You know what the worst part of waking up and remembering that you'd kissed the daylights out of an extremely charming masked man whose identity remained a mystery to you is? The realisation that because your life is weird and puts you into crazy situations, there was basically nobody you could really talk to about it.

Grace was the biggest temptation since she'd already twigged on a little, but I'd have to do a lot more explaining and I didn't think I could do that yet.

Lexa knew nothing, and it was best it stayed that way, as much as it pained me. The only girlfriend who knew about him and me spending time together was Gaia, and we weren't that close.

Besides, the less the other Supers knew about something like this, the better; not only was there a lot at stake with Morgan on the prowl, but I would never forget the humiliation of Cobalt and Shadow.

Neither Seb nor I would want to discuss the gory details with each other.

All in all though, I felt little regret for what I'd done. I had no idea where it would take me, but it was satisfying to think that I'd taken back a little power for myself. My brain muttered sullenly now and then about how that might be the grown up version of dating the guy your parents hated to rebel, but I mostly ignored this.

Besides, if I didn't know who he was, how could my parents hate him, right?

Sure.

I'd told him last night that I didn't care in that moment who he was, and it was true, but we'd both known it wouldn't last. How could I not wonder? I was obviously drawn to something about him, and he had a very attractive lower face, but even his eyes weren't really him. Would he still be the same person when the mask and the kit were gone?

He hadn't exactly admitted it, but it'd been pretty clear to me that he knew me outside of being Enigma. When I thought back to our first meeting, I realised how amused he'd seemed when I told him he knew nothing about me. Had I already met him, even then?

That's when it really sank in for me that last night, I'd kissed not just a masked man, but one of the men I knew in my 'other,' day to day life.

It was somehow both an uncomfortable and an exhilarating feeling all at once.

Part of me begged myself to keep it an exciting mystery, because the truth was too uncertain; too scary; too real, but the other half was already whirring through the possibilities. After all, wasn't it a little unfair that whoever he was, he knew so much about all the parts of my life I kept secret, while I didn't even know his name?

At least, I didn't know it yet.

The thing was, I didn't have that wide a circle of male acquaintances, and it seemed to me that he knew me more than just in passing.

Oh god, please don't let it be Grant, I thought with a bolt of panic, before feeling a little guilty.

Poor Grant. It wasn't that he was unattractive, he was just not at all my type. Luckily, I had a pretty good idea that the feeling was mutual.

Plus, Enigma had read my books and I know that Grant would probably rather poke his own eyes out than do that.

Admittedly, I didn't really know who else might have actually read them. They all knew I was a writer, so he must have been amused when I told him about that thinking he wasn't aware.

I sat up and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to force some space into my cluttered head. Ruminating about it in bed all day wouldn't be very productive, and it would probably drive me mad.

A run was probably what I needed. Maybe that would rattle out some of the clutter.

Oozing out of bed with a long, catlike stretch, I shrugged into some running shorts and a sleeveless athletic top. One of the annoying things about running in warm weather was that it was really hard to figure out what to do with any stuff you brought. I had one of those armbands to strap my phone into for music, but I couldn't stand the feeling of anything else jangling around. Luckily, with a front doorman and the ability to unlock something with my mind, I didn't need to worry about taking a key. Forget battling Villains; it's all about the little things.

I took it slow at first, letting myself ease into a nice comfortable jog. As I entered the nearby park, I started to ramp it up, focussing on the feelings of my feet hitting the path, the breeze kissing my sweaty skin, and the music flowing in through my earphones. My mind started to relax, enjoying all of the sensations, when suddenly a hand on my shoulder scared the bejeesus out of me. I probably looked like a startled bird as I jumped, flapping my hands to steady myself.

When I whirled around I saw Jackson looking apologetic but clearly trying not to laugh.

"Hey, Kenna," he managed. "Sorry if I snuck up on you. I saw you running and thought I'd come say hi. You are very fast, by the way."

I didn't need to ask what he was doing there; he was also dressed in running gear, including a very tight athletic t-shirt that made it clear he spent a lot of time at the gym. "Clearly my music's too loud," I joked. "Actually, I was so zoned out. It's nice to have some company now."

"Do you mind if I come this way with you? Where were you headed?" He hovered politely, stretching his legs.

