There was plenty of food in the little kitchen. It was necessary to keep it well-stocked; the store wasn't always open when Kat got hungry. He abandoned the idea of something healthy before he even started looking, and ended up choosing a couple of cookies and a kind of marshmallow rice bar she seemed to handle pretty well. He also got her two glasses of water - one with ice and one without - and another of chocolate milk. He loaded the tray, lifted it, and brought it back to the bedroom. He took a couple of steps into the room and then stopped.

Kat was sound asleep, the blanket half off.

Smiling ruefully, he went back to the kitchen and put everything away. He brought the water glasses back and left them on her nightstand, turned out the light, and joined her as quietly as possible. She didn't stir, and he settled in close enough to her to touch her but not too close for her to pull away if she got hot. Her breathing was light and even, and he counted the quiet exhales until he fell asleep beside her.

She was panting, not with exertion or fear but with heat. It rolled off of her in waves, hovering over her skin, and even though she blinked rapidly it felt as if it shimmered behind her eyes. Kat huffed. That was the reason she'd woken. Hadn't she told Mode to turn down the thermostat? Sweat instantly cooled on her skin as she threw off the blankets and hefted herself to her feet, but she was still too hot, and she mumbled irritably.

The tile of the bathroom floor was cool and soothing to her feet, but Kat hardly noticed. Too tired to find a glass, she turned on the sink and ducked her head to drink from the faucet.

Then it came again.

She jumped at the twist in her belly, and the sudden movement caused her to whack her face against the faucet fixture. Instantly her cheek and nose throbbed, and Kat would have been extremely sullen if she wasn't already cringing from a bigger, badder pain.

What was that?

It wasn't the baby; this was not a kick, but a stab, and it made her double over. Her head swam, and Kat gagged, overwhelmed by the sudden nausea. This... this wasn't right, and as she clung to the sink to support her weight and keep her upright, fear began to bloom.

The doctor said I'd be fine. He said the baby would be fine... they were watching me, this couldn't happen. I'm not going to die. Pain lanced through her stomach, and Kat sank to the floor, her arms wrapped around her belly so that she was unable to catch herself as she fell.

It felt as if some giant hand were wringing her insides, but she didn't have the breath to scream, and before red and black overtook her vision Kat had time for one last thought.

"Kat?"

There was no response, but he thought he heard shifting. "Katera?" he asked again, a little louder. "Is everything alright?"

Silence.

After a moment of indecision, he palmed the door open, prepared for her to yell at him for interrupting her privacy. He was not prepared for her body coiled on the floor around her huge midsection, her hair cast over her face. For an unforgivable second he just stood there, too shocked and terrified to move. Then he had a chance to process how still she was, how pale her skin was. He was on the floor next to her then. He put a hand on her arm, and it wouldn't move.

This... this was where she wanted to be, and her eyes lit up as Mode carried them inside. She squirmed excitedly, and when the baby protested the disturbance with a wail, she gurgled something unintelligible and held him up a little higher. Surely he was excited too, to go someplace like home! The response was an even louder wail when she tried to explain to the squirming mess of arms and legs that he should be happy, and finally, exasperated, Kat gave him a warning frown. "Be quiet, or I'll put you under the bed."

It was Mode's turn to look down at her with an expression she wasn't quite certain how to read, but Jacks stopped crying and focused instead on sucking noisily on her finger, and Kat grinned triumphantly.

He laid his precious bundle down on the bed and then leaned over to capture one of her long-nailed fingertips with his teeth and close his lips around it. He resisted when she tried to pull away until he'd scooped Jacks up. Jacks whimpered without anything to suck on, but Mode comforted him until he was quiet again and then laid him in the crib they'd prepared weeks ago. When it was apparent that the baby was well on his way to sleep, he went back to the bed and took Kat in his arms.

A week later, Kat took a deep breath and wailed.

Mode had left them briefly to run to the post store, but only after Kat's forceful reassurances that they would be fine and she could watch over her baby by herself for a few minutes, thank you very much. The moment he left she flopped back against her pillows, Jacks curled securely in her lap, and grinned as she tickled him.

"Wanna play, Jacks?"

At first she'd been inclined to regard him as little more than another new toy for her to play with, but as time wore on his fragility and dependency and kicking little legs had persuaded her otherwise. He had quite a temper, and she could respect that. He liked to be cuddled, and Kat could understand that, too. But as much as she adored the tiny bundle of flailing limbs that looked exactly like her, she had very little idea at all how to relate to him. At a loss to fathom child psychology, she just treated him like a small person, and it led to some very amusing times.

Times like right now, when Kat and Jacks were engaged in a wailing contest.

He squealed, and Kat did her best to screech louder. Jacks kicked and screwed up his squinchy face into a frown, and Kat imitated him. They were both just beginning to get into the spirit of the competition when the door opened and Mode rushed inside, alarmed at the commotion, and Kat stopped abruptly and stared up at him.

"What's wrong?" She blinked at his concern, and then grinned. "We're having a yelling contest. I thought I was louder but this is the second time he's beaten me." Jacks wailed, and Kat leaned down to rub her nose against his forehead and give him a finger to suck on, and he quieted immediately. She smiled at him affectionately and giggled. "Fiiiiiiiiiine, you win again. But only because Daddy came home and made me lose my concentration. Little cheater."

When he came back, Kat was still on the couch with the beginning of a pout written on her face. He sat down in one of the chairs so he could face her properly.

Frustration born of weeks of weakness, of days in bed and hours of constant supervision, it all bubbled out of her in the form of anger. All she could hear was the edge to his voice, the reproach, the mistrust, and suddenly she hated everything and everyone. Unreasoning resentment for that little thing that had made Mode angry with her brought tears to her eyes, and just like her child, Kat threw a fit.

