Salvatore fixed Hillary's face as she smiled and kissed his lips again. She leaned against him for a while, her breath still uneven, and then she pulled away and lay back on the bed. Salvatore followed her movement, lying on his side to keep the contact with her soft brown skin. This was what he had always dreamed of, he thought, as he lay his head on her breast. He could hear her heart still beating fast.

"I had no idea..." she whispered, evidently unwilling to say any more.

Salvatore wondered what she had no idea about. She had seemed so surprised when he made love to her, as if what he was doing was something new. But she was a married woman; surely she knew more about these things than he did. It wasn't as if he'd tried to do anything imaginative -- he was too afraid he'd end up doing something silly, like falling off the bed or banging his head on the headboard. He grinned silently, rubbing his cheek against her soft skin.

"You'd better go," she said and he knew that was true. Her husband and her children would be back soon. Not very soon, though, Salvatore realised as he mentally calculated the time elapsed since he and Hilly had come into the bedroom. Without looking at a clock, he knew the Devers would be back in about 46 minutes; there were times when his Psychon brain came in handy.

"We still have nearly an hour," he told her. She didn't answer.

Poor Hilly, he thought as his mind dwelled on her family. He'd met them all when he came to their flat that evening. Her husband Josh barely looked at her; he said when he'd be back and that the "little ones" would have to go to bed straight away, as if he was ordering Hilly to make sure everything was in order when he came home. Then Hilly said goodbye to her children, but she didn't try to kiss them, she only said "score a lot of goals, darling," to the eldest. Hilloushka rolled her eyes and shook her head; "Aw, Mama, you know I'm a defender!" she drawled, with her father's accent and his disdain written clear on her little sallow features. The younger one mimicked her older sister as the father ushered them out of the apartment.

Salvatore felt sorry for Hilly and wondered how she had placed herself in this situation. There must have been a time when her children were babies and loved her as children always love their mother. There must have been a reason why her husband had married her. Even in these days of virtually compulsory marriage, they must have both had a choice, so why had they chosen each other? How had things turned so sour?

Hilly was very quiet; after a while, Salvatore lifted his head and turned his face towards her, still keeping his cheek on her breast. She was looking down at him, her expression serious, though she half-smiled when she caught his eye.

"What do you see in me, Sal?"

"I love you," he said simply, though he knew that might frighten her.

Hilly frowned. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Well, you'd better believe it, because it's true," he told her, annoyed at her reaction. He lowered his eyes, momentarily concentrating his attention on a dark mole that grew on her chest. Maybe she didn't believe him because she didn't think anyone could love her. Her husband visibly didn't.

"You're beautiful in a unique way that no other woman I've ever met can equal," he said passionately. "I've been thinking about you ever since we first met. You looked at me and you looked so sad. It was as if I was looking into a reflection of my own soul and I wanted so hard to make you happy. I thought that if we could become close, we could fight our sadness together and be happy. I've drawn you, you know; nothing really extravagant, but little sketches to get you off my mind. I'll have to show them to you; you'll see how beautiful you really are."

Hilly smiled and didn't seem to know what to say for a moment. "You're very passionate for a fifteen-year-old," she said finally. "You won't be so enthusiastic when you're my age."

"Your age," repeated Salvatore dubiously. "Oh, so you're twenty-three and you're old?"

"I feel old," she said seriously, turning away from him and pulling the covers over her. "I've seen life and I've seen death; I work hard. I don't have time for passion. I'm too old."

"Oh, come on." Salvatore sat up in the bed. "There's always time for passion! I'm never going to grow old in that sense and let things get me down." He was aware this was a naive view, but he felt so happy, so elated by his experience with her that he couldn't imagine ever being unhappy again.

Hilly remained prone under the covers, her back still turned to him. "You haven't seen what life is really like. I've lost two children. You don't know what it's like to feel death up close."

Salvatore felt his heart skip a beat, the blood seeming to drain from his face and then return there like a hot flush. He couldn't assimilate the information about her loss; it was drowned out by the rage he felt at her false accusation.

"Don't accuse me of things you know nothing about," he said, his teeth clenched and his heart thumping in his ears. "Do you know how my father died? Do you? He had a stroke. One minute he was talking to us, and then he stared at me as if something had been switched off. He fell over and we rushed to his side. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, but he was still alive, looking at us, looking at me, as if he was asking what was happening to him, why his brain couldn't control his body anymore. And then, nothing. His face relaxed and there was nothing there..."

