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Dedicated to fragilefingertips for the banner that is currently not showing because I lost it somewhere, but I promise as soon as I find it it will be up here. Much love x

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The next day found me knocking on Keeley's door. I'd never been there before, but it felt much like stepping into the lion's den. Keeley was a nice girl, but she took journalism very seriously, and this was going to be a make or break situation for me. If it went well, I could be the most-loved girl on the planet. If it went badly, I might as well start digging my grave right now, as I had no doubt Keeley would shove me six feet under.

The door opened, and I felt myself sigh in relief when I saw it was her standing before me and not a parent. I really had no desire to meet the people who had spawned such an aggressive go-getter as Keeley.

She frowned and cocked her head to the side. "Violet? This is a surprise. What brings you to my neck of the woods? Have you got a question about the Halloween dance article?"

"Not exactly," I replied. "May I come in?"

She nodded and held the open wider, and I stepped into the house. It smelled of cleaning products and pot roast, and I found the place spotless and shiny. It was exactly what I'd expect from someone like Keeley, who loved control and perfection.

She led me up the stairs and into her bedroom. On one wall was a large picture board filled with newspaper articles and pictures of famous journalists. A desk stacked with notebooks and a laptop stood on one side, and a meticulous bed with a smooth white duvet sat against the wall. The room was white and clean, and I immediately felt out of place standing in something so impeccable.

"So, what brings you to darken my doorstep?" Keeley asked, taking a seat in her computer chair and appraising me. She picked up a mug of coffee and took a sip, and I awkwardly took a seat on a white reading chair across from her.

"I have a proposition for you," I began. Maybe I should've made up some kind of proposal with charts and color coordination. Perhaps that would have appealed to her more than a face-to-face meeting. Or maybe this was just a bad idea altogether.

"I'm listening," she replied calmly, crossing one petite leg over the other.

"Do you remember my article on The Voiceless Stranger?" I asked her.

She laughed, a clean and melodic sound. "You mean the one where you called him The Black Phoenix and went on to sing his praises? How could I forget? You know, I was skeptical at first, but you really shot our newspaper onto the charts. I've been meaning to thank you for that."

"I think we should have a column for him," I told her.

"A what now?" she replied in a toneless voice, putting down her mug and watching me with scrutinizing eyes.

"You saw how much press that article I wrote got," I told her. "I've already been spoken with by some of New York's leading newspapers over it. People are dying to know more about him. And I can tell them more. But Sterling High could have the exclusive. It could really put us on the map."

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Keeley replied. "You want us to start up a column on this masked menace?"

"He's not a menace," I replied immediately, taking on a more defensive tone than I'd meant to. "But essentially, yes. Whoever this guy is, he can do amazing things. Superhuman things. And people want to know more about it. I could cover his story. I could cover his saves. I might even be able to land an interview. People will learn more about this mysterious guy and Sterling High's newspaper will get more publicity. It's a win-win. Come on, Keeley."

She looked away and fixed her gaze on a patch of white wall, and her jaw worked as she mulled over my proposition. I already knew I was winning in her mind. If there was one thing Keeley wanted in this world, it was recognition. She wanted to land on the maps, even if it meant publicizing a supposed villain. And she knew as much as I did that the media was thirsting for information on this vigilante. And considering how much acknowledgment we'd already gotten on the first article from other newspapers, it seemed The Black Phoenix would be the perfect target.

"It is a good idea," she admitted. "And you're right. People do want to know more about this guy. And apparently you have the answers. I still don't know how, though."

"I'll be his personal reporter," I told her, dodging the questions. "It can be my weekly article. People can submit tips, and I'll write about his saves or his life or anything I can find. I have an in with this guy, Keeley. We can use it to publicize him."

"You see, that's the only problem," Keeley told me, leaning forward. "You claim to have an 'in' with him. How? Do you know him? Do you know his identity?" She gasped as her hungry mind latched onto the idea. "Do you know who he is? If you can expose his true identity and we published it, we'd easily have full rides to college. People would want us as interns. People would want us on their newspapers. We'd be the newspaper to uncover his identity. Violet, this is incredible!"

"I don't know who he is," I replied.

"But if you work with him long enough, you could find out," she replied diplomatically, ever the sensible thinker. "You've talked to him before, haven't you? That's how you knew all that stuff about him? No one can uncover a single thing on this guy but you, and though I know you have investigative talents, I don't think they reach that far. Which means someone is giving you the information. And I'll bet it's him himself."

I know it's bad to lie in order to get what you want, but sometimes it has to be done in order to get what you want. Even if it means it might hurt people.

"You're right," I told her. "I do know him. I don't know who he is, but we're kind of friends. He tells me a lot of things. I bet I could even figure out who he is over time."

"Oh, my God!" she gasped. "You are so lucky. This is the kind of big break every amateur journalist wishes for! With you as reporter and me as editor, we could get boosted to the top with this kind of information!"

I nodded. "He has also agreed to let me be his public voice," I confided, even though this wasn't exactly true. "I can guarantee you an article every week about him if you let me have this column. We could find out who he is. We could be the one newspaper that has the exclusive on him. We can do this, Keeley."

She sighed. "This is a big risk, though, Vi. This could mean the start of something big, or we could totally flop. If you don't keep the public interested, we're going to die after fifteen minutes of fame. How can I be sure you can really uncover him?"

"You can't be," I told her bluntly. "But you're going to need to trust me, Keeley. Nothing safe is worth it. Journalism is about taking risks. Big ones. Are you willing to risk something to gain everything?"

