Robert sighed, placing his hand on the small palmpad and waiting as the door slid open. The sight that caught his eyes made him catch his breath, quiet happiness and old guilt mixing to make his heart beat oddly as he took a few tentative steps inside the room. His head tilted slightly, grey-streaked auburn hair falling across his forehead as he approached her bedside, staring down with muted emerald eyes at his little daughter, curled fast asleep in her bunk.

Not so little anymore. Even in her sleep, her muscles held that slight poise, a remnant of pouncing readiness. She must have refined that to an art while at Charybdis; he knew the horrors of that place, and was infinitely proud and terrified to think that she had survived there for eight years. What she had done to stay alive was none of his business, but as he watched her stir in her sleep, long lashes fluttering as her eyes flicked open, he felt an irrational urge to protect her again.

Her hazy serpentine-gold eyes slowly focused on him, and he was reminded of a smaller Katera he used to watch sleep at night when she didn't know he was watching. She'd been so tiny then, before the IF came, but still with that cat-like demeanor and predatory shine in her eyes. He could barely remember when she'd been a child, truly innocent little girl with no worries. His daughter hadn't had very long to live carefree... Jax took care of that by the time she turned five. And when the officer appeared at their doostep to take her to Battle School, his wife's baby girl was long gone, his own ruthless hunter in her place. He'd raised her completely, and as she smiled sleepily up at him, those sharp canines resting on her lower lip, he sighed again to himself.

"Sorry to wake you up, my Kitten." She yawned then, canines flashing as she curled then stretched languidly, fingers and toes spread as she shook her head to clear her mind. With a content purr, she moved on the bed, patting the mattress lightly. "Hiya Daddy... all done for the day?"

Robert motioned toward her injuries with a flick of his hand, the corners of his lips twitching downward as her eyes narrowed. "He did that." Katera shook her head at him, a tiny smirk appearing, and she purred huskily at him. "No, it was someone else. Mode doesn't..." her voice trailed off as her muscles relaxed, features masking, and he knew she was preparing to lie to him. No one else he knew could feign the truth with such liquid calm, and if she had been readying herself to tell the truth, she would have tensed. But he remained impassive as she continued. "Mode doesn't hurt me. Nothing I can't handle."

Kat bounded from her bunk, pacing around the room as she growled quietly to herself, sensing her father's gaze following her as she stalked, flicking her nails in and out in frustration. Finally she turned swiftly to face him, copper curls whirling around serpentine-gold eyes, and her pupils slitted as she hissed.

"You're a little late for that, father." She spat the word, throwing it back at him, and his eyes narrowed, face hardening. "It's too late to try and protect me now. Where were you when Jax hurt me the first time? I didn't see you at school when he gave me this..." Kat ran a finger along her cheek scar, scowling. "The only time you helped me when I was hurt was when you sent me to that private doctor, because I got in that knife fight. You didn't do it to save me from being arrested. You did it to save your own goddamn reputation in the IF!"

He opened his mouth to refute, anger written on his features, but her cold glare stopped him short. "I got iced and sent for psychiatric re-evaluation. You know what that bullshit was? They were already going to send me to Charybdis. All I got were questions about how you hurt me, Daddy, how you used to beat me because mom died when I was born. You think that was easy? Maybe Jax hurt me, but at least he loved me too, and I got the satisfaction of killing him. I can't kill you."

"And then what? They sent me to that hellhole of an Institute for eight fucking years. I didn't get one single letter from you, not once. For all I knew, you thought I was dead and could care less. Mode helped me, Daddy, he saved me more than once. And now he's here, with me, he's mine. And he's none of your fucking business! I can take care of it myself, I've managed to survive without your "help" and "protection" for too long, and I don't need you anymore! I am not your little girl anymore!"

With a flash he was standing, knocking the dagger from her little hands as he backhanded her across the face with his palm. She was knocked to the ground, hissing on all fours as she raised her head to look up at him, glaring affection in those cat eyes. A few curls tumbled across her face, bruises stark against her now-pale skin, and he growled down at her with hate and love.

"You ungrateful child, after all I did for you. They wouldn't have let you into Battle School if I hadn't trained you so well, if I didn't have the influence I do in the IF. They told me that your psychiatric evaluations weren't satisfactory, you were too damn unpredictable and ruthless. I raised you that way for a reason, Katera, so that you could kill that little bastard of yours before he killed you. I knew you wouldn't let me do it, not after you stole my fucking wedding ring to give to him. Oh yes, don't be so shocked, I saw him wearing it, just as I saw your new boy wearing it too. I didn't say anything, because I knew what you'd do, and you did it, you offed him just as I wanted to do. So congratulations, Kitten, for surviving on your own. I'm so damn proud."

