A/N: I had this one written up at the same time so figured, what the hell, I may as well upload it today too. To avoid confusion, I'll just point out that these two chapters are not actually set one year on (obviously). But others will be. These are simply a continuation of the film as I see it, and to set the scene up for what happens later :)

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy! Again, feel free to point out inconsistencies, misused English/American vocab or to simply let me know what you think of it so far. Any and all comments are appreciated.

2.

Dave spent most of the next day hurriedly packing a small duffel bag with a few changes of clothes, some food, and mementos of his life that he couldn't bear to be without: photographs of his parents, the first CD his dad had bought him, the poster his dad had proudly stuck on his wall, his mum's wedding ring…small things that wouldn't take up much space, but which he could not bring himself to walk away from. Once or twice the tears threatened to spill over his eyelids and stop him in his frenzied tracks, but he held them back; he didn't want to arrive at Marcus's house puffy-eyed and red-faced.

The rest of the day he spent texting Todd and Marty, telling them he was leaving and would try to ring them as soon as he could, tidying the house up as best he could, and generally getting more and more impatient for eight o'clock to arrive. Why hadn't Mindy told him she had left him something? She had had plenty of opportunity before she whisked away into the sunset – heck, she could have given it to him there and then instead of risking him never finding out. She must have known that Marcus would somehow track him down and tell him…

Finally, he could wait no longer. At half past seven, he strode out of his house with his bag on his back and biked the two miles to Mindy's house – a journey that took only ten minutes. He hardly noticed the sounds of life around him as he rode: children laughing as they played football in the streets, scowling at him as he ploughed straight through their makeshift pitch; cars honking in the distance; dogs barking in their desperation to be let back into their owners' houses; people shouting, TVs blaring from the open windows…everything blurred into a mass of muffled noise, blocked out by the thoughts that were screaming inside Dave's head instead. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore them.

Marcus wasn't there when Dave arrived, so he hunkered down on the porch away from any prying eyes and waited, staring out into the road, watching with hawk-like eyes for any sudden movements, listening for the tell-tale signs of squealing sirens that would foretell his capture. The occasional gust of wind, the rustle of nearby trees, were enough to turn his head and make his heart beat that much faster in his chest.

But nothing happened. Marcus found him fifteen minutes later and frowned at the vigilant, exhausted-looking young man currently squatting outside his house. Yet, instead of questioning him, he immediately asked him inside. After only a split second hesitation, Dave followed.

'Would you like a drink?' Marcus asked him politely.

Dave shook his head. 'No, thanks. I just…'

He trailed off, not wanting to sound rude; all he wanted was to find out whatever Mindy had left him and leave. He was sure he could trust his friend's guardian, but being in a cop's house at that moment still filled him with unease.

Marcus simply nodded his understanding and led him upstairs. Dave trudged along behind him, and was surprised to find himself standing in the doorway of a very pink bedroom moments later. The only logical explanation was that this was – or rather, had been – Mindy's room. Somehow, Dave found it hard to believe that the fluffy teddies and baby pink bed sheets had been her idea.

Marcus bent down to pull a black rucksack out from under the four-poster bed and motioned for Dave to step into the room.

'Read this first,' he said, thrusting a neat piece of paper into Dave's slightly trembling hands.

Dave looked down to find Mindy's scrawled words shining back up at him, written in – what else? – purple ink. He couldn't stop the involuntary smile as he scanned the messy handwriting he knew so well. Then, when he could avoid it no longer, he began to read:

Dear Dave,

I know you probably hate me now after ditching you like I did, but it was for the best. I don't know if there will be huge fallout over the warehouse stuff, but I'm definitely in the shit for killing those guys with Marcus's gun. I can't even use the excuse that I was rescuing your sorry ass because the 'justice' system is so fucked up, so this is my only choice. Believe me, if I could stay, I would.

I know things are going to be rough for you for a while, and I want to be around to help you get through it, but here's the only thing I could think of that might help instead. I've left a bag with Marcus containing some of the money Daddy and I had – don't worry, it's untraceable and it's not the whole three mil. What would I use otherwise? But it should be enough to help you get away from NYC and start again. Marcus will help you get set up, I know he will, so don't be afraid to ask for his help even though he is a cop.

I'm not very good at these things (don't smile – I know you!), so I'll just leave it here. If I come back in twenty years and find you banged up in Sing Sing despite this, don't expect me to save your ass again! This is all the help you're getting from me, buster.

See you around,

Mindy . x

Dave read the letter twice, absorbing Mindy's words, imagining her speaking them aloud in her quirky, sarcastic way. He cracked a smile at the 'x' at the bottom: the faint ink dot before it told him she had hesitated before deciding to write one. Sure, it was only a silly cross, but it touched him all the same.

Once he had gleaned all the information he could from the note, he looked back up at Marcus, who had been watching him the entire time. 'So…the bag…?'

'There's a fifty grand in there for you to take,' Marcus said matter-of-factly. Dave's eyebrows shot up into his mass of curly hair, nearly disappearing entirely. 'And another two hundred in an account with your new name on.'

Dave thought he could detect disapproval in Marcus's flat voice – he was a cop, after all, as well as Mindy's legal guardian – but he didn't say anything else.

'So, what? I leave with the money and go…er…'

Dave stopped. He realised in his impatience earlier that he hadn't even formulated a coherent plan about what he was going to do once he left the city. Where should he go? Where could he go?

