Would Felicity dare to steal Kartik? I think she would.

Felicity

We've both agreed this must be kept a secret. Gemma would not react very well for one thing, and for another… well, we're hardly serious about each other. If anyone knew the details of our acquaintance, my reputation would be shredded beyond repair, never mind the whispers that already circulate about me.

Yes – never mind the whispers. I am meeting him tonight, in a place where my name will not be known, my face unrecognized. He does not like our meeting place – wishes we didn't have to hide. But I will not risk Gemma's friendship. I'd like to say that I'm loathe to lose her companionship, but I've not gotten this far in life by lying to myself. My greatest fear is that I will never be able to enter the realms again – to see the endless blue sky of the gardens, frolic in the tall grass, bring all my wishes to fruition.

I'm sure that Gemma has no idea. She's given me no wounded looks, no vicious accusations. Though I suspect she would rather see it with her own eyes than believe hearsay and gossip. Then again, she can hardly have missed our darting glances and veiled smiles. Surely she must wonder at our sudden amity. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she's leapt to a grievous assumption.

"Felicity?" His voice interrupts my wandering thoughts. I turn to face him, lowering the hood of a rough cloak I've worn to hide my affluence. A lone girl is not safe in this neighborhood, let alone a girl of means.

Before I can greet him, he is across the room, taking me into his arms. I tilt my head expectantly, waiting for a kiss that does not come. Confused, I open my eyes to meet his gaze.

"I'm tired of hiding," he sighs.

"We musn't –"

He cuts me off. "No. You will tell your family –"

"But –"

"And we shall tell Gemma before anyone else."

"No!"

"Felicity…"

"We cannot let her know! She will hate me!"

"You're her friend," he argues. "She won't hate you. Has it occurred to you that she might be happy for us?"

I snort as skeptically and rudely as I can. "Has it occurred to you that she thinks I shuffle through men like playing cards? That her fiancé, Simon, once courted me? That in our first week of school together, she caught me embracing a gypsy?"

His lips press into a line of disapproval at my last confession. I try to withdraw, but his arms only tighten around me. His strength is frightening and exhilarating at once. I feel myself tensing against him, equal parts panic and delight. When he doesn't speak, I rush to reassure him.

"I'm not a whore. I haven't touched another man since the day you first kissed me." I say desperately. But his arms are still rigid around me.

"Do you remember that day?" I whisper, trying to soothe him. As I'd hoped, the furrows in his brow smooth over, and a fond smile tugs at his lips.

"I hadn't expected to find you alone…" he remembers.

"I hadn't expected to be found at all," I add, pressing my hands against his chest.

"You were crying…"

"And you just sat next to me, not speaking, and handed me your handkerchief."

He smiles softly, but his expression quickly fades and his jaw takes on a grim set. "If I'd known why you were crying, I would have hunted him down and –"

"It's not important," I say quickly. I don't want to ruin the mood of the evening; we can only meet once a week without rousing suspicion. "This is important." I stand on my tip-toes and press a soft kiss against his lips.

He does not kiss me back. When I pull away, his eyes are on mine, intent. "Felicity, I refuse to play this game any more. We will end the secrecy, or we will end the relationship." He doesn't meet my eyes when he says this, and I suspect he's bluffing, but I'm not willing risk it.

"This is not fair! You cannot ask me to choose between you and Gemma."

"It doesn't have to be a choice – you can have us both."

"No!" I cry in frustration. "Why don't you understand – Gemma will be furious."

"She'll understand," he argues, his embrace becoming painfully tight. "Your relationship with Gemma does not have to be mutually exclusive to a relationship with me!"

"Yes it does," I growl, wishing I could make him see. "Never the twain shall meet!"

I stagger as he suddenly releases me with a frustrated snarl. He runs his fingers through his hair in what I've come to recognize as a signature gesture. His obvious frustration only fuels my fire.

"One way or another," he says grimly, "this will end. It is your decision as to whether it will be a happy ending." The determination in his voice is not something I've heard from him before, but I know it will be impossible to argue.

"Fine," I growl, crossing my arms archly. "Let us go tell your sister that I've sunk my wicked claws into her precious brother."

A broad smile crosses Tom's face, and every last vestige of bitterness is banished. I feel my own heart warming at the sight of his happiness. Surely things can't turn out so terribly if he can smile so certainly.

"You're a terrible manipulator, Thomas Doyle," I inform him with a wounded sniff. Tom ignores my act and pulls me into his arms again.

"Perhaps that is why we get along so well. Birds of a feather and all that," he says, smiling, before he kisses me fully.

Mwahahahaha! It was TOM. Lemme know what you think. Like the pairing, or hate it? Was Fee too OOC? This will be a very short fic – four chapters at the absolute most, but next chapter will have you find out why Fee had been crying when Tom found her, and they'll be breaking the news to Gemma. How will she react?! Tune in to find out.

AND REVIEW. Or the review monkeys will get you. They are very unpleasant.