CDG- You found me again.

BS- This time it wasn't that hard. You practically were advertising your presence online, if you know where to look.

CDG- I had a reason for that.

BS- I see.

I'm in a chat room, one of my hacker rooms, and I close the main window, dropping into just private chat with Blue Sakura, aka Andrea. I've been looking for her today, hoping she can give me insight into how Peter DeLaCoeur is handling the news that hit the Internet today. Unfortunately, with such stuff, I couldn't get the newspapers to put it out, but in this digital world, it should still carry weight.

BS- What are your reasons?

CDG- I was wondering how Peter took the news.

BS- And how would I know that?

CDG- You know who I am. You don't think I don't know who you are?

There's a silence on the screen for a bit, then Blue Sakura comes back.

BS- Okay, let's lay our cards out. It's been a long time since we used to play in my room.

CDG- Yeah, it was fun. You had a pretty awesome Barbie collection. It seems that we've both changed since we thought that Ryan Reynolds was cute.

BS- What do you mean thought? I still do.

CDG- TMI. So how did Peter react?

BS- Your timing is off today. I haven't been home yet, and I had a nine a.m. class. I haven't heard from anyone at home.

CDG- What's got you out so late? It's nearly seven.

BS- Checking some things. Your reappearance had me chasing some stuff down.

CDG- Anything I'd be interested in?

BS- Perhaps. If I figure it out, I'll drop you a message. Peter certainly doesn't trust me, even less than Jackson. Spoils me rotten, wants me to be his little princess, but he doesn't trust me.

CDG- Speaking of that... I have verification on your history, too. I'm holding it in reserve, it's the sort of bomb that could be spun to hurt Peter badly. But maybe you, too?

BS- We can discuss that later. I need to go for now. Thanks.

CDG- For what?

BS- Discretion.

Blue Sakura logs off, and I sit back, sighing. Discretion isn't my strong suit, and I'm no closer to finding out if I'm closer to my goal than I was when I started looking for Andrea online. I want firsthand verification, I need it. The depression is bad tonight, even though I was able to read all about the social reaction to what I'd dropped on Peter DeLaCoeur's lap. My workout wasn't enough to alleviate it, my endorphins were not enough to push it all back, and for some reason, I can't take my pills. I'm sitting here, staring at them in their plastic bottle, and all I can think about is how I made fun of Jackson for his own self-medication. How can I accuse him of running away from reality when I'm taking my own collection of mind-altering stuff?

Angry, I grab my bottle, get up, and shove it into my dresser, out of sight. I'm going to handle this the old-fashioned way, the same way that the old masters advised. Purity is something that cannot be attained except by piling effort upon effort.

Fine. Effort has brought me success. Effort has brought me the ability to bring down Peter DeLaCoeur if I can stay the course. Effort has allowed me to hone myself into the perfect instrument of my vengeance. I can beat this too, dammit.

I go over to my meditation corner, lighting the candle there. It's a new one, a gift from Darcy after her most recent visit, with a fresh ocean scent and supposedly a guaranteed twelve hour burn time. Instead of meditating, however, I stretch out, cradling my head in my arms as I let myself drift, searching for something I can hold onto to pull myself out of the depression.

What comes to mind startles me, and I sit up. Jackson? What the hell? He's a damn playboy, despite whatever he may have said when he visited. Yeah, it was noble, yeah he may have risked the wrath of his father... but he's still wrapped up in being a douchebag.

I lie back down, letting my mind drift again, but it keeps circling back, refusing to let go of Jackson. He can't be all bad, after all. If he wasn't lying about his physique being all natural...

“It's all natural,” Jackson teases me, stretching out beside me. “After all, steroids cause shrunken balls. Did they look shrunken to you?” He's got a point. I remember what his cock looked and felt like in the limo, he's certainly not lacking in the size department with either the twig or the berries.

“I guess I owe you some credit for that,” I say, reaching out and touching his arm. He's wearing a white dress shirt and charcoal gray slacks, although since we're lying down he's taken off his shoes. “So why'd you put so much effort into lifting?”

“To escape my sadness,” he whispers, reaching out and brushing my cheek. “When you left... you left a hole inside me. That, combined with the rest, I had to pour it out somewhere.”

“You... you were on my mind, too,” I admit, laying my hand on his side. “I really thought you were special, and that someday you were going to ask me out on a date, not just over to build models or study or play video games.”

“I would have,” Jackson says, easing closer. We're close, and I can feel the warmth and magnetism of his body so close, my heart beating faster in my chest. I'm not a virgin since I had to practice my seduction and erotic skills on someone, but I've never actually made love before. My heart has never been opened to anyone... but Jackson. And even then, that was a whole different me. “I was going to, and I wanted to kiss you, too. Remember that last time we played in the pool?”

I chuckle, nodding. “You kept staring at my butt. I thought I was getting a wedgie or something.”

Jackson shakes his head, his hand stroking down my back to rest on my hip, just on the upper curve of my butt. “Not quite.”

