Kelly opened her eyes as the kiss broke, looking at Cal. For one, beautiful moment there was nothing in the world that could bother her. Life was…just…beautiful.

Then Cal's own dark eyes opened, and every single doubt flooded back. In front of that boy, with everything that had passed between the two of them…there was nothing that she could predict.

Cal smiled at her, and then frowned slightly, seeing the flicker of worry that had passed behind her eyes. He opened his mouth , but before he could ask what was wrong, Kelly took his hand in hers, forcing a smile through all of the insecurity that was ricocheting through her mind.

"Come on," she said. "I'll give you the grand tour."

"Yeah…I'm sure it's changed a lot since the last time I was here." Cal grinned.

Kelly simply looked at Cal, waiting for him to work it out. As intelligent as he was, he was still a boy. Finally, she saw the light bulb go off in his head as he looked at the building.

"It's…"

"Not the same one." Kelly finished, now smiling properly. She couldn't exactly blame Cal; after so many moves she herself was beginning to feel like every building was simply blurring into just one school.

Cal frowned, glancing back at the Head Girl. "Another fire?"

Kelly simply nodded in reply.

"But…that's three…"

"In four years, I know. It was the distillery this time. Someone left a cigarette near the eighty proof. By the time we found out…" Kelly tailed off, preferring to leave some things to the imagination. And Cal had a vivid imagination; judging by the look in his eyes, it was working.

Finally, Cal sighed, smiling again. He squeezed Kelly's hand again. "So…how about that tour?"

Five minutes later, the two teens were walking the corridors of the latest St Trinian's. Skulls and suits of armour lined the walls, with artistic flourishes added by the more creatively minded girls. Old masters were pinned to walls; most of them were paintings. And, as always, there was that wonderful St Trinian's feeling of constantly being watched.

Kelly led Cal to a closed door, walking up to the black, scratched wood. Not bothering to knock, she pushed the door open.

A knife flew entirely too close to Kelly's face en route to the wall next to her, burying itself into the plaster of the wall without so much as a shudder. Kelly, despite the years of what could legally be called physical and mental abuse, gasped at the blade's proximity.

"Oops," Tony commented, superbly unconcerned by the nose amputation that Kelly had nearly suffered. Kelly turned to glare at him, and then had to turn away again. Tony was shirtless, holding a knife in each hand. Zoe, Andrea and the other twelve emo girls in the room were slightly less attired; the lucky ones still had their bras.

Kelly addressed the knife-peppered wall as opposed to her unclothed classmates. "Seriously, Tony? You're doing this again?"

The Head Girl could actually sense Tony's grin as he twirled one of the knives around his finger; she knew for a fact that Cal was wearing a very similar smile right behind her. "Sorry, Kelly. But people know what they're getting into when they start this sort of thing."

Of course they did. The emos had learned long ago that Tony wasn't, as a rule, enamoured with women. Certainly, he was attracted to and enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, but his mind had always been primarily occupied with business and, of course, throwing knives at anything without a pulse. The fact that the girls, not satisfied just to watch a rich, handsome Latin gentleman make holes in the wall, had made a strip game out of Tony's favourite activity was par for the course.

Kelly only hoped that this time Tony would actually notice when the girls lost the last pieces of their clothes; his last visit didn't entirely beg remembrance. Being left to handle a bunch of Marilyn Manson stylists with body issues wasn't her idea of a fun weekend.

Unable to look her classmates in the eye, and unwilling to look them anywhere else, Kelly turned around and left the room, though not so quickly that she didn't see Cal cheerfully wink to his best friend. Boys.

The two climbed up the main staircase, already scarred from the various hockey match psych-up sessions and impromptu anger management classes. Passing by the Headmistress's office, Cal frowned, hesitating outside the door. Kelly stopped as well. Straining their ears, they could just make out the conversation between Miss Fritton and the Courier. Kelly was intrigued; she couldn't for the life of her imagine a less likely pair.

"Miss Fritton, what you must realise is that if the government does indeed change, then the Conservative Party are hardly going to hold back like current administration. You may want to consider a more convincing public face. That is, if you want the school to remain open."

"Well, of course I want this place to stay open, lad! Aside from anything else, these premises were an absolute steal." Miss Fritton sounded surprisingly businesslike, yet that was hardly a surprise; the Courier was a force that made many focus on reality and all of its interesting loopholes. "But all of this talk about change and excitement: that's simply poppycock! Nobody's going to let the Conservatives in; it isn't the nineteen eighties anymore. Besides, even if the worst should happen, this institution has stood whilst governments rose and fell. We've seen new Ministers for Education off quite satisfactorily, thank-you very much."

The Courier kept his voice calm and level, just like always: "It would be wise to remember the…special circumstances between the late Miss Spottiswood and Sir Horace."

"Oh; that she was riding him for every penny she could get! Ah…old Amber was a girlie that knew how to get things done. It was really rather genius of her, you know."

"I don't doubt it. But unless you have a similar arrangement with the Conservative replacement for the post then you may want to tread somewhat carefully."

"Well, thanks for worrying, old boy. I do appreciate having an eye and ear on the outside world. Whiskey?"

Kelly and Cal exchanged a glance; that was all they were going to hear. They set off down the corridor again, finally drawing to a halt next to the very pink door. Both of them looked at it, almost drawn towards it by some form of hidden power. They knew that Frank was behind the door. They also knew that Posh Totty were there as well.

It took all of Kelly's self-control not to burst into the room, just to end the tension that seemed to be filling it. But, like standing on the edge of a cliff and hearing that little voice whispering "jump", it was best to ignore the first instinct. It would be fairly messy in there.