"Just for a loop around the pond. You're welcome to join." Absentmindedly, I rubbed the spot on my shoulder where his hand had been and realised I'd felt that little hum of deep seated energy again. I flicked a curious look at him while his head was turned.

He turned back, smiling at me, and I schooled my face. "I'd love to."

As it turned out, he had no problem keeping up with me, though of course I wasn't running full tilt. Eventually we slowed all the way and ended up walking side by side once we'd come round to the other side of the pond.

Despite the underlying thread of tension I'd been feeling around him lately, he was pretty easy to talk to, and I found myself laughing at some of the stories he told about his family. They sounded like a stuffy bunch, except for his brother, who seemed to be a prolific prankster despite his boring sounding finance job.

"One time," Jackson suppressed a laugh, amber eyes glowing with an odd light, "he started stealing garden gnomes from around the neighbourhood and putting them in our gardens to see if our parents would notice. They didn't, until the gardener asked my mother about it one day. He seemed surprised that she'd suddenly acquired a taste for gnomes, and for decorating the garden herself. Of course she hadn't done either and called Tom in for a rather fierce interrogation. She was even less pleased when she discovered the ransom notes he'd been making to send to the rightful owners, complete with non-incriminating photos. He had to go give every one of them back and apologise. I went with him just so I could laugh after every house. What an idiot."

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye, trying to contain my own laughter. "Sounds like he kept things interesting, anyway."

"The real irony is that he settled down into a job and a life that made them both very happy, whereas I'm the problem now," he said mildly but I couldn't miss the hint of bitterness underneath.

"Well, that's not your fault," I sympathised. "It's not your problem either, frankly. Sorry if that sounds harsh."

"No, I get it," he answered, looking down. "Can we talk about something else now?" He asked with a small smile.

"Alright. How about some banal personality questions? Like ... what's your favourite colour?" I put on my best overly cheerful TV presenter face.

He thought about it for a moment. "I'm going to say green. And you?"

"Purple."

"Big surprise there," he grinned, flicking my lavender tipped ponytail with one finger.

"That was Grace's idea, actually," I felt a little bashful.

"Well, we both know she's got lots of good ideas," he laughed.

"Some are better than others," I joked. "She instigated a bring your pet to work day a couple of years ago, but forgot exactly how broad the term "pet" could be. Let's just say that boa constrictors are surprisingly wily, should they escape in an office building. Thank goodness nobody brought in any snack sized pets, but poor Carol in HR will probably never look at her cubicle without a hint of terror again."

He let out what I can only describe as a cackle. "I'm so bringing that up next time I see her."

I looked at him in panic. "Don't you dare. Between her and me you'll wish you were staring down a boa constrictor."

Shrugging, he said, "I like snakes, actually. There's something cold and magnificent about them. Humans and snakes have such a long and complicated history. So bring it on, Serpent." I'd never heard a hint of a teasing challenge in his voice before. He'd been a bit bold, asking me out and all, but had otherwise generally been polite almost to a fault.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't tell me you'd like to introduce me to your pet "Fluffy," or something." As irrational as it was perhaps, I did not like snakes.

"Well, yes, but he's a fish," he said with a completely serious face.

"Not a piranha, is he?" I asked suspiciously.

"Goldfish," he admitted. "And his name is Fish."

I stared at him incredulously.

"Ugh, this always happens. I got him in law school as a joke with my roommate. We were pretty drunk when we named him and we thought it was hilarious. When I left I brought him with me," he explained defensively, even though I'd not said a word.

"Okay, okay," I threw my hands up in surrender, "he's a fish named Fish, I won't say anything!"

"I promise I have better imagination than that," he added, and his tone turned distinctly flirty.

"I'm sure I believe you," I answered carefully, not sure how I wanted to feel about it.

"So, can I interest you in grabbing a coffee?" he pressed, his attractive face melding into a puppy dog look.

"I didn't bring my wallet," I said apologetically, feeling torn about those boundaries I'd tried to set.

"Well, luckily for me I always bring my wallet just in case I run into pretty girls on my runs." He fished it out of his zippered pocket and brandished it with a grin.

It was a cheesy line, and there was no way he didn't know it. I let him have a slightly sarcastic laugh. "So lucky."