He leaned down to grab her arm in tight fingers, hauling her to her feet as she growled menacingly at him. "Don't growl at me, little bitch. You've grown up but I'm still stronger, and your toy out there doesn't know jack shit about what you've done. Have you told him everything, or is he so in love with you that he doesn't care to know? Keep that present, because you'll need it, if I know you as well as I think I do. Things always end up the same with you, Katera. I almost feel sorry for the boy, if I didn't feel more sorry for myself for having raised you like me."

He palmed the door open and gripped the man's arm hard enough to yank him back and shove him away from Kat, who was half-crouched, expecting a blow. One of her already-bruised cheeks bore a fresh mark, and with fresh rage he launched the man half across the room to stumble into the far set of bunks before he caught himself with the same easy grace Kat employed.

She wasn't expecting Mode to enter and interfere.

He barged in, surprising her father as he grabbed his arm and shoved him away from her, knocking him against the bunks. He recovered quickly, just like she expected, but Mode had already picked up her dagger, holding it ready as he pulled her behind him, as if to shield her. Kat didn't appreciate the gesture, no matter what good Mode thought he was doing, and judging from the expression on her father's face, he didn't quite know whether to kill the boy or be impressed with his protective air for her.

Kat was not impressed.

With a swift kick to the back of Mode's knee, she frowned as he buckled awkwardly under her blow, and she had snatched the dagger from his hands before he reacted further. His angry, surprised slate eyes were focused coldly on her as she danced nimbly toward her father, twirling the blade in her fingers. It felt so good to hold it again, whirl it around with all the practiced ease she'd once possessed, back when a knife fight was her way of defending her territory. The knifeblade glinted in the light, and Kat tested the point on her fingertip, watching the tiny ooze of blood before staring at Mode.

"Don't, Mode." Her purring voice was warning enough, and she turned to smile up at Robert. "Go, Daddy. I don't want to see you either right now. Leave me alone." He slapped her lightly on the cheek, a love pat as he smirked back. So much like him, indeed. He leaned to kiss her forehead, giving Mode a last, half-approving, half-menacing glare before stalking from the barracks.

She felt weak, all of a sudden, her father's hate and love coming back as strong as Mode's, her words having brought to the light all those painful memories she sought to bury. Her shoulders trembled as she wondered how much Mode had overheard, all the secrets she'd kept hidden from him, and it was with wet green eyes that she finally looked up at him, face bruised and angry calm broken.

"Do you want it back?"

She couldn't hide it any longer. She had intended to conceal it again, keep it strapped to her leg during the day, buried in her pillow at nights, its constant weight a reminder of what she had to do. But Mode's sudden appearance had destroyed all that, and she could see the tension whirlpooling in his cloudy eyes as he looked to the dagger and back toward her.

"Do you want it back?"

Bending, he retrieved the dagger by the hilt and sat up, turning it around with the blade resting on the back of his palm, the tip just brushing the material that covered his chest as he offered her the handle. His eyes met hers again, and his free hand fell away to rest on his thigh as he forced himself to relax.

He was testing her, and maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't said that he loved her, she might have been able to kill him then. It was a big maybe, and his words saved him, his sacrificial gesture making what could be his death seem paltry and cheating. She couldn't kill him, not like this, not now. Maybe... not ever.

Just because he said he loved you. Weakling. Jax said he loved you, and did it stop you then?

Kat reached out her hand hesitantly, fingers coming to rest lightly around the dagger's hilt, sliding into the worn grooves that fit her grip perfectly, after so many years of use. Just the feel of it in her hand was balm enough, and she could feel his buried flash of relief as she lifted the knife from his hand, staring at her reflection in the shining blade. Her eyes were still tearwet and wide, muddled pools of green, and she could see the scar that traced along her cheekbone.

Do it.

With a sudden hiss she tightened her fingers around the hilt, staring up at Mode with flashing eyes. He tensed, and she smirked. But then something happened, a wave of... love? Kat wasn't sure who was surprised more, herself or him, as she threw the dagger to the floor and crawled into his lap, brushing away the blood she'd drawn from him with a ragged purr.

Losing your edge, Kat. Maybe he'll kill you first. Now wouldn't that be a surprise? Daddy might not be too happy to find out this one lives. Oooh, but wait. Now he thinks you love him... so wonderful, even when you buckle under the strain. He won't possibly think that you'll kill him now, after you passed up the perfect opportunity. He'll be unsuspecting. Now say you love him and lure him in.

He knows I was going to try. Why didn't he hurt me for even thinking about it. Either he's weak, like Jax became, or there are depths to him I don't understand yet. What am I going to do now?

She moved her gaze to rest on her dagger, laying nearby. Crawling over to it, she purred quietly to herself, picking it up to twirl it playfully between her fingers. Her favorite toy... she reached out again, grabbing the holster from her bunk, and sheathed the blade before pulling up her pantleg and restrapping the weapon around her calf. That done, she concealed it once more beneath the material of her uniform, and patted it contentedly.

Mode's no fun. I wanna find someone else to play with.

