"He looked at her for a long few moments, scanning her up and down like he was trying his darndest to telepathically learn her life's story. 'You have nowhere to go,' he finally said. He stated it as if he knew for sure, and she hated him at that moment, just because he was right."

She had scoured through every single 'roommate wanted' ad in the paper, and all of them had turned out to be worthless. The first girl, Anne Something-Or-Other, had found another girl from her school. Carl Sturm was almost fifty and a total sleaze, not to mention how much his apartment smelled. The next guy kept touching her, even after she threatened him. Two more girls had already found roommates, and the last turned out to be some sort of a drug exchange thing. To say the least, she was pissed off.

The heat and humidity, even now at midnight, made her clothes stick to her skin, and her skin stick to the uncomfortable metal bench at the bus stop. She didn't even know why she was sitting there since she didn't actually have enough money on her for a bus fare. Part of her knew she could always go back to Go City, and her brothers, and the thankless life of a superhero, but a bigger part of her would rather be homeless than have to sheepishly return and listen to Hego- Heath- lecture her about the importance of always letting him know exactly where she was at all times and blah, blah, blah.

Just as she began to think she at least was lucky enough to be alone, another person came walking down the street. In the shadows, his slumped shoulders and slow, shuffle of a walk seemed eerie and vaguely threatening. As he stepped into the light of a street lamp, any fear she felt vanished. He looked like a real poindexter type, young, scrawny, and fidgety. He wore khakis and a dark blue shirt with long sleeves, despite the heat. His geeky ensemble was completed with coke-bottle glasses which, even from twenty feet away, she could tell made his eyes look beady and small. He held a stack of books in his arms and seemed to be struggling not to drop anything. A pencil fell from a hole in his backpack, and she watched him as he stood there and watched it roll away.

Even all that, however, wasn't what made her fear fade away. No self-respecting creep of a guy that she had ever known would let themselves cry in public. Not that there were many other people out and about at this time. Maybe he just expected to still be alone, she reasoned. But even with that thought, she couldn't bring herself to feel nervous, she didn't even feel like she would need her plasma powers to fight this guy off if something happened.

Without a word, he sat down on the bench as far away from her as he could possibly sit. He clutched his books to his chest, letting out the occasional sniffle. Just to be safe she watched him from the corner of her eye, but he only shifted the books and checked his watch. He glanced at her once, though she couldn't be sure he had meant to look at her, or if he was watching for the bus past her. And then he went right back to fidgeting with his books.

Just when she was beginning to question whether or not she should ask him what his deal was he asked, "Do you know if the Eight-Four bus came already?" He hadn't even looked at her when he said it.

"Well, I know the one at three this afternoon came," she said. She'd meant it as a joke, but instead of smiling like she'd hoped he shot her an offended sort of look.

"Whatever," he muttered after a few awkward seconds of silence. He pushed his glasses up his face to rub his fist over his eyes and looked away from her again.

"I was here for almost an hour before you got here, and I've only seen the Seven-Three." She shrugged as he looked at her again.

"Oh," he moaned, his head thumping down onto his books. She wasn't particularly used to seeing people cry, and the stray tears he'd wiped off his face before sitting down had been jarring enough, but actually seeing him actively crying shook her to the core.

"What's your deal?" She asked, realizing only moments later how tactless and rude she sounded. She felt a flash of guilt, before justifying to herself that she hadn't really been allowed to speak to people outside of her brothers in half a decade.

He shot her a teary-eyed glare and shot off the bench. Without thinking, and sure as hell without knowing why she stood up and followed him as he began walking down the street. It didn't take her very long to catch up with him. When he noticed her trailing a step behind him he yelped, and the books finally came tumbling out of his arms.

He let out a short frustrated half-scream before bending down to pick up his books. "Are you just going to stand there," he snapped, "or will you help me?"

She fought the deeply ingrained instinct to help whenever she was asked, reminding herself that she ran away for a reason. "Why should I? They're your books!"

For a moment he sputtered out strange incoherent sounds before managing, "Well, then leave me be."

Only as he said this did she finally realize that he didn't know who she was. For years she hadn't been able to leave the house without being noticed, asked for autographs, or help in some manner or another. At first, she'd enjoyed the attention. Now, at sixteen, she hated it. And here, for the first time in half a decade, stood a person who actually didn't know who she was—and somehow she hated that too.

