I didn’t expect the last words I’d say to him would be the one thing I swore I’d never tell him.

It was hard, living the way I did. But when Marcus came into my life, for the first time in my life, I felt like I’d be able to have a life outside of school and a crime-fighting vigilante.

“My name is Tanya,” I told him in the line of _Café Belle _- a coffee shop that was my saving grace between kicking butt at night and law school in the evenings - after he kindly offered to pay for very caffeinated coffee. I’d stupidly left my wallet and things in the pockets of my pants after I had to hastily change outfits and leave in order to catch a member of the cartel I’ve been trying to take down. He had seen me about to panic when I realized I left my money back at my apartment.

“I’m Marcus.” His smile showed all of his white teeth. God, how I loved that smile. “I’m glad I could help. I’m a police officer, so I sort of understand the necessity of coffee in the mornings.”

I am wary of police officers. They’d always get in my way during the nights I had to put on my costumes to fight, not to mention the fact they thought of her as a villain. So no, before I met Marcus, I’d never liked a single police officer in my life. The day that changed was when he smiled.

“Yes. Well, thank you, Marcus.” We both stood there in silence as I offered no small talk and he not-so-subtly studied my face.

“I’m sorry, um, I don’t want to, like, be disrespectful or anything,” he stammered as he blushed, “but do you mind if I get you my number or something? I mean, of course you can say no, but- well you’re really pretty and-.”

“Yes!” I blurted out before I could stop myself. God, I was so stupid. Marcus was a police officer, and that’s a big no-no for a vigilante. But the poor man just bought me coffee, and he seemed nice, if not a little awkward, and… his smile was so pretty.

_It’s not like we’ll ever be something, _I reasoned with myself as I handed his phone to a blushing and fumbling Marcus. That was the thing I kept repeating to myself as I punched in my numbers on Marcus’s phone.

Of course, I was wrong.

It was only a couple of dates later that I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Marcus.

It is hard to pinpoint when I fell in love with him. Maybe it was because I fell in love with the different parts of him. Of course, I fell in love with his big, toothy smile first. Then, I fell in love with the way he complained about soggy chips. And then I fell in love with his excitement over small gifts, and the way he loved animals, and his dream to save people, and the way he said my name (Ton-yah, with a bit of a Russian accent that he picked up from his father).

Yes, I loved him. More than I should.

Because I knew I hurt him when he’d see me bruised and scraped from a previous night.

(“Tanya,” he’d say while brushing my scrapes on my cheeks or knuckles. “How did this happen?”

“My martial arts class,” I’d lie through my teeth. Marcus was not stupid. I think he knew I was lying to him. Nonetheless, he’d smile his beautiful yet saddened smile, and I’d tell myself that it was worth it and that I’d never need to tell him.)

And I hurt him when he asked if he could move in with me, and I bluntly said no without reasoning why. Of course, he was very respectful and understanding about the fact that I didn’t want to move in with him, but I could tell he was hurt because of his eyes and smile.

I wanted to move in with him - God, I did - but he couldn’t see the bloody shirts I throw in the trash every week. He couldn’t see the way I snuck out of my apartment to beat people to the ground. That part of me was not deserving of Marcus; that part deserved jail and Hell. So I swore to keep my lives separate from each other. Maybe, if Marcus never knew, I would be able to delude myself into believing that I could be good for him.

I pretended that I wasn’t bad for him, that he’d love me despite who I am. I pretended that the burn of the hidden truth in my mouth didn’t change the words I said to him. I’d like to think I was good for him. Who knows? Maybe in another life, I could’ve been.

I woke up that morning to a knock on my door and a bleeding cut from a knife. I groaned softly as I sleepilu raised my hand to cover the sun that was spilling from the hastily opened windows of my apartment. There was another knock at my door. I cursed and quickly sat up, wincing from the sting of my wound.

“One minute!” I yelled while quickly pulling a long strip of cloth from my nightstand and wrapping it around my stomach where my cut was. I pulled a dirty shirt from my floor and rushed to put it on. Carefully yet hastily, I stumbled to my front door. When I swung my door open, I was greeted by the most beautiful thing in the world. His smile.

“Hello, Tanya,” Marcus greeted me while handing me my coffee that he picked up from Cafè Belle. My heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Hi, Marcus,” I replied. I took my coffee and thanked him by grinning gently and kissing his cheek.

He blushed and said, “Sorry I didn’t let you know I was coming. But I wanted to see you, and I know that you took a day off of school today.”

“I’m glad you came,” I said and motioned for him to come in.

