Heaven.

"Heaven! Wait!" Gats calls. I don't want to wait. I want to leave this building before I slaughter some poor, innocent house plant. The night is still young and there's plenty of time for patrol. I storm the hall for the elevator, cursing Angelos all the while. Traitor. Next time he's falling to his death Jaylin can go save his sorry butt. "Hev! Don't be like that!"

I whirl around. "I can 'be' any way I want to be! Leave me alone!" He barrels into me before I can get out of the way. We hit the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of me and I lie there, gasping like a fish out of water. "Thanks a lot, Gats."

"Well, excuse me, princess."

I cringe. Not only from his Legend of Zelda animated series reference, but from the whole 'princess' thing. "Please don't call me that."

He rolls over and props himself on his side. "You okay?"

I sit up. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, that can't be good," he says. I scan him up and down, soaking in each detail. The skinny jeans, the black tee, the woke-up-like-this perfectly styled white hair. If I he was a stranger wandering the streets, I'd ask him if he were lost and remind him the closest modeling studio is forty minutes east. He frowns. "You're bleeding."

I wipe the side of my mouth. "I'm always bleeding."

"Are you hurt?"

I try to stand up, but he grabs my hand. I glare. "I'm always hurt."

He sighs. "Heaven, calm down. You just woke up a few hours ago. I know you and Jaylin don't like each other--"

"She broke into your house and tied you to a chair, Gats. You think I'm going to forgive her for that?"

He looks away. "She let us escape. She saved your life, Angel's too."

I'm boiling up inside. "He took her side."

"You tore her apart." He laughs. "Of course he took her bloody side! If you had lost, Angel would've picked you up and carried you out. But lucky for us Cat got her butt kicked. What did she say to you?"

I take a long breath and count to twenty-five. What am I supposed to say? She said you didn't love me. I cringe. No. It doesn't matter if he loves me or not. I don't need him. He's nice, but if he doesn't like me, that's fine. I don't care. I don't.

What else? That I'm not a true hero. That I'm only popular as a superhero because boys like me. That Gatsby had to rescue me and I needed help and I couldn't save myself. "She called me a princess."

He gives me a long look and then sighs like an old man. "Love you, Hev, but I think you overreacted this time."

"She said other stuff too," I add. He's laughing now and I shove him. He shoves me back.

"You kind of are a princess, you know?"

I pull away. "Oh, okay. Be like that. I need to patrol anyway—"

"Aww, Hev." He springs to his feet. "I mean that in a good way. Like, you know Mulan? How she wasn't technically a real princess but Disney recognized her badassery and put her in the princess club anyway? You're like that."

I blink. Mulan. I could get behind her. "Really?"

"Yeah." He purrs, and by 'purrs' I mean he's real-deal cat purring. "I think you're great."

"Uh." My heart's beating all out of whack and I don't know what to do. What can I say? I punch people. I don't understand the intricacies of courtship and this romance-shomance stuff, let alone how to flirt with the guy who I made out with, I don't know, a week or two ago.  We haven't even been on a date. Actually, I've never been on a date. With anyone. Ever. If I am a "siren," then my personality sure scares off all the gents.

Frankly, it sucks Gats knows how to put the moves on and I don't. He stoops a little so he's at my eye-level. That's right. I'm so short even Gats has to stoop for me. "I'm just happy you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if you died."

"Huh." I think I told him I'd marry him or something earlier. Well. This is awkward. I never thought I'd actually live through the sleep, I just knew I had to try. Now we're standing in our building's hall, he's looking at me all lovey-dovey, and my stomach's all twisted up. I would die for Gats. I'd do anything for him. I guess I just have a crappy way of showing it.

"Huh' what?" He says with a smile, and I decide it's much more handsome than his usual smirk. He brushes a finger over my ripped-up cheek. I hold back a wince and inch toward him. I don't read people very well, but he looks kind of sad. Tired. His usually bright eyes are dull and rung with dark circles and his head is hung low.

"Nothing, nothing, just, are you okay?" I ask. I'm standing on tiptoes now, and I touch his hand. It feels electric, like the atmosphere's rippling with static around us.

"Yeah. I guess I just want a break is all. I mean, the cat ears and you almost dying and me almost killing Angel and him having a second personality is kind of hard to swallow. And now I hear this stuff about Snare wanting you and Jupes being a killer." His eyes flash. "I lived with a killer. Once."

I pull back. "What?"

"Yeah." He shrugs.

"A supervillain?"

He hesitates. "Maybe."

Gats is no 'open book.' As long as he's lived with the Fibbs I've known there was more to him. Not in a dark and twisted past sort of way, just that he's known some things and done some stuff he won't talk about. Sometimes I'd see him staring out on the balcony, clenching and unclenching his fists and when I'd ask him what's up, he'd overcompensate by laughing loudly or gushing some random story or turning up his charm factor and trying to sweep me off my feet. Sometimes he did a great job of it. Sometimes we ended up trading blows while Angelos watched, yogurt cup in hand.

"Oh," I say. He clearly doesn't want to talk about it and I don't blame him. "Well, then." I want to back away. I need to patrol. After the night Gats disappeared and Angel caught purple fire, I split all my time puppy-guarding Angel and hunting any possible sign of Gats. Every lead brought me down a dead-end, and as many heists, gunpoint robberies, and dim-lit-deals I broke up, I never found Gats. In that time, I didn't even patrol my usual trouble-areas, I was so desperate to keep Angel and Gats safe.

And man, do I feel guilty. Starlight still needs me. I can't disappoint a city of people who depend on me to keep them safe.