"I hate you!" She threw her blanket to the floor and, for the first time in days, tried to stand unaided. Her legs were weak but serviceable, and in defiance Kat edged away from Mode. "I hate him, too! I'm not good for anything, so you just have him, since you're so much better at it than I am. Leave me alone!"

She slammed the bathroom door.

He loved his son. He'd loved him the moment he laid eyes on him, with all the desperate love of a man whose entire life had been in danger, and he wanted to keep him safe. He loved his wife. Her weakness during the pregnancy had made him tender. Her ordeal at its end had shaken him badly, and he wanted nothing more than to keep her comfortable and happy. Somehow these two objectives were at odds with one another, and he had no idea what to do.

He rose and went to the bathroom door and sat down with his back to it and tried to think of something to say.

Mode spent a very uncomfortable night.

When the baby cried, he got up to tend to him. When the baby went to sleep, he resumed his post. He did manage to catch a few collective hours of sleep, but when 06:00 arrived he decided he couldn't take it anymore and stood up.

What am I supposed to do? It's not that I don't trust her. Is it? She's not stupid. She could be careful if she wanted to be. Maybe she just didn't know. I can't be here all the time. I can't isolate him from her. I don't even want to. I can't raise a child by myself. He needs his mother. His shoulders slumped. I need his mother.

"Kat." He knocked on the door and said her name until he heard shifting, and then paused. "I'm going to work now," he said slowly, exhaustion making him annunciate carefully. When that got him no response, he went and checked on Jacks, and then on the supply of prepared bottles in the fridge. Kat knew how to use the bottle warmer. She'd seen him change diapers. And he could check on them from work. He wasn't technically due back at work for another week, but he couldn't think of any other way to get her to spend enough time with Jacks to see how fragile he really was. And to learn how to care for him, so he could give her the trust he knew she had to have.

I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

She loved Mode. She loved him enough to go against instinct and have a child for him, because she knew he wanted a family and because she wanted a family too, his family, and now there was Jacks. He had been all vague hopes and dreams for her, something for her to love as another part of Mode, but imagining a baby and actually having one were two very different things, and Kat hadn't learned yet how to equate the two.

She didn't know what to do. Her instincts were of another variety, the violent variety, and motherly anything was beyond her. At least, she thought it was beyond her. Mode seemed to handle it all just fine, but Kat was in constant terror of the precious little thing she'd almost died for. She felt more helpless than he did, and whenever Jacks cried Kat wanted to cry too. She wasn't meant to have a baby, something fragile like that who depended on her. Half the time she could barely take care of herself, and now she was expected to protect that tiny delicate person who always seemed about to break?

She fell asleep on the bathroom floor, cold and wishing for Mode, but feeling too fragile herself to swallow her temper and ask his forgiveness.

He left in the morning, as she stared at the door and listened to him tell her he was going away. She didn't find her voice soon enough to tell him to stop, to ask him to stay, and just when she reached for the handle she heard the outer door close. He was gone. Kat slumped against the wall and rubbed her eyes.

In his room, Jacks started to cry.

I... I don't know what to do. Mode's gone. He's the one who knows how to care for you, Jacks, not me. He's right. I'd... I'd just hurt you. She got herself up and peeked from the bathroom, but Mode was nowhere in sight, and Jacks continued to cry. Maybe he'll come back. Maybe he'll come back and make you feel better... and make me feel better, too. Right... now. I bet he's coming back right now.

He didn't.

When it became too much Kat shuffled into Jacks' room and looked down into his crib. His little face was red, and he was screaming like something hurt. Terrified, Kat hesitantly reached out to touch his stomach, and he opened his eyes long enough to see her before screaming again.

He has my eyes, and Mode's eyes, too.

She couldn't just leave him there. She tried to think. Mode always held him tightly, and he'd said something about his neck. Carefully, Kat leaned over to slide her hands beneath Jacks, and she tried to hold him the same way she'd seen Mode do it. It didn't seem to hurt him any more, but he continued to wail, and Kat cradled him against her chest and tried to soothe him.

"Shhhhhh, yelling scares mommy, too. Don't scream. Are you hurt? Are you hungry? Are you angry?" Pointless questions for a creature who could barely move, let alone speak, but Kat was out of ideas. She tried walking around, petting his little back and purring to him in an attempt to stop him from crying, and slowly he began to calm. She was absolutely astonished when the sounds ceased and he made a funny little hiccuping noise at her, and Kat beamed at him.

"Mommy's hungry. Is her little tomcat hungry too?"

Finding the bottled formula and heating it was easy enough. Holding the bottle for him wasn't too difficult, either. He acted like he hadn't eaten in days, protesting when she moved the bottle away from him once, and Kat held him and fed him and tried to sneak in food herself, when he was preoccupied with his meal.

Afterwards he set about wailing again, and Kat was confused. He wasn't hungry. She wondered if he was angry, but she doubted he knew enough to direct his anger at her. So why was he crying? She set him down on the bed and tried to figure him out, examining his little arms and legs and poking curiously at his diaper.

Eww. That was it.

It took her nearly a half hour to change that diaper. Kat wasn't the squeamish sort, but Jacks acted like it was the most godawful thing in the world, kicking his legs and wailing like a banshee. Several times she thought he was about to die, screaming bloody murder like that, and when she finally finished she waited for him to be happy again. He kept up his tirade. Kat was at a loss for what to do, and stared down at her tiny furious baby with the urge to bawl too.

