, more than mother and daughter. They had been partners in peril, and always would share a bond forged in battle, whether the battle was against criminals, supervillains, fires or natural disasters.

Once they finished, April stood up. As she did, her cell comp buzzed. She smiled as she read the text message. “Dakota’s in at the airport. He’s hailing a cab to get here.”

“A cab? Why aren’t we picking him up?” Kellie asked.

April started walking out of the dining room. “I’ll show you,” she said.

April guided Kellie to the elevator and hit the 12 button. As they always did when together alone in an elevator, they looked at each other and giggled at the action. It was another of their little inside jokes.

They got to the 12th floor. They walked to room 123. “This is the room,” she said. She used a cardkey to unlock the door, and entered ahead of Kellie.

The room actually was a two-room suite. The outer “living room” space was where they entered. The door to the bedroom was closed.

April pointed to a cushioned chair as she picked up an electronics device from the desk. “Have a seat, Mom,” she said.

Kellie sat down.

April pulled the desk chair in front of her mother. She patted the device, which Kellie now could see was a holovid card, in her hand. “Mom, this surprise for Dakota also is a surprise for you, and what you choose to do with it will have a direct impact on how well it works for Dakota. All of us are in on it -- all of the Greenes, Grandma and Grandpa -- even Dad.”

Kellie looked stunned at that last word. “Your dad? But, April, he died almost a year ago.”

“Actually, it was his idea,” April said. She held out the holovid card. “He left this with me for you. I’ll let him tell you about it.”

Kellie looked at the card as she took it, then looked at April, then back to the card. She activated the card, and it projected an image that she immediately recognized as Gill. She instantly paused it.

“What are you doing?” asked April.

“I just want a moment to look at his face again,” Kellie said, smiling a faraway smile. She studied Gill’s image. It was made just a few years before he died; his hair was a little less gray and thin than it had been at the end, and he had fewer wrinkles. She hit play.

Gill smiled at her. “Hi, Kellie,” he said. “If you’re seeing this, … well, there’s no easy way to say this. If you’re seeing this, we’re apart, and that almost certainly means I’m dead. But this gives me the chance to send you one last message of love, and, I hope, to get you on a better path that will let you reach the love you want.

“First off, Kellie, let me say this: You have been the best wife and mother a man could ask for. I’ve never come in second, and I’ve never doubted your devotion to me. You never gave me reason to. I’m recording this the evening before our 25th wedding anniversary, and I don’t know how far ahead of when you’re seeing it that is -- for obvious reasons.” Gill chuckled.

Kellie smiled. “It’s good to hear his laugh again,” she said.

“Kellie, your love has been the best thing in my life,“ Gill said. “And, this may sound strange, but I’m glad you love Dakota Greene the way you do. The lesson you learned from your love of him, to make sure you say often to those you love that you love them, has benefited me for all these years. I could read your love of me in your eyes, and you knew that, but you said it to me every day anyway. That’s been a huge blessing, and one I wouldn’t have without Dakota.

“But, darling, if you’re seeing this, it means that, not only am I gone, but that Dakota is still single, that he still has at least some interest in you, and that the feeling is mutual. Kellie, you probably don’t need my blessing, but you have my blessing to go to him and work to build a life together. You see, I love you, and, if I can’t be there to love you myself, then I want you to be with someone else who will love you as completely and truly as I do. And we both know who that someone is: Dakota Greene.

“But, I also know you,” Gill continued. “You can’t allow yourself to love Dakota now because his 25 years in suspended animation have made him so much younger than you. You’ve probably pointed out by now that you’ll be 75 when he’s physically 50, right?”

Kellie chuckled. “He got that right.”

“That’s why I approached April, the one person who understands the Elevator tech even better than your grandfather, on the night Dakota left to reconnect with the Greenes, right after you got him home,” Gill said. “That, and your comment to me that night about how it galled you that Dr. Dekker had won, with your love grown cold, like she said. I asked her to see if she could find a way to exploit the tech to help solve your problem. If you’re seeing this, the odds are she’s got that solution.”