Salvatore wished he hadn't said anything. All the elation was gone, leaving nothing but the oppressive weight of his condition. Lying in Hilly's arms, he had seen himself momentarily as a man, strong enough to overcome the hardships that life throws at its unsuspecting victims. But he now remembered that he was only a little boy alone on Alpha, far from his mother and even further from the father who was supposed to teach him how to deal with all this.

He didn't cry -- "big boys don't cry" his father used to say, laughing because it was some kind of joke, words from a song he used to play about a man pretending he wasn't in love with a woman. Salvatore just stared into space until he felt Hilly's skin against his and looked down to see her dark brown arms snake around his skinny white chest.

"I'm sorry I upset you," she said. "I didn't know."

He took a deep breath and realised it wasn't fair to burden her with his own problems. "I'm sorry too. I tend to get emotional about my father."

"I can see why." Hilly kissed his cheek, probably aiming for one of the brown streaks.

Salvatore felt he should return some of her concern. "I didn't know you lost two children. I wouldn't have thought you'd have had the time."

She seemed to think that was funny. "Oh, I've had plenty of time. I'm twenty-three and I've had more life than some of the original Alphans." Her expression sobered as she continued. "They weren't normal, so they had to go. It's supposed to be something to do with Josh's mother, because she was very affected by some kind of Lambda radiation years ago. It affected Commander Koenig as well, and another couple of people whose children might have problems too. It's the legacy of the original Alphans' life in space."

"That must have been the same thing that made her try to kill my parents," said Salvatore thoughtfully. Hilly looked puzzled, so he explained. "Some kind of space gizmo addled Carolyn Devers' brains and she tried to murder my parents. She made my mother turn into a worm and put a box on her, then she forced my father to lie on the floor and watch while Maya suffocated. My father said it was one of the most terrifying experiences in his life. Fortunately, Commander Koenig saved them and then Carolyn went cuckoo, and forgot all about it."

Hilly was silent for a moment. "I wasn't aware that my mother-in-law had gone cuckoo. Maybe it explains a few things," she added, her brown eyes pleating into an expression of guilty amusement.

"Well, there you go," said Salvatore with a grin. "You learn something every day."

He paused and then glanced around to see where he had left his clothes. "I suppose I should be going," he said. He felt embarrassed at having put on such a show of emotionalism earlier and thought he would be better off leaving before he felt compelled to do it again.

"Yes," was all she said. Hilly let her arms drop from around him as he scrambled off the bed.

He struggled with his underwear and then slipped on his trousers. Glancing at Hilly, he found that she was watching him. Her expression was unreadable, her features too dark to make out in the dim light. He wondered what was on her mind; maybe she was feeling guilty about her husband, or maybe she was noticing how young Salvatore was, maybe she was thinking she didn't want to do this again. He felt his heart sink; she was a grown, professional woman. What could she see in a little boy like him?

"Are you going back to your quarters?" she asked finally, a stupid question really because there was nowhere else for him to go.

Salvatore nodded silently and then lowered his eyes, hesitating before he spoke. "Do you feel bad about what we've done?"

"Of course I do." It was Hilly's turn to nod. "Good girls don't do this sort of thing."

"Then you don't have to be a good girl," said Salvatore brightly. "It's a well-known fact that they don't have any fun!"

Large pale teeth appeared in Hilly's dark face as she smiled. "Maybe you're right. I don't have much fun."

Salvatore grinned, more comfortable now that the conversation had drifted onto different ground. "Oh, I'm sure I can change that!"

"I know that," said Hilly, looking away. She seemed sad again, her heavy lids drooping on her eyes.

He sat down on the bed and leaned over to be close to her. "Do you want me to stay and help you clear up? You know, if you like, you don't have to be bad. We can tell your husband and then he'll divorce you and you won't feel bad if you sleep with me. I know I'm young, but I do love you, I really do, Hilly. I want to do anything to make you happy!"

Hilly looked at him uncertainly for a moment and then shook her head. "Go away, Sal."

"Okay." He stood up reluctantly and put the rest of his clothes on. "I'll see you later, cioccolatina."

The nickname seemed to please her so he promised himself to use it again some day.