There was a knock on the door, and right when I looked up, it fell open, spitting D'Arc onto the floor.  He caught himself with his one free hand, the other holding a bottle of Jack Daniel's which hit the floor with a thud.  He pushed against floor and bottle and soon had himself propped against the door frame.	
	Of course, I got to my feet right away when I saw who it was.  And...he'd been drinking?  I'd never seen him drink more than a glass or two at a time, so watching as he kissed glass and upended the bottle was like being in some weird sort of nightmare.  Like that digivid about the body snatchers.
	"D'Arc..."
	"Don't call me that."  He was still sounding mostly sober, but I didn't figure that would last long.  "I'm not him anymore."  He walked in, taking hold of the door and slamming it behind him.  It made me jump a little.
	"Yes you are.  Just because you've lost your powers..."
	"No, you don't understand.  I'm Not Him Anymore.  's not just the powers."  He slugged back more whiskey and gasped for air as the bottle returned to being right side up again.  "You don't know who I used to be, boy.  What I used to be.  Before I was this great glorious hero of yours."
	"Just because you were a normal man doesn't mean...."
	"NORMAL!?"  He whipped the bottle down, and then glass and whiskey exploded everywhere.  I raised my arms as quick as I could and shut my eyes.  Once I knew I wasn't about to have a face full of booze-soaked glass shards, I chanced a look at him.  
	The usually calm, cool teacher was heaving, eyes hot and locked on me.
	"I was never normal."  He began to end sentences with footsteps towards me, and I began to back away.  "You only know me as the great and legendary 'Dark Stone.'"  Step.  "You think I'm this marvelous force for good, never been anything else."  Step.  "But once, when I was your age, younger really, I was the exact opposite."  Step.  I ran out of room, my back hitting the wall.  "I was a criminal for most of my childhood and teenage years."  Step.  He was right up next to me, close enough that his hellish, alcoholic breath washed over my face.  His eyes were fierce, glowing not with anything magical this time, but pure unleashed emotion.  So many emotions I couldn't pin one down.  Or maybe that was because I didn't want to look straight at him.  Somehow, it didn't seem right, to see him like this.
	He grabbed my chin, forcing me to lock my gaze with his.  I flinched at the touch of his skin against mine before remembering that it was safe now, and that that was actually part of the problem.  He leaned in, pressing himself against me as his eyes bore into mine hotly.
	"In those days, I'd've had you by now, Stephen, you know that?"  My eyes widened a little, and my brain tried to come up with any other meaning than the one that sprang immediately forth.  It turned out to be pointless as he continued, "I'd've ripped your clothes off you, thrown you down and taken you.  Beat you if you resisted well enough, but just enjoy the ride if all you did was struggle ineffectually.  And eventually I'd kill you, when I was done with you.  You'd already be a broken, bloody heap of what had once been a beautiful young man, so I'd put you out of your misery.  Keep you from talking, you know."  His hand loosened and trailed down my face to my neck.  I tensed, but it was only the one hand and it didn't tighten.
	His eyes softened some and a tone more like the usual D'Arc came into the room.  "That's who I used to be.  Who I swore I would never be again.  Who I am again now.  The part of me I hate more than anything else....my past, that the Institute helped me shed....That's what I've returned to.
	"I don't want to be him again, Stephen," he whispered, sounding scared.  "I don't want to do that to you, not to anyone, but especially not to you.  You're too beautiful, too innocent and sweet..."  His hands were running further down my body and I was starting to feel warm from more than just embarassment.  "I don't want that for you.  Gods, I do want you though."  His eyes followed his hands, and I took the opportunity to swallow harshly.
	What am I supposed to do?  What am I supposed to say?  He was still confessing, "I want to make love to you, Stephen.  I never could before.  Couldn't even touch you, caress your skin, ruffle your hair - at least, I couldn't actually feel it.  Not through those damned gloves.  And now...now I'm afraid to touch you for a completely different reason."
	I was definitely blushing now.  It felt like someone had taken a match to my face, and boy, hadn't it caught.  He collapsed at my feet and I saw tears hit the floor.
	"I can't let that happen to you...."
	I tried my best to reassure him.  Not that I knew what I was doing.  "Just because you lost your powers..."
	"I lost D'Arc.  Lost him.  I'm just Derin Rickard now, just an old JD worthy of nothing more than prison and death row."
	"No!"  I tried to kneel down to him, but he looked up at me so suddenly I froze.  Slowly he rose, straightening back up to his full height before me.
	"I am.  But no matter who I am, what I am, I can't help wanting you.  And what am I supposed to do, when to touch you is to condemn you to death or worse, no matter what I do?"  He was back to caressing my face with that longing look in his eyes, a desperate desire whose pull was hard to resist.  My mind and heart fluttered rapidly, unsure what the hell I was supposed to do, or even what I wanted to do.  He was a guy, he was my teacher, but there was something seeming to pull him into me.  
	"What else am I supposed to do?" he whispered, his lips closer and closer to mine.  He closed his eyes for a second, two, three...then he caught me with those eyes once more.  And just as I became aware of the desire within me, he kissed me.