Ryan. She hadn't seen in over a day, too long and too short of a time for her. The flash of raging love and hate in his eyes intrigued her, and Kat pushed herself to her feet, stretching and shaking her hair out over her shoulders. She needed to think, and the only time her mind was truly clear enough for coldly rational thought was when she was fighting. Maybe a little tussle could clarify just what had stopped her from killing Mode when she had the chance. Love just didn't seem like a viable explanation, no matter what she wanted to believe.

The bitch wanted to kill us. You saw the dagger. You heard her father. You saw her hesitate before she tossed it. Wait until she comes back, falls asleep...

- No. -

How easy for you. You think this begins and ends with you? What about Anjel? What will happen to her?

- I... -

FUCK Anjelice. She doesn't give a shit about what happens to us, and you know it. All she wants her little Angel back to kneel at her feet, until something else happens and she gets tired of us again. Didnt take her too long last time, did it? Katera...now there's a worthwhile diversion. You don't even have to wait until she's sleeping...just knock her out, take the dagger...and then you can take your time...

- NO. -

You'd sell Anjel for the hellcat?
And let her fucking KILL us?!

Playtime had been extra fun tonight.

He sat up slowly. His head ached, and it took him a moment to focus on the form in the lower bunk across the room. When he did, he suffered another twist in his stomach and for a moment he knew he was still dreaming, that his entire trip to Command School had just been one long nightmare and he would wake any moment in his little cell at Charybdis, where he was the victim instead of the monster.

Kat was sprawled on the lower bunk, right cheek pressed to the pillow, face towards the rest of her body as she curled into a ball. Her little right hand, nails sharp, hung over the edge of the bunk. The fair skin was caked with lines of dried blood.

It took him a moment to gather the courage to move close enough to see that she was still breathing, and another few spent in silent relief before he saw what it was she was curled around. She had new bruises, more blood dried on her upper lip...and the dagger clutched tightly to her body in her left hand.

A new sort of sickness came over him, and he started to reach for her and then stopped, his fingers millimeters from her curls. He pulled his hand away, let it fall nervelessly to his side, and started to rise and turn away, and stopped again, his violent indecision preventing him from doing anything but watching her sleep, taking in the swollen ankle, the tiny smirk on her lips.

He shook his head, and the voices slowly grew fainter. A tiny exhalation escaped him as he forced himself away from her bedside, back to sit on his bunk and place a hand over his face, fingers covering half his vision as he stared at her still form through a single grey eye. Anguish made his throat close, and his eyes glimmered as he blinked back tears. Dragging his hand away from his face and through the blonde spikes, he dressed and pulled on his boots as the slate slowly came back.

It started as every normal morning. Feign sleep, open one eye to just a slit, survey for danger. There was none, and Mode's bunk was conspicuously empty as she finally opened both eyes, yawning widely to reveal flashing canines. Movement, however, brought soreness and uncomfortable pain, and she was reminded of last night's hunting.

A moment passed as she took inventory, dropping her dagger onto the floor in favor of massaging swollen fingers. Her right ankle throbbed, and she winced when she swung her legs over the side of the bed, head aching when she finally managed to sit up. Kat licked her lip experimentally, tasting her own blood, and smiled to herself.

What a fruitful night...

Clean? Mode's attentions registered long minutes later. It was as if everything had to travel a far distance to reach her, like a figure on the horizon. She could see it, but couldn't touch it, couldn't understand or comprehend it. He'd cleaned her wounds, her body, to no avail. Dirty, bloody, bruised and even her sharp sense of smell wasn't dulled enough to miss the last lingering traces of Ryan's scent.

Ryan. What had she done?

Lethargy and passivity as Mode led her into the barracks, her movements automatic and sluggish. Like a puppet, a marionette being tugged this way and that, helpless to do anything on their own. Not that she was capable of doing anything coherent or rational anyway. Her blank serpentine eyes were dim as he seated her on his bunk, her expression masked and unreadable, as if there were nothing left in her to provide spirit anymore.

But it was there; faint, flickering. An ember of the fire she'd held before. Dampened and nearly destroyed, but present, enough that she was still breathing, her heart still beating, her psyche still peeking out from inside its armor.

Consciousness slowly began to return... very slowly. Enough that she moved her head slightly to stare down at her hands, the unseeing eyes focusing somewhat. Hands. She'd been holding something... her dagger. Too uncaring to find where it'd gone, something made her raise her chin to fasten her soft, unperturbed gaze on Mode.

Mode.

Mode? Wasn't it just Ryan?

Standing, he flicked off the lights and circled the bunk. Her eyes didn't track him in the darkness, and he slipped in behind her and pulled her to him with only minor resistance. He left her dressed, didn't even bother with her boots, just fit himself against her back and brushed the curls away from her face. He left his arm tightly around her waist, but did not kiss her, just lay down behind her and closed his eyes, stroking her curls absently with his free hand. He knew no other way to comfort her. Words didn't help with the type of pain he'd seen in her eyes.