Gill sighed. “So, now the ball’s in your court,” he said. “April will explain the rest. Je t’aime toujours, mon coeur. Be happy, and that will give me all the peace I could ask.”

The video froze as it ended. A single tear ran down Kellie’s cheek. “Je t’aime, mon coeur,” she said.

Kellie heard a sniffling sound behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see April wiping her cheeks.

“I never actually watched that before,” she said.

“You’ve been working on an Elevator tech project for 10 years?” Kellie said.

“Off and on,” April said. “I’ll admit, the pace of my work picked up when Dad died. We called this the kind of plan you would come up with: a contingency plan to try to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat in a sideways way.”

Kellie recalled her thoughts during her sleeplessness the night before last. “So, I’m willing to at least check it out. What is this plan?”

April walked back to the bedroom. “The holovid was step one. Here’s step two.” She opened the door.

Kellie stopped short when she got to the doorway. She stared at what was laying atop the bed. It was a dress, pink with a few other elements. Beside it were a white plastic bracelet, and  a mask that matched the color of the dress itself.

“It’s … my Elevator Girl dress,” Kellie said, “the one that I wore on both my first dates with Dakota -- first as Elevator Girl, then our first date with me as Kellie.”

“Well, it’s a good copy, anyway.” April said.

“It’s a spectacular copy,” Kellie said. “The original was destroyed while I was fighting one of Dekker’s ice monsters, right after that first date as Kellie. How in the world did you do this?”

“Grandma Gemma made this,” April said. “She helped with the original, and she was the only person in on the secret who knew what the dress looked like. She and Grandpa Stam send their love and good wishes to both you and Dakota, by the way.”

Kellie held up the dress. “It’s a really exact replica,” she said. “It’s even the same size.” She looked at April. “Was this the big surprise, to wear this dress again? But I’m not built like I was at 14 anymore. My boobs and butt will be too big for this, and if I shrink into it, the dress will be too long.”

April picked up the bracelet. “But you have this,” she said. “Try it on.”

Kellie frowned. “April, I know I still needed to wear the Elevator Girl bracelet to use the powers then, but I don’t now. Why would I --”

“This isn’t an Elevator bracelet,” April said, “although it is based in Great-Grandpa’s tech. Put it on, please. You said you trust me.”

Kellie took the bracelet and put it on.

April reached over and pressed the down button for a moment.

Kellie felt an odd sensation, something like what she felt when she changed sizes, but different, as if the energy was being used in a different way. “April , what --”

Kellie froze at the sound of her voice. She looked down at her hands, but before she could observe them, April had grabbed one and was hauling her into the bathroom.

April gestured toward the mirror over the sink.

Kellie looked, then gasped, eyes wide.

A short time later, Dakota tipped the cabbie once he and his suitcase were out at the hotel. The fare, as always, seemed high to Dakota; even after nearly 10 years back, he still hadn’t gotten used to what inflation had done to prices.

Dakota entered the hotel and checked in. He looked around the lobby. Seeing neither Kellie nor April, he texted the latter, since she’d been his contact throughout this trip. “Where r u?” he typed.

The reply came within a few seconds. “In your room. Come on up.”

Dakota sighed. He still didn’t understand why he was being made to go through this. Other people he knew had huge parties for their 50th birthday. Kellie hadn’t, but that wasn’t her style, and, besides, she was still grieving for Gill at the time. He had no big party either; just brunch with his family and then a flight to a strange city to meet with the woman he loved and who loved him, but who wouldn’t act on that love -- and her daughter.

Dakota patted his pocket. It would all be worth it, if only his idea worked. And, in any event, he had to try.

When he got to the room, Dakota used the card key to enter. He found April in the outer room of the two-room suite, with the door to what was presumably the bedroom closed. He looked around and saw no sign of Kellie; then again, with her powers, she might just be shrunken out of sight for some sort of surprise moment.

“Hi, Dakota. If you’re looking for Mom, she went in there,” April said, pointing with her thumb toward the bedroom door. “Your present‘s in there, too.”

Dakota walked over and opened the door, then froze in shock.