Don't... don't cry. Be happy, please! I'll do anything, precious, just please stop crying... Kat crawled onto the bed beside him and laid a hand on his chest, mesmerized by the comparison. Even her small hands looked giant, and she uncurled one of his fists and peered closely at his fingers. So tiny. His toes were the same, his nose, his ears, and for the first time since he was born Kat actually looked at her baby. She crooned to him and he quieted, and she kissed him gently.

I won't ever hurt you, Jacks, I promise. I don't know much, but I'll do my best.

He fell asleep and she watched him sleep, curling herself around him protectively and laying her head down beside his. Maybe... maybe she could do this. Mode would help. Mode could tell her what to do, and she could learn to be careful. She would learn. Jacks needed her, and Kat liked to be needed. She could protect him like she tried to protect Mode, only Jacks would let her, and Kat held one of his tiny hands and closed her eyes.

He was awakened by the insistent beeping of the terminal, and he shook himself awake and looked at the screen in time to see Kat changing her first diaper.

She was appropriately disgusted, but despite her distaste he could tell she was working as delicately as humanly possible. She worked so carefully that it took her over twenty minutes to finish working, and when she was done she walked him around for a bit and then finally laid him on the bed, curled around him and sang to him. Comforted by the warmth and security of her body and worn out by his temper tantrum, he fell asleep, and he watched Kat watch him and felt at peace.

"Jacks?" She breathed, trying to look all around her, and she didn't notice Mode until he looped his arms around her waist and tugged her down beside him. "He's sleeping, like we should be."

"Oh." Relieved, Kat settled in against him and yawned, her eyelids drooping again. Sleep. It sounded wonderful, especially with Mode here again, and she buried her face into his shoulder. "'m sorry..." she murmured sleepily. "He... shouts a lot."

The floor in the living room was thin, tough carpet. It made the best noises for pushing things across. The floor in the kitchen was cold metal tile. When one placed a hand on it, part of the shiny in it got smeared and took a few seconds to grow back after the hand was removed. It was best for rolling things on and walking on in shoes. The floor in his bedroom was just like the living room, except under his bed where it was poofier. But the carpet in room where Mommy and Daddy slept was magic. It was thicker and poofiest and sometimes scooting across it on hands and knees meant one could zap things. But only sometimes.

Jacks had a red truck that had wheels that turned and a place to put things, and he was now making an extensive survey of the carpet via the driver. There had been an extended period of rolling in the kitchen, followed by slower progress on the carpet that was made satisfying by the creaking of the plastic. The driver seemed to have an overwhelming fondness for the walled edges of the carpet; the driver liked driving in a straight line, and it made for interesting turns at the corners.

The driver was feeling relaxed today and looking for something good to put in his truck. Jacks obediently followed the baseboards from the living room to the small hallway, steering away from the bathroom (the driver didn't like the rugs) and into his own room. Together they searched the edges of his dresser and under his bed and around his table and chair and back into the hallway, following the wall until the driver encountered the Poofy Carpet.

The driver had some trouble with the Poofy Carpet. The wheels were made for turning on smooth surfaces, and the carpet here was much rougher going than the other kind. Luckily, by moving slowly, they were able to inch forward and still make all four wheels turn. It was important that all four wheels turn.

When they encountered the bed the driver called for a halt and reminded Jacks that they were still minus a payload. The underneath of the bed looked inviting, a dark shadowy parking lot, and Jacks and the driver slid under it. After obtaining permission, Jacks turned onto his back and lifted the truck to inspect its wheels, verifying by hand that all four of them would turn. This weighty task attended to, he started to turn over when he saw something black sticking out of the metal slat frame above him, near the edge of the bed.

He set down his truck carefully and lay back down so he could poke at it. It was black and stiff, but not like wood. He tugged at it. Nothing happened. He tugged harder, as hard as he could, and it moved a little. Now he could see more of it, and it was easier for him to pull at. He continued to work at it, and by the time he'd made some real progress his hands were sore, but he felt it was worth it. Enough of it extended now to grab it with both hands, and when it finally came free he almost hit his knuckles. It was all covered in that black hard cloth, and the little bit of it he could see was shiny. There were moving parts on it, and Jacks decided this needed to be examined in a less confining location to be appreciated.

The driver agreed that this was an excellent choice, and so he balanced it carefully on the back of the truck (as it was far too large to put into the bed) and drove it back across the Poofy Carpet with great difficulty and hazard to both driver and cargo, but they made it to the hallway and into the living room, where Jacks unloaded the find and began to work the fastenings.

Then Daddy came in from the kitchen, and things happened very fast.

The first was that the new black thing was gone, and that made him want to cry. He wanted to see if more of it was shiny. The second thing, however, was that Daddy lifted him up, and Jacks liked that well enough to forego his crying. Daddy carried him to his room and Jacks thought perhaps he would give him back the new toy, but instead Daddy wanted to play a game with his hands. He tugged on Jack's hands, and Jacks giggled and tugged back, and then Daddy set him on the floor and left, shutting the door behind him and leaving Jacks quite alone.

She stepped in the door, kicked off her shoes, and looked to Mode, who was sitting on the couch apparently waiting for her to return. It was nice to come home to see him, and she smiled, brightly, bounding over to pounce and give him a kiss when she noticed what he was holding in his lap.

A dagger.

What are you doing with a...?

She stopped abruptly, mid-stride, and looked more closely. It wasn't a dagger; it was her dagger. Confusion and something close to wariness made her pause, and she clenched her nails into the palms of her hands.

Mode never touched her one weapon, and Kat preferred it that way. She hadn't even been aware that he'd known where she'd hidden it; in fact, if Kat wasn't so paranoid, she might have forgotten where it was herself. It had been months, maybe years, even, since she'd last laid hands on the thing, and to see it in the hands of her love instead was something akin to frightening.

