Notes: Epic sadness below. The dinner date! Filled with loving angsty goodness. Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you enjoy. Next chapter coming up soon.
Disclaimer: 'Megamind' and all its characters are owned by Dreamworks. I own nothing.

Falling Before Her Eyes

Chapter 7

He was nervous. He was shaking, sweating, trembling, perspiring, and any other words to describe the fact that he was one terrible mess. He was as always relieved that his disguise didn't show the purple and fuchsia blush that now stained his neck, ears and cheeks. He could feel the heat rising, unbearable under his collar, making him pick a finger under the turtle neck to peel it away from his skin. At least that's what Bernard looked like he was doing. Beneath the hologram, Megamind was trying in vain to pull the spandex collar of his black suit away from his blue skin, and was forced to let it fall back with a sharp snap of elasticity. He cringed at the bite of the material slapping on his long neck, and he rubbed the spot, glad he didn't bruise that easily, otherwise a purple-black mark would have stood out like a neon sign against the baby-blue of his flesh. It'd look like a peculiar, long hickey.

And he was saving that experience for Roxanne.

Not that she'd ever be leaving a mark on his blue skin. She'd do it on Bernard's pale, pink neck. He needed to do some upgrading on the disguise generating watch so that it could accurately simulate something like that. He mentally put a pin in that for later consideration. First things first, she had to show up for dinner.

He checked the face of his watch nervously, looking at the zig-zagging shape of the clock hands as they pointed out the time. The seconds ticked by around the circle, breezing slowly past 9:35 and into 9:36.

Roxanne had been late once or twice, but never THIS late. And especially on their first major date that he himself had organized. Normally, she'd been the one to suggest activities. The park, bike riding, the cafe. Not since the art gallery had Megamind taken the reigns and suggested an activity. She had seemed so excited for tonight. Her eyes had lit up, and she'd coyly brushed her hair from her face, flushing with pleasure when he'd announced they would dine at one of the fancier, more romantic restaurants in the city. He'd been so sure that she was happy about the choice. All his research had said it would surely impress her. Had Urban Spoons led him astray? Damn you, you condemnable application!

Even without the program's helpful advice and amusing interface, Megamind was sure that this would be a good place. The atmosphere was perfect. Soft candle light shuddered and reflected off the crystal stemware and gleaming cutlery on the white linen covered table. Subdued lighting made the red draped walls scream of sensuality and comfort. Spotlights of a soft gold were intersecting on the walls to form the shapes of a hazy hearts. The conversations buzzed around him softly, making the table in the center of the room still seem private in the cocoon of soft sound.

Sure, there was a baby at a table near theirs (What parenting school had these people gone to, bringing an infant to a fancy restaurant at such a late hour?), but the little creature had seemed content in its highchair and was hardly making a peep. Megamind still glared at the child, as if daring it to make a sound that would disturb his evening. Children normally screamed when around him.

Luckily, infants rarely cried out in fear around Bernard. The perks of being human.

But the baby crying wouldn't really matter at all if Roxanne never showed up. Had she forgotten? Had she stood him up? Ice settled in his stomach, coursing through his veins and he swallowed loudly. Maybe Minion had been right to warn him about all this.

The fish had stormed out in a flurry of emotion after discovering that Megamind was going on yet another date. He accused him of forgetting his goals. Of falling in love... The fight still made Megamind feel ill, remembering the hurt and pain on his friend's face while he fled the lair. Left him, standing alone. And now, with no Roxanne in sight, he had the sinking feeling that the fish could be onto something. The bad guy doesn't get the girl. The bad guy is left with no Minion, and no Roxanne.

No, he shook his head, frowning.

She hadn't forgotten and wasn't standing him up. He'd talked to her just hours before and she had gushed with excitement over the phone, asking him what he thought she should wear.

Clothes, he'd replied without a bit of humour in his voice and she'd laughed into the phone, called him silly and promised to meet him at 9:00 for dinner. She was coming. She was. Women took longer to get ready, or so he'd read online and in those magazines at the grocery store front counter. They liked to prolong the waiting, so he'd be twitching with anticipation upon her arrival.