Standing before him was the most beautiful 14-year-old girl he’d ever seen, wearing what looked like the same dress she’d worn on their first dates, with her using two different names, more than 35 years ago. It was unmistakably Kellie, but not the Kellie he saw last week; this was the Kellie he last saw before Dr. Dekker kidnapped him 35 years ago.

Kellie smiled up at him. She was the happiest he’d seen her since his return, even though her cheeks were flushed and she looked like she’d been crying. “Oh, hey, mister,” she said. “I’m looking for my boyfriend, Dakota Greene. Have you seen him? He looks a lot like you, only he’s closer to my age. He’s handsome, but not a grown-up man like you.”

Dakota’s eyes and mouth kept widening, but he couldn’t get out a sound.

Kellie bit her lip, then smiled at Dakota’s reaction. “Oh, wait! I know how to find him this time!” she said. She touched the up button on what looked like her Elevator Girl bracelet, and she grew into a woman in her mid-twenties. The dress scaled up to fit her. “Oh, there you are!” she said. She flung herself at him, and he caught her instinctively.

Suddenly Dakota was on the receiving end of a very ardent kiss and hug. He returned them, embracing Kellie with a passion he’d longed to share with her for almost a decade.

After a few minutes, Dakota pulled back slightly, looking into the youthful face of the woman he loved. She was crying, but he knew her well enough to know these were happy tears.

“Kellie! How?” was all Dakota could ask.

Kellie sniffled. “It’s all her doing,” she said, pointing toward April, who stood just behind them him. “She spent a lot of time over the last 10 years working on this new bracelet.”

“It, uh, uses the space-time warping effect of the Elevator Woman tech to create a field that alters the wearer’s age, instead of size,” April said.

“I thought that was impossible,” Dakota said.

“For me, yes,” Kellie said, “but April’s a tech wizard. What’s my reading, April?”

April glanced at her cell comp. “Twenty-five years, 273 days,” she said.

“I’m a hair off the mark, but the controls aren’t that precise,” Kellie said.

“Anyway, making the time warp tech may not be impossible for me, but it has been very difficult, and this contraption is jury-rigged. That much power through that small a gizmo still can’t hold up. It’s not going to last long. That’s why I had to wait until the last minute to spring it on Mom.”

Dakota looked at Kellie. “You just found out about this?”

Kellie nodded. “Within the last half-hour. From what April tells me, when this thing goes out, I’ll age normally from whatever age I am at the time. It’ll be as if that was my right age.”

Dakota brushed back Kellie’s blonde hair. “Does this mean the barrier between is gone now?”

Kellie took a step back and hit the up button again. She stopped when she looked as she had a week ago.

April looked at the cell comp, which read “50 years, 54 days.”

“Mom, what are you doing?”

Kellie stepped forward and took Dakota’s hands in hers. “I need to say this at this age, so we’re clear on it,” she said. “Yes, Dakota, the barrier is gone. I want to be with you. I love you, and I’d be a fool to hold out and let Dr. Dekker win. April and Gill reminded me of that today.”

“Gill?” said Dakota

“This was all his idea,” Kellie said, smiling wistfully. “I got a message from him just today. He said that, if anything happened to him, he wanted me to go to the one man he knew would love me as much as he did. Guess who that was?”

Dakota hugged Kellie again. “I always liked Gill, even though I wanted to not like him because he got you while I was gone.”

“The bracelet was Dad’s idea, too,” April said with growing urgency. “But it’s an idea that will be wasted if you stay 50 now! The idea here was to undo Dr. Dekker’s victory!”

Kellie pulled back and held up a finger. Then she got down on one knee -- no small accomplishment in her dress. “There’s something I need to ask. Dakota Greene, will you marry me?”

“From what Lakota told me, I know the answer,” April said.

Dakota raised an eyebrow at April. “Sis was in on this?”

“The whole family was,” April said. She gestured to her mother. “Don’t keep her waiting. The suspense is killing her.”

“So are my knees,” Kellie said. “I should have done this at 25.”

