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And Natalie simply stared into the dark pools of that man’s stunning eyes, drowning in them.

They were shadowy and mysterious, reflecting both utter security and a hidden danger.

There was pain in that man’s chocolate colored eyes, but also a deep seated fear.

He was afraid. For her. And of himself.

She saw herself reflected in them, and for the first time ever, Natalie saw the problems with both of their lives.

And there were certainly a lot of them.

Her own issues were beyond her abilities to fix, she’d been trying her whole life without success. But Oz was perfect. Damaged, but perfect. And she was reasonably certain that she could help him fix the problems which were holding him back from what he wanted. All he needed was help.

“I’m okay.” She assured him earnestly. “I won’t leave again without telling someone.” She kissed his fingers, still entwined with hers. “I’m just not used to someone caring whether I live or die, that’s all. I self-sabotage.”

“I think you are afraid and alone and you spend most of your time feeling like your brain wants you to be afraid and alone. Like it wants you to be unhappy and away from the people and things that might bring you joy.”

She just kept staring at him, recognizing that it was the truth.

“I know this,” he continued, “because I spend most of my time thinking the exact same things. I feel like I’m a hostage of the parts of myself that I’m too afraid of to try to change.

I’m not strong enough, so I let them control me.

” He swallowed. “Then I blame them for it, get depressed, and give them even more power.”

“That about sums it up, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “But I believe that we can get through any of our various insanities, so long as we work on them together. As frustrating as they may be, I believe in us.”

She looked down at their clasped hands, and was taken aback by the scars on his skin.

They were chemical burns.

Oz followed her line of sight and tried to pull his hand away, but she locked her fingers around his.

He got the message and stopped trying to escape her clutches.

“I…” He began, then stopped. “I got thrown away once.” He explained.

“In a dump. And I can still smell it.” He swallowed.

“The bodies. Mired in garbage. Rotting in the sun.” He looked away.

“No matter how much I try to wash it off, it’s always there.

” He cleared his throat. ”I used straight bleach once.

Scrubbed them until they bled. Added lye.

Gave my hands chemical burns trying to get rid of that smell…

but it’s always there.” He shook his head, sounding haunted and like he was about to cry. “…It’s always there.”

She had no idea what to say to that, so she simply raised their clasped hands to her face, smelling his skin.

“All I smell is soap and the laundry detergent you use on your gloves.” She kissed his hand, lips lingering on the warmth of his rough skin and getting far more pleasure from the act than she would have expected.

“It smells like sunshine. I’ve always loved it. ”

Oz let go of her hand and sank down on his bed. “I… I know I’m a project, Natalie.” He said softly. “Please don’t give up on me.”

“I’m not.” She promised. “And I won’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling her breasts tighten in response to touching the man and now seeing him on the bed. “Besides, if you’re a ‘project,’ I’m a damned ‘thesis.’”

“You’re not…” He began.

She cut him off. “Yes, I am. You don’t need to spare my feelings.”

He looked down at the floor. “I like who you are. Even if it changes from day to day. I think you’re truly exceptional.”

“Thank you.” She was genuinely touched by that. “That means a lot.” She cleared the lump in her throat. “And I’ve been reading this book about obsessive impulses…”

“You don’t have any obsessions.” He reminded her. “Besides your bizarre addiction to breakfast foods.”

“Yeah!” Natalie immediately brightened.

“Most of the stuff I’m proudest about in my life have to do with my continuing experimentation with different waffle toppings.

” She nodded happily, pleased he’d noticed.

“Peanut butter and jelly on a waffle is a winner. Try it. Seriously. You’ll thank me. ”

His brow furrowed in thought and barely controlled disgust as he considered that culinary marvel.

“In any case, no, I’m not reading it for me.” She sat down on the bed next to him. “I’m reading it for you. See, I think what you need is ‘exposure therapy.’”

He looked slightly uncomfortable about that suggestion. “Who… is being ‘exposed’?”

Nat tried not to smile at the idea of exposing herself to him. Right here. Just to see his shocked and horrified little expression.

The idea had genuine promise, to say nothing of the erotic thrills it would provide her. Again, Natalie was Nice Girl Pretty, and those types of girls never got to have kinky erotic fun. Even if they really wanted to try .

“No, it’s where you deliberately do things that trigger you, just to show you that it’s really not so bad.” She explained.

He made a face. “I’ve tried that. Usually bad things happen anyway. And then get much worse.”

“Yeah, but this time, I’m here to make sure they don’t.” She promised. “I… I can keep you safe, Oz.” She held up her hand. “I mean, a week ago, would you have been able to hold my hand like that?”