I reach my own hand down, fully cupping his ass.

Jackson leans forward, and we kiss, not like in the limo where I was giving him seductive kisses that never touched his lips but real, tender, and heartfelt ones. His lips caress mine, our tongues reaching out, probing each other, as I taste the wonderful, sexy man in front of me.

I moan when his hand comes down and grabs my ass, his strong hand kneading the flesh and muscle. I've always favored my ass over the rest of my body, and Jackson somehow knows, pulling me on top of him and grabbing with both hands as I laugh. “Mmm... you're more aggressive than I thought you'd be after I nearly broke your arm.”

“I like to live dangerously,” he teases. “Or at least, you inspire me to.”

We kiss and grind against each other, Jackson slipping his hands inside the waistband of my pants and grabbing the naked skin underneath. I'm hot, so hot I can't believe it, it's never felt this good before. Even when Carla taught me the Touches, it was never with this feeling inside my chest, never this dam that threatens to explode and consume me with what's held behind it.

I sit up, groaning when my hips straddle Jackson's and I feel his cock pushing up at his pants, my pussy aching for it to fill me. Still, I reach down and begin unbuttoning his shirt, easing the cloth to the side with each button, exposing his perfect chest and stomach. Every muscle is defined, his skin slightly tanned and hairless, not at all like my pale skin that barely sees the light of day most of the time. His nearly white hair and blue eyes gleam in the light of the candle, and as my hand goes over his heart, he lets go of my hips to cover his hand. We don't say anything, just look at each other. There's no need for words, not right now.

I finish unbuttoning his shirt and Jackson sits up, shrugging out of it before wrapping his arms around me in an embrace, the passion creeping out. We're hungry, devouring each other, pushing clumsily at the pants keeping us from what we need. Somehow we roll as we strip, until I'm underneath Jackson, his cock probing at the entrance to my pussy, his eyes sparkling as he looks into my eyes. “How do you feel about me?”

“I loved you then,” I tell Jackson, and he pauses, tears in his eyes.

“I love you now,” he replies, pushing in. He's perfect, filling me the way that no partner has ever done before. He slides in and out, my body lighting up, his cock giving me sensations I've never felt before. He's just on the edge of being rough, a little but not too much, driving his cock into me over and over, his mouth kissing me hard, almost bruising. I claw at his back as pleasure explodes over and over in my body, battering at the walls around my heart, electricity tingling along every inch of my skin. Jackson's powerful but tender, rough but gentle, and I'm washed away, giving in to him and submitting to my every desire.

I open up to him, and in that instant, I see it all. I see a future I've never imagined before, of happiness, of growing old next to him, of children running in a park, of snowcapped mountains and high lakes. I see...

It's all washed away as Jackson's cock drives in again and again, pushing me toward the edge. I can feel him trembling, holding back to take care of me, and I kiss him, as tenderly as I can with the way my body is being hammered higher and higher. “Jackson... I'm... I'm...”

I can't say anymore as he pushes me over the edge, and whiteness fills my heart and my mind, driving away the darkness that has been ever present for the past decade. His heart, his love obliterates it, banishing it away, and as my orgasm fills me with light, I feel him shudder and fill me again, his cock exploding deep inside me.

“I'll always love you,” Jackson whispers as he gathers me. “There is nothing we should be quite so grateful for as the last line of the poem that goes, 'When your own heart asks.'”

“When you own heart asks...” I repeat, the quote from Hagakure echoing in my thoughts as I come back to reality. My body aches, unfulfilled desire aching in my loins and my nipples tight in my sports bra. I sit up, shaking my head again. A fantasy lover, never to be found in the real world. And what's this bullshit about a future? About love? My life is going to be measured in terms of days and hours once I unleash the next broadside against Peter DeLaCoeur.

But I can't deny the depression that was threatening me is pushed back a bit, and I feel a lighter. I'm shaken, though... Jackson? And what about my fantasy... is it true? Did I love him? Do I love him?

I get up off my meditation mat and blow out the candle, heading for my food area. I feel good enough to make some dinner, and then maybe I can get back to work on verifying some of Peter's criminal connections. I'm hacking a casino, the same one that I released the security camera footage from. Unfortunately, their security server is different from their financial server, and the security on it is more closely held.

Still, before I sit down at my computer, I think back to my fantasy. Jackson? Really? But...

A knock comes at my door, and I look up. It's familiar, even if I've heard it only once before.

“Kat! Open up, please! It's me!”

I go over and check my peephole, even though I'm already reaching for the lock. He's outside, and in the dim light of my security light, he looks panicked. “Kat... Katrina! Open up!”

I pull the bolt and open the door, Jackson stepping back enough to let the door open enough for him to get inside. As soon as he’s able, he pushes past me and I close the door. “What's this about, Jackson?”

Jackson shifts from side to side, his eyes flicking around the shadowed space of my loft. “Kat, you need to run. Peter's angry, and I don't know if I can keep you safe any longer.”

“Talk.”