The sun.

Cheryl opened her eyes and realized she had fallen asleep out on the park bench, her head resting on Douglas' shoulder, his leg still too sore to move. The rising sun burned through the already disappearing fog and warmed her face. Seventeen years of darkness and finally there was sun. It made her stomach flutter, the repressed soul of Alessa feeling the sun from behind her eyes after so long.

"Douglas." She nudged the older man in the shoulder, slowly standing to stretch. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Gray eyes squinted, the old detective moving only a little. "I'd kill for a cup of coffee."

Her dirty hands slid over the back of her shirt and she grabbed her pistol out of her jeans. With a clever twist, she spun it once and pointed it toward a ticket booth. "That can be arranged."

"God," his laugh was hoarse. "Be careful with that thing."

She shrugged, sliding it into the back of her jeans. "Come on, we need to get you to the hospital. I'm sure they have crutches and stuff for broken legs there."

Douglas groaned but nodded in agreement, taking his car keys from his coat. "Did your dad teach you how to drive?"

"Sort of." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and Douglas stood awkwardly. "I could get us to the center of town."

Eyeing her warily, he gave her the keys and gave a short hop to get them going. "Well, I think we've both seen worse things than your driving."