Faith draped herself familiarly over Connor's body. The fourteen-year old's rampant adolescent hormones instantly sat up and took notice. "So where *did* you get the condoms?" she asked, blithely ignoring his discomfiture.

"My *other* girlfriend," he said slowly and deliberately, knowing it would drive her crazy. It didn't matter that Connor never looked at *anyone* but Faith. She would burn with jealousy.

"Con!" she yelped in outrage.

"You're getting predictable," he pointed out.

Faith stuck out her tongue, but for once, the childish gesture didn't seem childish at all. It was more like a slow, sensual lick of the lips that Connor felt in his groin. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," he corrected, his voice unconsciously deepening. "You love me."

"Yeah," she admitted. Then like the proverbial dog with a bone, Faith continued, "So where *did* you get the condoms?"

"I'm not telling."

"How come?"

"Gotta protect my source."

"Why?"

"Never know when I might need some," he said, watching the expression in her gray-green eyes change from mere curiosity to avid interest.

"Really?" She gently pushed on Connor's chest until he fell back against the wall. "With who?"

"You know who," he managed to say, his throat suddenly as dry as parchment.

"What makes you think *I'm* interested?"

Connor's gaze dropped to Faith's mouth. She didn't wait for an invitation. She moved closer until her chest contacted his and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was hard to tell who kissed who first. Their lips simply met in the middle with Connor taking full advantage to deepen the kiss. When Connor's hand inadvertently touched her breast, Faith jumped back with a startled look.

Connor flushed dark red. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You just...um...took me by surprise, that's all."

"I didn't mean to--"

"But you *could*...I mean, if you wanted to, that is..."

"I know," he murmured, his fingers playing restlessly with a long strand of her auburn hair. When had Faith become so hesitant? After being chased more or less relentlessly over the years, Connor had finally decided to let Faith catch him, only to discover that she wasn't quite as sure as she pretended to be.

"I do...want to...I mean--"

"I know." Faith's voice sounded hushed and vaguely awestruck. "I'm just--"

Connor indicated that the flow of students in the corridor had slowed to a trickle, making their embrace that much more noticeable. At the sight of a teacher approaching, Connor stopped slouching against the wall and tried to look disinterested, failing miserably.

"Mr. Hunter, shouldn't you be in class?"

Connor cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, sir." He really didn't want to have to explain to Neil why one of his teachers was sending a note home with him.

"Then why aren't you?"

"I was just...um...saying goodbye."

"And I'm sure the world is a *much* better place for it, too," the teacher commented dryly.

Connor gave the man a puzzled look. His brain was already on overload processing his conflicting feelings towards Faith. It was too much to expect him to think about anything else.

"Sir?"

"Go to class quickly enough and I won't feel compelled to mention this to your parents."

Connor sighed. "Yes, sir."

"As for you, Miss Samuelle..." the teacher drawled as he turned his attention to Faith. "Your class is on the other side of the building, isn't it?"

Faith snapped her mouth shut with an audible click. She couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't make things worse.

"Yes, sir."

Connor was impressed. He wanted to ask the teacher how he managed to get Faith to obey so readily, but it didn't seem like the right time. Reluctantly letting go of Faith's hand, Connor wracked his brain trying to come up with a reason that he and Faith shouldn't be separated. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.

Except pictures of himself and Faith doing things that would seriously perturb her father.

And his.

Luc's sing-song voice was beginning to get on Faith's nerves. "I saw Fee and Connor kiss-ing!"

"Knock it off, Luc. That's not funny," Faith snapped.

Initially frowning, Nikita quickly changed her expression to a bland but wholly insincere smile. "You're right, Fee. It's not. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

"Not really."

"Let me rephrase that for you, Fee. You're the daughter. I'm the mother. This is the way it works. I ask the questions. You answer. Are we clear on that?"

"Like crystal," Faith said, her voice as chilly as her eyes, which were now the color of sleet.

"I'm not the enemy, Faith," Nikita reproached.

Faith sighed and forced her body to relax. Suddenly she felt incredibly tense and not a little irritable, but she had no idea why. "I know." There was a brief pause as if Faith was considering whether or not to continue.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I feel so...confused."

