What might have been an otherwise idyllic night was unexpectedly ruined by reality rearing its ugly head. Sasha couldn't get out of bed fast enough. Muttering to himself, he pulled on his jeans, ignoring the fact that he couldn't find his underwear. Skye raised herself up on one elbow and stared at him, her lower lip trembling. "Are you mad at me, Beast?"

"Not you. Me. I'm older. I should have known better. This is all my fucking fault, Ange. Not yours."

Skye plucked at the bed linens, suddenly feeling an inexplicable urge to cover herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Just…get dressed. We have to go home," Sasha said tersely, shrugging into his leather jacket.

"You're not going to tell anybody about this, are you?" Skye started to cry quietly and it was all Sasha could do not to go to her and hold her. But that, he told himself, was what got them into trouble in the first place.

"I have to, Ange," Sasha said bleakly. "What if you're already pregnant?"

"But…that kind of thing only happens in movies, doesn't it?"

"Oh, baby." Sasha clambered onto the bed on his hands and knees and against his better judgment, he pulled her into his arms. She buried her face against his leather-clad shoulder, clutching his upper arms so tightly, the supple material crinkled under her fingers.

"We're not ready for kids, Ange. We're not even ready to get married. Jesus, this is such a mess."

"I didn't mean to…" Skye closed her eyes and wept for what she imagined she was about to lose. There was no one in the world she wanted to please more than Sasha. Except for her father. And now, somehow, she had surely managed to disappoint both of them.

"Ssh. I'll think of something."

"Like what?" she asked, tears streaking her pale cheeks.

"Like…we could get married right away."

"But what about college? Sasha, I don't want you to give up everything to be with me. I screwed up. Not you."

"I'm not going to walk away from you, Skye." Sasha pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. The engagement ring he'd given her sparkled on her ring finger. He rubbed the stone with his thumb. It was beautiful. Like her.

"We did this together. Whatever happens…happens. I love you. Nothing's going to change that. I swear."

Skye stared out the window of her bedroom. True to his word, Sasha had taken her home and she'd gone immediately to her room, seeking a place to hide and lick her wounds. She couldn't even begin to contemplate what was going to happen. To her. To Sasha. To them.

Faith stuck her head inside and saw how preoccupied Skye was. But that didn't stop her from racing full speed ahead. "You missed dinner."

"I wasn't hungry," Skye whispered.

"You okay?" Faith asked with a frown. She understood Skye's need for privacy. But she couldn't help but wonder what put the look of utter despair on her younger sister's face.

"I guess so."

"Did you and Sasha have a fight or something? Want me to beat him up for you?" Faith teased.

"Not exactly a fight. More like a big old mess." Skye bowed her head and began to cry again, so silently that Faith might have missed it, if it weren't for the way Skye's shoulders shook.

"What happened?" Faith asked, placing a hand on Skye's back.

All at once Skye turned to face her, her expression unutterably tragic. "Sasha and I went to the farmhouse."

"Mom and Dad's farmhouse?"

"Yes. We slept together there."

Faith continued to regard her sister with noncommittal eyes. "So?"

"We didn't use a condom."

Faith gasped. "I'll kill him. Don't worry about a thing, Skye. I'll take care of this."

"No, no, you don't understand. I wouldn't let him. I wanted to-oh, never mind, it doesn't matter anyway. But it was my fault."

"As far as I know, it takes two to fuck. So quit blaming yourself, Skye. You're not the only one responsible here."

"I know. But what are we going to do? What if I'm…preg-nant?"

"You're not."

"How do you know? I could be-"

"You're too lucky, okay? Everything good always happens to you, Skye. I used to be jealous of you, y'know? Then you got sent away to England and I thought-shit, she's just like the rest of us. Only you're not."

Faith stroked her younger sister's hair. "You're Daddy's favorite. I know that. I've always known that."

"That's not true, Fee. Please don't say that," Skye said, fresh tears appearing in her light blue eyes.

"It's okay, Skye. I know I'm a screw-up. I try not to be. But I'm a fucking trouble magnet." She laughed harshly. "God must have confused the two of us. This was probably meant to happen to me."