"I hadn't seen you with it in so long," he said softly, looking down at the weapon so he wouldn't have to look at her face. She had no right to be afraid.

"I thought you'd put it away. Locked it up." He slid his fingers down the smooth leather of the sheath. "I didn't really think you'd get rid of it - " his face flickered and then reset itself into the same cold, angry lines as before, the disturbance passing from his features to his voice. "I would never have asked you to get rid of it," he whispered. I would never ask you for that kind of trust. I made you promise never to give me that kind of trust.

He tightened his grip on the blade through the sheath, felt the edges begin to press through the leather. His focus returned, and he looked up at her.

"Where did you hide it, Kat? Were you hiding it from me?" He remembered how small his son's hands had looked on the handle, how industriously he'd been working to free the blade, and cold rushed through him. He didn't step forward, wouldn't, but the pressure was too great to contain completely, and he lost his composure.

I... I did. I hid it, so that you wouldn't ever look at me again with fear, like the last time I held it to your throat. It wasn't for you. It hasn't been since I lost you, all those years ago.

His hand tightened around the sheath, and Kat wavered on her feet.

It was only supposed to be for everyone else.

"Where did you hide it, Kat? Were you hiding it from me?" He looked up at her, anger like a storm in his grey eyes, and her own widened. She hadn't seen him furious, truly furious, since the days of Asmodeus, and even then it was cold, contained. Fury not like her own. It hissed in his voice now, made her take a step back, before it broke through and for the first time Mode raised his voice.

"Because I wasn't the one who found it!"

"What do you me--" she began, the words spoken just as realization hit her, and she paled, the blood draining from her face so fast it made her sway. She knew what he meant.

Jacks. My... my baby...

Relief didn't have time to manifest itself; it would come later, when she was far enough way to go over this moment objectively. For now she couldn't let herself get closer to the thought, and so shame filled her, shame and anger and hate, for after risking so much for her son it was she all along who put him in harm's way.

You weren't supposed to find it. I didn't want anyone to find it. It was going to be a secret, just in case...

"I know, I know, I know," Kat whispered over again, and it was her turn to look down and avoid Mode's gaze. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands and tried not to do more, tried not to hurt anyone else, and her voice filmed over. "It was under our bed," she managed dully, "in the slats. I put it there three years ago. I... I didn't forget it was there, but... but I didn't think of it."

I didn't think he'd find it like I always found it.

"I'm sorry." She raised her head enough to look at her dagger in his hands. "You... you get rid of it now."

And the moment she said it, she meant it.

She still stood between him and the door, and he paused as he passed her. She was still looking down at the dagger, and he tucked it through his belt. He felt worn out. There was a sound from down the hall, like something small and hard hitting the door, and he sighed. "He's probably hungry," he said wearily. "I didn't feed him." That simple statement brought the rest of the afternoon back into the immediate spotlight, and his face hardened again. He was too frustrated to forgive her and too much in love with her to continue to berate her, and rationality made a play for his attention and won. He decided he needed time to calm down and he needed to get rid of the dagger.

Shuffling in the other room finally drew her attention away from her own misery to another, and Kat crawled over to Jacks' door and unlocked it, opened it. A little face peered out at her, and Kat tried to smile, but instead managed only to pull him to her and bury her face in his little blond curls.

"Hi, tomcat," she purred weakly to him, and she was beginning to feel better until he gave her a kiss. It was too much. Kat started to cry again.

He stared at the door and listened very carefully for several seconds, but there was no immediate reprisal, and after gnawing on his shuttle's wing to make himself feel better he sat down on the floor and tried to pull up the canopy so he could get a closer look at the man inside. He had been thus engaged for a while when he heard footsteps in the hallway and crawled to the door to see who it was.

The door rattled slightly and went still, and then it slid open. He peeked around and saw Mommy sitting on the floor, so he sat on the floor too, but she picked him up and set him in her lap and hugged him, so he hugged her back. She sniffed his hair, so he sniffed her hair. Mommy's hair smelled the best. She made her rumbly noise and he laid his head on her shoulder so he could hear it better.

After a while it stopped, and he picked his head up and kissed her cheek, hoping she'd rumble some more, but she blinked at him and burst into tears instead.

Jacks was shocked. Mommies weren't supposed to cry. If Mommy was crying, then he wanted to cry too. He felt his face starting to squinch but he tried to smooth it out, and when Mommy pulled him close and hugged him tightly he hugged back and patted the great mass of red curls with one arm. She didn't seem like she was going to let go any time soon, and after a while he felt wriggly, but something told him he shouldn't wriggle right now. He wanted to make her feel better, partly because he wanted to get free and mostly because she wasn't supposed to cry, but she was hugging him too tightly for him to kiss her again, so he laid his head on her shoulder again and did what she did to make him feel better when he was sad or angry. He tried to make rumbly noises.

How could I have been so careless with you, precious?

It was a question she didn't have an answer for, but it mattered less and less the longer she cuddled Jacks. She had been careless before, but she wouldn't be careless after, and he wouldn't ever find something like that again. He wouldn't ever be like her.

A little hand played with her curls, and then a little head layed itself on her shoulder, and Kat sighed and hugged him just a bit tighter. She was feeling better, almost ready to let him go, when he began making funny gurgling noises, and she pulled back and stared down at him in surprise as he grinned up at her.

"What're you doing, silly?" He giggled and began to make the noises again, and Kat examined him closely with a very curious expression on her face before she realized what he was trying to do.

He was trying to purr.

Delighted, Kat laughed and rubbed her nose against his, purring loudly to him, and he clapped his hands and did his best imitation, which most involved a lot of gurgling and a lot of spitting. They gurgled and growled at one another until Kat couldn't stand it any longer and swept him up in her arms, kissed him all over until he squealed, and then swung him up onto her back and marched them into the kitchen.