	He crushed into me, trapping me between his body and the wall, and even if I could have complained, I didn't want to.  I wasn't even upset about it: he was kissing me, and I was kissing him in return.  He forced the kiss to deepen without too much resistance from me.  There was a strange heat within me that demanded release, and everything he did seemed to serve that interior heat of mine.  I'd kissed girls before, just a couple of times, when we wouldn't get caught.  And yeah, it'd been fun, but none of those times with those girls were anything like this.
	Then suddenly, he pushed himself away.  PUSHED off the wall so hard that he stumbled and nearly fell into the whiskey and glass on the floor.  He looked at me with absolute horror, and I have no idea what the look on my face must've been.  Shock sure, but what else he saw God only knows.  He simply stared at me as if he'd found my corpse, and then...
	Then he ran.
	One moment.
	Two.
	I slid down the wall to the floor, eyes still staring glazedly at the door my idol had bolted through.
	Then D'Invia materialized.  She sank down next to me with a knowing look.
	"How long have you been out there?"
	"I saw or heard pretty much all of it," she confessed.  She took out her handkerchief and started wiping sweat and whiskey off of my face.  I sat there and let her, trying to think of what could or should be said.
	"Was he...I mean, all that stuff he said....he wasn't ever really....?"
	She sighed.  "It's all true.  He robbed, raped, burned and killed.  He got caught, and chose the Institute over prison or offworld colonies.  But," she hurried to add, "he really did change.  Senior Administrator D'Erran set him straight and he was one of the best students real quick.  You'd never believe the turnaround if you hadn't had to share a room with him.
	"I remember at one point we stayed up late talking about our 'sins.'  I went first.  My meagre transgressions were nothing compared to the litany of crime he read off like it was just written on the ceiling above his head, there for anyone to read.  And I could tell he regretted every second of it.  He sounded like each person he described was a scar on his soul.  They probably are.
	"He hates that part of himself.  Always had, and it just took the Institute to make him realize it, I think.  He hadn't believed he could change, but here was magical change literally being offered to him.  Why wouldn't he take it?  He honestly believed he'd become an entirely different person.  And in a lot of ways he had.  He had to, being what he became.
	"But for him, I don't think it's just that he's lost his powers, and therefore he's no longer D'Arc.  It's the way in which he lost them.  By hating.  By killing.  By a return to his old ways, even if in defense of another."
	I absorbed that as she took a seat next to me on a relatively dry patch of floor.  In defense of me.  He killed to protect me.  Because he...he wants me.  His lust overrode his training and now....because of me....
	"So what do we do?" I asked when I could finally speak again.
	"We?  Nothing except continuing to care for him.  Assuming you still do?"  She gave me a sideways glance.  It made her look very pretty, but mostly I noted the question repeated in her eyes.
	"I...I'm not sure.  I don't hate him."
	"Even though he shoved you into the wall and kissed you?"
	"I didn't mind that part."
	She blinked at me.  "Really?"
	I shook my head slowly.  "I don't know why.  If any other guy tried to kiss me, I'd deck him.  I'm not...I mean, I know he is, but I'm just not...but I didn't mind.  I actually...I kind of wanted him to."
	"Hmm."  She seemed about to smirk, then stopped.  "You know, it could just be that you were so upset by your teacher being hurt that you were just glad to offer him any sort of comfort.  Maybe that's really what you wanted?"
	"You don't believe that."
	"Not in the least.  I think you've got the hots for him and just now realized it, so you aren't used to it yet.  But I was trying to help you rationalize so that you don't go postal on him next time you see him."
	"I wouldn't.  I won't.  I couldn't.  Even without his powers, he's stronger and faster than I am."
	"He was.  He's broken right now.  He needs healing, and none of us has that gift that can heal a soul and a heart."

***   ***   ***

	I awoke the next morning…was it morning? I had no idea…with the worst hangover on this or any other world. It didn’t take me long to remember why, and I scowled as I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled away from the light coming in the window. But I hit something when I rolled. I opened my eyes again and looked down by my legs, where there was a weight on my bed.
	Stephen was there, watching me patiently.
	And it occurred to me, How did I get in bed? I looked down along myself. I was in only my pants. I freaked out for a moment, but then remembered, again, that I was powerless. That I was no longer D’Arc, or even the loathed “Dark Stone”. I was just…
	Booze-soaked memories swam back to my waking mind. By all that is right and good in this world, please tell me this didn’t happen. I licked desert-dry lips and opened my mouth to ask…
	“If you’re remembering what I think you’re remembering…well…you’re remembering right, I guess,” Stephen offered. He was turning red a little, and I just groaned, flopping onto my back and hiding my eyes with my arm. My free hand balled in to a fist and I hit the mattress repeatedly in anger. Stupid, stupid, what the fuck were you thinking?!
	I had to say something. I could feel his eyes on me. Was it shitty of me to lament that I could remember that I had kissed him but couldn’t remember what it felt like? Yes. Yes, there was no way in which that was not shitty.
	“You must hate me. I’m sorry for my behavior. That was inexcusable.” …well, it was a start, anyway? I was hungover, so I hoped Stephen would be understanding ‘bout that at the moment.
	“You’re right: it was inexcusable. But you’re also wrong: I don’t hate you.” I took my arm away to blink blearily at him. I wasn’t entirely sure he was real now. “I accept your apology. Now D’Invia is making lunch and she says you’re required to at least come down and have some toast.”