Nikita brushed back a wayward strand of Faith's auburn hair, her love and affection for her daughter evident in every well-earned line in her face. "That's pretty much how it feels at 15, Fee."

Faith screwed her eyes shut and said, "Don't hate me for saying this, Mom, but I want to be with Connor in the worst way."

"I know."

Faith's eyes flew open, revealing them to be a startled green. "You do?"

"Uh huh. But you're still too young to act on those feelings, sweetie."

Faith heaved a long-suffering breath. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"You knew I would, honey. What's really on your mind?"

"How come I feel relieved that you won't let me sleep with him?"

Nikita chuckled softly. "Sweetheart, if you *really* wanted to sleep with him, *nothing* could stop you. Certainly not *me*. Maybe you're just glad that you can use me as an excuse."

"But why? I swear I want to, Mom. He's all I think about."

"But when you think about him, honey, do you think about having sex...or loving him?"

Faith lowered her eyes and blushed. "Mommm..."

"I stand corrected. Obviously your imagination is *much* better than mine."

"It's not that. It's just...I want all of it, Mom. I want to belong to him completely...but I want him to love me more than anyone else in the entire world." Faith *was* growing up, Nikita thought. Admittedly she was still impulsive to a fault, but she was beginning to understand the need to control some of those impulses.

And she was more like her mother than Nikita had suspected. She wanted it all.

"You *should* have it all, baby. You deserve it."

Faith smiled tremulously as Nikita stroked the side of her daughter's face with her fingertips. "Thanks, Mom."

Luc stuck out his tongue at his older sister. "Blech. Mushy stuff."

Faith shrugged. "What can I say? I guess I'm a hopeless romantic after all."

"Well, at least you come by it naturally, sweetie." Nikita smiled warmly at her daughter before turning a decidedly stern face on her youngest son. "As for you...try putting some cotton in those ears, Mister. You shouldn't listen to other people's conversations."

"But I like to," Luc protested.

"Someday, when you grow up, you'll be talking to someone and you won't want anyone to overhear *you*," Nikita pointed out.

"You mean like a secret?"

"Sort of."

Luc squinted as he looked up at his mother. "Growing up sounds hard. Why do people want to get there in such a hurry anyway?"

Faith said, "There are some really great perks, squirt."

"Really? Like what?"

When Faith couldn't think of a single thing to say to that, Nikita couldn't help but laugh.

She wasn't sure if her daughter was teaching her son or it was the other way around.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. You should really try listening next time."

Faith wailed at her twin brother, "But I want to go out with Connor Saturday night!"

Chris regarded his sister with a curiously impassive stare that was not unlike his father's. "What do the two of you need to date for, anyway? You see each other *all* the time."

Faith growled under her breath. "Fine! I'll babysit Luc! Even though you *promised* you would do it for me."

"I never promised you anything, Fee, and you know it." Chris hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door. If he and Faith kept arguing, they were going to be late for school.

"Jerk."

"You're just used to getting what you want, Fee. You should try living like the rest of us for a change."

"Oh, yeah? And what are *you* not getting?"

"God, you are such a bitch lately," Chris said exasperatedly, finally losing his patience.

Faith put her hand out, palm up. "Okay, bro, pay up. That'll be one dollar."

"For what?"

"Let's see, taking the name of God in vain, calling me a bitch," Faith intoned, smiling sweetly.

"It's not taking God's name in vain if I really need His help, is it? And calling you a bitch isn't swearing if it's the truth."

Faith's smile died. "I hate you!"

Chris grinned. "Have a nice day."

*****

Chris barely made it to school in time. As he opened his locker hurriedly, he hid a smile at the thought that Faith was definitely going to be late. Okay, he mused, that *wasn't* a nice thing to think about his twin sister. But as much as Chris loved her, sometimes his sense of justice was offended by the way she acted.

He grabbed the books for his first class and slammed the locker shut. Whirling around, he nearly bowled over Emmy. "Hey!"

"Oh, man, I'm sorry, Em!" Chris exclaimed.

"You're running late this morning."

"I know." Chris unconsciously ran a hand through his thick blond hair. He wasn't normally overcome by vanity, but seeing Emmy stirred something inside him, something he usually kept well hidden.

