Kartik is hot. This chapter is in his POV. I've never smoked pot before, so forgive me if it doesn't seem realistic enough. Kartik is fond of the F-word, so be forewarned. Enjoy!

By the time the joint reaches me a fourth time, nothing seems to matter anymore. I feel as if I can fall back and the hardwood floor will accept me like the comforting arms of a woman, soft and delicate and not Gemma. I realize I don't need that silly girl, or any girl. I don't need sex or love or marriage; those things don't make you happy in the end, or do they? I only hear of the problems. But here there are no problems, only the wide grins of my friends' faces, and their laughter that sounds in stereo.

I place the end of the joint between my lips and inhale. The smoke curls and dances in my lungs until I slowly exhale, steadily releasing the beautiful swirls back into the air. For a moment, the smokes forms patterns that resemble the way Gemma's hair looked in the rain. My eyes burn and I close them, and I breathe. All I need to do is breathe, and I won't think of her. She doesn't matter. Nothing matters, except this. I rest my head against the cool wood floor, hearing what seems to be a heartbeat, growing louder with every thrum. It hollows me out, and I cannot help but long for something, but I don't know what.

Something nudges me, a foot. My friend's foot.

"You fell asleep," he says.

"I didn't," I protest, grinning wildly. I'm certain my mouth has grown to twice its normal size; I touch it to make sure it hasn't. "I'm so fucked up," I murmur, rolling onto my back.

"Good stuff, huh?" My friend Jon holds the joint like a precious gem. Gemma.

I groan. "Too good."

Something jolts me into a sitting position. "What the fuck?" It's my cell phone, vibrating mercilessly in my back pocket. My heart races from the sudden fright. "Hm?" I mumble once I manage to open it.

"Kartik?" Gemma's voice sounds faraway, lost, like me. I takes me almost a full minute to respond.

"Er, yeah? Hi Gemma."

"Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you."

"I have many minutes."

She is silent for a bit, and I have to check my phone to make sure the call wasn't dropped. God, I am fucked up. When she finally speaks again we agree to meet up at a Starbucks by her. My fingers and toes are tingling when I put my phone away.

"I'm leaving," I announce. My friends are slumped and mellow; there is no excitement or amusement to be found today. They dismiss me with disinterested waves and I can't say I'm sorry to be leaving them.

Outside, it is snowing as I make the walk uptown to where I'll meet Gemma. Snowflakes dust my coat and bare hands, where they melt quickly. I watch, fascinated, as they fall in fat flakes from the steely sky. These swirls are much prettier than smoke; I watch them with wide, unblinking eyes until I nearly crash into a street vendor. I giggle throatily at the man's furious face and continue walking.

It is dusk when I finally find the particular Starbucks I was told to go to. The sky is a cloudy pinkish-purple, thoroughly ruined by the many lights of the city. Gemma waits against the wall of the building, tapping her foot impatiently. She has not yet seen me, and folds her arms close to keep her warm. I should like to have that job – keeping her warm – but she will not have it. A shame, really, because she looks adorable there, with her cashmere hat and cream-colored pea coat. Her hair shines golden in the glow from the store's window, and snow clings to it, slowly melting into the silken strands.

I fall against the wall beside her, grinning at her like the lifted fool I am. She frowns at me.

"Why are you so happy?"

I dip my head so that my forehead brushes against her hair. I can smell the perfume on her neck and I must fight not to kiss her there. "You look adorable," I whisper.

Gemma freezes for a moment and pushes me away gently. "You smell like smoke." Her brilliant green eyes narrow at me. Shit.

"I was…My friends…We were, we made a bonfire." I grimace. Worst lie ever. "I nod to the door. "Shall we go inside?"

We order drinks and find a cozy table in a back corner. Gemma has some sugary mess of coffee and cream, but I hate drinks like that, so I just ordered plain coffee, though I swear the salesgirl gave me an odd look because of it.

"So what's up?" I ask, suddenly feeling very tired. A dull throb forms behind my eyes, the result of coming down from a high. I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and never emerge. I take a large sip of coffee and nearly choke, burning my whole mouth and throat.

Gemma leans back in her chair, her drink untouched, and sizes me up. "Your eyes are bloodshot," she states flatly.

"Yes, and?" I'm not in the mood to be lectured on the evils of recreational drugs.

"Do you have allergies or something?" She's challenging me. I can sense it.

"No." I glare at her, daring her to say any more. She takes a dainty sip of mocha-something and says nothing. "What did you need to talk about? Surely you didn't just want to hang out."

Gemma's lips purse and she looks down. "I tried to summon the door of light," she says softly.

"You stayed on the web site," I say, exasperated. "I told you not to!"

"I needed answers!" she hisses. With her eyes narrowed and lips pouting in anger, she never looked more hot. "You haven't told me anything!"

I lean forward over the table. "I've told you everything I know. I've told you everything you need to know."

She leans forward as I did, lowering her voice to an angered whisper. "My mother said you were supposed to tell me about the Door of Light test."

"Your mother is dead, Gemma."

For the briefest moment, she freezes, her eyes filling with tears so rapidly that I can see my reflection shaking in them. They're so beautiful I am stunned for a second, unable to think of anything but her eyes. I should never like to look anywhere else. And then it hits me, what I said. I lean back, horrified.

"Gemma, I -,"

Her chair scrapes back as she stands, wrapping her scarf around her neck violently. "Insensitive little prick," she mutters.

I reach for her hand. "I didn't mean to say it like that!"

She pulls away. "I should never have thought I could trust you, Kartik." She pulls on her coat and makes for the door. My head pounds mercilessly now. I dash after her, earning withering stares from the various customers I push past. I could care less.

