We walked the remaining blocks to the Plaza, but couldn't go in.

There was a media shit storm brewing outside. Mindy was now wearing my hoodie and glasses. She looked incognito enough for waking down the street, but not for the raptors waiting for the cow to be lowered in. After some reluctance she agreed to go to my place.

I had the taxi pull us around back. The cover of darkness stopped the vultures standing outside the front entrance from seeing inside the car passing one street over. What helped more is my friendship with Bob.

He opened the door to the basement after my first knock.

"I've been waiting for you, Mr. Lizewski," he said with a consoling smile. He looked over at Mindy, "Miss." Mindy's anger and emotions had subsided. She had a look of acceptance and mild misery on her face.

"Thanks, Bob," I said with a weary nod. "Try to keep all press and non-tenants out of here for the next day or so."

"With my life, sir," he said and visualized it with an overacting arm punch to the air.

Upstairs Mindy quietly went to the bathroom as I flipped through images on my videophone. Whoever the asshole was, he had taken close-ups of us behind Sam's apartment from a high vantage point. Fortunately, it was impossible to tell we were breaking the law. What could be deduced was a misleading image of me holding her face with the handkerchief. There was also a single picture of Mindy's 12th birthday party. She and Marcus were posing in front of her new house. My Dad and I were in the background. How did he find that?

When Mindy came out, I showed it to her.

"I'll tell you about it in a minute. Give me a second," she said with a grimace.

"You want some coffee?" I asked out of habit.

"I think we both need something stronger," she replied.

"Wine?"

"I was thinking that bottle of Glennmorangie I saw in your cabinet last night."

"When did you-" I gave up trying to figure out Mindy's sneaky ways. I pulled out the bottle and two tall glasses. "Ice?" She gave me a 'bitch, said what' look. We sat at the table and didn't say much of anything as we emptied the bottle. I pulled out my other fifth of 12-year-old scotch and we started again.

"That picture, if you can believe it, is on my Facebook," she said with a hint of embarrassment.

"You have Facebook?" I laughed. She looked me in the eye and for the first time in hours we both smiled. Our smiling turned to goofy grins, then incessant laughing. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the tension, but it felt like a burden was being released off both of us. The laughter finally slowed down long enough for us to talk.

"Yes, I'm on Facebook. I got on my first and only semester at OSU." The thought of Hit-Girl as a buckeye caused me to almost laugh again, but I suppressed it.

"I didn't have too many photos of me taken during my high school years. Marcus and I were trying to keep a low profile. But when I made a few friends in college, they said I should put on some pictures of when I was a kid. That was the only one I had from my childhood in New York and it reminded me of a time when…" she trailed off.

"You didn't mind risking Kick-Ass was in it?" I asked.

"That was one of the reasons I liked it Dave," she said with a twinkle in her eye. I felt the hair on my neck rise. I decided to change the subject.

"Do you keep in touch with those friends at OSU?"

"No…after Marcus passed, I dropped out. I've made sure to be on my own since. It's the only way I can feel free. Feel safe."

"So, how do you fill your time?"

"I work—you should change that to worked—at a decent steak restaurant on Lake Erie."

"Do you have any other prospects?"

"I already told you, Dave. It's not temporary."

"What about any boyfriends or…"

"I've never been able to have that kind of emotional connection with anyone. Boy, girl, man or woman. I've tried. But I only feel comfortable around a few people. Marcus was one of them." She lowered her head.

"Marcus had a heart attack," she finally said. "It was nothing epic or monumental. It's just one day he was here and the next he was gone. I hoped he could start living for himself when I went to school. Instead, he died by himself." Her head was so low now that I couldn't see her face through the log blond hair covering it.

"It's not your fault," I stated like a jackass.

"I know that. But he gave up his career and his life to help Damon's daughter. I wanted him to finally be free from my father too."

"You hate Damon," I mumbled to myself. It's hard to believe Big Daddy's daughter could hate him, but I have no idea how growing up as an orphaned Hit-Girl must feel like.

"I don't hate him," she protested in a way that sounded like she was convincing herself.

"I just resent what he….It's so complicated. Daddy was the best father to me in so many ways. He protected me for 11 years and taught me how to keep myself safe. He showed me the horrors of the world and how to avoid them.

"But he didn't want me to avoid them. He insisted that I confront them head on and snap their fucking necks. He used me as a tool for his revenge. I lost him because of that. And I lost me. Whoever, I could have been I'll never know. He determined my whole life when he drew me as Hit-Girl into one of his comic books."

"You said Kick-Ass doesn't have to define me." My voice was as comforting as possible. I reached across the table to hold her hand. "That means Hit-Girl doesn't have to define you, either."

"You had a choice, Dave," she whispered. "I've always envied that about you." She began to smile as her eyes softened from the redness gathering around them.

"You know, when I first saw you online, those first videos of you beating down those thugs by the convenience store, I was crushing on you hard. I thought this was somebody just like us. I think that's why my Dad didn't want to team up with you." I felt that uncomfortable feeling racing down my back now. There was no sound in my loft as she locked me into place with her eyes. I was lost at sea in them.

"Yeah…well, I think we both need some sleep. You can stay in my roommate's room. He won't be back for a few more days." I got up and went into my room, shutting the door.

In my dream, it was the same experience again. I've had it a number of times since Mindy saved me from my burning house. I'm floating in water, lit up by a golden orange color all around. I know I'm going to drown there and I accept it. Then out of nowhere, comes Mindy, an angel sent to save me. Her hair is fiery orange and I realize it is causing the illumination in the water. She grabs my hand and I wake up.

I raised my head from the bed as consciousness returned to my eyes. This time the dream was different. Mindy wasn't 13 anymore. She was the adult staying in my loft. As my eyesight returned I realized I wasn't alone in the dark. Mindy was standing in front of me. She also had no clothes on.

"Mindy?"

"Shhh," she whispered as she glided towards me.

"Mindy, I don't think this is a good…" She put a hand over my mouth.

"Quit being such a pussy." As she said that, she slowly straddled me in my bed.

"I…thought you said you'd never even done this with a guy before," I said, moving her hand.

"No," she said leaning back with a small smile. "I said I've never emotionally connected to anyone before. I never said I don't like fucking." With that, I felt an explosive collage of resolve-weakening sensations. Her lips on my face. Her teeth on my neck. Her hand on my…

"Mindy, we have to stop this," I cried as I vainly tried to push her off.

"You whine too much. You really don't seem to mind," she said as she reached her hand down again.

"That's because the girls who usually come up here don't look like you." I pulled her hand back up.

I'm still not hearing a complaint." She lowered her face to mine. "Look, I'll make this easy on you. It's just like the old days. I'll take the lead and you try to keep up."

"Try to keep up?" I said like a schmuck.

"Yeah," she whispered, now directly into my ear. "You might just think I saved your life."

I finally surrendered as her tongue crawled its way down my throat.