"I wanted to talk to you--" The first period bell chimed loudly over their heads. Emmy groaned in frustration. "Now we're both going to be late!"

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Chris asked, suddenly riveted by the intense expression that crossed his girlfriend's face.

"It'll have to wait till lunch, I guess. I have to go!" Emmy started to rush away, but Chris reached out and grasped her wrist.

Emmy would have bolted down the hallway anyway, but something in Chris' face changed her mind. She glanced down at their hands and watched in fascination as Chris stroked the side of her hand with his fingertips. "I've never seen you do that before. I like it. It's like a little...hand dance."

Chris abruptly looked up and met her gaze, his clear blue eyes filled with a hunger and a longing that he couldn't express. "Yeah."

"We're going to be late," she reminded him. He seemed mesmerized, but as much as she hated to break the spell that bound them, she was afraid of facing the wrath of her first period teacher.

"I don't care."

"Huh?" Chris? This was Chris? The eternal student? The aspiring knight? Chris didn't care about being late to class?

"I'd rather be with you."

"Well, yeah, so would I. But I would *so* not like to explain being late to Da and Daddy."

"I bet they'd understand," Chris said almost dreamily.

"Um? Chris? I *really* do have to go."

The moment that Emmy slipped her wrist out of Chris' grip, the spell, if that's what it was, was broken. Chris shook his head, as if he was just waking up from a dream. "Oh! Sure. I'll see you at lunch."

"Okay." On impulse, something Emmy tried not to indulge, she leaned over and kissed Chris on the cheek. "Bye."

But Chris held onto her, moving his head so that her lips slid across his. After thoroughly kissing her, he smiled. "Bye."

Now it was Emmy's turn to be dazed. "Uh huh."

She could hardly wait until lunchtime.

By lunchtime, Emmy was beside herself. But it wasn't like her to avoid facing things head-on. So the moment Chris entered the lunchroom, Emmy confronted him.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Chris blinked. "What?"

"You heard me," she hissed. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Why do you think?" Chris glanced around nervously, trying to gauge if they were attracting attention or not. "I love you," he added in a whisper only she could hear.

"I know!" Emmy replied. "But why now? Here?"

"Shit, Em, do I really need a reason? Come on..."

"You were all weird and stuff. That's not you, Chris. Talk to me," she demanded.

"To quote you, here?"

Emmy clasped Chris' hand in hers and pulled him into the hallway. "Now. Talk."

"What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with *you*? You acted like you'd never seen me before or something."

Something in Chris' face changed, hardened. He lowered his voice to a whisper, but that didn't prevent him from charging every word with an intensity that took her breath away. "You think it's easy keeping my hands off you? You think I don't want to kiss you like that every moment we're together?"

Emmy trembled all over. The look in Chris' eyes was doing strange things to her breathing and her heart rate. "I--"

When Chris dropped his backpack near his feet, Emmy jumped. He pushed her against the wall with a muffled curse and kissed her. With a soft exclamation, Emmy responded by winding both hands in his hair. When Chris finally found the strength to break away, he stared in disbelief at her swollen mouth, her mussed hair, and her too-bright eyes.

"Oh, Emmy! I'm sorry--"

"I'm not," came her quiet declaration. "It's about time you stopped treating me like a sister."

"But--"

Emmy's pale grey eyes filled with tears as she wrapped her arms around Chris' neck. "I love you so much," she whispered. "Sometimes it hurts that you don't...I thought maybe you didn't--"

"No..." Chris murmured against her cheek. "I've just been trying so hard not to get carried away, I guess I forgot to let you know how much I love you."

Emmy sighed contentedly in his arms, only to stir a few moments later. "Oh! I have to talk to you!"

Chris reluctantly drew back, but he kept his arms clasped loosely around her waist. "What is it?"

"I know I said we could hang out this weekend, but something came up."

Chris' light blue eyes darkened. "What kind of something?"

Emmy laughed softly. "Not that kind of something. I have to babysit. For Uncle Dav and Aunt Derry."

"Which night?"

"Saturday." Pause. "I hope you're not mad."

Chris shook his head. "No, not mad. Just...disappointed. Unless..."

"What?"

"Would you like some company?"