Skye shook her head. "This could never happen to you, Fee. You always know what to do."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not. I've always looked up to you, Fee. I don't know why we haven't been closer. I always wanted that. But it never happened."

"My fault." Faith could feel unaccustomed emotion choking her and suddenly she hugged her sister. "I care about what happens to you, Skye. I really do."

"Me, too."

A few moments later, they both raised tearful faces to each other. "So now what?"

"First, we should find out if you really are pregnant. But that takes time and we don't have any. So we do the next best thing."

"Which is?"

"We go to the doctor."

"I can't, Fee. He'll tell Mom and Dad."

"Helloooo. If you're pregnant, how long do you think that will stay a secret?"

Skye couldn't argue with her logic. So she surrendered.

"Maybe we can get you the morning after pill. Just in case."

Skye's eyes grew wide. "You do know everything."

"Well, not everything. But some stuff you just have to know."

"Then…once that's out of the way, we can hook you up with birth control pills."

"But how? Who?"

Faith smiled. "I've been on the pill for months now. Where do you think I got them?"

Just when she thought she couldn't possibly be any more surprised, Skye was. "Uncle Neil?" she asked incredulously.

"Don't worry. I don't think Uncle Neil's gone subversive or anything. I think he just thought that keeping me from getting pregnant was the least he could do for Connor."

"Weren't you afraid that he'd tell Daddy?"

"Yeah. At first. That's why I went to Aunt Derry. She's got more balls than Mom and Dad put together. She's the one who told Uncle Neil what she wanted him to do."

"And he listened?"

"Well…you know how she gets. All Section-y and stuff."

"Daddy can be dark and scary, too," Skye said, defending their absent father.

Faith laughed. "That's what I was afraid of."

Faith waited for Skye outside Neil's office door. She sat on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. Miranda repeatedly asked Faith to try sitting in a chair for a change, but Faith was too restless to sit still. She finally settled into a semi-comfortable position on Neil's Wedgewood blue wall-to-wall carpeting and tried to ignore Miranda's censorious look.

"I'm surprised you didn't go inside with her," Miranda grumbled good-naturedly without taking her eyes off the chart in front of her.

"She didn't want me to," Faith answered. "Guess my little sister's growing up, huh?"

Miranda snorted impolitely. "That's more than I can say about you."

"Hey! You're my grandmother, y'know. You're supposed to be all sweet and cuddly."

"Do I look sweet or cuddly to you, Fee?"

Faith laughed nervously. "Not really."

"That was a rhetorical question, dear."

"I just-" Faith wrung her hands together anxiously as Miranda watched, her hazel eyes contemplative. "I just hope she's okay. That's all."

"She will be." Miranda's voice softened when she saw the very real concern on Faith's face. "I don't think I've ever seen you care this much about another person before, sweetie."

Faith's eyes flashed bright green for a second, then dimmed to the color of dark jade. "Cause I'm supposed to be such a self-centered bitch?" she asked bitterly.

"No, honey. I never thought that about you."

Faith hid her face against her knee. Miranda stood and made her way from behind her desk. Crouching next to the 17-year-old girl, Miranda rubbed her shoulder gently. "You do tend to get wrapped up in things that only affect you and Connor, though. I didn't realize that you had this much feeling left over."

Faith sighed heavily. "She's my sister."

"She always has been. But you haven't paid much attention to her before now," Miranda prompted, wondering if Faith would finally open up to her. Some people thought that Faith wasn't like Michael at all, but Miranda thought differently. She believed that Faith's feelings ran deeper than any of them suspected, and like her father, she had gotten very good at hiding them.

"I don't want to see her make the same mistakes I made," Faith whispered.

Miranda smiled kindly. "Forgive me for saying so, Fee, but your sister is a bit more sensible than you were at her age."

"But she's so in love with Sasha. I don't want anything to screw that up."

"Do you honestly think Sasha would allow that to happen?"

Faith raised tearful eyes to her adoptive grandmother. "It could. They're both so emotional. Sometimes…stuff happens. Even if you don't want it to."

"Are we still talking about Skye…or are we talking about you now?"

"Nah. Not me," Faith said gruffly, the huskiness of her voice betraying the roiling emotions beneath the surface. "I'm okay."