"Tomcat hungry?" Jacks nodded, and Kat began rooting around through the cupboards, ignoring anything healthy and searching for the cookies. Mode tended to hide them, both from Jacks and from herself, so it took them some time, but the cabinets were small and Kat and Jacks very, very persistent.

There was no answer to his soft query, and when he peeked into the bedroom he saw why.

His wife and son were both fast asleep, Kat curled around Jacks with her arms around him protectively. An empty plastic bag that had once contained chocolate chip cookies lay abandoned on the nightstand, and he smiled faintly and picked it up. There was chocolate at the corners of his mouth, and on closer inspection, hers as well. Whatever the difference in their problems, Kat and Jacks had the same sort of comfort food.

They both fell asleep soon after, exhausted from their overindulgence. Kat curled around her son, and he licked the chocolate from her fingers before falling asleep; she purred to him raggedly and wished Mode was there to cuddle them, but Jacks quiet breathing soon lulled her past consciousness, and it felt like hours later when something brushed her cheek.

"Mrrrrrrrrrrr," she managed, turning over with Jacks still locked in her arms. He stirred, and Kat yawned widely, licking the corners of her lips before opening her eyes. Mode was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she smiled wanly at him, trying to ignore a very large chunk of cookie that was pressed between her cheek and the pillow.

He pried his cookie-covered son away from his wife and looked at the mess and was trying very hard to keep a serious face when Jacks started making a weird gurgling spitting noise. Chocolatey spit landed on his cheek, and he flinched and squinted so he could look at his son doubtfully. The gurgling stopped and Jacks beamed at him with a look that expected high praise, and when he looked at Kat quizzically she had the same expression, and he started to get a little nervous. He was obviously supposed to express pleasure, but he didn't know what for.

"Gimme," she demanded and held out her arms, and Jacks held out his arms and wiggled more until Mode relented. She set him in her lap and began purring to him, and he brightened and followed suit, and after growling and giggling they both turned and looked up to Mode proudly.

After laughing at them Daddy tickled them, and Jacks laughed so hard he almost threw up the millions of cookies he ate, and then Daddy carried him upside down to the shower and got them all wet and washed the chocolate away, which Jacks counted as really unfair since he hadn't gotten to eat it. Then he got dried off and was feeling sort of sleepy until Daddy tried to put him to sleep, but he was really too sleepy to complain too much and eventually he sat down in his crib and pouted silently to himself in the dark.

She hadn't expected to, because she didn't really tolerate many people, but Mode had insisted she meet him. He was some sort of friend, and that was high praise where both of them were concerned. So she'd agreed, because Mode seemed to like him.

The first time they'd had dinner together she watched him like a hawk, waiting for him to do something she disliked so that she'd have a reason to hate him. It didn't happen. In fact, he'd even managed to make her laugh a few times, and after that, she'd given up. He dined with them again, then again, and each time Kat liked him more.

Then Mode had come up with the idea to invite Owen over to play cards, and as neither of them knew of her penchant for extremely competitive card-playing, Kat had no choice but to agree.

Mode came over and wrapped himself around her, and Jacks was busy clinging like a limpet to her leg. Owen made a face, and Jacks grinned a little shark grin, just like hers, and it was Kat's turn to arch her eyebrows. "Don't worry, boys; he'd have to pry me away from you two, first, and right now I'm losing circulation in my leg. C'mere, tomcat, and let mommy go."

She extricated herself from Mode's grasp and attempted to do the same to Jacks, who only narrowed his eyes at Owen and shook his head. "No." Kat sighed loudly. "Yes." Jacks gripped her leg tighter. "No."

She tried wheedling. "I'll give you cookies, precious."

This time the answer was a little more hesitant. "...no."

"I'll give you cookies and you can sit on my lap and help me beat Daddy and Owen in cards. Want to do that? Want to win with mommy? Cookies?"

The first was a number nine on the top and a number six on the bottom, and it had a picture of a diamond in the middle. Jacks didn't know why they called that a diamond; he'd seen pictures of diamonds and rubies and emeralds in his text at school, and they all looked like colored glass rocks, and that weird double triangle did not look like a diamond, but that's what Mommy had called it when he'd asked about it before, and she had to be right, because she never kidded when she got mad, and for some reason asking about the double triangle picture made her mad.

The second was a man with a K at the top and an upside down K at the bottom, and it was black and had an upside-down heart on a stand in each corner. Then there was a two with normal red hearts on it, and then one with As and a sort of black flower in the middle, but it was the last card she had that really held his attention. It had the same black flower on it, but it also had a J, and Jacks had developed a special like for the letter J, and he really wanted to know what this J stood for. He began to fidget, and when the adults were all quiet and looking serious he decided now was as good a time as any.

It was a good idea, but a futile one.

Absorbed in trying to figure out a way to win, she didn't notice the lack of chewing coming from her inquisitive little son until his voice came small and clear from somewhere in her lap. "Mommy, what does the J mean?" She cringed and hurriedly shoved another cookie in his direction, hoping no one had noticed, but Mode and Owen took one look at eachother and burst out laughing.

"It means your mother's lost this round, Jacks, because I've got a full house. Read it and weep, Kat."

Kat threw down her cards in disgust. "Tomcat! You're not supposed to tell him what my cards are!"

Looking unperturbed, Jacks swallowed his remaining mouthful. "But I want to know what it means, Mommy."

"It means you're going to go sit in Daddy's lap and tell me what his cards are, now, and it also means that I'd better have a glass of that stuff before the next round."