"You didn't answer my question," she said, in lieu of asking how the hell he didn't recognize her. Sure, she'd changed out of her jumpsuit, but even when she walked around Go City with a hat and oversized hoodie on, she would be surrounded before she could even take a breath of fresh air.

The guy swiped a fist over his eyes again, wiping away a final stray tear. "I said leave me alone." All of his books back in his arms, he began walking away from her again.

She couldn't explain why she made the decision to keep following him, hell, she couldn't explain why she'd started talking to him in the first place, but she did.

After a minute or so of her trailing behind him, he stopped. "Are you just going to follow me like some stray puppy? Go home, kid."

"I'm not a kid!" She protested.

He turned to look at her. "How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen? You look like a kid to me."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Says the crybaby."

"It's been a very long day, I'll have you know!"

She shrugged "Same here, still don't see me crying."

"Whatever. You're still a kid. What are you even doing alone around here? You could get hurt."

"What do you care? And I'll have you know that I could defend myself way better than you could, poindexter."

He looked at her for a long few moments, scanning her up and down like he was trying his darndest to telepathically learn her life's story. "You have nowhere to go," he finally said. He stated it as if he knew for sure, and she hated him at that moment, just because he was right. "If you got kicked out, I can't say I blame them." He looked smug, and then immediately looked guilty. But he didn't apologize.

This time, when he began walking again, she walked next to him. "I didn't get kicked out, I ran away."

"Good for you. Leave me alone."

"Nope, now I'm having fun annoying you."

"Well, if you're going to follow me all the way home, at least make yourself useful and carry some of these books. They're heavy."

Without much thought she grabbed a few books off the top of his stack, muttering, "weakling." Despite the insult, he actually smiled at her. Almost, at least. The barest hint of a grin flashed across his face. Still, seeing him smile made her feel good in a way that hero work had stopped making her feel a long while before.

"Why'd you run away?"

"That's none of your business."

"It is if you don't want me to phone the police the moment I get home."

Anger flared through her, sudden and fast, a burning fire in her veins, and she chucked his books to the ground. Wrapping the front of his shirt in her fist, she pulled his face close to hers. He seemed startled, but not afraid. Why wasn't he afraid? Didn't he realize that she had even the worst of the worst villains at her feet begging for mercy within moments of her arrival?

"Call the police, and I'll kick your ass," she snapped.

"Yes, well," he pulled away from her, "you wouldn't be the first person to do so, but I assure you, you're the least threatening." He fixed his shirt, redoing a button that had come loose. "Besides, if you tell me why you've run away, I won't bother."

"You're acting like a real martyr for someone who's what- twenty? It's not like you're my father. Or even one of my brothers."

He shrugged and picked up the books that she had thrown. "Are your brothers why you ran away?"

"Sure."

He glared. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Are you going to keep asking questions?"

"If I feel like it. Are you going to answer any of them?"

"I'm not telling you my name."

"Alright, then don't. I'm Drew." The boy awkwardly twisted one a hand away from his stack of books, which she proceeded not to shake. Instead, she continued walking the direction he'd been going before.

"What are we walking for anyway?" She asked as he caught up with her. "Weren't you going to take a bus?"

"First of all, we aren't walking anywhere. I'm walking. You're following me, not that I understand why. And second of all, the Seven-Three only comes to that stop after all other buses have completed their routes for the night." He shot her a glance. "Have you never taken the bus before?"

"How long is it going to take to get to your place?"

His voice squeaked like a pubescent middle schooler as he shouted, "You're not coming with me!"

"Well, why not?" Even as she said it, simply trying to see how far she could push this guy, she began to wonder what the harm would actually be. It was somewhere to go, and he seemed safe enough. Now she just needed to gather up the humility to beg for a night on his couch.

"Because I'm not letting some random runaway brat live in my apartment with me!"

"Will you let me stay the night if I tell you my name?"

He stopped walking again, to just stare at her. "You really have nowhere to go, do you? Don't you have any friends your own age?"

For the first time, she couldn't make herself look into his eyes when she spoke. "Let's just say I haven't had many opportunities to talk to people outside my family and leave it at that."