"You'd do that to be with me? Brave the Davenport twins and all?"

Chris bent his head and kissed her, more tenderly than before. "Yeah. In fact, I have an idea."

*****

Faith cried out incredulously, "I don't believe it! *Now* you're willing to babysit Luc? *Why*?"

Chris shrugged carelessly, his lack of animation giving nothing away. "I'm going to take him over to Uncle Dav's. He'll like that. He can see Kiarra."

Faith shrewdly assessed her twin, paying absolutely no attention to the blank expression he wore. "What do you get out of it?"

"What makes you think I'm going to get anything out of it? Just because that's the way *you* think doesn't mean that *everyone* thinks that way."

"Uh huh." Faith crossed her arms across her chest and regarded her brother with a mischievous smile. "Emmy's babysitting the twins, isn't she?"

"Maybe."

"And you want to be with her? Is this the same you who doesn't understand why I want to be with Connor, even though we see each other every day?"

"You talk too much," Chris snapped, but there was a distinct glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Welcome to the world, bro," Faith laughed.

			*Please note: 
		There is underage sex here. 
		But hey, teens will be teens.
		Especially when they live in France. 

"Are you sure? They've been little demons tonight," said Emmy, hugging herself.

Chris glanced at her quickly and frowned. "Are you cold, Em? Do you want my jacket?"

"Why?"

"You're shivering...and--" Chris didn't allow himself to finish that sentence. But when Emmy followed the direction of his gaze, she gasped, realizing that her nipples were practically piercing the material of her T-shirt.

"I--No, no, I'm not cold. Thanks."

Emmy looked away and Chris deliberately studied the wall. "Maybe we should go back to the living room," he suggested.

"Good idea," she replied huskily.

But they were no sooner settled on the living room couch than Luc appeared. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Luc said, "I want a drink."

Emmy immediately jumped to her feet. "I'll get you some water."

But before she could get to the kitchen, Luc interjected crossly, "No, I want soda."

"Luc, you know you can't have soda before you go to bed. You already brushed your teeth."

"I don't have to listen to you. You're not my sister," Luc retorted.

Chris raised an eyebrow at Luc's rudeness. "No, she's not. But *I'm* your brother and I think you should get your butt back in bed."

For a second, it looked as though Luc was actually contemplating challenging Chris. But he backed down, the blaze in his grey-green eyes dampened to a flicker. "Okay, but can I have some water?"

"No."

"Yes, of course."

Chris stared at Emmy as if she'd lost her mind. "So-leil," he whispered, seeming to add a couple of syllables to her nickname.

"Well, *I'm* the babysitter here, and I think he's entitled to water."

Luc smiled triumphantly. Chris cursed under his breath and followed Emmy into the kitchen. As Emmy took a glass from the cupboard, Chris glared at her. "What are you doing? Do you know why he's smiling? He's laughing at us, Em. Cause he just manipulated you into getting what he wants."

"He's not getting what he wants. He wants soda. He can't have that. So he's getting water."

"Big deal. He's got us saying two different things and I'm telling you, Em, you can't let that kid have an inch."

Emmy turned the faucet too far and managed to splash herself with water. "Damn! Now look what you've done!"

She grabbed a fistful of paper towels and dabbed ineffectually at the wet spot that rapidly spread across her chest. "Ummm...I don't think that's helping," said Chris, trying not to stare at what was now revealed.

Suddenly he asked, "Are you wearing a bra?"

"Can't you tell?"

"Well...it looks like you're *not*."

"Well, I *am*," Emmy snapped saucily.

"Then how come you look...?" Chris swallowed hard, unable to even get the word "naked" past his suddenly numb lips.

"Duhhhh. Cause I'm soaking wet here? See?" And with a totally unromantic yank, Emmy pulled up her T-shirt, exposing the sodden scrap of lace that she wore.

Once she realized what she'd done, Emmy gave a horrified gasp and pulled down her T-shirt, though not with the same degree of speed, thanks to the uncooperative nature of wet cotton.

"Oh, Soleil," he murmured.

The way Chris said her name sent new shivers up and down her spine. She shifted restlessly under his gaze and picked up the glass of water. "I'd better give this to our friend before he gets curious enough to come in here."