Daddy grinned, and Jacks reluctantly allowed himself to be plucked from Mommy's lap and hugged before he was released. "Those are Jacks," said Daddy cheerfully. "Jacks?" asked Jacks doubtfully, studying the card Mommy had thrown onto the table. "Yes. Just like you. Here." He handed him the other colored box that was still full of cards, and Jacks set it down on the floor and then ran to the bathroom to wash his hands. Mommy wouldn't care, but he didn't want to get cookie bits on Daddy's stuff. Daddy didn't understand about cookie crumbs.

When he got back Mommy was drinking the icky tasting stuff and grimacing. Jacks wanted to know why they wanted to drink it if it didn't taste any good, but he knew intuitively that it was part of being adult that didn't make any sense to him yet and might later, like going to bed on time and cleaning his room. When Daddy had to work late, Mommy never made him do those things, but when Mommy made dinner, it was almost always cookies. Jacks liked cookies, but he always felt slightly queasy afterwards, so there had to be a reason Daddy made other stuff.

That line of thinking dragged him into the big tangle of inexplicable adulthood, and he dumped out the cards instead and dug out all the Jacks. There was one for each symbol, and he arranged and rearranged them next to the other people cards, and looked up every now and then when Mommy said something angry. He was in the middle of making up names for the rest of the people cards when Daddy leaned down and scooped him up, and it took him a few seconds to realize that they were headed for bed.

Kat was losing.

"Oh, wait, wait, don't even bother showing your cards this time. Royal flush. Damn, I'm good."

Kat didn't like losing.

"I've got a good feeling about this hand."

No, that wasn't quite right. Kat hated losing. Especially to Owen.

"Mode's bluffing," she announced blithely, making a show of smiling smugly at both the men. "You can tell when his left eyebrow tweaks in. And you don't have a good feeling about anything, Owen, because I have three aces and a pair of kings. So there." She slapped her cards down on the table with a triumphant thwack and picked up the nearly empty bottle of champagne. "And I'm going to drink this all."

"Well, if you're going to drink that, we're going to get something else. Come on, Lieutenant."

He stood up, and Owen immediately took the hint and stood with him, and together they walked the fifteen feet into the little kitchenette area. Mode opened the small refrigerator and perused the interior, and while he was facing away from Kat, he mouthed the vital message silently. Like all the IA interrogators, the lieutenant could read lips; he would have no trouble understanding the three words he needed to get across.

Let her win.

Owen raised his eyebrows in a sarcastic you must be joking look, but Mode returned it with a half-pleading half-threatening look, and the younger man's eyes widened briefly as he realized his superior officer was serious, but by the time the alternative drinks were fetched he was just as calm and cocky looking as he had been before, though he did manage a friendly reproving smile in Mode's direction before they returned to Kat's immediate scrutiny.

It was Owen's turn to deal, and his bravado wasn't lessened one whit; between his snide looks and Kat's stormy features he was beginning to fear disaster, but once the cards were dealt out a few times under Owen's direction, he started to relax. Kat started getting good cards - very good cards - and Owen was no less smarmy, but he started losing, expressing shock and disbelief the first several rounds and then slowly graduating toward rueful respect. It was a phenomenal performance, and Mode couldn't decide to be more impressed at the dealing skill or the acting accomplishment, but he decided on grateful and spent his time complimenting Kat's "growing skills".

"The only reason you were winning before is because you were cheating." Kat made a face at Owen to let him know just how she felt about his previous deviance, and then smiled loftily. "And I know you were cheating cause I always win."

She turned to look at Mode. "Right, Mode?"

"That's right, Kitten."

"Of course it's right. I said so." She laid down another winning hand and simultaneously picked up the champagne bottle, squinting a little awkwardly and trying to peer inside with one eye. "This bottle looks empty. Is it empty? You look, Owen." Kat shoved the bottle into Owen's face and gave him an imperious frown. "Well?"

He made a show of looking at it before shaking his head. "I think it's empty, Kat."

Owen was the portrait of ill-disguised sulking, and waved his hand a little too flippantly as he gathered up his cards. "No, I've got to get going anyway. I've got an early start tomorrow - got to get ahead of all the work your husband gives me," he added to Kat petulantly, and then picked up the empty champagne bottle. "Even Lieutenant Commanders have to deal with ignorant superiors."

He stood up with the bottle in hand and reappraised Kat suspiciously. "You learn fast, Kat. Next time I'm going to bring my own cards." He narrowed his eyes and smiled at her, and Mode put his arms around his wife before there could be any further conflict and kissed her cheek. "Be right back."

She let him go after a second of deliberation and he walked Owen out into the hallway. Once they were clear and the door was shut, Owen gave him the biggest, widest grin Mode had ever seen on him.

"That was the most fun I've had at cards in years," he said cheerfully, and surveyed the empty bottle. "And it only cost me 600 credits. At least she left the wrapper." Mode started to apologize, but the younger man waved it off. "It was worth it just to see the look on her face," he said in a satisfied manner, and then looked momentarily as if he wanted to ask a question, but discretion got the better of him and he just offered his hand.

"Thanks for the heads up," he said simply. "I wouldn't have figured it out in time. She looks like she knows how to handle herself."

Mode gave him a very small smile. "You could say that."

"Have fun?" He grinned at her and she attempted to grin back, but somehow the smile got confused with her coordination and she overbalanced, spilling out of her chair and landing on the floor with a thunk. Mode rushed over to see if she was okay, and Kat stared at the ceiling and did a very uncharacteristic thing.

She started to giggle.

"I... liiiiiiiike... winning," she managed to choke out between fits, laughing so hard she started to hyperventilate. Mode picked her up and tried to calm her down, but when she could finally breathe again Kat wasn't in the mood to be serious.