"You sure about that, sweetie?"

"Uh huh." Faith sniffled and swiped an arm across her face. As long as I've got Connor, she added mentally, I'll always be okay.

"Does your mother know that you and Skye are here?"

Faith looked stricken. "No! She can't! I mean-"

"I know."

"You can't tell her, Gran! I mean it!"

"There is such a thing as patient confidentiality, you know." Miranda sounded mildly annoyed that Faith assumed she couldn't keep her mouth shut, but in truth, she applauded the young girl's loyalty. It might be misplaced at times, but you really couldn't fault her for that.

"But it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to confide in your mother. Nikita's not like Madeline, dear. She wants to be involved in your lives."

"I told Aunt Derry-"

"Excuse me, but Aunt Derry isn't your mother, Fee."

"And I don't want her to be, Gran. I just-I didn't want Mom to know," she finished lamely.

"Why? Because you didn't think she'd understand?"

"No, I think she would. I just didn't want her to be disappointed in Skye. It doesn't matter if she's disappointed in *me*. I mean, she already *is*. But Skye…Mom doesn't think Skye can do anything wrong. If she knew about this-"

"Faith," Miranda placed a finger under Faith's chin and tipped her face up. "Your mother loves you. Whether you screw up once or a thousand times, she'll always love you."

"I know. I think." Faith's eyes filled with tears. "But this isn't about *me*."

"In a way, it is. Even when you're doing things for other people, it's about the choices *you* make."

"I don't think anyone would say I make very good choices, Gran," Faith whispered.

"Oh, honey," Miranda said, enfolding Faith in her arms. When Faith clung to her, Miranda felt a pang in her heart for the children she'd never had. But then she remembered that God had led her to Walter's extended family all those years ago for a reason.

"You're learning. We both are."

Skye came out of Neil's office looking suitably chastened. Her eyes were red-rimmed and slightly damp, but she seemed more relieved than upset.

Faith scrambled to her feet and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"What about—?"

"I went to the bathroom while I was in there and…" Skye blushed. "Well, I'm not pregnant."

"Thank God!" Faith hugged her younger sister fiercely until Skye protested. "Hey, I can't breathe."

"Sorry," Faith said, immediately trying to put some distance between them.

"Uncle Neil read me the riot act, too. He was way harsher than you were, Fee. I don't think he likes me very much right now."

Faith frowned. "He probably blames me for corrupting you."

"You didn't corrupt me, Fee. I did this all on my own."

"Well," Faith corrected, "not *completely* on your own."

"Trust me, Sasha wanted to do the right thing. He still does."

Faith pushed a thick strand of Skye's long blonde hair behind her ear. It was a gesture that was every bit as telling as it was affectionate. "He really loves you, you know."

"I know."

"Did you discuss birth control with him?" Faith asked.

"Yes, *Mom*," Skye replied. "He put me on the Pill."

"You still have to use condoms, though. For at least another three months."

"He told me. But thanks. Y'know, it feels kinda strange to have you looking out for me."

"Right now, there's nothing I'd rather do, Skye."

"Thanks."

Skye peeked at her older sister through light brown eyelashes. "Does this mean we're going to be friends now?"

"The best."

"I don't want to go in there," said Emmy, surveying the weathered old farmhouse that stood before them.

"Sasha said it was okay."

"My brother wouldn't care if the walls fell down around him as long as he was making love to Skye."

"I didn't hear that, Em." Chris made a show of putting his hands over his ears.

"Too much information?"

"Something like that." Chris' voice grew husky as he dropped his hands. "Just this once…could we not talk about your brother…or my sister?"

"Just us, huh?"

"Yeah." Chris hooked a strand of Emmy's hair behind her ear. "You look pretty tonight."

"You said we were going someplace special, Tosh. I had no idea you were taking me to a haunted house."

"It's not haunted. It's just…"

"…old?"

"Um, yeah. But you say that like it's a bad thing."

Emmy drew herself up to her full height. "Well, I suppose I'll have to be brave and go inside."

"Hey, who's the knight here?" Chris said, pretending to be offended.

"Girls can be knights, too," Emmy declared huffily.

"There weren't any female knights, Em."

"There was that girl in A Knight's Tale. Remember?"