It was definitely working.

He had to do something with his hands to keep them from shaking, so he smoothed the white table cloth, shifted the candle in front of him, and lined up his cutlery and plate to almost perfect measurements. Naturally, he eyeballed the symmetry, but wondered if he should bring out a tape measure just to be sure. He moved the candle one more time, then eyed the curled black wick within that had been extinguished. He cast a glance around himself, slowly pulled the candle against his chest and then quick as a flash unsheathed his De-Gun, firing off a short blast into the wax until a flame erupted once again. He set it down with his lips pursed, eyes still nervously looking around himself to check for witnesses.

No one moved, and the conversation remained fluid and droning around him. The baby didn't scream. He released a slow sigh, and was about to check his watch again for the forty-second time since he'd sat down when he caught the scent of her perfume seconds before she glided into his view.

She was breathless and gasping as she slid into her seat, and his mind raced to categorize everything about her appearance. Her dress was spectacular, though he didn't know how to describe it much beyond that it was purple, and had a ruffled neck that went high around her nape, something he could really appreciate given his own choices in attire. Her slim freckled shoulders looked pale and smooth in the low lighting, and there was a surprising amount of skin open at her throat and he could see the delicate curve of her collar bone. Her eyes glimmered and shone with that same sort of wonder-lust and adrenaline thrill he'd see back after their exciting time in the Lair when she'd blown up a half dozen of his Brain-Bots. And then his eyes travelled further up...

Great Scott, her hair was exciting! And he said as much, which she just chuckled at. The strands were blown straight back from her face, similar to how they had been after the blast which defeated Metro Man. But this current arrangement had a more windblown look to it, as if she'd been driving in a convertible at break-neck speeds for about four hours non-stop. And there was her glorious, wide and tall forehead for his enjoyment, freckles blinking at him as the candle flickered from the gust of air she sighed out as she sat. He loved the gentle slope of her hairline, and the faintest little widow's peak at its center. With her hair at its current height, he could almost imagine that her head resembled his for once. All forehead and great sweeping height. And that thought made him feel like he should be crossing his legs, if it weren't for the white tablecloth draped across his lap. Although he liked her the way she was, one couldn't blame him for brief fantasies of a pale freckled blue skin, gleaming silver-blue eyes and a glorious cranium. Then again, she wouldn't have hair. That was a sad thought. Yes, he liked her the way she was.

Although maybe he wanted her not to be QUITE so smart and nosy reporter-ish.

All of a sudden, she was talking excitedly, her hand gesturing and waving through the air as she started a narrative that had him choking, blubbering, going pale, and going hot all at once. Titan. She'd met Titan, formerly Hal Stewart. He'd shown up at her apartment, just as she was deciphering the pictures that she had taken of all of Megamind's ideas from the Lair. She had figured out Megamind's plan. He'd missed getting his butt-kicked so he'd created a new superhero. It made so much sense, she ranted.

He tried to drink the glass of water that the serving staff brought him, but he promptly spit the liquid back into the cup with a gagging sound, trying to restrain himself from any evil sort of outburst.

It was so much more complex than that! She was simplifying things too much! He didn't miss getting his keister pummelled every other day. What masochistic person would enjoy that? No, it was about purpose! About having a reason to live! About a challenge! There was no match for him intellectually anywhere in the world, but Metro Man had at least had the brawn to destroy his creations, which meant Megamind had to constantly search for ways to negate his powers. That was a challenge! It was his job! How would she feel if suddenly no news ever happened? She'd probably create some news in order to report on it too...

He wanted to slam his fists into the table and explain it all to her, and to set her straight, especially when she claimed the Hal Stewart was the worst person to give powers to.

How dare she!

That was Fate's doing! He had no control over it! He hadn't chosen for the powers to be given to her chubby little cameraman, but he'd worked with what he was given and tried to make the best of it. And all she could do was condemn and criticize.

Sure, there were days when Megamind doubted Titan as much as she did right now. He was thick-headed, vicious, and with a moral compass that never seemed to be able to find polarized North. But he was learning. He would fight Megamind and it would all fall into place. He just needed time.