Crying now. Why was she crying? She tried to categorize everything. Not fear. Rage, always. That never left. Sadness? Only that dim, faintly sweet remembrance of the past. It didn't matter now, anyway. Love? Perhaps. Not like anything she really knew though. Not like how things were with Mode, her Mode who held her now as all that anger and hurt and bloodlust manifested itself in uncontrollable sobs that made her shake against his embrace.

The weight of the dagger strapped to her leg hardened her resolve and bloodlust a little more, giving her strength. But God in heaven, what was she to do about Ryan? The unwelcome and all too pleasant ghostly sensations of his touch made her shiver, shudder in disgust and want as she nuzzled her face into Mode's throat. Mode, the reason she'd fought instead of giving in. Her love, no matter how much she hated him. Maybe she wanted to kill the wrong person.

Ryan...

It wasn't fair that Katera should be taken from him, not so soon after he'd discovered her, but the alien light in her green-gold eyes made him feel a little short of breath. He needed proof that she was still intact, but he couldn't bring himself to question her about what had happened, and the words fell out of his mouth with a hesitance that made him wince internally.

But her words didn't come. In fact, no matter how hard she tried, it almost seemed as if she were making no effort at all. Something was keeping her from even whispering, her voice strangely absent. Odd, but realistically, what was she going to say? Yes Mode, I'm perfectly all right. The man whose brother I murdered is in love with me. Life is just wonderful.

Probably better that she couldn't say anything.

She blinked a few times, slowly, still watching him and ignoring his tight grip on her hand. Kat fought to do something, disturbed by the fear and anger in his eyes, and managed a ragged purr as she rubbed her face against him in a catlike caress.

Kat met his gaze squarely, serpentine eyes sharded with gold, locked with the swirling smoky slate of his own. She felt dead, oblivious to all the emotions she knew she should be feeling. Numb, but aching. As if her soul had been bruised and then frozen. Nothing.

Kat, I love you...

No, that wasn't what he just said. He'd asked her what happened. That was it. She shook her head slightly to clear away the last vestiges of remembered horror, and shivered just once in his embrace, the weight of his body above her almost frightening. Not that she had anything to be afraid of... it was only Mode, her boy, her love. Not Ryan. Not Jax. Not Zion.

Zion. Was she going to have to tell him about Zion? It didn't appear as if she had much choice. Mode's voice might be gentle, but the roughness and anger was there, underneath, contained. He'd been right; maybe she did need to learn how to pick her playmates better. But no... she hadn't chosen Ryan, not really. He had taken her.

So why was she feeling just a little bit guilty?

Ahh Mode. So much you don't understand, don't know, shouldn't know. But do I have any right to keep it from you? You think you have it all figured out... do I keep your innocence, or show you truly what I've done? Kat shifted a little beneath him, turning her head to the side as she averted her eyes. She didn't want him to see the pain there, but more importantly, wanted to hide the burning vengeance that flamed within her. Two enemies dead. So many more to kill...

"I went to the battleroom... just to go fly, to think." She paused, but he nodded for her to continue, his eyes still fastened on her as she paled. "Ry... he was there, and we fought, and then..." her voice trailed off, an unwilling choke stopping her. She raged at herself, fighting the irrational impulse to reveal all, but lost as she found her strength again and spoke in a rush, as if she were afraid to stop. But that did nothing to hide the cold, slightly wavery tone she possessed, and Kat looked to Mode again with fear in her eyes.

"When I killed Jax I also killed somebody else... Zion. Zion Jayde. Ryan's... brother. He knows, and he loves me for it. I couldn't escape, Mode. He... he wouldn't let me, even after we fought. I... I lost." Kat rolled over onto her stomach, burying her face into the pillow as her shoulders shook. She hadn't really wanted to tell him, but it was too late, and the flash of startled anger in his eyes had all but condemned her. Would he try to kill her now, just like Ryan had?

You fool. At your weakest, and then you go and do something ridiculous like tell him about Zion... if he kills you now, you can't blame him. Bloody little bitch, and he loves you more than you deserve...

Confirmation, beyond doubt, that she'd killed Jax, the boy he apparently resembled so closely. It didn't hit him very hard. He'd known she had done it. Stating it plainly didn't change anything...except to make it clear to him that she was baring more of herself than she had before. The words came hard to her, but she said it anyway. Zion...something of a surprise there, but the dead Jayde held no real relation to Katera, not like Jax did.

He knew about Jax, though contemplating her reasoning made him shudder. Why had she done in the Jayde? Katera was bloody, but she didn't kill for fun.

Did she?

Something broke in him, and he pulled away from her and sat up. His head hurt, throbbed, and he closed his eyes against the light above him. All the blood, all this pain, it all seemed too much to be real, and his mind discounted it wildly as completely untrue, a freakish, sick flight of fancy entirely. Any moment now he'd wake in his bunk in Hawk and this nightmare would be over.