"That seems obvious."

"Just answer the question, Drew," she snapped, turning her gaze up to glare at him.

"Nngh…fine. But just one night! And then I want you gone!" They stared at each other, her, trying not to show the relief that she felt at having somewhere to sleep. "Well?" Drew goaded, and she remembered her end of the bargain.

Well, fair was fair. "Fine. My name is…" Her voice trailed off as she debated with herself which name to give. The public had known her strictly as 'Shego' since she was ten, and she was admittedly curious to see if hearing her name would make him recognize her. On the other hand, the whole reason why she ran away was to escape being Shego. She'd been fighting with her oldest brother about the use of their superhero names inside the home for weeks- the twins, almost ten now, barely even remembered that they were two distinct entities, let alone their real names!

"My name is Shea," she eventually mumbled.

"Hm. Well, meeting you hasn't exactly been pleasant. Nonetheless, I'm a man of my word. It's going to take another hour at least to get home."

Yikes. No wonder he'd cried about missing the bus.

She meant to thank him, but instead what came out was, "you keep calling me a kid, but you don't even have a car." She began kicking herself as the words escaped her lips.

"I take it your from a wealthy family, then." In the twenty minutes or so since she'd begun to annoy him, she hadn't heard his voice sound so bitter. She wanted to apologize, but she'd never really learned how. Thinking back, she couldn't recall any time she, or any other member of Team Go, has actually apologized for something. Not the blown-up buildings, not the damage they caused to civilian property, nothing. Were they really all that good, if they couldn't even take responsibility for the things they had done?

After a long few minutes of guilt-ridden silence, filled only with the sounds of Drew's feet shuffling as he walked, he said, "I don't understand. If you are from a wealthy family, why on earth would you leave? I mean, it would have only taken a few more years for you to be sent off to some college somewhere, that mommy and daddy would surely pay to get you in."

"I'll have you know that I don't need them to pay to get me in! And…" it was weirdly easy to open up to him, probably because he was the first person in a long time to actually ask her about herself, "and besides, my family wasn't planning on letting me go to college." Her voice had dropped to just above a whisper, and she kicked a pebble off the sidewalk.

He gave her the sort of sympathetic look that she hated. "Are you from some old-school family, then?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who keeps claiming to find me annoying."

"I do find you annoying."

"Then stop asking me questions."

"Fine!"

Thirty minutes later, her feet ached from all the walking and she was beginning to miss the Go-Car. Drew hadn't spoken, and she wondered if he felt as weirdly un-awkward in the silence as she did. Still, the silence had given her the benefit of getting to really watch him, without him paying her much mind.

He really was a geek. Mighty Martian comic books were interlaced between upper lever robotics and chemistry textbooks. Briefly, they reminded her of Heath, before the comet. He had been obsessed with Fearless Ferret. One of Shea's favorite childhood memories was Halloween when she was maybe six, and he had convinced her to dress as one of the main villains from the comics. She had spent the evening saying mean things about Fearless Ferret and he couldn't retort because it was exactly what the villain might say. Plus, she got extra candy because everyone thought the siblings wearing matching costumes were adorable.

She hadn't gotten to go trick-or-treating since she was eight. The twins had never even been. She almost asked Drew if he still went out on Halloween, but she couldn't exactly start asking questions herself after yelling at him for it.

As she continued to watch him she noticed more and more about his appearance. Like how his ears were really quite big, but for the most part, the way he styled his hair hid them. She wondered if that was deliberate. His glasses were incredibly thick, even more so than the old-bat of a nanny that had taken care of her when she was young. And she had been blind without her glasses on. He had to be utterly useless without his.

The one thing she hated noticing as they walked, was the fact that she found him… gah, she actually found him cute. Not like, model or famous actor attractive, but he had a genuine sort of natural cuteness about him. She couldn't even place why she thought it. Maybe because he was the first person in six years that wasn't one of her brothers, or someone trying to kill her who actually acted like she was a real person. He hadn't even commented on the fact that she was green, although she figured that might be because in the dim lighting she just looked pale. He was pale, and she wondered when the last time he saw the light of day was.

She'd never had a crush before, and she couldn't be sure if this was one, or if she just vaguely liked the way he looked. She did know one thing for sure. Every time he yawned it both made her want to break his jaw and made her find him even more adorable.