Fearing he would lose his cool and start to say all of these things, he tried to focus on the adorable curl that stuck out in the top left corner of her hair, and staring at the strands brought his stress down considerably.

No, tonight he was Bernard. Not Megamind. And Bernard wanted a relaxing dinner with Roxanne. He just had to shut her up long enough for her to realize she wanted the same thing. She was so like him at times, it was frightening. Her manic enthusiasm. Her passion. He had to put her off guard to make her drop this line of questioning.

And the best way to do that was to romance the pants off her sexy little legs.

If she were wearing pants. Which she wasn't. But if she was, she'd totally lose her pants to his fantastic abilities to charm the garments off of females. A previously unexplored talent, until tonight.

He smiled dreamily and took a hold of the flute of sparkling champagne at his right, raising the glass towards her. He tried on his most suave smile, his eyes warm and approving when they looked at her.

"You know, I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of who's kicking whose butt... But in the meantime, let's enjoy each other's company," he said softly, and she blinked, flushing a little in embarrassment, but a sigh came from her lips as she accepted the glass, offering him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry Bernard. Of course, you're right," she giggled softly. "I could use a breather. To Bernard, for being the only normal thing in my crazy upside down world," she smiled, raising her glass toward him in a toast.

He mimicked the movement, his heart squeezing in his chest.

Normal. She thought he was the only thing normal in her life.

"To... being normal," he intoned, clicking his glass against hers with a soft ring, wishing with all his heart as he took a sip of the bubbling liquid, that he was as normal as she thought he was. Oh how he wished for it. He knew now, more than ever, that she wouldn't be with him in his true form.

She said she judged by actions, and that left him at a severe disadvantage. While Bernard had a clean slate, Megamind had a laundry list of life sentences under his belt that she'd never be able to look past. Even if she could accept him, blue skin and lanky frame aside, she'd hate him for everything else that made up his character. She'd find no redeeming factor.

So he wished, and prayed, and willed the God's above to show him some mercy. Let that tiny clink of glasses signal a miracle coming; that he really was normal. That being Megamind was all a bad dream, but being Bernard was his real life. That he was normal for even one night in his pathetic life. That he wasn't just wearing a disguise, but that he really was Bernard and was sharing a romantic dinner with Roxanne, his partner. And they'd be able to go back to his normal apartment afterward, and he'd be able to smooth his hands through her riotous hair like a normal man might. And he could believe that it was really him, as Bernard, who she thought was her solace in a world that tossed her around like a rag doll. And he'd feel the same for her, truthfully, wholly, and without guilt because there were no lies. They were meant to be together. Nothing was there to stop them.

No deception. No disguises. No blue skin and giant heads. No evil schemes or jail time. Just them. In love and happy.

So much did he want that to be true, that he let the little voice take over again. The one that told him to cling to this freedom and this happiness with an iron grip and never let go. Never think about the consequences. Just enjoy.

And that's why, when her eyes changed, when her face registered something like attraction, he didn't hesitate to bridge the distance between them across the table. He didn't stop when their mouths were inches apart and he could smell the sweetness of the alcohol on her breath. He didn't stop when he flicked his green gaze from her eyes down to those lips that parted ever so slightly, glossy and red in the flickering candle light. And he didn't stop when he tilted his head just a fraction to kiss her, tasting heaven and champagne and lip gloss.

They kissed. It was sweet, simple, pure and holy. All things he wasn't. And for several thumping heartbeats, he was able to imagine that he really was normal. And that Roxanne Ritchi, beautiful, perfect, extraordinary Roxanne Ritchi had chosen him out of a city full of bachelors. And evidently, over Metro Man as well, if she was being truthful in saying their affair had been the product of the rumour mill.

God, his life was perfect.

He closed his eyes to savour the feel of her mouth on his, of the sudden flush of emotion and understanding that seemed to come along with this innocent heartfelt kiss. He could feel her lips curve into the slightest of smiles, her fingers stroking along his hand and up his wrist. The movement sent a flash of colour blurring around him and he swore he heard the zap of his heart disintegrating. This kiss was perfect. It was everything he'd ever dreamed. So fantastic was it, that he was literally seeing sparks.

