Well I don't really have much to say…I don't own The Fighter, just in case you assumed otherwise ;)

By the way, thank you Straight Edge Queen for reading and reviewing! You're my motivation (: You and the fact that I have nothing better to do in my spare time =]

It was Monday night and Dicky and Micky went through with their plans to watch the Celtics game. They went to the town bar where they were known as regulars. Charlene wasn't working that night, and Dicky was honestly a little happy that she wasn't. They weren't the best of friends or the worst of enemies, but after three years you would think she'd get a little less annoying and high maintenance.

"My God, rebound the damn ball!" Micky yelled amongst the rest of the men in the bar. They acted as if the players could actually hear them and would follow their commands.

Usually, Dicky would be the first to participate in the pointless banter, but he just wasn't feeling like himself—he honestly hadn't been all day. He tried to think of why he felt this way. Maybe it was just the post DJ drowsiness, or the fact that he'd seen Karen and started thinking about his past.

But he soon realized that those things didn't contribute to his lousy feelings nearly as much as the fact that he had been thinking about the same person for the past few weeks—Vanessa. He didn't know what it was because he didn't think he liked her or anything. But he couldn't understand her at all. She was always sending mixed signals and saying things to mess with his head. He hated that she was so indecisive and kept leading him on and then cutting him off. Dicky knew that women didn't usually just come out and say what they felt. He also knew that women didn't exactly fall head over heels for him. But he wanted—needed—to know what was going on with them. He was tired of wasting his time wondering and trying to make something happen. He decided he should act now while he had the courage—and a couple of drinks in him.

"You know, guys, I've had a long day. I think I'm going to head out, it's getting late." Dicky told the group of men, all mesmerized by the basketball game.

"What? It's only eleven, man. And it's a tied game with, like, 3 minutes left," Micky responded without looking away from the TV.

"I'm just tired, I don't feel great. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

The game cut to a commercial, and Micky looked at his brother this time before he spoke. "You're just going home?"

"Yes, I'm just going home! You don't believe me?" Dicky didn't give Micky a chance to answer. "I'll see you tomorrow." He repeated.

"Well alright, I guess. I'll see you then. Hey, I'll let you know how the game ends tomorrow." Micky said as Dicky sat up. He nodded in response to his brother and headed for the door. Before exiting, he waved goodbye to the bar inhabitants and didn't take the time to see if they returned the gesture. Once he got outside, he turned in the opposite direction of his house to go to Club's Diner.

Dicky knew that Club's Diner closed weeknights at eleven, so he didn't know if he had much time. He wasn't even sure if Vanessa would be there since she was working that morning. He figured she was definitely off by now, but it wouldn't hurt checking.

He turned the corner and entered the not-so-busy street the diner was on. He looked across the street and saw that there were a few lights on inside the diner—there was hope. As he approached the diner, he looked in the window and sure enough Vanessa was the only person in the place. She was sitting at a table in the middle of the restaurant and writing something down. She looked like she was deep in thought—the way she looked the day Dicky met her. He figured she was probably working on her music.

Before realizing the door was locked, he tried to pull it open, startling Vanessa. At first, she looked scared, like she thought someone was trying to break in to rob the diner—he guessed she wouldn't know what to do in that case. But once she realized who was trying to get in, Dicky couldn't tell if she looked more confused or angry.

Vanessa just sat there for a moment, staring as if it would somehow make him leave. Dicky made a gesture towards the door and said loud enough so she could hear, "You wanna let me in?"

She closed her notebook and got up from her seat, making Dicky think that she was going to open the door. Instead, she walked up to the door and pointed to the sign on the window. "We're closed!" She shouted and continued, "There's no pie."

"I didn't come for pie. Can I please come in?"

She hesitated for a moment, considering her options, and then walked over to the counter to get the keys. She opened the door for Dicky and he thanked her.

"I didn't think you'd be here still," he said honestly, "I didn't realize you worked mornings and nights."

She took a seat at a different table than where she was sitting before. "Well when you're working your dream job you take as many shifts as possible," she said sarcastically, "or if you have to work that many shifts just to get a decent day's pay," she finished more honestly.

"So you've been here all day? Don't you have stuff to do or, like, a life?" He said jokingly but seriously at the same time.

"Thanks. And no, I haven't been here all day. I worked seven to noon and six to eleven."

"But no life?" He said jokingly, but without showing the humor on his face.

"I do have a life, thank you very much."

"And that's why you're here, sitting alone in an empty diner after your shift ended?"

"Hey, I'm working on my own stuff. It's quiet here, better to work than my noisy apartment building. And you're here too, so I could say the same to you—that you don't have a life," her face suddenly became very serious and she crossed her arms and said, "Which reminds me, why are you here?"