She sighed. "All right, fine. You've got me. But you better bring the readers in, you hear me?"

I was so excited, I could've hugged her in that moment. I managed to resist though, and only smiled in return. "You got it, Keeley. We're going to be the newspaper with the scoop."

I left her house later with a smile on my face. Everything was working out. I had Keeley on my side, and I was now free to be the voice of the superhero. I could change people's opinion on him! I could make people trust him! It was almost too good to believe.

I started on my way home, cutting through alleyways in order to avoid the foot traffic that was always around New York on a Sunday morning.

I was halfway down an alley when I felt someone behind me, and knew immediately who it was. "I didn't think I'd hear from you for a while," I admitted, spinning around to face him.

He started towards me slowly. "Violet, we need to talk."

"Look, I know what you're going to say," I told him. "You're angry about our conversation last night, and you don't want me writing these stories about you. And while I respect your opinion, I also have my own opinion that I hope you'll respect, too. And the fact of the matter is that I'm going to write your story. The public needs you right now. They need something to believe in. You're their hope."

"I heard you talking to that guy last night," he replied. "You were talking to him about me. You told him everything you knew!"

"Sam?" I cried. "Oh, so now you're eavesdropping, too? That was a private conversation!"

"About me," he argued. "And you told him everything. About the bad guys, about me, about our fight, about how much you knew about me. What did I say about being careful who you trust and not speaking to strangers?"

"Sam isn't a stranger!" I argued. "He's a friend of mine, and you can trust him. He's a good guy. And, believe it or not, he's on your side. He also happens to believe in me, unlike you."

"You don't think I believe in you?" he replied. "Violet, of course I believe in you! I think you can do anything! You're smart and beautiful and funny and capable."

"And yet, still not trustworthy," I replied.

He breathed out. "I thought you were. But the things you told Sam last night... I'm really beginning to change my mind."

"He is a friend!" I yelled. "And I was lost! I didn't think you trusted me! All I want to do is help you! I am trying to be a good friend here! I'm trying to show people that you're a good guy. I'm trying to get people on your side! I believe in you, and I want others to, as well."

"I'm trying to keep you safe," he whispered, obviously surprised by my outburst. So was I, but it felt so good getting my feelings out. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"The only person hurting me right now is you," I whispered. "You know I think you're amazing. You save lives everyday and don't ask for a single thing in return. You're a hero, whether you think so or not. All I wanna do is be there for you. But lately I've been seeing a whole new side of you. And to be honest, I'm not liking the view."

I turned around and started off, so angry I could feel tears welling in my eyes. It's amazing how much you can love writing and still be unable to form the right words to get your point across. I was just trying to help him and help the world see he was a good guy. There was a superhero in our midst, and I knew if I tried I could change people's opinions of him. People would celebrate him instead of revere him. Why couldn't he understand that it wasn't just some infantile fad I was stuck on? I was trying to make a difference.

"V, wait!" he cried. "I'm sorry."

I spun around, feeling my blood turn to ice and my whole body freeze up. "What did you just call me?"

He frowned. "What?"

"You just called me V," I whispered. "Only one person calls me that." I walked up to him and whipped the mask off before he could even do anything about it. I was met with wide blue eyes, a shock of dark hair and a very pale face. "Colton," I whispered.

My fingers went numb, and I felt the mask drop from my hands and flutter to the ground. My hand went to my mouth and covered it, and it felt like my mind was moving in slow motion. Colton, my next-door neighbor, the guy who frequently skipped school and danced with me at a Halloween dance and kissed me in a science room, was the same guy who saved lives and stopped bullets and visited me on my roof at night. The guy I opened up to and had pleaded with for so long.

There was no way. It wasn't possible.

"Violet," Colton whispered.

The juxtaposition took my breath away. The face of the guy I'd grown up with, covered in the leather suit of the guy who had saved my life. It was impossible. There was no way the guy I'd opened up to was the same guy who had kissed me.

I shook my head and stepped back. "No," I whispered, feeling fresh tears fill my eyes. My whole world felt like it was spinning. "No."

He held up his hands in a surrendering motion. "It's me. It's okay. V..."

I shook my head. "No!"

He reached for me, and I scrabbled back. I fell over, and my back hit the concrete with a harsh slap. I felt pain ricochet up my spine, but was too distracted to even really register it.

I crawled backwards, feeling like my whole world was crumbling around me. There was no way the same guy who dumped my gym bag into my locker and suffered through detention with me could also fly and stop bullets with his skin. It had to be some kind of mistake.

"Violet, please," he whispered.

I struggled to my feet and fell against the brick wall, grabbing on to keep upright. I felt sick and cold and scared. I felt used and torn. I didn't know what else to do. I needed to get away from here.

I turned and started to run. I felt the wind pick up, and suddenly he was in front of me, hands out to grab me if I fell. I skidded to a stop and tried to turn around. "Get away from me!"

He grabbed my arms. "Stop! Violet, please. You don't understand. There's so much I have to tell you."

"Let go of me!" I screamed, pushing away from him. My strength was no match for his, and I knew that. But he let go anyway and stepped back.

"Violet..."

"You stay away from me," I whispered, starting backwards and keeping a close eye on him to make sure he stayed in place. I needed time to think and process. My whole paradigm was shifting and changing right before my very eyes. "You stay the hell away from me!"

I turned around and sprinted off, needing to get away. It couldn't be. It was impossible. It couldn't.

Colton could not be The Black Phoenix.