But right now, I don't want to leave Gats. He's looking at me so intensely, his unnatural blue eyes burning or blazing or whatever it is eyes are supposed to do. The electricty's still crisp in the air, like there's so much he wants to tell me. I don't know what I'm doing. I lean up, brush back a strand of his silky, too-white hair, and kiss him on the lips.

No, thank you for reminding me, I don't know how chivalry works either.

His eyes widen and quickly flutter shut. My skin's all hot and when he touches me, I get all tingly. I pull back. He grins and giggles like a schoolboy. 

What can I say? I'm a woman of action. Fighting villains one moment and kissing lovers the next. I'm practically James Bond. He swoops in for a second kiss, but I hear someone pound down the hall.

I don't care, really, but I have to patrol...I have to. Heaven, don't get distracted. You have work to do. I take in a deep breath and motion for the elevator. He grins and I swat his chest. He swats me back and then we're chasing each other around like little kids. Some rich dude mutters, "Bah, little punks!"

Gats' musky man-perfume stings my nose, and my heart's swelling. I don't know what Gats does to me. He just makes me feel...better. Like we both aren't freaks, like we aren't about to be attacked on all sides from two supervillain organizations, like I don't have to protect a city. I don't have to worry when I'm around him. He makes me feel carefree and calm and young (I know that sounds weird coming from a junior in high school, but some days I feel so stressed I half imagine myself as a seventy-year-old trapped in a teenager's body).

We tumble into the elevator. Well. We have fifty-some floors to traverse. I drag my hands down the buttons behind me. I see them light up in my peripherals and Gats flicks his eyes to the walls.

"Well," he says.

"Well," I say.

We've both read our fair share of questionable erotica. We both know about The Elevator Kiss, the supposed pinnacle of kisses, and how special the schmuck's supposed to be. There's just something about elevators, the privacy, the tight space, the empty time, that make them such a perfect environment for the romancy-stuff.

Which is why it's particularly weird we just stand there, staring at each other like we're trying to see into the essence of each other's souls.

I'm not an awkward person. At least, I try not to be. But looking at him, now we're trapped, alone, and not seconds away from death or eternal servitude, I'm at a loss.

"So," he says.

"How's life?"

"Better. Glad you're okay."

"Oh, well, same. Though seriously, I never thought we'd get out of that one."

"Bloody grown-ups," he says, glaring over his shoulder like Owl will pop up behind him. I nod.

"You think they'll leave us alone?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

"Nope." He pops the 'p' and shrugs, edging into my space. I step into his. So this is how small talk works? Whodda thunk. "What are we going to do? Any ideas, oh mighty superhero?"

I shoot him a look and point at the security camera in the corner. He just shrugs. "I don't know," I say, "ever considered getting Jupes and Storm to, like, move out? You know, get away from Starlight's villains?"

He chuckles like I just made a stupid little joke. "Funny."

"Dude," I say, "they broke into your apartment, like, three times. Move to Finland or something."

"You can't run away from your problems, Hev. We have to stand our ground."

I blink, waiting for him to burst out laughing. He doesn't. "Okay," I say, "no. Running away from your problems is when you skip Biology because you strategically left pieces of dissected frog in the corners of your desk and you're scared of Mr. Mason's wrath."

Gats jerks away. "You did what?"

"That was an example." I rub my temples.

"No, no, you did that, didn't you?" He widens his big round eyes. "Why do you hate Mr. Mason so much?"

"If you took his class you'd know." I shrug. "Anyway, that's running away from your problems. Moving away from someplace because dangerous supervillains know where you live isn't running away from your problems, it's called 'common sense.'"

He just shrugs back. "I like it here. I don't ever want to move again, Hev, ever. Even if it kills me."

"Well, it just might." I cross my arms. "If I can't talk some sense into you, maybe Juniper will understand."

"Yeah?" His voice cracks. He turns away. "Well, be like that bossy Miss-I-know-what's-best-for-everyone!"

I glare, but I don't say anything back. I am bossy. And I do know what's best. I turn my back to him and stare at the brown walls. When we hit the ground floor, I leave. Just silently turn my back, speed walk through the lobby, and leave the building. The wind's brisk. The sidewalks are empty.

"Hey kid!" someone shouts. I don't look up. Which alleyways lead quickest to Kimberly Strip? There are so many people who live there and can't afford to have their shops graffitied or their windows smashed in. I try not to think about Angel and Gats being mad at me.

Let them be mad. I don't care. "Kid!" I stuff my hands in my pockets and flick my eyes to the street.

Black van. That's not good. I've watched my fair share of action movies. I know what misfortune those suckers bring. It's trailing me, isn't it? I walk faster, wedging myself closer to the shop windows. I check my reflection in the glass. Yup. It's trailing, definitely trailing me.

I fumble for my phone. I flick my eyes to the window again and see the vehicle stop and the passenger door open. "Yo, kid! Heaven!"

My phone hits the pavement and smashes into itty-bits of broken plastic when I hear my name. My super-speed's still in the works. I can't outrun that machine!

The driver's wearing a mask. So Poison wasn't lying about that "saving the effort" stuff. Snare planned to take me the moment I left my building.

You see, this is why I spent all that time hiding my identity. Not because showing my face would make me a "less effective crime-fighter" or whatever that means, but so people wouldn't try to shoot me. Or follow me around in black vans. Angel's lucky, Snare and Syndicate had some sort of treaty barring either of them from stealing him. Only a third party, a neutral like Cat, could. And she didn't carry a gun or drive a black van. These guys though?

Yeah, no. They're not taking me, not without a fight. I hit 'panic' and run.