Dicky then realized that he didn't have any idea of what he was going to say to her. She gave him a look that said "well?"

"Uhm, partly because of what happened this morning," he said slowly, trying to make sure he didn't say anything stupid.

"What? With that girl?" She said confusedly.

"Kind of. More like what I said after she left."

"Oh," she said quietly without her expression changing, "What about it?"

"Uh, I don't know. Was that okay?" He didn't know how to ask what he wanted to ask her.

She looked confused. "Uh…I guess? I don't understand what you're asking me."

"Maybe I over thought this, but I'm not sure if anything I said was inappropriate or made you uncomfortable."

"Not really…I'm a big girl. I don't understand what the big deal is."

"It's just that…I don't know if I said too much about my past or my relationship with Karen. I just wanted you to know that I'm not like that anymore at all. And just because my relationship with her wasn't all healthy and shit that doesn't mean I'm not capable of it. Because I am not the same person I was at all. I've changed so much and I just wanted to let you know that and that's why I said those things," He finished hoping he said the right things.

She paused for a moment to process what he had just said. "Why are you telling me all of this, Dicky?"

He thought for a moment of what to say to be completely honest, "Because I don't want you to think that I'm incapable of having a relationship because of who I was."

"Dicky, that's nice, but tell it to the next girl you're interested in—the one who wants to hear it. Because I thought I made it clear that I don't like you like that."

"Well it seemed like it before I told you my name and you assumed you knew me. Before that you were all nice and flirty and even wanted to have a date. But you hear my name and you act like I'm a horrible person because of my past. What, you're perfect? You've never had any problems in your past or anything you're ashamed of? I doubt it. You're not perfect. You're a struggling musician working in a crappy diner in Lowell. So go ahead, judge me, but you're not perfect either," he realized he was getting mad and was raising his voice a little bit.

She spoke quietly, "I never said I was perfect," then got louder, "but I don't see what the big fucking deal is."

"The big deal is that I could tell you like me. Not just when we first met, but you don't seem like you resent me. You always talk to me and act nice but then you stop, like you're making yourself stop and acting like you hate me."

"That's bull, Dicky. What, I can't be nice to a customer? Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I'm going to be a bitch to you. You're totally misreading the situation."

He considered this for a moment. "Maybe I am misinterpreting this. But for now I'm going to stick with my instinct and say that I'm not." He decided to be bold. "Just give me one shot to prove myself."

"To prove what?" Vanessa said even though she knew what he meant.

"That I'm not scum. And that you do like me."

"Oh, you're getting all cocky now, huh?"

"Come on, one shot." Dicky said holding up his pointer finger.

She thought for a minute. "One date?" She asked, possibly considering it.

"Yes. And you don't even have to call it a date."

She thought for another minute or so, and then replied boldly, "No," she stood up from her chair, "and I want you out of this diner before I call the police," she practically yelled at him.

Dicky didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He just looked at her for a second, shook his head, and followed her command by leaving her at the diner alone.

….

As soon as Dicky left the diner, Vanessa tried to get back to her music. But she couldn't think about anything but what had just happened. She felt so mad—at Dicky, at herself, at the situation. She knew it didn't have to be complicated, but she was the kind of person that tended to make things difficult. She didn't know why, but that's just who she was. And she wished she could stop it.

She didn't know exactly how she felt about Dicky. She considered him to be the closest thing she had to a friend in Lowell so far—a reality that was sad based on the fact that he was merely a customer she saw every day and honestly found him quite annoying for whatever reason.

This whole thing was overly dramatic. Couldn't they just be friends? You couldn't blame Vanessa for not wanting to get involved with a guy that attracted trouble—or at least used to. She knew she wasn't perfect either…she definitely had secrets and reasons for playing it safe.

She didn't know if she liked him or not, but she thought she did based on the brief talk they shared before she lashed out about who he was. Who he was or who he is? Did he still do drugs and commit crimes? Or was that who he was? Maybe he really was different.

She briefly considered giving him a chance. She thought of why she should give him a shot—he was nice, funny, they got along good on most days, and she was attracted to him. The cons of a date could be her getting hurt or her giving him the wrong idea.

She ultimately dismissed the idea, figured the conversation about it was over with. Maybe he would just forget about the whole idea and things could just go back to normal. Which meant that she was a waitress at Dicky's favorite diner, and nothing more.

Vanessa looked at the clock—it was 11:45. Dicky had left ten or fifteen minutes ago. Since she couldn't focus on her work, Vanessa decided to gather her things, lock up, and go back to her small apartment—a place she refused to call "home".

As she exited the diner and locked the doors, she looked around outside—she saw no one on the streets but a couple holding hands, walking in the opposite direction she was headed towards. How nice. She also noted that there were only a few places open on the block—the Laundromat that had really thinned out in the past couple hours, a grimy, unpopular bar that specialized in scumbags, and Becky's Bistro, a place that looked like it belonged in the 50s and had a menu that only appealed to the elderly.