Dakota pulled out the ring box and opened it to reveal a wonderful gold ring topped with a blue diamond. “Does this answer your question?”

Kellie leapt up like a much younger woman and surrounded Dakota in a hug. They kissed again.

After a long moment, Kellie stepped back slightly and slipped on the ring. “All right,” she said, “that just leaves the question of my age. How old do you want me to be?”

Dakota chuckled. “That sounds weird. OK, I don’t care how old you are, as long as you’re mine.”

Kellie smiled coyly. “You’ve got that part.”

“I would rather you weren’t older than your natural age,” Dakota said. “I want to keep you around for as long as I can.”

Kellie’s expression became serious. “I want to have all the time I can have with you, too. Would you mind being married to a younger woman?”

“As long as she’s you, and you’re of age,” Dakota said.

Kellie grinned and hit the down button. Her age plummeted until she looked to be somewhere around late high school or early college age. “April, what’s the reading?”

April looked at the cell comp, grinning. “18 years, 200 days. That’s about as well as you could do it, with that thing’s controls.”

April looked up at Dakota. She placed her hand just above the bracelet, but not touching it. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Dakota pulled her hand back. “Just one thing, before you do this,” he said. “Before we start on this, we’ve got something we need to talk out.”

Kellie’s brow furrowed in confusion. April chuckled at the sight. She was used to seeing a lot more wrinkles on her Mom’s forehead when she got those little facial muscles into this position. She looked so cute like this.

Dakota sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Kellie’s hands. She joined him.

“Kel, here’s the thing,” Dakota said. “If we’re going to be married, … Well, marriage is between equal partners, or at least partners who can each allow themselves to be weak or strong based on what the other one needs.

“I know that,” Kellie said. “I was married for a long time, you know, and I like to think rather successfully.”

Dakota smiled. “Yeah, it was successful,” he said. “I was always glad that, if I couldn’t have you, you had someone like Gill. But that’s kind of part of the point.”

“I don’t understand,” Kellie said.

“Kel, you still tend to treat me like someone you need to rescue,” Dakota said. “That’s not all bad; I love your superheroine side, and I always will. But I’m a grown man now, and you still tend to treat me like I’m a victim who needs to be saved.”

He patted his new fiancee’s hand and smiled at her. “Kel, I’m not that little boy you knew when we were kids anymore. I’m not dying of cancer now, and I’ve been out of suspended animation now for 10 years, so I’m plugged back into the world again. I don’t need saving all the time, or protecting … and I really don’t want to be protected from you. Stop being afraid for me, and let me be strong for you sometimes.”

Kellie smiled as tears welled in her eyes. “There may be an advantage for that purpose in you being the older one now,” she said. “There’s a strength in you now. It’s always been there, but it’s more fully realized. I think you are a man I can lean on, Kota. I want to work to find out.” Her smile turned to a playful grin. “Besides, my mother told me to always respect my elders.”

Dakota smiled and playfully wagged a finger at Kellie. “Now, you remember that, young lady.”

“I said respect, not obey,” Kellie said.

Dakota laughed. “I might have known,” he said.

Kellie’s expression sobered, but she still had a hint of a smile. “You’re absolutely right, Kota. I do tend to try to protect you. If I do that again, call me on it, like you did just now. And … I need someone to be my strength.  You’ve always given me strength, even when you were sick, or missing, or when  I was keeping you at a distance. But I need to let you actively do that, not just passively. And I need to let myself lean on someone, and I want that someone to be you.”

“It’ll take work on both our parts,” Dakota said. “We’ve got a lot of disconnections like that to work through.”

“I love you enough to do that work,” Kellie said.

Dakota’s smile widened. “I love you that much, too,” he said.

Kellie held up her left arm, the one with the bracelet on the wrist. “Now can I take this thing off?’ she asked.

“Please do!” said April. “I’ve got this recurring image of you bumping a button right before it shorts out and getting stuck at 82 years old, or six months.”

“Allow me,” said Dakota. He guided Kelli’s arm over in front of him. Being careful to avoid the nearly-invisible buttons, he gently slid the bracelet from her wrist, leaving her age unchanged as the connection was broken.