Then, her mouth changed.

He wasn't all that skilled in the kissing department, but he could feel the differences slowly seep through his hormone soaked brain as lips that were once soft, plump and pliable turned frigid, tight and sharp.

Noise filtered to his ears. Gasps. The clatter of cutlery. Roxanne's increased breathing. Then, a baby's scream.

He opened his eyes to stare into hers, which were wide and panicked, switching from pain to confusion to rage and back again. Then she was tearing her mouth from his violently, as if she were burned, those heavenly lips turning into a scowl. Her hands were on his chest, shoving him back into his chair as she stood. Her chair tipped and clattered to the ground and she was panting with a wild look on her face.

"What?" he asked, panic gripping his throat, his chest burning where she'd shoved him, and he looked down at the spot where her palms had made contact with his blue lightning bolt stamped suit and spiked shoulder pads.

Wait, what?

NO!

Understanding blossomed on his face and he stared up at her while the earth crumbled around him. Or he wished it had. If the floor opened up and swallowed him, it would be less painful than seeing the way she had one arm raised, as if to ward him off, her face a complicated melody of betrayal and disgust.

"Wait! Don't look at me!" he shouted, and madly reached for his watch. The watch! She'd touched it and de-activated the thing! He was sitting in the exclusive downtown restaurant as Megamind, the entire populace of the establishment looking away from him in terrified obedience to his shouted command. All except Roxanne, who was staring with her mouth open.

His fingers were shaking and seemed useless in doing what he wanted them to do. Humiliation flooded his mental capacities and his face was fuchsia against blue skin, sweat easily snaking down his high temples. Flash after flash of imagery came from the watch, disguise after disguise concealing him. Was it three turns? Two turns? He couldn't even remember what sequence would bring Bernard into view. Finally, he saw a skin colour that looked remotely right, but when he turned to her and prayed she might have some sort of temporary amnesia and would just carry on like normal, he knew he had the wrong disguise enabled as soon as the Brando like accent fell from his lips.

He winced as she tossed the flute of sparkling champagne onto him, and the bubbling sweet liquid caused the watch to give one final whine and spark of exertion before powering down for good and he was left wide eyed and sticky, staring at her. He hunched in on himself, devastated.

"You!" she managed between clenched teeth, tears brimming in her eyes before she hurriedly stood and fled the restaurant.

"WAIT! Roxanne, please!" he begged, standing up in a flash that sent his chair toppling. The whole restaurant gave a gasp and they all seemed to dive out of the way, which startled the evil genius into tripping over himself in his haste to chase after his date. He stumbled into an adjacent table, causing it to upend. Pasta, wine and candles clattered to the floor. The woman seated at that table let out an ear-piercing scream, directly beside his head which sufficiently disoriented the big-skulled man into reaching for his De-Gun and turning it on her in threat. The screaming continued and now the whole restaurant was a rush of movement, panic and rioting. Women and men yelled in horror, scrambling for the exit, babies screamed, and Megamind shouted his frustration, roughly pushing people aside until he finally found the exit and stumbled out into the drizzle that had begun to fall from the sky.

He looked left and right, quickly, and spotted her retreating back. He dashed for her.

"Please, Roxanne! Wait! I can explain, I promise!" he started miserably, and she whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, eyes wide and flashing. The rain was speckling the soft fabric of her dress, beads trailing onto her bare shoulders. Her hair, once wildly blown, was beginning to droop as the water fell faster and faster.

"Explain? EXPLAIN?" she shrieked and he recoiled from her, eyes wide.

"How long has Bernard been... YOU?" she asked, gesturing to him like he were a piece of trash.

"I...Since the museum, that night. The elevator," he confessed, looking off to the side. He could have lied. Said it was just tonight that he was tricking her. He would have been able to walk away with her just thinking she'd fallen in love with Bernard, and Megamind was just trying another evil scheme. He could go back to pretending to be Bernard again tomorrow, acting as if it was all Megamind's evil plan and he'd been kidnapped or something.

But no. He couldn't lie anymore. Not to her. It hurt too much.