He tried to sit on her to make her hold still, and Kat tried her best to escape. She wanted to play more than she wanted to waste time with clothes, and after a bit of wrestling and wrangling she managed to evade his grasp and pounce. He landed on his back on the bed with a huff, and Kat grinned like the Cheshire Cat and sat on his stomach to smugly gloat over her catch.

She dug her fingernails into his back as they finished, sank her teeth into his shoulder and hissed his name, and he kissed her. He kissed her and it made her happy, so happy that she could barely kiss him back, but it didn't matter. They curled together afterwards and she lightly ran her hands along his back, across the scratches she'd made, and her eyes were heavy and falling closed when she buried her face against his chest.

"Thanks for letting me win tonight, Mode," she whispered sleepily. "I hate losing... at... cards..."

He smiled slightly, opened his eyes to drink in her lovely features and kissed the small, faded scar across her cheek.

I'll give you anything you need, Kitten. Anything you want. I love you.

"Morning, love."

"Kat!"

He affected anger at her for his rude awakening, and even though Kat wasn't fooled, she made amends for her game. Mode quickly forgave her after kisses, but she had a bigger surprise, and rolled over to sit on his stomach and pin him before grinning.

"Guess what today is?"

"What?"

She bit him to make him cooperate. "Guess!"

"...I don't know."

"We've been married seven years, two months, and four days today."

A funny look crossed his face as he tried to decipher the odd occasion, but he eventually gave up and ventured a question. "...so?"

"So Jacks is already at school and I took the whole morning off."

Mommy wasn't there. Instead, there was an old man with hungry cheeks who smiled at him and beckoned him forward.

Jacks didn't move. He looked up at Sally and then back to the man warily. Sally was smiling too, and seemed to think that everything was ok, but it wasn't. Mommy was supposed to be here today, and looking at this man in her place gave him a very bad feeling in his stomach. He made himself look up, up, past the weird un-uniform to the man's face.

The man's eyes were like Mommy's, and Jacks suddenly realized that Sally had been fooled, and that she was really going to let this man take him away.

"Jacks, this is your grandfather. Your mommy's daddy. He tells me you haven't met yet." Sally grinned down at him with a cheerfully smile, and Jacks swallowed and assimilated this information. "Your mother sent him to pick you up and bring you home so you can have dinner together."

Jacks was still looking doubtfully up at Sally when the man stepped forward and captured his hand and winked at Sally. "We'll be just fine, won't we, Jacks? Let's go see your mother." There was another fleeting glimpse of a smile from Sally and then he was tugged out into the hallway.

The man was not used to walking with shorter people; he was tugging Jacks along too quickly, and he almost had to run to keep up. He lagged behind a little more intentionally, and the man jerked his arm hard enough to hurt to bring him forward and then put a big hand on his neck, fingers digging in painfully as he was steered down the corridor. He drew in air involuntarily and pulled away reflexively; the man made a lunge to recapture him and it was more instinct than choice that made him duck out of the way and run down the corridor, back the way they had come.

There were heavy footfalls behind him, and he turned another corner and another at random. Now that the decision had been made, he knew he'd get into far more trouble if he was caught, and he skidded into the Library and darted in between the first shelves he could find.

The man had heavy breathing now, an angry breathing that made him cold with fear; to be caught now meant something bad, something Bad that he didn't want to know about. He circled around the bookcases as the man looked deeper into the Library, and when he thought it was safe he made his way back to the front and took off running down the hallway, and didn't stop until he reached his very own door. It was locked, but Jacks knew the override code, and he slipped inside and locked it back and ran into his parents' room.

"...Mommy..."

His voice was wheezy and weak for lack of breath, and it wasn't very loud, so he waited a few moments and then tried again, near tears.

"...Mommy?"

There was no response, and he was sure anyone in the apartment could have heard him that time. He thought about going out again to try to find one of them, but the station was very big and very busy right now, and something was wrong. What if he left and they came back?

There was a bang from the direction of the apartment door that made him jump, and he retreated from his parents' bedroom door and backed up against the wall. The handle of one of the cabinets brushed his shoulder, and he pushed it open and squished himself inside. When he had been littler, it had been easy for him to do; now it took work, but he got the door to shut and went quiet, quiet as he was when he was playing hide and seek with Mommy, quiet like she'd taught him to be when they were sneaking up on Daddy.

He grasped uselessly at empty air as the boy turned and ran, but almost as quickly Robert recovered from his surprise and set off running too. It was harder for him to dodge through the crowds, but he had size and muscle to his advantage, and anyone stupid enough to get in his way was quickly dispatched. Robert was not about to allow his grandson to escape.

The chase was a wild one through the corridors, the hallways full of officers done with work for the day, and several times he thought he'd lost sight of the tiny tow-headed brat trying to run away from him. Just as he was getting close, a large group of people moved into his path, and Robert slammed straight into them, sending people flying and knocking himself off of his feet. There were curses and shouts, but he was up again in an instant, looking around frantically to see where the kid had gone.

There was only one open door nearby, and Robert went barreling through it into the library. It was quiet there, very little sounds of movement, and he stopped to listen for little pattering footsteps. There were none, and he cursed, jogging quickly through the aisles and between shelves, panting heavily and knocking books to the floor in his haste. The search took precious time and turned up nothing, but he continued until a good fifteen minutes had passed before turning to leave.

He tried searching other rooms nearby, even asking if anyone had seen his grandson, but it was useless. Furious, winded, and desperate, he eventually gave up and headed toward Katera's apartment. Perhaps the boy had gone there... and if not, Katera would soon be home, if she wasn't already, and she would help him find her son. Then they could all leave, like they were supposed to. Yes. Just like he'd planned.