I catch her half a block down the street. "Gemma, please," I say, grabbing her arm. "Don't be mad at me."

She laughs bitterly. "I'm far past being mad at you, Kartik." She spits my name out as if it was the name of an STD.

"Why?" I ask quietly. She bites her lip and says nothing. "Walk with me, please." I give her no time to object and steer her to a deserted bench near the park. "I honestly know nothing about the Door of Light test itself, Gemma," I say as I collapse into the bench next to her. She stares straight ahead, looking strained, as if she might fly away at any moment. "But I do know this. Every girl that has been found dead so far has taken the test and failed."

Gemma's lips part in shock and horror. I long to touch her bottom lip, run my finger along its curve… The silence stretches between us. Realization takes me once more by surprise.

"Gemma, you…"

"I couldn't do it," she whispers. "I tried to summon the door…" She turns to me, her eyes wide and fearful. "And it wouldn't come."

Dread seeps into my veins. My headache worsens, the urge to sleep for days increases. "That doesn't mean anything. The next test isn't until February. Maybe you just need to practice?"

"But how? I have no one to help me. I can't keep going to the realms the way I have been. It's unhealthy." She says this last bit a little harsher, glancing at me as she does.

I sigh heavily. "Does it bother you that I smoke pot?"

"Yes," she says stiffly.

"Why?"

"It's illegal."

I can't hold back a laugh. Leave it to the lawyer's daughter… "So is underage drinking!" She glares at me, affronted. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't do it that often. Only when I'm stressed. Which is often lately, it seems." I'm talking too much and I'm not entirely sure she's listening.

Gemma sighs. "Do you know anything else that might help me?"

"Only what I've been telling you. Watch out for black cars and don't go out alone. Call me if you need to."

She nods absently, deep in thought. She looks so small and alone right now, like a doll left on the shelf, abandoned for a better toy. Suddenly, I can't remember why we've been fighting. All I know is that I want to kiss her right now, and take her home with me so that she'll never look so lonely again.

Gemma's phone sings out the first few bars of Sinatra's Let it Snow. When she pulls it out, I briefly see that it is Simon calling her. Right. That's why we've been fighting. I try to close my ears to the conversation, but that's obviously impossible. She's to have dinner with him tonight. I feel an odd sinking sensation. Disappointment. I don't know what I was expecting, but I certainly didn't get it. I stand to leave.

"Where are you going?" Gemma asks, putting her phone away.

My fingers curl in a heartless wave. "Happy Holidays, Gemma." I shove my hands into my pockets and walk away. I don't look back.

It isn't until I'm nearly home that I realize that I've left her alone, exactly what I should be advising her against. I kick a rock, furious at myself. I'm a terrible guardian, unworthy of the Rakshana and everything else. A failure is what I am. This is the worst possible time to come down from a high. I have half a mind to light up again.

But I won't. I have nothing left to smoke. It's not as if I'm addicted to it, really, I barely do it at all, but lately I just don't want to think about anything. And if something so accessible can make me forget for awhile, why not do it? The fact that Gemma disapproves makes it just a bit more appealing right now.

I strip my smoky clothes off in the bathroom and step into the shower to rid myself of all traces of pot smoke and overpriced coffee house. My sudden exhaustion nearly brings me to the shower floor, but I manage to remain standing as I scrub myself clean. Why have I made such a mess of things? I should never have let myself fall for her. It's part of the Rakshana's honor code – never date or otherwise engage in activity that exceeds platonic boundaries with your priestess. It's a good rule, really, made to prevent exactly what I've done and continue to do. Because things between us didn't work out, we can't work together. I don't want to guard her and she doesn't want to listen. I fucked up big time.

And because she is so tightly intertwined in my life, I can't rid my thoughts of her. Everywhere I turn, there's the flash of her red hair – at school, on the streets… I pass the horses in Central Park and think of her. I see the lingerie in the window displays of Victoria's Secret and picture her wearing it. My heart even sings when I see knee socks. Gemma's everywhere. Everywhere. And I am screwed because of it. She doesn't love me. She more than hates me now.

What kills me is that I still don't even know if we had sex or not that night. As I recall though, that wasn't even the source of our fighting. Simon was. That prick that had the nerve to call her, though I can't imagine why Gemma would give him her number, or agree to see him, right after we might have had sex. Right there in front of me, she made a date with him. She was in a fucking towel, in my living room, agreeing to a date, right after she spent a night kissing me (and maybe more). What the fuck kind of game was she playing? Whatever it was, she no doubt learned it from her "friends". I knew she'd become one of them. Her innocence was only a guise. The tears, the trust, all an illusion in her fucked-up game.

I guess that falling victim to her games once isn't really what bothers me; it's that I still want more. It would be so much easier if I didn't care about her, want her so much. But I do care, I do want her, and that is what drives me to smoking. Every time I take a hit, I pray that it will make me forget that I love her, and for a while I do; but then the veil drops, the smoke clears, and I am left with the depressing reality that try as I might, I can't shake her away, even though she's already moved on.

Hmm, so I wonder how many people hate me for making him smoke pot? Notice how he doesn't even think of Emily. She's only a means to make Gemma jealous.

COUGH COUGH! EDIT - LUNA IS STUPID AND DOESN'T REALIZE WHEN SHE SPOILS ENDINGS OF LONG AWAITED NOVELS ANYMORE. SORRY LOVELIES, DON'T HATE ME!!!

Tired. 3am. TIRED,
LunaEquus

PLEASE REVIEW and tell me your thoughts on Lifted!Kartik, and offer any concrit you may have!