“ Your hand?” He asked, like that made a difference.

“No, of course not.” She answered for him. “But now you did it, and we’re moving on.” She paused for a moment, then a new thought occurred to her. “And if you need to go wash it or something, that will absolutely not insult me, I completely understand.”

Oz shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“I… I just washed my hands anyway.” She explained, feeling the need to defend herself for some reason.

“Oh,” Oz seemed confused as to why the line of conversation was continuing, “…good?”

They sat on the edge of the bed together, both silently staring at nothing and considering their own lives.

“I’m sorry.” She finally said softly. “All of this is because of me. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have all of these people messing up your house, those people in the hospital would still be alive… and we wouldn’t be fighting.”

“We aren’t fighting.” Oz said softly. “We’re just both uncomfortable with who we are sometimes, and it upsets us.” He didn’t speak for a moment, considering something. “And I’m still not convinced the hospital had anything to do with you.”

“Meaning?”

“They took that little girl at the convenience store, the teenager last week, and the young woman who was working with Oklahoma.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “They are taking young, vulnerable, super-powered targets...”

“And I’m what?” She arched an amused eyebrow. “Old?”

“You are not an easy target.” He clarified. “It’s possible you had nothing to do with the attack on the hospital, they might have simply been after someone else.”

“Who?”

“Poacher took The Cheerleader’s baby from the maternity ward right before the attack, and you were carrying it through the entire fight… And Holly gave you Harlot and Wyatt’s son to hold. The Agletarians might have been after the children and we were just caught in the crossfire.”

She waggled her hand in the air, dubiously. “Be a hell of a coincidence…”

“We’re superheroes, our whole lives are a hell of a coincidence.”

“Where does Ronnie fit into that then?”

Oz shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“I doubt it. I think this one is on me.” She let out a sigh. “I’m sorry I’m not normal, Oz.” She whispered. “I’d love to be normal. Just for a day.”

“I sincerely doubt it’s all it’s cracked up to be.

” He assured her. “And I’m pretty sure if you were normal, you would have been dead a dozen times over, this week alone.

” He was silent for another moment. “My whole life, all I wanted to be was exceptional. Extraordinary. Someone… someone heroic.”

Mull nodded and reached out to put her arm around him, but then thought better of it. Best not to go too far with the whole “exposure” thing and scare him. “Well, mission accomplished then.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m forced to make decisions which compromise my morals.”

“That’s life, Oz.”

“But it shouldn’t be.”

“Says who?”

He sat up straighter. “I used to watch The Lone Ranger every day.”

“The shitty Johnny Depp movie?”

“No, reruns of the old TV show.” Oz’s head tilted to the side, sounding like a holy man describing Heaven.

“He inhabited a simple world of right and wrong. The bad guys all wore black hats and were beaten within 23 minutes. And he never had to compromise his ethics or morals to do it. Honestly, I don’t think he ever killed anyone.

There wasn‘t even any blood. He found a way to uphold justice so that everyone lived. Everything was fair. Everyone got what they wanted. And he kept his white clothes spotless .”

“And do you know what happened to him?” She asked. “His TV show got cancelled and his movies bomb. Because that’s just not going to get the job done. Not anymore. That’s not how the real world works.” She shrugged. “You have to get your hands dirty sometimes.”

“You can’t clean anything if your hands are dirty.”

“The only time a mop is clean is when it’s never been used.” She countered .

“My mop is clean.” He argued. “I make sure of it.”

Her mouth quirked at the corner. “Out of context, that sounds kinda dirty, Oz.”

He didn’t appear to have a mind filthy enough to somehow make the statement into something sexual, so he utterly missed her joke.

“I’m worried.” He finally confided in her, his voice tight. “When I was younger, I worried about not being able to be The Lone Ranger. But now, I am worried I’m turning into one of the people the Lone Ranger is there to fight.”

“Oz, there’s simply no way that’s going to happen. I know evil. And you’re White Hat is completely spotless.” She squeezed his hand in comfort, utterly forgetting about his issues with touching. “Trust me.”

He nodded, still obviously not believing her, but not willing to argue.

She absently looked around the room. “And something I’ve been wondering about: why do you have so many giftwrapped presents around?”

Before he could answer that, his rotary phone rang.

Mull stared at it in utter amazement. It was like the 1950s were calling and asking for their technology back.

Oz picked up the receiver. “Dimico residence, Oswald speaking.”

Mull rolled her eyes at his utterly humorless and straightforward greeting.

He listened for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone and looked over at her. “Our suspects are on the move.”