It felt a little chilly out for being August, Vanessa thought. She was trying to think of anything but the earlier encounter with Dicky.

As Vanessa walked down the lonely sidewalk, she thought that she heard footsteps coming from behind her. Sure enough, she saw the street lights illuminate the silhouette of a rather brawny man. Where did he come from? She thought to herself. Naturally, she became paranoid because they were the only two people on the street at midnight in a city she barely knew. She figured she was being unreasonable and had nothing to worry about, but just in case she decided to walk in to the next open place she saw. Shit, she thought to herself as she realized the only places open on the block were in the other direction.

She tried to stay calm and quickened her pace by a little bit, but not enough to be noticeable. She knew that showing fear only gave her less power. But she noticed the man was gaining speed and coming closer and closer to her. Acting from instinct, she started to speed walk, almost jog, to stay as far away from the mysterious man as possible. He maintained his pace but still seemed to be getting closer and closer.

At this point, she knew her suspicions about him proved true when he shouted, "Hey, where you going? Come on, little waitress…let's have some fun!" When he said this, she didn't look back but could easily picture the devious look he wore on his face. She dropped the things she was carrying and started running as he sprinted after her.

He managed to catch up to her, but she tried not to panic. He grabbed her shoulder, pinned her arms down, and pulled her closer so their faces were inches apart. He was a bulky man and looked like he was in his mid-30s; he smelled like alcohol and cigarettes and had a scruffy black beard to match his ruffled hair. His eyes looked bloodshot—a sign that he was definitely under the influence, making him more vulnerable to knowing right from wrong. She assumed he came from the grimy bar.

"Leave me alone, please!" She pleaded, terrified. She tried to remember the time that she was a little girl—probably eight or nine—and her dad had tried to teach her self defense strategies. She never had to use them, but always kept them in the back of her mind. Where the hell where they when she needed them? All her mind did was go blank.

"Not until we have some fun," he said, right up front and in her face, "let's go," he demanded. She quickly thought about how she should approach this—should she scream and hope someone hears? No one would be able to hear her at that distance, and by the time she tried he would already have stopped her. She decided she would have to break free of his hold and run to the nearest public place and call as much attention to herself as possible. He was pulling her in the opposite direction of civilization when she broke her hold and kneed him. He winced in pain for a brief second or two while she raced towards Becky's Bistro, screaming—her one shot at being saved, even if it was by a bunch of old people. Soon enough the man was right on her tail, and tried to grab her while she hit him and told him to "stop!" and "leave her alone!" but she didn't have a chance at outfighting him. He slapped her face and told her to cooperate, or else. She asked herself the inevitable question "or what?" but had a feeling she already knew the answer.

She was still kicking in his arms while he dragged her in the opposite direction, but suddenly she was jerked on to the cement. She felt dizzy and sick to her stomach when she looked up and saw that someone had heard her brief scream and silent calls of mercy. Someone had come to save her and be her hero—whether or not the person would be successful she didn't know. All she could tell was that it was a man and he was kicking the bad guy's ass, just for her.

At first they looked pretty neck in neck, throwing punches and fighting each other off. But Vanessa's hero dominated in the next seemingly infinite minutes. One particular blow to the jaw sent the bad guy to the ground as the hero kicked and stomped at his legs. The bad guy managed to use whatever strength he had left in his wasted, beaten body to get up from the ground and run away.

The hero stood in place for a minute or two to make sure the delinquent was truly gone before approaching Vanessa. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked with pure concern showing in his voice as he helped her up from the ground.

Vanessa honestly felt horrified and shaken, but decided to put on a brave face for whoever this hero was. "I'm…fine." She said simply and quietly and she realized who her hero was. She thought maybe she was seeing things in her state of distress, but her suspicions were confirmed when she saw a smashed box of pie on the ground near where the fight had taken place. "I have to go," Vanessa stammered as she slowly backed away from the scene.

"Do you need me to walk you?" He asked, the concern not yet worn off.

"No…" Vanessa said even though it was exactly what she needed right then. "I have to go," she repeated, speechless. She then turned and quickly walked away from him.

She was afraid after what happened, and she was confused. Looking back on it, those weren't the things she should have said to the person who saved her. She didn't even say thank you. But most of all she wished she would have taken Dicky up on his offer to walk her home.

I think maybe it was a little cliché? But whatever… I was losing momentum for writing, I have to admit but once I started I had to keep going. Sorry if the fighting scene is lacking…I tend to stay away from that kind of stuff. I watched Spiderman for ideas ;) Well this is enough babble for now (I tend to do that). New chapter soon! Have a great Easter!