Unusual to her typically stubborn self, Shea broke the silence at the end of the half-hour. "How much further?" She asked, in what must have been the whiniest voice she'd ever used. He jumped, seemingly startled by her speaking. "I'm tired."

"Crybaby," he snapped, throwing her earlier insult back at her.

"C'mon, just tell me how much further!"

"Twenty-" he interrupted himself with a yawn, "twenty minutes. Now quit whining."

"Oh please, there's no way half of those yawns haven't been for attention."

"I'm tired too, you know!"

She nudged his arm with her own. "Crybaby." She saw his eyes roll, behind his glasses, but she thought he didn't look all that annoyed. After another few minutes of silence, she asked a question of her own. "Why are you actually letting me stay with you? You're clearly not afraid of me." Even as she wished he would find her threatening, she was glad he didn't. "And you're not doing it because you like me or anything, so what's the deal?"

She saw his eyebrow raise a bit. "Why would I be afraid of you? Because you threatened me?"

"I guess."

"You're not exactly frightening, even compared to other kids."

"Then why are you letting me stay with you?"

"I guess cause I'm not going to leave some kid alone in the middle of the night around here," he said with a shrug. "Besides how much harm can one night do?"

"I mean, most murders happen in just one night."

He glanced at her. "You know, I still don't have to actually let you stay."

"I didn't say I was gonna murder you. I mean, most babies are born in one night too. Most life-changing events happen in a short time." Like a strange glowing comet, striking a treehouse and turning the kids inside into freaks, she thought.

"I suppose that's true."

"Do you have roommates?"

"No." His voice had gone bitter and dark again. "I was meant to, but he bailed on me."

"So, you've got an empty room?"

"Until I can find a new roommate." Before she could suggest herself, he added. "One actually old enough to pay rent."

The seventeen cents in her back pocket seemed heavy, all of a sudden, stopping her from trying to protest. "Whatever you say, poindexter."

"Don't call me that."

"It's not my fault you're dressed like a geek. I mean- Mighty Martian? Really? The only thing that would be dorkier is if you're a fan of Fearless Ferret too."

"Well, I'm not, if that pleases you to know. Not that it should matter."

"Still. Mighty Martian?"

"Well, what do you like? Aside from being a pest?"

Shea realized, not that she hadn't really known before, that she had no way of answering that. She didn't really get to go out or hang out with people her own age. She read a lot of books, but she couldn't just say that after making fun of him for being a nerd. Well, she didn't read a whole lot of science fiction or fantasy, but even reading the classics was too nerdy to say now. What else did she do?

Finally, she settled on saying, "I'm a martial artist." It wasn't a lie, exactly. She did know martial arts. A number of different styles, but she wasn't going to tell him she had superpowers that made fighting a lot easier.

"Aren't martial artists meant to have discipline and self-control?"

She shrugged, trying not to show that she was actually a bit offended. "I have 'em. Just choosing not to use 'em right now."

"Yes, I've noticed. That building there," he paused, pointing up and ahead of them, "is where my apartment is."

It looked miles away, and yet deliciously close. She just wanted to lie down, although she was starting to wonder if anyone had even noticed she was gone. She was miles from home, about to go sleep in some random college kids' apartment. For all she knew, he was a serial killer. Or worse. And yet, maybe nobody cared enough to think about the danger she could be in.

"I want food," Shea said, mostly as a way of interrupting her spiraling thoughts. Though once she said it she realized she could eat.

"That isn't my problem."

"Can't we go in there?" She pointed off to her left, at a brightly lit up 24-hour diner.

Drew pulled a face, as soon as he saw where she was asking to go. "Oh, certainly, if you'd like to spend twenty dollars on undercooked chicken, or molding pancakes. I'm not eating there."

"Well, where can we eat?"

"Do you have money?"

"I mean… not really."

"Then you can go a night without eating! I barely have enough to feed myself, let alone you."

She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, but even so, she couldn't be. She knew that wasn't his fault. "At least I'm not just some runaway brat anymore."

"Oh don't worry, you still are." After Shea didn't respond he sighed and they lapsed back into an oddly not uncomfortable silence for the remainder of their walk.