He looked up to gauge her reaction to his truthful words.

She placed a shaking hand to her mouth, strands of dripping hair slowly falling across her face as thunder rumbled softly in the distance. Her lips worked, as if trying to find a way to form syllables, but she kept making soft noises instead. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her eyes swimming with liquid that wasn't from the rain. He saw her shoulders begin to tremble.

His whole body felt like it was dunked in freezing water, and his chest was within a vice, squeezing and squeezing so he couldn't breathe.

"This... whole time?" she gasped softly, a sob shaking her slim frame again and he couldn't stop himself. He bridged the distance between them, wrapping his hands around her shoulders and standing close to her.

"Oh Roxanne, don't cry. Please don't cry," he begged in a weak whisper, his voice breaking at the sight of the tears that boiled out of the corners of her eyes.

She flicked her gaze to his hands, lightning erupting in her crystal blue eyes as she took in a deep shuddering breath. He hurriedly pulled his hands away, realizing his mistake. He wasn't Bernard. He had no right to touch her anymore.

"You killed him," she whispered softly after she'd gathered herself enough to speak again, hand still pressed to her lips, to hide the trembling of both.

"What?" he asked softly, confused. "Metro Man?"

"You killed them both!" she shrieked in response. He struggled to keep up, gripping the sides of his head and madly darting his eyes along the sidewalk as if it might answer his questions. Killed someone? Who had he killed? He normally avoided the whole killing thing, much preferring to keep his subordinates alive so he could bask in their fear. And Metro Man... It had been a fluke. A mistake.

"What? I don't... I have no idea what you're talking about! I haven't killed anyone!"

"BERNARD!" she shouted, throwing her hands down at her side while her body convulsed with heavy sobs, foot stamping into a small puddle. "You killed him!" Her voice kept raising a pitch, switching to some sort of un-recognizable high-frequency that made Megamind's teeth rattle in the back of his head.

"I didn't kill Bernard! I dehydrated him!" He argued, pointing a finger at her. She stomped closer to him and he pulled back, clutching his hand against his chest.

"NO! You killed him! All this time, I've spent with him... Talked with him. Told him EVERYTHING! And now, it's... you! You killed him! And I was falling fo-... Oh god," she sobbed, her hands coming up to cover her face while she slowly began to sink down toward pavement, bawling openly into her palms.

The sound cut into his chest cavity, eviscerating him entirely. He felt a stinging sensation behind his eyes, and his vision swam with some sort of liquid.

Megamind understood. He hadn't physically killed anyone. But he had murdered the Bernard she knew. Or to be more correct, the idea of him. The Bernard she had been casually seeing, the one that he was acting as... that Bernard was now dead. Torn from Roxanne's life to be replaced with the harsh truth. That she had really been spending her time and investing her emotions in deplorable, despicable Megamind. The criminal she had been hating for years. The villain who had kidnapped her again and again. The evil entity that had ruined her city.

He had killed two men that she cared about now. First Metro Man, and now Bernard. The man she was falling for.

But it had been him all along. She'd been falling for him.

Didn't that count for something?

Cautiously, slowly, he inched toward her where she crouched in the rain, her body bent down in on itself, her dress darkening with water. He reached a hand out, as if to touch her hair and stroke the soaking strands away from her face, but she saw his boots as they entered her vision. Suddenly, her head flashed up, makeup smeared down her cheeks. Her whole face contorted, midway through a wail of agony and heartbreak, so her expression was one he'd never seen before, and it terrified him.

When she stood up just slightly, he thought maybe she was getting ready to yell at him again. Instead, her right arm pulled back, and her fist flew into his face.

His head snapped to the side, the force of it sending him stumbling back to trip over the edge of the sidewalk. With a splash, he was in the gutter, the taste of blood fresh on his tongue. His cheek throbbed with pain and he gingerly touched his offended jaw, flexing and trying to pop the bone into some form of comfortable position. Stars flew in front of his eyes and he tried to regain focus, giving his head one final shake before looking up at her.