He closed his eyes, willing it with all his being, but when he opened them, it was still the blank metal wall of the Command School barracks. He took a long, ragged breath and put his face in his hands. He'd never wanted to hurt anyone, not...not really. He'd never even been in a fight before he was transferred into Fox. Jor and Wick...they'd taken that little shred of innocence from him, made him hurt them, knock them out. He'd loved Dante with all the purity of first love, and she'd forced him to hurt her, too. What he'd done to Wick, it was her fault, she had forced his hand years ago. It just took a while for him to catch up. Dante, Katera, Rox, they'd all been the same, they all took without giving, they brought punishment on themselves...

For all he'd done, Nathan had never killed anyone.

The taste of Wick's blood was suddenly hot in his mouth, the scent of rocket fuel and burning flesh thick around him, and he turned his head to the side and spit, squeezing his eyes shut until the spell passed. The scent left slowly, but the sweet coppery taste on his tongue faded only a little.

Nathan didn't want to fight anymore. Ryan's injury to Kat demanded justice...didn't it? Or did she deserve it? He didn't want to choose. He was tired of judging. Things were too tangled, and he couldn't keep the tallies in his head anymore. He was weakening, and Kat was too fragile right now to handle the devil who was yanking at the reins. Had to do something. Things were getting dim again, as they always did when he lost, and he did the only thing he could think to do.

She has done much she deserves to suffer for...but no girl deserves that.

Those eyes were strangely silver as her own wide wet green eyes met his, and Kat wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate as she fought to press herself so close to him that he might be her strength. He cradled her against his chest, and she hid her face, curls shielding her from sight until she had her tears under control, and the last remnants of fear left her. Only resolve left now, resignment and the tired certainty that there'd never be a happy ending for her.

Kat pressed her cheek against his, her lips brushing his ear as she closed her eyes and whispered almost silently to him. "Mode... stay with me always." She needed him to give her humanity, faith in the good she might never possess, and every tender touch of his reminded her of how bloodied and dirty her soul was. But old graves remain unfound, old enemies remain dead, and the past would rise nevermore. Maybe redemption would find her someday.

Maybe not.

But she didn't. She pushed her cheek against his. He frowned a little. He had anticipated that she would be shy, sad. Hesitant. Her lips touched his ear and he tensed, frown deepening. This wasn't what he had expected, and it made him uncomfortable. He was offering comfort, not trying to take advantage of her.

"Mode... stay with me always."

He was too shocked to do anything as she settled in against him, but he recovered quickly enough, placing his hands on her shoulders and slowly pushing her away enough to look into her face as she blinked up at him in confusion. His eyes were narrowed, whiteblonde lashes framing the liquid silver, and his expression was cold and withdrawn, and when he spoke it was with the frozen purity of an iceberg.

She met his eyes, pure quicksilver cold, and hers fired to angry serpentine-gold again. Fury that she wasn't aware she could possess so soon after her breakdown appeared with frightening force, and Kat pulled away to stand before Nathan, and slapped him as hard as she could across the cheek. His head tipped to the side, and with a hiss she planted her booted foot against his chest and kicked him backward until he fell against the wall with a thud.

He paused there, savoring her beautiful face, wide green-gold eyes, slightly bared canines as her lips pulled back in a snarl...and paused as if confused, his smirk falling away and his eyebrows knitting as he blinked. The slate gave reluctant way to a tenuous smoke, and he kissed her, the hand in her hair relaxing to a gentle caress, the hand that held her wrists going lax as he trailed fingertips up her arm. His Kitten, his beautiful Kat...

Pulling away, his expression was one of weary sadness, the burden of knowing exactly what he had done, and what he would do yet. There was no way to change what he was, not in time to erase what he'd done to Wick, or Dante...or Kat.

God save me, not again, please not like before...

Trapped and helpless and all too resigned, her eyes nevertheless widened as he held her tightly, hand entangled in her curls, her wrists secured behind her back uncomfortably. She felt herself slipping away when he stopped, his smirk fading and eyes swirling to smoky thunderstorm gray. Before she could react, he dipped his head to kiss her softly, stroking her hair, fingers light and gentle on her shoulder. Fear drained and she closed her eyes to kiss him in return, seeking his touch. My love...

Love was so much simpler than he'd made it out to be.

He had to punish Ryan, but that would be the end. He wouldn't let the darkness in his head hurt anyone else. He didn't want Dante to suffer anymore. He didn't want anything to do with Jor or Wick or anyone else. He just wanted to be left alone with Kat, free of her Jayde and his shadows.

And after it was finished, after all of it was complete, if she still wanted to kill him...what of it? If she wanted him dead like her Jax, she would have it. There was no other reason for him to exist.

What bullshit. This bitch tries to end me, I end her first.

Kat sighed herself and pulled away, tilting her head up to look into his eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on her, but when he did, she couldn't help but notice the quick glance he shot behind her. Eyebrows furrowing, she turned around only to see her dagger peeking from its hidden place beneath her pillow. I don't need that, not now...