"She wasn't a knight. She was a jumped-up blacksmith."

"She made the knight's armor," Emmy protested.

"I rest my case."

Emmy smiled mysteriously and wound her arms around Chris' neck. "I can be anything I want," she said seductively.

"You could be a courtesan," Chris whispered. "You're so beautiful."

"Hmm…did the courtesans win the hearts of their knights?" Emmy asked, her lips nearly touching his.

"For a little while. Then they moved on…to bigger and better prey."

"You mean, if you were a knight, and I were a courtesan, you wouldn't want to keep me?"

Chris swept her off her feet and into a dip, forcing her head low enough that her hair touched the grass. When he pulled her back up, he kissed her, his mouth impatient to taste her. "I would keep you with me always."

Emmy sighed and kissed him back, signifying her assent. Her silvery eyes danced, taking on the pale shade of lilac that she wore. "There's only one thing…" Chris added.

"What's that?"

"In medieval times, you wouldn't have been a courtesan. You would have been a *princess*."

"Wouldn't that make me too good for you?" Emmy asked playfully.

Chris suddenly grew silent, his face so serious that for a moment, Emmy feared that she'd said something terribly wrong. When he spoke again, it was in an almost inaudible whisper.

"You've always been too good for me, Soleil."

"If I am, Tosh, it's only because I have to live up to your expectations for me."

"Are you saying I put you up on a pedestal, Em?"

Emmy nodded. "And it's time to knock me off."

Yes, it's true. It's here. I did it! I finally broke through the dreaded LT writer's block. This isn't long, but trust me, it gets where it's supposed to go. Heh. A few notes for the non-French speaking: Je t'aime means I love you. Tu es la mienne means You're mine. Oui means Yes. And last but not least, Je suis a toi means I'm yours.

~Silk

Chris grasped Emmy's hand in his. Together they crossed the threshold, the symbolism of that act clearly not lost on either one of them. When they were inside, Chris was the first to break the silence. "Feels almost like…we just got married."

Emmy smiled shyly and wound her hands through Chris' light blond hair. "In my heart, we already are."

"Mine, too." Chris cleared his throat softly. For a moment, he felt as though he would choke on the emotion welling up in him.

Emmy kissed the corner of his mouth, and Chris abruptly turned his head so that their mouths met. Within seconds, what had been tender became passionate.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling her hair loose from its customary ponytail.

"I love you, too," she replied, shaking out her long red curls.

He never took his eyes off her as she led him upstairs. His light blue eyes grew dark and unexpectedly intense when they reached the bedroom. Before they could enter, Chris pressed her back against the door, his mouth exploring hers, his tongue seeking its mate.

When she could find the breath to speak, Emmy murmured, "I thought we were going to use the bed this time."

Chris' nostrils flared like a wild animal catching the scent of its prey. He backed her into the bedroom until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She went down softly, her legs slightly spread apart, and Chris followed her, his body warm and familiar against hers. He ground his hips into her as they kissed feverishly, and Emmy whimpered.

She had begged Chris to slip the leash that bound him just once, and it looked as though he had. He slid his hands up her thighs, hooking a finger through the lacy scrap that barely covered the velvety triangle between her legs. Emmy squirmed restively, then froze as Chris found her center. "Ohhh…"

She was already wet and slick, but Chris tormented her by repeatedly slipping his finger just far enough inside that Emmy burned for complete ownership. "Please…"

Without undressing, Chris unzipped his jeans and poised himself at her entrance. "Do it, do it, please," Emmy cried hoarsely.

The soft denim of his jeans abraded her inner thighs as he thrust home, penetrating her in one stroke. He groaned at the sensation of her warmth surrounding him, enclosing him, welcoming him. But he didn't want to go slowly, like they usually did. He wanted to possess her, the way that she possessed him, and his heart, and his spirit. He intertwined their hands, locking them together as he began to pound away in earnest. To his surprise, Emmy met him, stroke for stroke, her hips undulating to bring him closer, deeper.

He came with a muffled cry, and Emmy wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head to her breast. A moment later, her knees clamped tightly around his hips as she climaxed. He could feel the tiny aftershocks pulsating around the head of his cock, even as it softened, and he wanted to stay buried within her forever. This was contentment. This was how close they both needed to be. Always.