But she wasn't there. He could hear the clip of her heels on the sidewalk, rapidly disappearing into the distance, but when he tried to look for which way she'd gone, the pouring rain blocked his view. And so did the crowds of onlookers with their umbrellas, staring gap-mouthed at the villain lying in the gutter, soaking wet, and with a swollen jaw.

He scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth together while he tried to scan the streets for her. Damnit! For walking in those spindly little heels, she could apparently move quite quickly. And she also had a mean right hook.

He rubbed his cheek again, and then turned violently towards the group of civilians staring at him. They shrieked at the movement and dispersed, and he just snarled out his aggravation. Patting his belt desperately, he located the keys to the Invisible Car, pressing the remote so two lights flashed from an empty parking spot across the street, and the black glistening vehicle came into view. Rushing over, he slid across the hood of the Hudson Hornet, before scrambling to open the driver's side and slipping into the seat that wasn't at all designed for him. He almost tumbled into the back of the car, letting a string of expletives escape his lips as he glared at the half seat that made up the front driver's cockpit. The seat was barely even a third of the normal height it should be to support the spine, as it was designed to accommodate Minion's large suit and complex mechanics attached to his back. This made driving the car difficult for Megamind, but he would do it if need be.

The other thing that made it difficult for him to drive was his emotional state.

He dropped the keys four times.

He scratched the ignition with deep gauges as he violently tried to slam the keys into place.

Once he was finally able to find the proper hole and ram the key home, the car whined and sputtered when he turned it. He tried again. And again.

Then, he shrieked his rage, humiliation and sadness, tears burning and pricking the back of his eyes. He grabbed the steering wheel and beat the thing within an inch of its life, rocking the car back and forth until he was panting for breath and his eyes were bulging from his head. Then he turned the key and the engine roared to life. He slammed the car into gear and pulled forward while tromping on the gas harder than he needed to, so he was thrust back by the momentum and force of the acceleration. Which would have been fine, had he a full seat rest to lean into. But he didn't, so it merely had him painfully bending his back over upholstery that barely reached past his lower ribs.

But he could ignore that pain. The pain that hurt more was the sting of his jaw, and the ache in his chest.

God DAMNIT! Where had she gone? He needed to find her, to explain to her. To make her understand.

He drove up and down the rain soaked streets of Metro City. He didn't know how long he drove for, or how much of the city he covered in his search. He just continued to drive and drive and drive, and peer out into the rain, up and down streets and side streets. The wipers worked furiously to clear the deluge of water pouring from the heavens. All he could see through the sheets of rain was flashes of blue as the first downpour since he'd cleaned up the city fell on the dehydrated garbage. He cursed himself.

Band-aid solutions! That's all he'd been doing. That's why the garbage was now returning to the streets, because all he'd done was hide it. Not fix it. His entire life he seemed to be doing that. Covering things up and disguising the problem so he could ignore it. Like he'd done with Roxanne. He'd just put a disguise over himself, and hoped that she'd never see the problem. And just like all this garbage that was exploding out onto the streets in bursts of aqua sparkle, so had his disguise melted away tonight, leaving nothing but the undesirable trash within.

Him.

And forced to deal with the aftermath of his mistakes, the garbage and his deceit included, was Roxanne. And had she been walking maybe just a bit faster, he might have struck her as she suddenly appeared through the rain, arms wrapped around herself while walking slowly across the street. As it were, he slammed both his feet hard on the brake, feeling the car screech to a halt and shudder as the slick rain made it skid.

She looked up suddenly at the sound, her face contorting into recognition and then disgust, and she was spinning on her heel to walk back across the street well before he was even able to stumble out of the car door into the downpour.

"I can explain!" he shouted, arms outstretched, but she made a scoffing noise of disbelief, and continued to walk away from him, arms tight around her middle. She wasn't even going to give him the opportunity to explain? After all they'd been through together?

"What about everything you just said!" he countered suddenly, hurt making him defensive, sharp, accusatory. "About judging a book by its cover!"

She turned on him swiftly, marching right back toward him with fury and rage in her every movement. Her hair was well and totally drenched, clinging against chilled skin and splattering across her forehead haphazardly. Her mascara was thick and dark around her eyes, the rain blurring it into an intense coal outline that made her blue irises flare with colour.