Kellie beamed at him. “I liked you doing that,” she said, “and I love you, Mr. Greene.”

Dakota caressed Kellie’s cheek. “I love you, Mrs. Greene,” he said.

Kellie and April laughed at the same time. Dakota looked back and forth between them. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’ve told April about this, but never you until now,” Kellie said. “When we were dating back in the day, I used to fantasize about marrying you, but I really agonized about the name thing.”

“I don’t understand,” Dakota said.

“I’d be Kellie Greene,” Kellie said. “It’s a  homonym for a color.”

Dakota looked around as that sank in. “So it is,” he said. “Well, you could be Trudeau-Greene, or Ross-Greene, or --”

Kellie softly placed two fingers to Dakota’s lips. “That was a long time ago,” she said. “I’ll gladly be Kellie Greene now. A part of me has wanted to be Kellie Greene since the evening after you were kidnapped.”  Kellie got quiet for a moment as she looked down. “That night, and for so many nights over the next few years, I prayed that, if God would just bring you back to me, I’d happily be Kellie Greene. I’ve … even prayed it a few times in the last couple of months.”

Dakota leaned over so his face was in front of hers. “Can I still call you my Kel?”

Kellie laughed the lightest, happiest laugh April ever remembered hearing her laugh. “Oh, yes, my Kota, yes!” she said. They kissed some more.

April walked into the front room to give her mother and soon-to-be-stepfather some privacy.

After a few minutes, the couple came out, his arm around her shoulders. They walked over to April. Dakota and Kellie each extended their free arms toward April. “We want a family hug,” he said.

April stood up and enfolded them in her arms. “You’ve got it,” she said. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” said Dakota. “This really is the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten, or ever will get.”

“You are very welcome,” April said. “Just keep loving her like I know you do, and don’t take any guff from her if she gets too protective.”

All three laughed.

Kellie took both of April’s hands in hers. “April, thank you so much,” she said. “Your career as Elevator Woman is off to a fantastic start.”

“Actually, Mom, this was my last act as Elevator Girl,” April said, a tear stain along her cheek. “I was wearing that uniform when I finished the project; it’s the reason I was late to your retirement celebration.”

“Why are you crying?” Kellie asked. “Is that important?”

April grinned through her tears. “Don’t you remember what Dad said in the holovid?” she asked. “Elevator Girl had a very old score to settle, and a very big loss to undo.”

Kellie’s eyes darted back and forth as she processed what she’d just heard, connecting it to Gill’s message. Her eyes went wide as they could. “Oh, my God,” she said quietly. “April, you --”

April grabbed her mother’s shoulders. “April Jimenez didn’t do anything. Elevator Girl finally, fully undid her greatest defeat, and finally guaranteed that Dr. Dekker’s damage was undone. It took a long time -- a really long time -- but the cold lost this one, and Elevator Girl’s last act was her greatest victory -- for both of us.”

Kellie flung herself onto her daughter. They hugged tearfully as Dakota smiled at the two of them.

Once they pulled apart, Kellie, her voice shaking, said, “Thank you, Girl.”

April grinned naughtily. “You’re welcome … Girl,” she said. When Kellie raised an eyebrow to her, April said, “Well, you are younger than me now.”

Kellie looked aghast. “Oh, no! April, I may outlive you! And you and Gill are still trying to have children! I’ll be a grandma who’s younger than their mother!”

“Mom,” said April in a tone that snapped Kellie out of her emotional state, “Do you think you and Dakota are the only ones who benefit from getting a younger you? Everybody who loves you gets to keep you around, potentially for decades longer. I get to have my mom and battle-partner longer, and any kids Gabe and I have will have their grandma that much longer, too. The way I -- and the whole family, by the way -- see it, that’s a win for everybody.”

Dakota was smiling, partly because he saw now why Kellie was brought in on the plan late; she‘d have overthought it and talked herself out of it with logic like she had just tried to use. The other part was a connection he‘d just made in his mind. “So, Lakota really will be your Aunt Lakota now,” he said to April,  “and Cody and Rosie will be your nephew and niece by marriage, not just in an honorary way, Kel.”