"See? Falling off that pedestal didn't hurt a bit," Emmy quipped, a soft smile teasing her swollen lips.

Chris stared at her, his eyes at once tender and serious. "Je t'aime, Soleil. Tu es la mienne."

Emmy's smile intensified. "Oui. Je suis a toi."

And so she was.

Emmy lay back and stretched her arms over her head. Chris lowered his head to her breasts, his tongue lazily circling one of her nipples. She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned appreciatively. "Oh, yes."

"When you fall off your pedestal, you don't fool around," Chris quipped, his light blue eyes filled with love and affection.

"I never fool around. Well, only with *you*."

Chris pounced on her and started to tickle her under her ribs. Emmy shrieked once before dissolving into a fit of the giggles. "Stop it!"

"I don't think so, Princess."

"I'm not a Princess. I'm a *real* girl."

"Oh, God, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," Chris teased. He fell onto his back, his blond hair spilling across his forehead. He looked both innocent and debauched, a seeming contradiction that never failed to intrigue Emmy.

She raised herself up on one elbow to study him. "Did you think I was an hallucination?"

"Nah, but I could have dreamed you up. You're just about perfect." He kissed her, his arm sliding slowly over her bare back to rest on her bottom.

"Just about?" she pouted.

"Okay, *totally* perfect."

"That's better."

She chuckled as she stroked the side of his face. A pale, fine stubble covered his chin and his cheeks. "Mmm, you need to shave."

"Maybe I'll grow a beard," Chris mused, knowing the idea would outrage her.

"Oh, no, you won't!" Emmy cried. "You're not hiding that face behind mountains of hair."

"What about a moustache, then?"

"I don't kiss men with moustaches," she said huffily.

Chris' eyes darkened predictably. "You don't kiss anyone but *me*, Soleil."

He pulled her closer, and her breasts were squeezed almost uncomfortably against his chest. She kissed him, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort. "Mmm…I think I like being manhandled."

Chris blinked, immediately contrite. "Did I hurt you?"

Emmy smiled, seduction very much on her mind and in her eyes. "I like making you lose control, Tosh. I didn't know you could be so…"

Chris rolled both of them over so that he was on top again. "So…what?"

"Hot…" she breathed against his mouth.

They kissed again, and Chris' hand strayed between her legs. Emmy groaned under his caress and guided him inside her. He gasped at how warm she was, her snug enclosure welcoming and surrounding him. "Please…make love to me."

"Always."

They moved in unison, in perfect counterpoint to each other, this time savoring the journey instead of rushing towards the inevitable destination. Emmy panted, her nipples growing impossibly hard as Chris thrust into her again and again. He licked the side of her neck, and Emmy sighed, knowing that he was preparing to mark her. "Oh, God, yes."

When Chris' mouth began to suckle the sweet spot that she favored, Emmy came, her inner muscles contracting with such intensity that Chris shouted his completion seconds later. He remained buried deep within her, a curious lethargy stealing over his body, making him want to sleep. "Mmm," he murmured drowsily, "I think I'll just stay here all night."

"I think your father *and* mine might have something to say about that," she said, winding her legs around his to hold him fast.

"Thanks. That finally put me right out of the mood."

"About time. You're insatiable."

"Just with you."

"Better be. Now don't go falling asleep on me. You're way too heavy."

Chris nuzzled her breast and rubbed his cheek against her still erect nipple. "Would I do that to you?"

"Uh huh."

Chris' breathing evened out, making Emmy suspicious. She glanced down at his light blond head. A moment later, his soft snore filled the cozy bedroom. "You rat," Emmy whispered, her fingers threading through his hair without stirring him.

She couldn't be angry. Not when he was hers to hold like this. Chris was so often determined to be invulnerable, not unlike his father, that when he let her in like this, allowing her to catch a glimpse of what lay deep inside, she treasured the moment.

"I love you," she murmured.

Chris moved restively against her breast, some part of him attuned to her even in sleep. He snuggled closer, his hair tickling her chin. She couldn't wait until they were really and truly married, and she could sleep with him this way every night.

"My bright knight…"