"Well, let's take a look at the contents then, shall we?" she all but screamed now into his face, and he regretted provoking her. Water droplets flew from her bangs to speckle his face, and he tried to back away from her. She didn't bother to move the strands that hovered thickly over her eyes, and he tried to feel for the invisible car that might be coming up behind him soon as he scrambled backward. But she followed, shoving and pushing him with her hands for each of her viciously spat points.

"You destroyed Metro Man, you took over the city, and then you actually got me to care about you!"

Cringe, wince, flinch. He staggered back, trying to avoid looking at her pain filled eyes, letting her abuse him with her sharp jabs and pokes. He wanted to run. He also wanted to shout back at her. Would she have ever given him a chance if he'd tried to be with her any other way? No. She wouldn't have. For all her talk about books and covers, he doubted she'd have given him the time of day.

But that's because she'd expect him to do something just like this. To lie to her. To tear her heart apart. To kill her hero, destroy her town, and trick her into having feelings for him.

The last one seemed to give her the most anxiety, as she practically shrieked it, throwing her arms down at her side, before leaning close to him, narrowing her eyes while her brows turned down in an earnest expression of confusion. That look almost killed him, and he struggled to swallow the rising bile in his throat as wave after wave of guilt crushed over him. He couldn't even find pleasure in knowing she cared about him. How could he, seeing what pain he had caused her?

"Why are you so evil? Tricking me? What could you possibly hope to gain?" she asked finally, in a desperate tone, her shoulders slumping as if in defeat.

What had he hoped to gain?

Slowly, he looked up at her and he couldn't stop the truth from showing on his face. The desperate need for companionship. The aching emptiness that filled his chest. The crushed little boy desperate for acceptance. His eyes pleaded with her, his lips turned down in a dismal frown.

All he'd hoped to gain was her.

To have her smile at him like she did at Bernard. To hear her voice over the phone. To see her grin with glee while looking at her favourite painting. To laugh with her over dinner. To hold hands on a blanket under the trees. To kiss her. To run his fingers through her hair. To be with her. Wholly, completely, unabashedly. To love her.

And somehow, for her to love him back.

What had he hoped to gain?

Had Minion not asked him a similar question recently? And his response had been lies, cover ups. Delusions about using her to make his battle with Titan memorable. But who was he kidding? He'd fallen in love with her. He loved her, with every inch of his body and soul, but evidently not enough. He loved her in the selfish way of a child, where all that mattered was that she was his and no one else's. The love never translated into protecting her. Keeping her safe from hurt and harm. Like the kind he'd inflicted on her.

He didn't love her enough.

And she didn't love him at all.

He stared at her with all of these hopes, feelings and realizations on display in his expression, his soul bared to her.

And she did just what he expected her to do.

She stared at him, blue gaze roaming all over his face, taking in his eyes, his mouth, his brow. Then, slowly, her expression turned to disbelief. Disgust. Sarcastic dry humour. She gave a choking laugh.

"Wait a minute," she began, before she made a disparaging, sad noise in the back of her throat, her eyes going wide. "I don't believe this," she managed with a quick shake of her head.

"Did you really think I would ever be with you?" she then asked, in a breathless way.

His heart squeezed and then ceased to beat. The rain fell on him, sliding down the back of his neck and the sloping collar of his cape and collar. He continued to stare at her, watching her expression, her incredulity at the realization he loved her and thought for even one moment, in his stupid life, that she would ever return his affections.

"No," he whispered simply, truthfully. He never truly believed it, had he? He'd always known. But he'd let himself cling to some hope, some wish that if he just closed his eyes and hid under his disguises, like a child under the covers, he could ignore the boogie men lurking just outside.

But the dark cold rainy nights were always good at making those covers and blankets useless. In the rain storm, his shell was washed away to reveal the twisted, defective man beneath. The bad man who no one, especially Roxanne Ritchi, could love. The man she brushed past and walked away from without another word.

The bad guy doesn't get the girl.

He'd forgotten who he was. What he was. The rain had reminded him.

He was the bad guy.

And he didn't deserve the girl.