Instead, they turned to the other door; the door with a plaque stating: "Head Girl". The door to the room where there was a total lack of other people, half a bottle of whiskey and one large bed.

It was almost harder to open this door.

Finally, however, her hand enclosed on the brass doorknob, opening the door to her room and letting Cal walk inside. She followed him, self-consciously locking the door as she closed it.

Cal looked around the room, smiling as he looked at the various improvised weaponry that cluttered the place; Kelly had never been a great one for tidiness. He turned to look at her, gesturing vaguely. "Home sweet home."

"Fourth one in four years," she replied. Cal nodded, but didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on her; Kelly could swear that she felt his gaze caressing her body like his tongue had caressed hers on the outside drive…she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Whatever was about to happen, she would let it happen and gladly, but why did she have to be reduced to this quivering collection of nerves at the slightest glance from him?

She felt a light tingling in her stomach; Cal hadn't looked away, making no secret of where his eyes were straying. Kelly took a breath, trying to keep her head, trying to stay in control. She pointed at the bottle of Famous Grouse, already somewhat drained due to her attempts at gaining some liquid courage that morning, for all the good it had done. Still, if at first you don't succeed…

"Drink?" she managed.

Kelly and Cal sat on the bed, both holding a glass of whiskey. Kelly had relented, mixing hers with some water in an attempt to stop her head feeling like an orange being squeezed in a vice. Cal drank his straight, swallowing the smoky liquid without comment; Kelly couldn't imagine the state of his liver. Not like she was one to talk, though.

The alcohol hadn't done a damn thing for her, either. If anything, it had made it worse. There were no longer butterflies fluttering in her stomach; now there were wildebeests stampeding down there. She could actually hear her heart beating like a sledgehammer striking a wall and she hoped that Cal didn't have good hearing. The tension was killing her, and yet that bastard could just sit there, almost as if he didn't notice it.

Oh God, what if he didn't notice it? What if it was all her? What was she to him, really? Somebody he just happened to see every few months on a business matter? Someone to while away the hours with, simply because she was an easy target? Was it because she was Head Girl; was there some form of status gained from bending her over a desk and…

What was the great Kelly Jones to him except lips, breasts, legs and…and…

And someone who loved him?

This last thought hit the great Kelly Jones like a thunderbolt. But there it was; there could be no mistaking it. She loved Cal Calavera. Not matter the time that passed from her waving him goodbye and shuddering with ecstasy in his warm embrace; no matter the distance between them; no matter how many others there had been for them between every each other…she loved him. Kelly Jones was, for the first time, in love.

Bloody perfect.

This entire inner monologue had passed through Kelly's mind in the amount of time it had taken her to sip her scotch and then concentrate on not spitting it right back out. She tried to give no signs that anything was wrong; she couldn't do anything stupid right now.

Cal had already finished his whiskey; he was turning the glass over in his hands, toying idly with it. Kelly, embarrassed at the thought of keeping him waiting, drained her own glass, and then was seized in the spasms of a coughing fit that rose up from her very core.

Cal slapped her hard on the back, which helped stop the coughs, but tears began to leak out of Kelly's eyes. She felt them as surely as she felt the burning sensation in her throat and, mortified, tried to turn away, but Cal had already taken her by the shoulders, turning her back around to face him.

Gently, his finger reached out, nimbly wiping away the dampness from her eyes. Kelly couldn't believe it; she felt like a child having the tears of a tantrum wiped away. She wished the earth could just swallow her whole; it was an overdone request, but surely this kind of humiliation was worth it.

Almost unwillingly, she looked Cal, her eyes still hot from those shameful tears. But he just sat there, smiling that peculiar smile that suggested he knew what was going to happen, and was waiting to see whether you did as well. Kelly guessed that it was just one of the reasons that she was apparently in love with him.

And now Cal was moving closer, his lips parting. Kelly closed her eyes, happy to close the blinds on the world as she knew it. She felt Cal's lips meet hers; his tongue gently but firmly pushing into her mouth, lazily sweeping across hers as if to wake it.

Kelly felt herself being laid gently back onto the bed, Cal moving clumsily over, mid-kiss, to straddle her, his lips still pressed against hers.

Cal's hands, so warm and smooth, slipped under her school shirt, sliding over her stomach, pausing briefly to stroke her bellybutton. Kelly felt a tingling between her thighs. This was real and this was happening and she loved Cal. She reached up, deftly undoing the shirt's buttons whilst still letting her tongue wander and explore his mouth. The shirt lay open; Cal's hands stroked the black lace bra, sending a further wave of subconscious excitement rocketing through Kelly. Not trying to mask her eagerness, she unfastened the garment, letting Cal gently pull the dark fabric from her breasts, revealing all that lay under there.

At this moment, Cal actually pulled away from the kiss, gazing at the half-naked Kelly Jones with affection and lust that almost bordered on wonder. His fingers lightly stroked her nipples, and he smiled as they hardened under his touch. He quickly removed his own shirt; he was slim underneath, with some fading bruises leaving momentary reminders of his past exploits. The blotched colours didn't bother Kelly; it only made the man who carried them even more wonderful to her; his beauty couldn't be marred by something so insignificant. Her hands rubbed against the tapestry of shades that had been formed on his skin. Cal winced ever so slightly, twitching at her touch.

His eyes found hers and, for a moment that could have lasted lifetime, they knew each other. Kelly felt Cal's hand slide up her leg, under her skirt, gently tugging at her knickers. Kelly closed her eyes again.

I love you.