A/N: This is just a short chapter, getting into Angel's head.

She had to meet the princess of Kasnia in an hour and a half, and still Angel was not yet Bekka.

You have to get over this, she told herself sternly. It's just another part to play.

There were too many roles. Bekka, the flirt, the sweet girl. Angel, the mysterious one, the bitch. Too bad neither one was her. On her darkest days, Bekka thought it would be easier to simply be no one at all.

Next door, Mr. McGuinn was considering a third beer. His wife had left two days ago and still he hadn't noticed. Angel had. She'd felt the woman's heart break as it was pulled in two different directions—freedom or a love that might not be lost.

Bekka shook her head. Some days it as harder to keep out other's thoughts. She wondered if the Martian had this problem.

The newspaper was lying on the vanity in front of her. There was a picture of Bruce Wayne on the second page. Angel tsked. So much news about a man who didn't exist, not truly.

Now there was someone who might understand her more. Gotham was a dark city, darker than New York, where she lived, and there were more freaks, but he must see something worth saving.

Bekka sighed and slipped back into character. With a brush of cherry red lipstick and a few practice smiles, the Sweet Girl was back in control.

For now.