"I'm serious, Kenna. Will you let me buy you coffee?"

I danced lightly from foot to foot, considering it. Coffee after bumping into one another on a run was a whole different ball game than a deliberate dinner date. And he really was very good looking, which gave him an unfair advantage with my shallow ego.

"Yes, okay," I relented. "But don't make me regret it with any more of those corny pickups."

"Well, it worked," he said slyly.

"That there is exactly what I'm talking about," I glared. "You're on two strikes now, mister."

The vanilla latte I sipped appreciatively about twenty minutes later was a pretty good peace offering, I had to admit. I savoured the sweet, syrupy flavour like the coffee pleb I was; when I'd ordered that shot of vanilla, the barista had looked so pained that it'd been hard to suppress a giggle.

"You know, you're going to lose your credibility here having me around," I teased, glancing at the Americano that Jackson was drinking without even any milk to mellow it out. It'd earned him an approving nod from the arbiter of coffee snobbery behind the counter.

"I like being the bad boy," he shrugged.

"He probably drinks iced mochas in the back room where no one can see anyway," I tapped my nose conspiratorially.

Jackson turned to look. "No," he said, facing me again, "but she does." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the female barista who neither of us had spoken to.

"Do you say that because she's a girl?" I asked accusingly.

"I say that because I've seen her do it," he retorted triumphantly.

"You've been in the back room then?" I pressed, not to be defeated entirely.

"She takes her breaks at the window bench," he answered dryly.

"Oh, that must just grind Lord Espresso's gears. You must be here a lot, presumably wearing out your wallet on all those pretty girls you meet on your runs?" I peered at him innocently over the rim of my cup.

"That would be telling," he evaded charmingly.

"Right." I laughed.

"So, I heard that your brother won his events at a swim competition a couple of weeks ago? That's pretty awesome. Does he do a lot of those?" He changed the subject with seemingly genuine interest.

"A fair amount. He's always been a top swimmer," I said proudly.

"I was on the swim team in high school, but I lacked the drive to be competitive, as my father would tell you," he smiled wryly. "It's still something I enjoy watching though; reminds me of all the excitement of the meets and the feeling of being in the water."

"Actually, he's in another meet early this afternoon. I have to go home and get ready to head over there pretty soon, but if you want you could come and meet us there to watch? It's regionals, so should be good entertainment, though I always spend half the time peering through my fingers." His face had looked so earnest that I couldn't help but invite him.

"Um, well, if you think he and your friends would be alright with that?" He was a little shy, suddenly.

I smiled reassuringly. "It's an open audience and, I promise you, Seb is always happy to have more people there to cheer him on."

That made him smile too. "Sure, I'd love to. What time should I be there?"

"It starts at one so we can meet outside the sports centre at about quarter to?"

Checking his watch first, he nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Great, see you then. I'd better take off or I'll be late. Thanks for the coffee," I grinned, brandishing my empty mug.

"You are very welcome. Here, I'll take that back for you," he offered, stretching his hand out. As I put the mug into his palm, his fingers brushed against mine and I felt the jolt of buzzing energy in him again.

I tried not to stare at him, but I did look up quickly to see if he'd noticed anything. If he did, his face gave nothing away.

"Thanks. See you soon," I waved, and headed out of the shop towards home, brain starting to whir.

So much for my relaxing run to make me stop thinking about Enigma. I remembered how I had once briefly wondered about Tristan right after I'd met the new Super, and it was true that he seemed to conveniently disappear at all the right times, but now I couldn't help but bring Jackson into the mix.

He'd read my books; this was an obvious fact that we discussed frequently, and he was new to town. There was something different about his energy field, though I couldn't honestly say whether Enigma felt the same. I was often distracted by other things around him, to be fair.

It all tied together quite nicely, though I wasn't sure how I felt about the idea. That was the hard part about falling for someone who could be anyone; they could be anyone. I liked Jackson, but I didn't know him that well. Could he really be the sweet, sarcastic charmer behind the mask?

I guess I'd find out eventually.

:

Okay all my ah-mazing people, I'm ready to hear your theories!

Lay 'em on me: who's behind the mask?

Who do you hope it's not? (Poor Grant)