Marcus sighed, apparently reluctant to say what he did next: 'I've got it all set up for you,' he said wearily. 'That's why I didn't contact you for a few days. On Mindy's request, I've got you a new ID which says you're eighteen, so you don't get hassled by social services any more, enrolled you in a school out of state so you can graduate then go on to the college there, and rented you an apartment nearby campus. There's an old car in the garage that I was going to give Mindy on her sixteenth birthday in a few weeks, but…well, she won't be needing it now, I suppose.' He hesitated, sucking in a deep breath that told Dave that had been hard for him to say. 'A whole new life, away from the bullshit that's gone down recently. If you want it, it's yours.'

Dave didn't know what to say. To this man, he was a relative stranger; more than that, he was Kick Ass, a douchebag of a wannabe superhero, a teenager responsible for his fifteen-year-old daughter now being on the run from the cops. Yet he had gone to all this trouble to help him escape his past mistakes because his same daughter had simply asked him to. He must really love Mindy, Dave thought as a pang of guilt stabbed him in the gut. He might be deadened to a certain amount of physical pain, but the emotional stuff still floored him. I'm such an asshole…

'I, er…don't really know what to say, Mr Williams.'

'First off, cut the 'Mr Williams' crap. It makes me sound old.' Dave looked for the hint of a smile, and thought he might have just seen a flicker. 'Second, I'm doing this for my little girl. It's what she wanted. It's what you both deserve after taking down all those scumbags – and that's strictly off the record, you hear?' Dave smiled his appreciation and nodded. 'Right, time to sort out the next step, then. You want a drink this time?' Marcus asked as he carried the bag out of the bedroom.

'Yeah, thanks. Water's fine.'

Dave slumped onto the couch as Marcus wandered into the kitchen, feeling the exhaustion of the past week finally catching up with him. He had barely slept for eight days since his father…

Pushing the painful thought from his mind, he scanned the room for something to focus his attention on. It looked like your average living room: plasma TV in the corner, a small fireplace, beige fabric three-piece suite, white walls, curtains…very ordinary. What caught his eye, however, was something that was decidedly unordinary for the middle of summer: grey ashes in the log fireplace, crumbling coals and what looked to be the edges of burnt paper. Dave pushed himself to his feet and went over to investigate, wondering what Marcus had been destroying. Papers implicating Mindy? Stuff that revealed who she really was? Whatever they were, they were long gone, consumed by the angry flames of days past. That was, all except one piece.

One crumpled sheet remained, thousands of creases lining the cream paper that spoke of countless readings, perhaps hurt and anger. Knowing that he should respect Marcus's privacy, Dave hesitated, but he couldn't help but smooth the note out on the granite surface of the fireplace regardless. The purple ink told him everything he needed to know: another letter from Mindy, this time addressed simply to 'Marcus'. This time he did skim the letter, not wanting to invade the man's privacy any more than he was already, and caught only snippets: 'I'm so sorry…', 'I don't want to put you through…', 'Daddy was right when he said…', and most surprising of all 'Dave's a really good guy'. Seeing his name, Dave picked the note up and focused on the paragraph seemingly about him:

He may act like a douche at times (he frowned at this), but he's the closest thing I've ever had to a best friend. Hell, a friend period. What happened wasn't his fault. I wanted to be HG again, to do the things that Daddy taught me, to do what you can't do wearing that uniform. I know you only wanted to protect me, to help me have a 'normal' childhood, but the truth is, I was never happier than when I was with Dave. Training, fighting the fucking scum of the earth (another dollar for the jar, I know…) and feeling like we were making some sort of difference in the world. If things had been different…well, it's not worth thinking about that now. All I know is, he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. He's lost everything, just like I have, and I know how much that hurts. He's going to need someone to look out for him, someone better than me, and I need you to do that. Help him start again, away from all the BS going on right now. I know I'm asking a lot given who and what you are, but if there's only one thing you can do, I want it to be that. Besides you, he's the only thing I care about in this world – but don't you go fucking telling him that!

Dave was so engrossed in Mindy's words once more that he failed to notice the footsteps that had approached and stopped behind him.

'You mean a lot to her, you know,' Marcus said quietly, making Dave jump for the second time in less than twelve hours. He handed Dave a bottled beer, which he accepted without comment. 'She might be a handful, might not show how she feels most of the time, but she wouldn't have chased after that van and busted caps in six guys with my gun if she didn't care deeply about you. It's not all about the thrills for her.'

Once again, Dave was lost for words. He had known that he and Mindy had shared a rather unique bond after everything they had been through, one that had steadily built up into a solid friendship over the last four years, but he had never stopped to consider just why she had risked her life like that (without the protection of her Kevlar-layered costume) to save him. Because he had asked her to? Because it had been her name he had cried out as he was being dragged into the van by Chris D'Amico's thugs? Because she was the only one who could save him?

As fucked up as the foundation of their friendship was, it had meant a lot to him. Still did, he was sad to note. They understood each other, like no-one else could; they knew that the costumes they wore were their real identities, that 'Dave Lizewski' and 'Mindy McCready' were, as she had said, their real masks. They understood each other's intense desire to be out there, risking their lives to make a difference in what was, let's face it, a pretty shitty world. Even Todd and Marty, his friends of years past and wannabe superheroes too, couldn't come close.

And now?

Now that rare connection was broken, perhaps forever.

Dave had to admit, he was loathe to let it go.

Yet it was what had to happen right now. Mindy had to leave New York to protect Marcus, to stop him from being implicated in everything that had happened; Dave had to do the same to protect himself. As the face of the costumed vigilantes, as their supposed ringleader, he had to go. 'Wait for the heat to die down', to use Mindy's own words.

How long that would take was anybody's guess.