“So, we’re officially a family,” Kellie said.

“We were anyway,” April said, “even when you two felt awkward around each other.”

Kellie smiled at her daughter. “And the crazy-sounding explanation at the outgoing Elevator Woman’s retirement was to set up explaining my age change.”

April nodded. “The accident exposed you to chronal radiation. You went through a traumatic experience that left you transformed into an 18-year-old again. And, speaking of your age, if Gabe and I succeed in starting a family, I’ll need a backup to cover for me. Care to become Elevator Girl again, since you’re the kid of the group now?”

Kellie shook her head. “That ship has sailed,” she said. “I don’t know what code name I’ll use, but let Elevator Girl’s last act be her greatest victory.”

“Fair enough,” April said.

“There is one thing I don’t get,” said Dakota. “Why did we do this here? Why did you have me come all the way to Pittsburgh? I mean, it’s nice enough, I guess, but I don’t get it.”

“I’ve figured out this one,” said Kellie. “Kota, my cabin’s near here. Our cabin, if you’ll have it, share it with me. It’s a great place to start a relationship, or rebuild one. We can work together, play together and grow together, and only have contact with the outside world when we want to.”

Dakota looked at April, who placed her index finger on her nose. Then he looked at Kellie. “We’re not married yet,” he said.

“We’re both of age now,” she said. “It’s easier to get a marriage license in West Virginia, and we can establish residency there together until the big day … and enjoy our isolation in the ways only adults who love each other can.”

April slapped her thighs. “OK, we’re starting to get a little racy here,” she said. “Why don’t I get you two to the cabin as Elevator G-- Woman, and let you have your fun without my having to hear about it? I’ll even carry your car, Mom.”

Kellie looked into Dakota’s eyes. Each knew what the other was thinking. She turned to April. “I think we’d rather drive there and start our time together that way, if that’s all right.”

“Fine by me,” April said. She hugged them each.

“Thank you so much,” Dakota said, “and thank the rest of the family for me, until I can do it myself.”

“You’re welcome, and I will,” April said.

Kellie hugged her daughter and kissed her cheek. “You are the best daughter a mother could have,” Kellie said.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” April said. “Take care of him, and let him do the same back. Both of you deserve that.”

“We will,” Kellie and Dakota said in unison.

“I love you both,” April said.

More “I love yous” came back to April. Then Kellie and Dakota exited.

A quick glance between the couple told them they each wanted Dakota to drive, with Kellie co-piloting. She handed him the keys to her car. “These roads are windier than you’re used to,” she said. “Just allow a little extra time and you’ll be fine.”

“Will do,” Dakota said.

As they pulled out, Kellie beamed up at Dakota. “This is real,” she said. “This is really real.”

Dakota’s grin was huge. “Yep,” he said. “This is, and you are, the best birthday present ever.”

“I’ll never let you forget that,” she said.

“Please don’t,” he said.

Kellie sighed. “I can’t wait to show you the cabin,” she said. “I can’t wait to show you the sunset from the front porch … and the sunrise from the back porch.”

Dakota raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes on the road. “And what will you show me in between the sunset and the sunrise, Mrs. Greene?”

Kellie grinned confidently. “I’ll show you what a size-changer can do to share love with her husband, Mr. Greene,” she said.

Dakota’s grin broadened. “Sounds like my kind of night.”

“The first of many,” Kellie said. She sighed with a contentment she had never thought possible. “I love you, my Kota.”

Dakota’s grin softened into the happiest smile Kellie had ever seen. “I love you, my Kel.”

Back at the hotel, April had been about to call Lakota with the news when her Elevator Woman cell comp buzzed with two different tones. It showed Mammoth II attacking an Indians game in Cleveland on one side of the screen, and a notation that she had an incoming call from Cleveland’s mayor on the other. Cleveland was a distance, but one she could walk with her powers. She answered the call. “Elevator Woman. What’s up?”