She was standing in the center of the playground that adjoined her ground school. The recreational equipment was all present; old rusty swingsets, the complex jungle gym, the faded asphalt lighter in the areas that had been washed of blood after their battles. A child's paradise, but she was no longer seven years old, her now adult figure wavering slightly on its feet as the wind blew dust around her solitary form.

Older, and tired, and waiting for something. Long minutes passed, her standing there alone. A faint bell rang, echoed louder as it was repeated, and then the doors to the school thudded open and children streamed forth. They were shrieking, laughing with the naivety of youth, something that she hadn't possessed even at that age. She was given a wide berth, eyed warily with a hint of fear. That she ignored; after all, she ruled here. And that was not what she was here for.

He appeared, glancing around the crowds for her. She saw him first, the knife instantly in her hands, and he finally spotted her, the switchblade clicking out as he dropped his center of balance and began to circle. The other students quieted immediately, forming a ring around the pair, and with a smirk at Jax, she pounced.

It was the same battle she'd fought a million times in her dreams, but this was more vivid that she ever remembered it, more painful. Jax raised his dagger for a final stab to end her life, but when she opened her eyes to watch him kill her, it was Ryan's face smiling down at her. He leaned over, kissing her savagely, and as her fingers clawed at him to escape, she came away with a bloodied and torn Jayde patch in her hands.

Zion's patch. Suddenly they were in that forest clearing, the crowds of students gone, just pine trees towering over them as Ryan still sat on her hips, keeping her pinned to the dirt. She shoved him off of her, surprised to find that he moved to sit in the grass, and as she hauled herself to her feet, two mounds in the ground caught her gaze. The patch dropped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground, and Ryan picked it up and grinned Jax's trademark shark smile while he laughed softly at her.

With a gasp she left him and ran over to the first mound, digging her fingers into the soil. It was loose, as if the grave were fresh, but the exertion ran bloody sweat down her face. Minutes, hours might have gone by, but she was unaware of anything but the feel of damp earth in her hands, the pit slowly deepening as she burrowed further toward what lay buried there.

She almost lost her nerve when the outline of a body became evident. Her shoulders began to shake, and with trembling hands, she reached out to brush the remaining dirt from the face of the still form. When the visage was revealed, her heart began to pound loudly in her ears, and she cried out in fear and grief.

It wasn't Jax buried there. It was Mode.

Voices were talking when she tore her eyes away from his pale bruised face, and she looked up out of the grave to see Gabe and Sol standing overhead-- Gabe and Sol as she knew them back in the launch, before they'd fought and she'd been shipped to Charybdis. She snarled instinctively and tried to climb out to reach them, but the walls seemed to grow higher as she attempted to scale them, and there was no escape. Gabe smiled coldly at her, and she gave up trying only to stare dumbstruck as Sol withdrew an object from behind her back and held it aloft for her to see.

The metal pipe Gabe had struck her with. Still crimson with her blood, Gabe's blood, Jax's blood. A melding reminder that for eternity, their blood would forever mix, forever be intertwined. Her eyes narrowed as she growled again, but Sol merely laughed and dropped the weapon down into the deep hole. She was still staring at it when she was hit with a cascade of dirt from above. No. Oh no, they couldn't do this! Gabe was shoveling earth slowly into the grave, and she began to look around frantically, desperately. Her back was turned to the dead Mode as she watched her own burial, when strong arms around her waist surprised her, and she screamed, only to be silenced by a hand over her mouth and a voice in her ear.

"Love you, Kitten."

Kat awoke with a gasp, trembling uncontrollably against Mode, and he stirred in his rest to mumble sleepily, nestling his body closer to hers. "Mmm... love... you... Kitten..."

Sleep was no longer an option as her eyes remained wide open, and Kat spent the last few hours before lights-on completely awake, shaking in her bed with bloodlust as she remembered the identical expressions on Gabe and Sol's faces as they smirked down at her.

Gabe and Sol.

Remember, there is still vengeance to be had...

When the lights finally flickered on, her muscles had stopped trembling, her features resolute and calm once more. But the vicious fire in her eyes burned ever brighter, even as she barely managed to crawl from the bunk and redress, strapping the dagger and its sheath securely to her calf once more.

Never, ever forget what happened to get you sent here. You cannot die now. There is still Hunter Gabriel and Rebecca Solenis to kill...

Only this time, she wasn't shaking with fear. She was shaking with excitement.

Adrenaline pulsed icy bloodlust through her veins as she lifted her head to stare ahead, serpentine eyes sharded gold and unfocused. A low, husky hum rumbled in the back of her throat, and Kat sat with a blank gaze purring to herself as an unconscious smile turned the corners of her lips. Gabe and Sol...

