Sorry I've been so long with an update. Having six to midnight rehearsals at a theater thirty minutes from my house doesn't leave much room for writing in my schedule. I'm at the tail-end of my spring break now, but I had trouble with this chapter. I do have the next installment almost finished—I wrote it before this one because I had the vision for it. Nita's characterization was easier; I'm still not sure I captured that exactly as I wanted during this chapter. Feedback?

To those of you who were lost by my confusing timeline, the flashbacks have caught up with the story. No guarantees that I won't play with the timeline again, but for now, everything is Present.

I'm not sure about this new rating system. I'm probably going to have to bump it up to "M"—it seems a little higher than the "T" standards. I'm hesitant, because that will mean I won't be listed on the default YW page—you will have to go searching for this story. But I don't want to have an incorrect rating. Alas.

Well, enjoy the chapter. Then review. Or hate the chapter and leave me a review of all my many faults. I don't care. Just read it and write me your reactions. Now. : D

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Nita sat up groaning. Her eyes were dry and itchy; her head throbbed with an insistent pounding that resulted from crying herself to sleep once she transited back home.

The alarm clock flashed 10:52. Nita lay back down, pulling the covers over her head. Though the sun shone insistently through her open blinds, boldly announcing the morning, Nita had slept less than three hours. Not counting the sleep I got at Brandon's…

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the previous night's events. Maybe it was all a dream… a really terrible, but incredibly graphic dream that Freud would have a heyday with.

No such luck. The thoroughly crumpled black dress that twisted around her, her aching body, the pounding headache, and her cried-out eyes all testified against her wishful thinking. Moreover, the experience lay too vividly in her mind to be the result of random flashes of her brain while she slept.

What have I done? she asked herself for the trillionth time in the last ten hours, even though the answer was obvious.

I had sex. After dating the guy two weeks. As if that weren't bad enough, the particular guy happened to be a Power…

Nita couldn't help but laugh bitterly as a thought struck her. I wonder if this is how the ancient Greeks on whom Zeus fathered his many children felt.

Except Zeus was at least a primarily good god. She'd entangled herself with the very One whom she'd dedicated her life to fighting.

Entangled? Well, I guess one euphemism is as good as another. And we were pretty entangled last night…

She sat up and massaged her temples.

Okay, so I know what I did. But what do I do now? How the hell can I return to life like it never happened? How do I explain to Dad why I no longer go to see Brandon? How do I spell against Him when I remember his hands gently caressing… She drew in a deep breath as she thought of his hands dancing over her bare skin, touching, stroking, exploring…

Stop it, Nita! she scolded herself firmly. He's the Lone Power.

But, damn it, he was good.

Get control of yourself!

Nita let out a long string of curses and fell back on the bed—and then popped up again as the doorbell rang.

She cursed once more, pulling herself out of bed and down the stairs to answer the door. She glanced through the peek hole to discover:

"Kit? What are you doing here?" she asked she swung open the door.

Kit's eyes widened as he looked at his best friend. He had seen her when she was less than composed many times before, but today she looked simply awful. "I didn't wake you, did I? I know you got in late last night, but you usually don't sleep this late, and I figured… are you okay?"

"You didn't wake me." Nita sidestepped his last question.

"Good. I was just going to see if you wanted to get some lunch, but you don't look… um… quite ready to go out."

Nita snorted. She hadn't yet looked in a mirror, but she figured that that had to be the understatement of the century. "I just got up a few minute minutes ago."

"Yeah, I…" Kit looked at her more intensely. "Have you been crying?"

Only for the past eight hours. No big deal.

"Did something happen with Brandon?" he pressed. "Did you guys have a fight?"

"Not exactly." Nita chewed her lip, wincing as she bit an already-tender spot. "We…" She raised her eyes to ceiling, as if its white bumps would give her the answers to her predicament.

Kit gently took her arm and led her to the sofa, pulling her down beside him.

Nita tried to start again. "Brandon is…" She stopped. How much to tell him? How to tell him? She sighed. "He and I…we… did something we shouldn't have."

Kit nodded slowly, halfway expecting this answer, but still slightly shocked upon confirmation. He said nothing.

"I went to his apartment after dinner and we… got carried away. Ended up…" She gestured desperately, struggling to articulate the situation to Kit.

He covered her hands with his own, stilling them. "I understand." It was his turn to grope for words. "Was it… consensual? I mean… did he pressure you into to doing something you didn't want to do or…"

Nita laughed, a single bitter note. "Or," she said, admitting it to herself as well as Kit. "He didn't make me doing anything I wasn't a willing participant in."

Kit sighed, relieved. "Good. If he forced you, I was going to go take him out." He looked into her face, unable to decipher the emotion flittering across it. "Listen," he started, cupping her face in his hand. "I know you are upset about this, but stop beating yourself up. So you screwed up—or rather, someone. You're human. It happens. You've joined the majority of teenagers who follow their hormones rather than emotionless logic. Big deal. It doesn't lower my respect for you; you shouldn't let it lower your respect for yourself."

"Oh, Kit…"Nita fought back another wave of tears. Trust him to be so damn understanding. But he didn't know the worst part. Should I tell him? I have to tell him. Will he understand?

"Kit—"

He grabbed a Kleenex from the coffee table and wiped away her tears. "Maybe you made a bad decision. But it's over and done with. There's no use beating yourself up over it. I'm not going to tell you to forget it, because you shouldn't—but at least use your mistake constructively. I don't imagine you used any sort of protection if it happened so quickly?" Nita shook her head. "Look—no one but you can decide whether to continue your relationship with Brandon—least of all me. But if you do continue the physical aspects, as least promise me you'll protect yourself, okay? I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."

Nita covered her face with her hands, groaning. She hadn't even considered physical consequences of her actions; she'd been too busy worrying about the implications of being in a relationship with the Lone Power. What if she was pregnant? What if he had given her some sort of disease?

"Hey." Kit was peeling her hands away from her face. "I'm sure you are fine. Now, why don't you go shower quickly, and we'll see about that lunch."

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The doorbell rang. Nita scampered to answer it, wondering who it could be. She had just returned home from lunch with Kit twenty minutes ago. His reassurances had gone a long way toward making her feel better, though the unconfessed secret of Brandon's identity still loomed over her. Surely it wasn't Kit back again…

She opened the door to a florist deliverywoman holding a dozen red roses.

"Nita Callahan?" Nita nodded, numb. "Someone must love you an awful lot. Here you go." The woman handed Nita the flowers and returned to her car.

Nita slowly shut the door and laid the flowers on the table. A card peeked out at her.

She slid the small white slip of paper from its envelope and read:

Why save a world that gives you nothing but guilt from someone who gives you nothing but love?