Marcus noticed my obvious awkwardness when walking, and gently asked, “Martial arts?”

I hummed noncommittally. He gently took my arm and asked, “You’ll be okay?” With wide and worried eyes. I nodded.

He smiled sadly and walked over to my tiny kitchen where he pulled out the frozen burritos he bought for me a week ago. He threw two in the microwave and turned back to me after he set it for a minute.

“I’ll have to work late tonight.”

“Oh? Where at?”

“I’m guarding the docks tonight. Usually, they don’t need me down there, but I guess a cartel has been getting violent and they wanted more people to guard down there.”

I knew that cartel. I saw them last night when I had beaten up the second-in-command for information about who was in charge. I was so close to the answer, I felt it. But then, the man pulled out a hidden knife and slashed at my stomach. I had been quick enough to dodge, but the man pulled away and ran. I tried running after him, but the pain made me blank out and faint for a couple minutes. Stupid.

“Will you be okay?” I asked.

“Should be. The cartel is based further in the city, I guess they just wanted to be safer than sorry.”

I nodded. I knew all of this, of course, but it felt nice to hear someone say it. Then, the microwave beeped, and that was the end of that conversation.

“The dock is under attack!” I heard from a policeman’s radio. I was hidden in an alleyway with my cloth mask tied tightly round my face. I was previously searching for signs of the cartel and found alarmingly little evidence of their presence. But when I heard those words, nothing mattered to me anymore.

The docks. Marcus.

__

__ I took off in the direction of the docks. _Too slow, too slow, _I was thinking. What if Marcus had gotten hurt? Oh, God. Please.

It took way to long to get there, even with the parade of police cars to lead the way. When I finally got there, I couldn’t see around the tall ambulances. In a panic, I snuck around tall containers in hopes to find Marcus. Please, let him be okay.

And then I saw him. Alive. Marcus was there, okay, and with the cartel’s second-in-command hands behind his back and pinned to the ground. I was filled with relief. And in my moment of stupidity, I moaned, “Thank God.”

At the shock of hearing a voice, Marcus whipped his head around to stare directly at me. And the cartel member, sensing a moment of weakness from Marcus, forcefully threw him off of him and drew his knife out.

I saw it before it happened, in slow motion. After being a vigilante for so long, my first instincts were to tackle and disarm. And so I did. I lunged for Marcus and knocked him back just enough so that the blade wouldn’t touch his skin. So why was I feeling blood?

Ahh, that’s why. It’s my blood. Before stumbling to the ground out of pain, I made sure to swiftly knock the cartel member out. After his head fell with a satisfying crack after hitting the ground, I turned to face Marcus and reassure myself he was okay.

And I turned to face the barrel of his gun.

“Y-you’re the vigilante,” he whispered, his voice shaky. The gun in front of me trembled.

“I am,” I replied, trying to keep the fear and the pain out of my voice. When the gun was shoved closer to my face, I slowly raised my gloves above my head.

“You’re the one that’s causing these problems.”

“I’ve only wanted to help.” My breath shook and I could feel my lungs rattle from the blood filling them.

“Well, you’re not!” Marcus yelled loudly and angrily. I was shocked. I’ve never heard him talk like that. “You’re the reason they came here today! You’re the reason they’re retailing.”

“I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp before the pain of the stab wound made my legs collapse.

I saw the shift of anger to concern on his face. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, panicked.

“I’m sorry, Marcus.”

His eyes grew wider at the sound of his name. Tears began to well in his eyes. “H-how?”

I was filled with sudden clarity and peace. I wanted the mask to be gone. I wanted him to know who I was, all of me, even if it was too late. I slowly reached up to pull the mask off of my face and watched as the tears began to spill.

When my mask was finally gone, Marcus glanced one time at my face before falling to his knees and sobbing, “Tanya. No, please.”

I wiped his tears away as he yelled for help from the other officers. Pressing one hand to my wound, he said, “You’ll be okay.” I knew otherwise; I could feel my lungs fill with blood.

“I prayed to God that it wasn’t you,” he whined softly, and I wanted to reassure him and say I know, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t.

Instead, I said, “I love you.”

At that, Marcus sobbed in despair, mouth wide open with a hoarse cry and tears down his face. I didn’t like it at all. His mouth was made for a beautiful smile, not this.

“I love you too,” he cried.

I stared him a moment longer. My last thought was, “Please smile. I love your smile.” I don’t know if I said it out loud, but I hope I did.

Then I closed my eyes, and my last thought was him.