She closed her eyes, and images flashed behind her lids. Jax's sharksmile and her own smirk as they stood over Gabe, watching him struggle to stand. She remembered the feel of the metal pipe in her hands as she tapped it idly against her palm, and then the symphony of cracking ribs when she swung that bloodied weapon.

"Looks like we have something to play with, J-Bear... whaddya say, for old times sake?"

"Just like old times, my Kitten."

"He was gonna kill me. Let's kill him first."

"Perhaps we should be going, Kitten... I don't think Gabe wants to play anymore."

"But I wanna play. Want to be my playmate now, Sol? I promise we can be friends..."

"I said I wasn't done playing with these two..."

No, she wasn't done playing with them at all. Kat pushed herself standing, shaking out her shoulders and bounced lightly on her toes. As always, when she needed to truly think, she began to fight. A brief flash as she wished for Mode to come and spar with her, but it was quickly lost in the dance she loved, nimbly shadow boxing throughout the room. She was smiling as she fought her imaginary opponents, a quick uppercut to Gabe's jaw, a swift roundhouse to Sol's face, a hop and skip to the side with a succession of fast punches. Her mind cleared enough for scheming to begin, and it was with a predatory gleam in her cat eyes as she laughed quietly to herself at her single thought.

He wasn't attacking her, and that was almost irritating as she ducked from one side to the other, managing to land a punch to his ribs before he batted her away. Her serpentine eyes gleamed, unfocused and oddly soft as she moved in for another series of rapid blows, a few landing on Mode, but enough landing on her to make her hop away nimbly.

Yet another attack, this one rewarding her with sharp tap to the temple that made her shake her head, confused. Wait. Mode? Reality refocused just a little as her pleasant sparring euphoria bled away, and all the schemes she'd dreamt while in her fighting oblivion slowly recrystallized in the back of her mind as she stopped and glanced up into Mode's face with a hint of confusion and a hint of surprised affection.

She ignored it in favor of kisses before it finally became so irritating that she growled and tilted her head away to stare in annoyance at her desk, the red message light blinking importantly. Mode buried his face into her neck, but the constant beeping gnawed at her nerves. Kat gave him a quick peck on the lips before loosening her hold on him, sliding to the ground and pulling away with reluctance. A few steps and she was at her bedside, sitting on the edge of the bunk and pulling the desk into her lap to read its message.

Shit. It was from Gabe.

Kat--
I know you're here, and I know what you want.
Meet me in the Storage Bay and you'll have
your fight. Just you and me -- this time
we leave allies out of this. Be quick.
--Gabe

Her eyes widened and the predatory light filled her eyes again as she clicked off her desk and dropped it onto the mattress once more. A quick pat on her leg assured that the dagger was in place and secure, and then she stood, shaking the curls from her face and giving Mode a pleased, raking glance that did nothing to hide her anticipation.

Stupid Gabe. No allies perhaps... but weapons were quite another story. She had no intention of repeated their... encounter... in the launchy bathrooms. She would not be dragged into a trap; nor was she stupid enough to let him live this time. With him out of the way, Sol would be that much easier, and then life would virtually be complete. Get rid of Ryan, figure out Mode... and peace would once more be hers. A bloody peace, perhaps, and no enemies usually meant no fun. Kat shrugged it off and gave Mode a surprisingly tender kiss before patting him on the chest and stalking from the barracks.

He lounged in his bunk and ran over his homework briefly, and looked up over the edge of his desk to see that she'd left hers logged in. He briefly considered her privacy, but got to his feet shortly afterwards, his curiousity getting the best of him. What had caused her to run off so quickly, anyway? Probably some teacher's assignment she'd forgotten to deliver...but that light in her eyes coupled with the fact that he hadn't yet dealt with Ryan made him nervous.

He scanned the note and his eyes widened a little. "Oh, Kitten," he said in mock reprimand to himself, and turned and trotted out the door. He had no doubt she could handle herself...but it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on her. He could make it back to the barracks well before her.

You weakling. Remember that night you spent in your little cell, the night after you killed Jax and Zion, before they sent you to Charybdis? The stars were bright, and you stared out into space and imagined brightly Hunter Gabriel and Rebecca Solenis unconscious in the Battle School infirmary... remember how you felt then. You had purpose-- you had vengeance to enact. That is far from over. Things have only begun. Don't give yourself up now... remember how it felt to sink your dagger into his chest, to feel his hot blood over your hands? That can be yours once more. They're still alive.

Kat's eyes snapped open, and despite her inability to do anything in response as Mode laid her carefully on his bunk, her heart burned once more. Her gaze refocused sharply, and her fingers drew inward as if to make claws, thoughts of blood retribution fueling her once more. Gabe and Sol were still alive.

Not for long...

She met Mode's gaze squarely and attempted to move on the bed, forcing her flagging muscles into action, but failed. Her brief effort left her exhausted, and a growl rumbled deeply in her chest as she recognized the extent of her injuries. But she wasn't dead. That is where Sol had failed. What doesn't kill your enemy only makes them stronger...