"Yeah."

Emmy handed the glass of water to Luc. Luc's first instinct was to protest that he still wanted soda. But Emmy's silvery eyes glittered dangerously, as if daring him to say anything, anything at all. Luc entertained the thought of thwarting his older brother one more time, but he reluctantly gave it up once he recalled just how much Emmy resembled her father Declan. She was liable to strike first and ask questions later.

With Luc finally off to bed, ostensibly for good, Emmy tried to relax. She stretched her arms wide and yawned. Unfortunately for Chris, that merely drew new attention to her breasts. Ivory lace-covered breasts. Breasts he had almost seen. Breasts he wanted desperately to touch.

"Want to watch some TV?"

"Sure," he said, his mouth so dry, he wondered how it was possible to speak.

She sat on one side of the couch while Chris sat on the opposite side. Clearing her throat softly, she said politely, "You could offer me your jacket again."

"Huh?" he said dumbly.

"I'm wet. Remember?"

"Oh. Why don't you take your shirt off and throw it into the dryer?"

"Hellooo? Bad idea. That would leave me walking around in my...well, you know."

"Right." All at once, Chris stood up and began taking off his shirt.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

With one smooth movement, Chris pulled his own T-shirt over his head, revealing that he was wearing a sleeveless undershirt, much like his father wore. He held his T-shirt out to her. "Here. Take it. You can change in the bathroom."

"Thanks." Emmy walked slowly down the hallway to the bathroom, refusing to give in to the urge to bury her face in Chris' T-shirt. But once the door was closed between them, she couldn't help herself. She raised the shirt to her nose and inhaled. It smelled just like him.

She took her shirt off and placed it on top of the hamper. Taking another deep breath, Emmy pulled Chris' shirt over her head. It was, predictably, too big for her, but she didn't mind. She wondered if there was a way to keep it without having Chris think she was a besotted female of the stalker variety.

She walked down to the laundry room and tossed her shirt into the dryer. After setting the timer, she padded back to the living room, her leather moccasins making almost no sound on the carpeted floor.

"I'm back," she called out from the doorway. But Chris was either deep in thought or asleep for there was no answer.

When she reached the couch, she saw him. He was stretched out the full-length of the couch, one of the cushions pressed tightly against his middle.

Just when she was convinced that he was asleep, he opened his eyes. "Shirt looks good on you."

"Uh huh."

"Come over here," Chris commanded in a voice that was far too shaky.

"You're lying down," she pointed out.

"No kidding," he said with a chuckle.

"No room," she said, indicating that he was taking up the entire couch.

He threw the cushion on the floor and sat up slowly. Suddenly Emmy could see what the cushion had been hiding. Chris was hard. A flush of excitement crept up her neck as she sat down.

Chris reached out and gently pulled her long red hair out of its usual ponytail. "You look so beautiful with your hair down."

She giggled, but her laughter faded when she saw the serious look in his eyes. Unconsciously moving closer, Emmy went willingly into his embrace.

Chris' mouth found hers immediately and she responded with equal fervor. Within moments, their kisses grew deeper and more heated as Chris finally let his hardwon control unravel. His hands slid under her T-shirt, tracing the pattern of lace in her bra before cupping her breasts.

Emmy's gasp opened her mouth to him and Chris took advantage to slip his tongue inside. Suddenly they were no longer sitting, but lying in each other's arms. All of Chris' frustration and repressed feelings burst into fruition as he fell back, pulling her on top of him.

The delicious little whimpering sounds that came from deep within Emmy made Chris frantic. He buried his face against the side of her neck even as he pulled her astride his jeans-clad thigh. He silently begged for permission to suckle her neck, knowing that bruising her tender flesh would, in a very real way, mark her as his.

Her softness abraded the hard ridge of his erection as she rubbed back and forth, instinct taking her where experience fell short. His climax was as sudden as it was explosive. Chris cupped her buttocks, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he came.

With a soft surprised sound, Emmy sighed her completion. Instantly snuggling under his chin, she murmured, "I love you."

Chris closed his eyes and trembled in the aftermath of his first real lovemaking. "Je t'aime, Soleil," he whispered, lapsing into French the way his father still did in moments of great emotion.