The apartment was dark, quiet, and empty when he entered, and Robert slammed his fist against the doorpad in angry frustration. He had waited for this too long, had planned for this day over many years, and now nothing was happening as he'd wanted it to. It made him furious, so furious that he hit the wall again, and he was just starting to tear through the room, turning over everything in search of Jacks, when there was a loud impact against the front door.

He retreated to a dark corner and waited, ready to pounce the moment the little boy came through the door, but it was not his grandson who flew into the room like a razored tornado.

She was sprinting as fast as she could, faster than she would have thought possible. Her heart was in her throat and pounding madly as she tore through the corridors, dodging people, pushing people, moving on autopilot. Rage and fear toward the thought of her son in Robert's hands gave her more adrenaline and strength than she could ever remember having before, and it wasn't long before she skidded around a corner and came into sight of their apartment.

Her hand hit the lockpad and then she slammed into the door, bouncing off the metal, the wind knocked from her lungs as she realized that it must have been double-locked. Usually it required only her verification, but someone must have locked it from the inside, and she frantically punched in the override code and flew through the door.

"Mode?" she called out as she skidded to a halt, her curls flying as she looked around. "Mode? Tomcat?" There was a sound from the corner of the living room and she narrowed her eyes in the half-gloom, trying to see, when a figure stepped forward from the shadows and her eyes suddenly widened.

A voice she knew answered, a voice she hated, and Kat shook violently as she met the eyes so like hers, faced the smile she'd always worn.

"Katera."

She tried to reply but her voice was absent, and she pressed a hand to her throat and backed away, anger deserting her in favor of unreasoning fear. He kept approaching, and she waved a hand as if to ward him off, continuing to edge away toward the door until he stopped beneath the dim overhead light and smiled again.

"I've missed you, Kitten."

No, no, you can't be back, you can't be here! We made you go away, you're supposed to be away! Go away, daddy, go away, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...

"Are you okay, Kitten?" he asked, his voice far too gentle for the triumphant look in his serpentine eyes, and Kat shook her head at him desperately. His expression changed to one of worry, of loving concern, and it frightened her all the more because she had never, not once, ever, seen that look on his face. "I'm sorry to surprise you, Katera. Come here." He extended a hand and took a step forward, and when she remembered what he'd always done to her with those hands she suddenly found her voice.

The change in Robert's demeanor was immediate, a sudden shift that softened the lines on his face and dampened his anger. It was if a switch had been thrown, and in a blink the vicious shine in his gaze was gone as if it had never been there. He forgot about Jacks, about Mode, about all he'd done, and there was a very delicate tenderness to his expression as he looked down at his daughter.

Why are you afraid of me, Katera? I love you, can't you see? I just want you to be happy. I just want us to be happy, and I can't be happy without you.

It hurt him to see the fear in her eyes, hurt him and confused him, because she should have no reason to be afraid. He was here to save her from Jax, to take her home with him and keep her safe. Didn't she know that? Jax had sent him away before, had hurt her, and he had made the boy pay. He'd sent him away this time, to a place he could never come back from, and he'd done it for her. Why didn't she understand?

He stepped forward and held out a hand to her, trying to keep his voice gentle. Perhaps she was just surprised. She hadn't seen him in so many years, since her captor had banished him, and certainly it was just shock now at him being here once again. That was it. He looked at her in concern and beckoned again, and when she trembled and backed away a little more he did his best to look as he felt; quiet, apologetic, loving.

"I'm sorry to surprise you, Katera. Come here."

Then her eyes filled with hatred so unlike the love he'd convinced himself he would find, and she screamed at him, her voice ragged and furious. "NO!"

Robert took a step closer, determined to make her understand that he wasn't here to hurt her. "Kitten, you don't understand. I came back for you, don't you see? I'm sorry." He smiled softly. "I'm sorry that Jax stopped us before, but he's gone now, and we can go back home. Don't you want to go home? It'll be just us again, like before." His face brightened. "I bought us a house. In Oregon, where we used to live, remember? Don't you want to see?"

He offered this gift for her, holding his breath, waiting for her to accept and apologize and love him again, but that was not what he received. Instead of adoration she gave him anger, instead of love she gave him hate, and his fragile house of cards began to fall when she spat at him and hissed.

"No, no, I don't want you! I want Mode! I hate you! I hate you, Daddy, I hate you! I never want to see you again!"

Now confusion was the only thing he could feel, desperation and a growing sense of dread, and he held out both hands this time, stumbling toward her. "Kitten? You can't mean that. You don't hate me. I love you. That's why I came back!"

"I don't care! I hate you! Go away, go away before Mode comes back or he'll kill you, we'll kill you." His daughter spat at him again and this time it hit him in the face; Robert stood there and felt the warm spit slide down his cheek as he stared dumbstruck at her. "Go away! Just go away!"

"You... you don't mean that, Katera. You don't understand what you're saying."

"Of course I understand! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

And just like that his illusion shattered, his dream gone. The pleasant lies he had hidden his obsession behind suddenly disappeared, and only the real truth remained; the possessiveness, the greed, the desire to own her because he knew she would never allow it. It was the same truth that had made him beat her when she was a child, the same truth that had driven him to attempt to tear her away from Jax and then from Terrence, the same truth that had given him the means to send Terrence to Charybdis this time and come to make her his, like he'd always wanted her to be.

The truth came and the lies departed, taking with them the soft look in his eyes and the concern in his expression, and something more familiar but no less frightening replaced it. Those eyes sharpened to something cold and golden, his expression darkened to rage he had always worn, and it was hard to reconcile this sudden fury with the tender mask that had been in place only moments before.