Kill. Wait. The befuddled moment she'd held in the other quad barracks came to her, and she patted her leg again, disturbed to find her dagger missing. Shit... No. She refused to lose that-- it had taken her too much to keep that thing; unwilling kisses and deathly favors she preferred not to imagine again. Besides... if Sol had the brains to find it first, there would be irrevocable evidence.

"Mode?" Her voice was small, slurred, almost uncertain. He gave her his eyes and stared at her for a long moment before nodding shortly. "Can... can you go get my dagger? If Sol finds it, I could get in trouble..."

He let the door slide shut behind him and touched the lock to engage it, but didn't move forward to her bedside. Instead, he unzipped his jacket and removed the dagger. It was crusted with blood, and he held it gingerly by the handle with disgust as he looked back up to Katera's sleeping form. She'd actually used this on someone, trying to kill them. There had been no announcements, however; she had been unsuccessful.

Why?

He had not met this Hunter Gabriel. Perhaps he'd done something to Katera when they were in BattleSchool together. That seemed the only plausible explanation. Still, it didn't fit well with his concept of femininity, and he frowned as he finally stepped towards her bed and knelt beside it. Memory tugged at him, memory of kneeling next to another such bunk, but he ignored it and touched her arm.

A touch on her arm. Her eyes snapped open; serpentine eyes with golden fire, and Kat drew away as she noticed her dagger held in Mode's hands. So careless of her, to sleep while unarmed, so soon after he'd tried to... choke... her. Now she'd pay the price, and as those silver eyes fastened on hers, she drew a shallow breath and tensed.

Wait. Silver eyes?

She froze and stared at him, wondering, until a wave of uncertain anger washed over her. Asmodeus had saved her. Mode had left to retrieve her dagger. That Angel had come to return it. Bloody broken angel... her mind sneered. You don't want him. He knows, he understands nothing. Get your love back.

"Mode." Her voice was still slurred, and that made her even angrier. It was one thing to be injured. It was quite another to be unable to do the simplest things, like speech, like... movement. Kat attempted a crawl across her bunk and failed, trembling and utterly exhausted. This couldn't go on much longer. She needed to recover, to regain her strength, before she found herself a helpless victim. And she did not appreciate being helpless.

He re-entered a few moments later with the materials he'd stolen from the storage closet he'd scounted his first day here. Two towels, a package of six activating icepacks, and a medkit that hadn't been installed in a commander's quarters yet.

Setting these things down, he turned back to Katera and brushed her hair away from her face, a slightly teasing smile on his lips. "My favorite part." He unzipped her uniform jacket and slid a hand under her back to lift her slowly to a sitting position as he removed it. The undershirt went next, and he looped it twice around her wrists and secured her to the bunk frame. His smile was a trifle grimmer for a moment, but he suffered no other ill-effects.

Her boots, then, and the rest of her clothing followed. Mode lifted her body and slid one of the towels under her and got to work.

Visible cuts and scrapes he treated and bandaged as necessary. He put an ice pack on her ankle, another on her cheek, and disposable heating pads on the muscles she'd strained in her mad state. The multitude of bruises he couldn't do much for, but he dug through the kit and found a small packet of pain medicine, opening it and slipping twice the normal dosage in between her lips and sat back to survey his work.

But Mode was being... gentle. The second time in the past two days that he'd brought her back and fixed her up. The first time, of course, had been nothing to this extent. Different types of wounds. Kat closed her eyes against her fear and resigned herself to whatever he was going to do. Let him bandage her injuries, staunch her blood, soothe her aches and pains. Nothing helped the little stabbing pain inside her that taunted endlessly. Just couldn't win this time, could you?

She didn't even protest when he slipped some pills between her lips, just swallowed dryly and ignored the icy burning of the coldpacks, enjoyed the heat on her tense muscles. But when he stroked her cheek gently and spoke, her eyes opened once more to settle on him with a hint of uncertainty.

"Running out of lives, Kat. You'd better be more careful."

Kat tugged on her bonds as much as she was able to, and let Mode see her discomfort, breathing shallow and rasping still. "Mode, please..." God. She was weak. Under any other circumstances, any other day, she could have torn from his hasty bindings. He probably wouldn't have gotten the chance to tie her up in the first place. But... he'd saved her life, even if she hated him for the revenge she imagined stolen from her. Gabe and Sol. She was suddenly tired of all this fighting. Couldn't he just lay beside her and give more comfort than that smirk on his face?

She was still looking at him pleadingly, and he sighed and sat down at the bunk across from hers to unlace his boots and strip off his uniform jacket and undershirt. Running a hand through his whiteblonde spikes, he stood, clad only in his trousers, and walked over to her, climbing deftly in beside her on the side opposite her injured ankle. He draped his arm loosely across her, but didn't tighten it, nestled his lips against her hair, but did not kiss her.

She needed rest, and his head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat.