"That's right! Now I remember."

The arbor the botany department cultivated was generally off limits to the wards, but James had already talked to Dr. Reynolds and given her approval to the security guard. They hadn't had a chance to go outside since she'd been moved up, and when he found out her birthday was only two weeks away, he'd decided to delay it and make it really worthwhile. There was a courtyard that was always open to them, but all it had were a few garden patches and some cobblestones. He'd seen all the pictures she'd surrounded herself with. She didn't want garden. She wanted real trees, and the arbor contained the only real trees he could get her to right now. It wasn't the crown present of this birthday celebration, but he thought it would be a great opener.

When she did, those green eyes widened and filled with impossible realization, and her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the sight before her.

Trees.

She took a few steps forward before she noticed that she was moving, and glanced back hesitantly at James, as if to ask if it were okay for her to look. He smiled and nodded, and Kat began to walk around, touching a tree trunk here, a frond of leaves there. She had to stop now and then when it became too overwhelming, to close her eyes and breathe in the warm air and smell of dirt, and it finally became too much. Kat sat down in the middle of a path and hugged herself, her emotion running too high for her to speak.

It's like... it's just like the forest. It smells the same, and there are so many trees. I haven't seen so many trees since Jax went away.

By the time he herded her back inside, over an hour had elapsed, and they were quite late for breakfast. Fortunately the cook was in a good mood and had saved what he'd bought just for them, and James got her to cook everything he'd wanted. Normally breakfast and lunch were whatever the cafeteria happened to be serving, but exceptions could be made. He worked his way extremely carefully back to the table where he'd made her wait while he went to get the dishes while she squirmed and tried unsuccessfully to see what he was carrying.

Then her next surprise came. He refused to let her see what he'd gotten her, and stuck at the table, Kat craned her neck and squinted her eyes and did her best to spy on him. It wasn't until he returned with an absolute feast that she stopped her impatient prodding, and the only reason she wasn't talking was because she was too busy eating.

If she'd thought the food was good before, then she'd been mistaken. Kat had only recently discovered that she had a sweet tooth, and James had especially indulged her today; she smeared jam and syrup over everything, and ate with a sugary enthusiasm that made him laugh as he worked on his breakfast. When they'd both finished, he cleaned up her trays for her, and as they left the cafeteria Kat licked the jam from the nailtips of one hand and slipped the sticky little fingers of the other into James'.

After a trip to the restrooms to wash up, he took her to the store. It was after noon, and the place was practically empty, so he let her wander around while he hunted out a little felt box and brought it up to the counter. She was by his side the next instant, snatching the box up and prying it open and looking at the empty interior, unimpressed.

"There's nothing in it," she said plaintively. He shook his head and grinned. "Nope, not a thing. But it's good for holding things. You can put whatever you want in it." She tried to disguise her disappointment for his sake, and he pretended to be fooled. She'd find out what it was for later.

They left the store and dropped off the little box in her room and then went to the gym.

He'd done what he could to increase her alotted gym time, but two straight hours in one day was a treat within a treat, and he gave her some privacy and came to pick her up at the end. That made the next stop unarguably the showers, and when she came out he was holding a brightly colored package a little over five inches cubed that contained her real present. Her eyes lit up and she grabbed for it, but he easily evaded her and listened to her whine all the way back to her room about it. She was even more upset when he set it down inside and locked the door, and she sulked halfway back to the dinner hall.

Her petulance vanished abruptly in the face of the steak.

Excited after seeing trees and hyped on sugar after breakfast, Kat was practically vibrating, her excitement about this whole birthday thing beginning to peak. It wasn't until they went to the gym that she finally had a chance to release some of her frantic energy, and when James left her alone to play, Kat went.... well, wild.

First she ran around the small indoor track, but that was monotonous and not anywhere near the sort of exercise she wanted. Then her attention caught on the sparring area, and Kat battled with herself before giving in. She'd avoided it for the past six weeks, because she hadn't wanted to fuel any suspicions that she might not be "better" like Dr. Reynolds wanted her to be better. It had been hard, especially after Sandre's visit when all she'd wanted to do was hurt someone, but she'd managed to stay on her best behavior... until now.

It's my birthday. No one will care.

For two hours Kat pounded away on the old punching bag in the corner of the gym, and it was the best present James could have given her.

When he came to retrieve her she was sweaty and glowing, and after a shower she was even more so, because she instantly spotted the little wrapped present he was holding. When he refused to let her have it, she pretended to pout-- only half pretending, because not knowing what it was drove her crazy-- and managed to keep up the act until dinner came around.

And then there was steak.

It was real meat, none of this hamburger processed stuff she'd been eating for weeks. The outside was chewy and Kat cheerily ripped into it with her teeth; the inside had a secret little core of perfect red meat, and the taste was close enough to blood to make Kat's eyes gleam. To top it off, she got a knife again, and between stabbing into her steak and tearing it to pieces, Kat had a wonderful meal.

She had just finished and was busy licking her canines when James disappeared, and she was starting to worry when he reappeared with something covered with frosting. Cake! her memory supplied, and Kat beamed as she eyed the block of sugar and gave James a very predatory grin.

Just like a kid, all of this has been like a little kid's birthday. Trips outside, sweet food, play time...but what else do I have to offer her?

There was still the matter of the wrapped box, and that kept him from feeling entirely like he was patronizing her. She obviously liked the food, and that was fine; it was the idea that these simple little pleasures had been denied to her for long enough for her to consider them so unique. He didn't know why it was bothering him now. He'd done this before with his other wards if they had had a birthday while under his care.

The clatter of fork against empty plate brought him out of his reverie, and he pushed back his chair. "Enough with the food. Let's go open your present."

She practically skipped back to her room, and he unlocked the door and let her run inside. She was already wrestling with the wrapping paper when the door shut behind him, and he watched her shred the packaging and tear the tape until the box opened freely. Inside was a small plush brown cat, dressed in a blue backpack and a ridiculous hat with a flower in it. It held a little cloth book to its chest, and on the front of the book three letters were neatly embroidered.

K A T

Kat and Jax Forever...

First trees, then fighting... and now, her ring and locket.

Kat was silent as the stuffed animal slid to the floor, forgotten, and she was focused solely on the necklace as she picked it up. It swung from its delicate chain, glinting in the light, and the expression on her face was soft as she ran her fingers over the cool metal as if to reassure herself that it was real.

The locket clicked open to reveal the tiny pictures of her and Jax, and when she felt a damp line run down her cheek, Kat rubbed at her eyes with the rough material of her sleeve, trying to hide how much his gift meant to her.

I don't know why I'm crying... I'm happy, but I just can't believe he found this for me.

He touched her arm, and he seemed worried, as if she were upset with him. She didn't want him to think that, because she needed him to be happy, and when she looked up at him there was concern in his eyes.

"No, no," she whispered and shook her head, curls hiding her face. "It's just... it's just that they took it away when I came, and I thought... I didn't think I'd ever get it back." Kat's eyes threatened to overflow again, and she grabbed at James' sleeve and tugged until he sighed and sat down on the bed beside her.

They were both surprised when she leaned close to him and held out the locket. "See? I think I was... five, I guess. And that's J-Bear. Daddy took the picture, and then J-Bear gave me this locket, to keep it in, just before he left." Her face darkened for a moment, and she glanced away long enough to control the anger in her eyes before continuing. "And this was his ring. He gave it to me, and the next day I came here."

Kat toyed with the necklace a moment longer before unhooking the clasp, and it took her a minute of digging through her curls before she managed to secure the chain around her neck. Its familiar weight in the hollow of her throat made her smile, if a little wanly, and with the smile came a remnant of the rage she used to carry.

Look, J-Bear. I got it back.

It's like I didn't know her at all, before tonight. Kat isn't silly and lighthearted at all; she's grown that way to protect herself from this place, not because she's naturally bubbly. She's been happy for me all this time, but I don't think that was the way she really felt. This is the real her now, though - not giggly or childish, but serious...childlike, maybe, but not foolish, and not innocent. Weary. She looked weary for a moment. It was the real her I made happy tonight.

Those thoughts made him happier than he had been in a long time. Making the real Kat happy, letting her come out past her little shield and into the light...that was what he wanted to do now.

Why is she looking at me like that?

It wasn't that she hadn't been expecting it; she had known, on some level, that he was going to kiss her once he closed his eyes and began to lean toward her. It also wasn't that she didn't want him to, because part of her did... but old habits are hard to break, and Kat's habit of survival meant attacking anyone who touched her.

So even as she kissed him, that's exactly what she did.

He gasped and pulled away abruptly, and Kat was left staring at five thin lines drawn across his cheek. She tilted her head and looked closer, wondering how that had happened, until it occurred to her that she had done that, she had hurt him.

I... I didn't mean to, not... not really...

When she looked down at her hands there was blood under her nailtips, and she hissed at herself for doing such a thing. It was luck that there wasn't a mirror nearby, or she might have seen that her eyes were furious and threaded with gold, and her canines were bared, as if to bite. Kat clenched her nails into the palms of her hands and looked up to James, her expression fading to a tired sort of guilt, and before he could stop her she kissed him again.

"I got scared," was the only thing she said when they separated from the kiss, and she hoped he would understand, because she didn't want to have to give him the other explanation.

Why did I kiss her? That was incredibly stupid and irresponsible. Now I'm going to have to explain this to Corrina somehow, and she's going to be furious. I'm supposed to help, and now she's regressed. What if she doesn't make parole? She'll have to wait another six months before the next one...why did I kiss her?

It didn't occur to him that Kat hadn't had sufficient provocation to react so violently. He saw only his mistake, and the possible consequences of it, and what he should do immediately to try to curb the damage. He stood up and moved a step towards the door. Two steps. She was staring at him imploringly, but he had no idea what to say to her.

Kat watched him go, inexplicably saddened and, conversely, incredibly angry at her remorse, and as the door slid shut she closed her eyes. Her voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry, too."

Someone was knocking insistently at the door, and although she buried her head under the pillow, it wouldn't go away. Eventually she gave up and rubbed her eyes sleepily, looking toward her clock. That was... strange. It was nearly fifteen minutes before the alarm was supposed to ring, and even longer until James usually arrived. He was early, and it didn't take more than a moment of pondering before Kat realized what she had done the night before.

Oh... no. No. I said I was sorry.

She hastily reached for her pajamas and tugged them on, and was at the door just seconds after. What met her eyes on the other side made her wilt, and she stared up at the two orderlies who frowned down at her.

Expecting to be taken somewhere, Kat waited, but one of the orderlies shoved her gently back into the room. Confused, she let them seat her at her desk. "What's going on?"

"You're violating grooming regulations, Quistin." Grooming regulations? What does he me-- It became instantly clear as one of them held her hands down on the desktop and the other pulled out a pair of clippers, and Kat tried to pull her hands away. "Wait! I didn't do anything; it was an accident. Don't...."

Kat was being declawed.

The orderly made it through three nails before Kat really began to struggle, but both men fought back, and Kat was outnumbered. She tried curling her fingers, she attempted to kick them away, and she pleaded angrily... all to no avail. Several times he cut too close to the quick, and she yelped, struggling more as little drops of blood coated her fingertips, but she couldn't escape.

They left her as abruptly as they had arrived, and Kat sat huddled in her chair, sucking her bloody fingertips, for all of two minutes before another knock came and James stepped inside.

Go away! This is all your fault, all your fault!

"I'm not ready!" She hissed at him irrationally, standing up so quickly that her chair fell over backwards and clattered to the floor. She ignored him as she searched for her uniform, and didn't even bother to see if he'd closed the door before she began to dress. It was only when she turned around to find her room empty that she really began to be angry, and when he tried to talk to her as she stormed out into the hallway, she gave him a murderous glare.

That wasn't something he wanted on his conscience, and he had intended to apologize again when he got to her room. Unfortunately, the groomers had already ruined her disposition, if it hadn't been ruined already. He sighed and knocked at last. It wouldn't get any better than it was. He didn't receive a response, and considered knocking again, but she didn't really have the option of skipping class, and he knew she was awake, and that she'd heard him. He opened the door and stepped inside.

She was sitting in her chair and sucking her fingertips, but as soon as he entered she stood bolt upright and knocked her chair over. "I'm not ready!" she hissed at him angrily, and he immediately turned and exited the room. She'd come out at some point, and they could talk then, on her terms.

Eventually she erupted from the doorway, but when he tried to greet her she just glared at him and shoved past. "I know how to get to class on my own," she asserted angrily. "I don't need you to take me."

James stood in the hallway sadly and watched her go.

He did trail her, but she went straight to class, and he went to the cafeteria to wait for her.

First they take my shiv, and now this. It's not fair, not fair at all. I don't have anything. What do they expect me to do? It's all James' fault. I didn't mean to scratch him. I bet Dr. Reynolds made them come. It was an accident. I don't want to go downstairs. He should have known better. My fingers hurt. I should have known better. I hate everyone.

Across the room, Asmodeus glanced up and met her gaze for a brief moment, and Kat bared her canines at him and went back to sulking.

Everyone, everyone, I hate everyone. Wait until I get out here. Then they'll be sorry.

Class passed very, very slowly. The other students kept sneaking looks in her direction, and Kat just narrowed her eyes until they looked away. She tried tapping her fingers against her desk, but it only reminded her that she didn't have claws anymore, and that darkened her mood further until finally, by the end of class, she was absolutely seething.

They were dismissed for breakfast, but she didn't leave her seat. James would probably be in the dining hall, and she didn't want to see him-- and no one else would go with her. She'd wait here. At least then she could be alone in her fury.

It didn't quite work that way. Asmodeus approached her desk, and Kat blatantly ignored him until he was standing right in front of her.

He's going to say something. I don't want to hear it.

"Don't even ask."

After taking in her mood, her ragged, absent fingertips and the lack of an insistent Keeper coming in to check on his late ward, he hardly needed to.

"Your methods of deduction astound me, Sherlock," she threw back just as snidely, and discarded her more recent bubbly smile for the old, comfortably predatory grin. "And with an offer like that, I couldn't dream of turning you down."

I feel better already.

They were late getting to the cafeteria, but no one noticed and no one cared. Kat kept her attention on Asmodeus as a means to refuse to look for James, and if her Keeper was present then he didn't make an attempt to speak to her. Probably for the better, as she was back to feeling happily homicidal, and wasn't in any sort of mood to be friendly again.

Even Asmodeus' Keeper stayed away, and when they were both seated at a table alone, Kat couldn't help but grin again. She defiantly dumped entirely too much sugar onto her cereal-- James always tried to monitor just how much sugar she ate-- and began to munch away with a contented look on her face.

It wasn't that he didn't like his Keeper. She seemed to understand that he didn't want to chatter about his feelings or suffer close personal contact, and that meant a lot to him. It was her role that he objected to, and he was content to maintain a relatively distant relationship with her. Talking to Kat, on the other hand, provided an outlet for him to pretend he was in control of his destiny, and that felt good, even if it wasn't real.

"You could say that," he said with another faint smirk. "But then they would have left one of us down in the pit, and it looks like they couldn't bear to split us up." He toyed with his own food. It was a widely accepted fact that the administration put Temazepam in the food, but he'd never felt any effect from it. In fact, even his medication from before had been pretty weak. And when -

Didn't have to mean she was telling the entire truth, though.

"Take a guess, precious." She licked the points of her canines and gave a mean smile just for his benefit. "While you've got fine young men like Burr after your pretty ass, me, I get the nice guys."

He decided to let it slide.

There was no serious way to take that snide suggestion, and Asmodeus just grinned back with a hint of malice. "Jealous, Katera?" He didn't want to irritate her, though, so he responded to her question before she had a chance to reply. "I think not. Something about an insane asylum and a glorified jailer turns me off." He looked around, but Julia had finished her breakfast and just nodded to him as she left. She'd catch up with him later, but she was willing to give him a little bit of time on his own, and that gratified him - as much as he could be gratified, anyway.

"Hopefully getting more than his nails cut off," she hissed in delight, her eyes bright and pleased. "But as long as I don't have to be a bundle of joy about it, I could care less."

Liar. You do care.

Kat's smile turned vicious as she tried to silence her conscience. What did it know? Caring about anything-- or anyone-- had never been a problem down below, but weeks of masking apathy had made her a little too concerned with how others felt. She couldn't afford to make James angry, because he had Dr. Reynolds on his side, and the threat of downstairs was too close for comfort.

Six weeks.

"Reynolds gave it to me my second day," he said at last. "It gives me something to do when you're not around. I thought I'd have more time to get good at it after I came up here, but here you are," he said with a slight widening of his eyes and stood up. "I won't ask what you did to get up here, Kat, but you should be nicer to your Keeper, or they might get angry," he said with a smirk as he picked up his tray, "and then they'd take away your teddy bear and all his cheerful good intentions and give you back to the toys downstairs instead."

He dumped his tray at the counter as he left and headed for his room to meet Julia and follow his own advice. It wouldn't hurt to thank her for leaving him alone for a while...and in six weeks, she'd be the last bit of a bad memory, and he'd be on a transport headed for Command School. He doubted they'd send Kat to Command School if and when she was paroled, but that didn't bother him unduly. They knew each other, maybe even trusted each other to a certain extent, but it was hardly close friendship.

Gee, and I'd almost forgotten I was one stab away from going downstairs again. Thank you, Asmodeus. Thank you for reminding me how trapped I am.

Kat's good mood vanished, and a slightly more muted version of her previous sullenness replaced it. She looked down at her plate in disgust, suddenly sick of the taste of sugar, and shoved the tray away before leaning her elbows on the table and propping her chin in her hands.

It's just another game. I've done harder things, and lived through worse. A few kisses are worth freedom. Almost anything is worth freedom. Resignation and determination battled against one another, and Kat wearily examined her torn fingertips. It's only James. He... he's nice. He's not a threat. He's not dangerous... and it could have been Burr, or Rat, or one of the others. I'm lucky, really.

That thought made her angry. Luck. As if I have any of that. Fuck luck, and fuck fate. I'll do what I have to in order to get out of this hell, and then it'll just be me. Then I'll be able to do whatever I want.

Bolstered by all the schemes and fights that her vision of freedom entailed, Kat pushed up from the table and, after dumping her tray, headed back to class. Whatever I want.

Lunchtime came quickly, her classes having passed much faster than before, as she was busy weaving impossibly violent and reasonably vague dreams of the future. James wasn't waiting outside of her last class, and figuring he'd probably be in the dining hall, Kat decided to skip lunch. She headed back toward her room, intent on solitude, but the person waiting outside her door when she arrived didn't look like he was going to grant her wish to be alone.

Kat ignored him, pushed past him and into her room, and when he followed her inside she pretended not to notice. She couldn't think clearly when he was around, and so she grabbed her blanket, kicked open the closet door, and proceeded to curl herself up inside.

James had always teased her about sleeping in the closet, but he'd never asked why she did it. In the lower wards, Kat had spent a lot of her time in solitary, and even when in her own room she'd become accustomed to the dark. Sensory deprivation gave her the focus to think, and she couldn't get that in her room, not with all of its bright posters and other distractions.

"I don't feel like talking."

He shifted a little, but he didn't leave. He couldn't until he'd explained what had happened this morning and apologized for his behavior last night. He could understand why she was angry - no one liked having the groomers do things they could certainly do themselves, and from the look of her nails, it hadn't gone smoothly. He didn't like the idea of anyone handing her roughly, and that made him feel even more guilty. He knelt by the door and put his face close to it so she could hear him.

"You don't have to talk, Kat...just listen, ok? I'm sorry about the groomers. Dr. Reynolds gave that order without asking my opinion. I told her it was my fault...and I'm sorry about that, too. Last night, I mean. I...I shouldn't have...kissed you. I don't have an excuse. It was way out of line and I won't do it ever again, and if you want another Keeper, I can talk to Dr. Reynolds for you, and I can be gone tomorrow." He paused, not sure what else to say. "I'm sorry, Kat."

Why... why aren't you mad at me? You should be yelling. I cut you, I made you bleed, and... and you're apologizing? Is this a trick?

That line of thought puzzled her for a long time as she huddled in her closet, before another one replaced it. Now he doesn't want to be around me anymore. He's going to go away, and the next one might be mean. The next one might not apologize.

I... I don't want that. I didn't mean to hurt you. Don't leave.

She peeked out of her closet, but he was gone, and she quickly drew back to hide again. The afternoon passed by as Kat worried herself to sleep, and she woke from an uncomfortable, hazy dream to find that it was time for dinner.

Debate over whether or not she should go to dinner quickly ended as her stomach growled, and knowing that she'd eventually have to speak to James, she decided better now than later. She could think of a good excuse for hurting him, and an even better reason for him to stay with her, and then... and then maybe he wouldn't leave.

He was eating alone when she made her way into the dining hall, and Kat collected her tray and silently sat down across from him. When he looked up at her, she painted on an appropriately meek flush-- ignoring that she really was embarrassed and meek about their kiss-- and kicked him lightly under the table.

"'msorry," she mumbled, playing with her food to avoid looking up at him. "Idinnitmeantoscratchyoubutnoone'skissedmebefore."

She fidgeted even more after saying that, and kicked herself mentally for such a slip. Why the fuck did I have to go tell him that?

They travelled to her room afterwards in the same awkward silence, but the sting of the tension was gone. He didn't know what else would need to happen to finish clearing the air, but at least she wasn't angry at him any longer. He would have gone to Reynolds, if she'd asked him to. It would have looked really bad on his record, but he would have, and he was grateful to her for sparing him that.

When they got to her door she opened it and went in, but he didn't follow, and she turned around to look at him.

Or maybe she just didn't want to see it.

James was a constant, and she had few of those. He was around, always, and even though it irritated her at times she'd come to depend on it. The thought of him going away, of becoming this distant all the time, scared her. What scared her even more was the realization that she felt lonely when he wasn't with her, and that alone was enough to spurn her to action.

"I'm bored. Want to be beaten in poker?" She tried for a big grin and managed a tiny, hesitant smile, but it was enough, because he nodded and came inside. Kat cleared a space on her floor and sat down, and after a moment he sat down across from her and let her deal the cards.

Eventually they both loosened up again, smiling and joking, and it was so close to before that Kat almost forgot what had caused their awkward distancing in the first place. Then he looked up at her, and the expression on his face made her feel faintly guilty. She tried to avert her gaze and succeeded only in staring at the scratches on his cheek, and her guilt magnified. He didn't say anything, and entranced by what her anger had done, Kat reached up and touched one of the lines drawn into his skin.

"I'm sorry." It felt like she'd been saying that an awful lot lately, and the sincerity made her look for something else to say. That was futile, and desperate for a distraction, Kat was struck by a stupid, unreasonable, completely irrational urge, and before she could stop herself she kissed his cheek. "To make it better," she explained inanely, blushing furiously, and when he didn't pull away she was foolish again, and kissed him as she had the night before.

But...but...

His conscience went into overload and then shorted out, and eventually he sighed and kissed her back. She was clumsy but eager, and he brought his fingertips to her cheek, first to guide and then to push her gently away from him. He needed to see her eyes, and he needed her to see his. There was more going on here than he could understand, but he owed it to them both to try.

The green in her eyes was warm and ...not inviting, but...hungry. It made him shiver. That look didn't belong on her sweet features, but it affected him, and it suddenly hit him that it was possible that Katera hadn't minded his kiss...and that she might want another. Or more than another.

But...

James liked to think of himself as a moral person. He wasn't part of any major religion, but he did have a general set of values that he attempted to adhere to. She was young, but any girl with a look like that in her eyes was old enough. He didn't love this girl - though he had grown attached, and he did admit to himself that she was beautiful and desirable - but that didn't disturb him as much as the possibility that her apparent desire for him was just a reaction to her fear of punishment. The truth was that he had kissed her last night, and she had rejected him (and then kissed you again, his desire added defensively), and then this morning she'd had to endure the groomers. Maybe she was doing this to avoid being hurt, or even worse, sent down to the lower wards. That was what bothered him.

But I will. I don't care anymore. I'm tired of caring.

And with that thought, she bridged the final distance between them, and kissed him once more.

It suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore, what would happen to her. They could try to send her downstairs, or they could free her; either way she would survive, as she had survived before. The only thing that mattered was that James wasn't going to leave. He'd read her files, he knew what she'd done, and he was still here. He was still nice to her, he still cared... and it was enough.

She clung to him as she had the morning before, and this time he let her. This time he held her, and kissed her, and Kat didn't do a single thing to injure him.

She wants intimacy. We both know she's leaving in a month and a half, and that I'm not going with her. If she's alright with that, then so am I...and nothing will happen that she doesn't want to happen. That makes this safe.

His justification taken care of, he set it aside and concentrated on her instead. He held her closed, kissed her and rubbed her back, expecting her to break the kiss at any moment to rest her head against his chest, perhaps fall asleep, but she only grew more enthusiastic and less patient. When her kisses grew too rough, he broke away and met her eyes. She looked both eager and frustrated, and he smiled at her softly.

It took her awhile to realize that he wasn't playing along like she'd wanted him to. It wasn't that Kat was experienced... but she'd played enough games with her toys in the lower wards to know what was supposed to happen. Kisses meant violence, and Kat loved violence. Just like hunting wasn't fun when her prey didn't run, this wasn't the same without him fighting back.

Several times she tried to push him to roughness, wishing for a little pain with her pleasure, but he seemed reluctant to do anything. When he finally broke the kiss, her eyes were heated and predatory, and she couldn't decide whether to pounce or pull away.

Don't you want to play too? I thought you were going to stay.

It occurred to her in a rather vague theory that perhaps he didn't like fighting, didn't want a battle. When she'd attacked him before by scratching his face, she'd expected him to respond in kind... but he hadn't. And now she was kissing him, hoping for a struggle, and he was being gentle and slow. Maybe he didn't really want to play. That thought made her a little angry and a little uncertain, and she tried to nip at his throat, her voice husky and impatient.

Her teeth grazed his throat and he drew back instinctively. It wouldn't be good if either of them had any marks. He did bend his head to kiss her neck lightly, and she made a little growling sound that he guessed was pleasure when her hands fastened on to his shoulders. He grinned and continued, and was silently grateful that her nails had been clipped - the kneading her fingers were doing on his arms would have been painful.

It didn't seem long before she grew bored and impatient with this as well, and when he kissed her again he almost immediately drew away from the ferocity with which she responded. She followed him, and they ended up falling over. She hovered over him momentarily, red curls framing green eyes, and then leaned in almost predatorially to kiss him again. Against the floor, he couldn't back away; he would either have to endure or shove her off, and he didn't want to end this yet. Soon...just not now.

Her body came down against his, and a little more of his brain shut down. She was beautiful, and an image of what this playful wrestling could turn into if he didn't stop it blinded him long enough to slip a hand under the loose edge of her shirt and caress her bare back.

The feel of his hand on her back made her purr, and she tugged a little at his collar, rubbing her cheek and chin against his throat. His bare skin against hers felt warm, and too soon she wanted more. She wanted to bite him and claw him and wrap him around herself until she felt safe and secure. She wanted that, she wanted it now.

Having no nails to aid her was irritating, and Kat ignored buttons and instead tugged on the bottom of her shirt. Cold air on the scar that ran across her stomach stopped her abruptly, and her pupils dilated wildly as she looked down at him to see if he'd noticed.

His hands were locked around her waist, and he couldn't seem to move them. Her breath on his throat made him edgy and excited, and he was dimly aware of her leaning up and starting to take off her shirt, but then her hands were on his shirt, pulling at the buttons and yanking at the material until his chest was bare. He fought an immediate urge to push her away when she closed in on him again and was rewarded with the butterfly sensation of kisses along his shoulder, followed by the sharp points of her teeth as she bit him again.

Pain woke him up, and he let go her waist and moved his hands up to her face to pull her in for a kiss. It kept her from biting him, and once she was well into the kiss he dropped his hands to her shoulders and to the front of her shirt to slowly unbutton her top button and trailed his kisses down to her throat.

Kat was slowly losing her mind, and everything was becoming blurry... hot and hurried and blurry. She struggled briefly when, after biting his shoulder, he tilted her face away, but then he kissed her and began to unbutton her shirt, and her anger was forgotten.

Please?

His chest was bare, and she ran his fingers over his skin, before leaning over to slide her stomach against his. The sensation tore a growl from her throat, and not satisfied with the slow pace he was moving at, she pushed his hands away and finished working at the buttons on her shirt. Uncertainty made its presence known again, but Kat ignored it, focusing instead on kissing James.

She had scars, most of them relatively small. Her arms crossed over her stomach before he looked that far, but her posture immediately told him that she was not comfortable being stared at.

Her momentary paralysis let him move her off to his side and he stood, tugging her with him. Disappointed frustration was just beginning to appear on her face when he reached to the light switch and turned it off, pulling her close to him with the other arm and kissing her cheek. He guided them to sit in her bunk and put his arm around her shoulders, expecting at last the period of quiet closeness he'd known was coming.

She pushed him over and began tugging at his belt.

She could see him perfectly well, her eyes accustomed as they were to dim hallways and gloomy cells, and he was watching her with a less piercing version of her own eager anticipation. About to speak, Kat was suddenly distracted by his hands on her, and decided to forgo speaking in favor of pulling him closer.

It didn't hurt; in fact, it felt wonderful, and her surprise made her push him away for a moment. He smiled down at her, and she returned the grin, and then everything became hazy.

Thought came in fleeting glances, and understanding was even more infrequent. She realized belatedly that their clothes were on the floor, and that he was poised over her, and before she could say yes or no or maybe, she pressed against him and he pulled her close.

There it was. Pain. It made her hiss, and she buried her face against his shoulder before she could claw him or herself. She hadn't been paying attention enough to expect it, but pain was always welcome, and pleased her so much that she lifted her face and nipped him again.

Shit.

Now that the deed was done, his conscience was more than eager to rip him to shreds, and he lay silently in the dark next to her and tried to reason it out.

What just happened?

She had been rough, and it had happened so quickly he wasn't sure who had been leading whom...but the fact that she'd never done it before coupled with the scratches he still had on his cheek told him it had probably been him who had been providing most of the direction. But he'd given her opportunity at every point to stop, and at every point she'd pushed him on...and in the end, he'd wanted it to happen, and so had she.

At least, that was how he remembered it.

She didn't seem upset now, and he put an arm around her a little tentatively. All she did was move closer, and he gave a relieved sigh and kissed her forehead and whispered tenderly to her.

Now Kat had everything she'd wanted.

She had a room all to herself, safety and security and comfort up here, away from the lower wards. She had freedom to work for, Mode to talk with, and now, now she had James. He watched over her, he gave her presents and pampered her and made her feel as if she mattered, and he wanted her. He'd wanted her enough to be with her, and Kat smugly cuddled closer and made him hold her.

"Mmmmhmmmm," she murmured sleepily, adrenaline and lust and anger faded now to leave her feeling content and full. There was the cold metal of her necklace pressed between them, and remembrance pleased her, a different sort of desire sated.

He won't send me away now, and he won't leave. If I behave, I won't have to go downstairs... and soon I'll leave. Soon they'll let me go, and all of this will just be a bad dream.

James was a very confused man.

He understood that there was affection between them, but not love. He didn't understand why she was as undisturbed by that as he was. He understood that she was using him to learn just as she was learning everything else here, but that didn't bother him; rather, it reassured him, because it meant she wouldn't be hurt when they separated. He wasn't clear on just how it had come about, or whose idea it had been, but it was here, and he wanted to enjoy the little time they had left together.

It didn't change the fact that he was breaking the rules. Sleeping with your ward was like a teacher sleeping with a student, and that made him extremely uncomfortable...but Kat had stopped seeming like a child to him on her birthday, and he couldn't really regret it. In fact, of the two of them, she was definitely the more aggressive. The more gentle he was with her, the rougher she was with him, and he'd had to stop her more than once when she went too far. She would get frustrated with him, and he would have to soothe her with kisses before matters could proceed.

Nevertheless, it was pleasant, and confused or not he was looking forward to seeing her after turning his report in to Reynolds this morning. Dr. Reynolds was waiting for him this time, and her expression immediately made him uncomfortable. He set his report disc on her desk, and when she didn't even glance at it he knew he was in trouble.

"Hello, James. Sit down."

He swallowed and followed orders, trying to guess how much she might know and decide what he should tell her, but she didn't give him the chance.

"We should have a talk."

Corrina watched him leave, pale-faced and shaken, and then turned to her desk to follow him via the security system as he practically fled back to his room. Luckily for him, Kenneth was already on his way to collect Katera for her morning classes; it was Transition week, and each of the wards had to make do with a new Keeper and pass inspection before the parole hearing two weeks after. James had an entire week to figure out what he was going to do, but Corrina thought she could predict with a very, very small margin of error.

When she'd bounded toward the door this morning, James had not been on the other side, and Kat knew something was wrong. There was a new, strange man, who didn't look nearly as accomodating as her previous Keeper, and suspicion, paranoia, and irritation were beginning to simmer until he identified himself.

"I'm Kenneth, your Keeper for Transition Week. Every ward receives a new Keeper for a week, Katera, just so we can be certain you're adjusting well. Now, we should get to class."

For a moment I thought he was going to say that James was gone forever. A week. It won't be that bad.

And it wasn't. Kenneth wasn't anywhere near as friendly or communicative as James was, and that suited Kat just fine. He picked her up every morning, dropped her off every night, and even during meals they spent their time in comfortable silence. She didn't feel the need to chatter with him, and he returned the sentiment.

There wasn't trust or friendship or anything close between her and Kenneth; she remained on her best behavior and did her best to be a model ward. If he knew she was just faking, biding her time until James returned, then he made no indication, and the week passed just as all the other weeks had passed.

Still, she missed James, and when the week ended she was eager to see him. There were so many things she'd been saving up to tell him, and when he was late in the morning to pick her up for class, she nearly drove herself mad with impatience. Eventually she had to go alone, but after lunch she almost ran back to her room, and was rewarded by the sight of him inside, seated at her desk.

James had done a lot of thinking in the past week.

"I've been reviewing my recordings of the time you've been spending with Katera Quistin. You know that sort of activity is strictly against the rules."

"...yes, but-"

"I don't need to hear your explanations, James. It's apparent to me from what I've seen that you were not the instigator of this relationship. On the contrary, I feel that you've been the victim. I should have been more forthcoming with you about the nature of your ward before I threw you together. I had hoped her therapy had been more effective."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I don't understand," Kat said slowly, keeping her voice level and calm despite her growing disbelief. He wasn't really saying that they had to stop, was he? He couldn't. Maybe he was just afraid that they might be found out. That had to be it.

Reasoning away his words brought reassurance, and her uncertainty faded, playful reprimand replacing it. "Don't be silly. No one's going to find out. It's just two weeks."

She smiled and tried to kiss him again, but this time he moved back a step, and her grin vanished. No. He wouldn't dare. Determined to touch him, she reached out a hand, and he drew away as if he couldn't stand for her to be near.

"I'm serious, Kat."

"As you can see, the wounds were extensive. The was damage to the right kidney and the liver. It was lucky that they found him as quickly as they did, or he would have either bled to death or died of blood poisoning in short order."

"Ka...Quistin did this?"

"Oh, yes. As I mentioned before, it was her hobby, and one of the major manifestations of her psychosis. She would locate a partner and get close to him. When she had his trust, she would attack him and then leave him for the staff to pick up. Unfortunately, we didn't have the cameras monitoring that area. We had to get the story second-hand from the victim...but it's an old story, James. I should have said something when I noticed those scratches on your cheek."

"But isn't she...better, now?"

"I'm flattered at your confidence in my ability, but I would prefer you not test that at the expense of your own life, James. So, I'm sure, would you."

She was staring at him, but James wasn't seeing the pain in her expression. The images of Raymond Burrow's wounds filled in the blanks between her hateful fury, and it confirmed his fears. "I'm sorry," he said a trifle briskly. "But it's really for the best, since you're leaving so soon. Here." He set a card key down on the table. "I got you access to the gym so you won't be bored in the afternoons. I need some time to start reviewing for my next ward." He paused, and when she continued to stare at him and say nothing, he continued. "I'll see you at dinner."

"I don't know, handsome. I've never had to deal with it."

That had been a lie, but this, this was the truth. James had left. He had pushed her away, he had rejected her, and the real answer to that question was No, Kat did not deal well at all.

To put it mildly.

The door slid shut and at first the only thing she could do was stare, before hurt took her disbelief and smashed it violently into nonexistence. There was no place for sentiment here, and as the last remnant of Kat's affection for James managed to manifest as a choking sob, the rest of her rage shoved it aside and replaced her whimper with a snarl.

"I hate you!" she screamed at the closed door, her eyes solid gold and her features twisted as she whirled around. Her fury had to have a release, and it irrationally looked about the room, focused on all the things that James had given her, and demanded destruction.

Kat was a small tornado as she stormed around her room, ripping the pictures and posters from her walls and tearing them to pieces. She even destroyed the photo of Jax's forest. The tiny felt box that sometimes housed her locket was broken into bits, and after throwing her little stuffed cat into the garbage, Kat took the handful of leaves she had saved from her birthday in the arbor and crumbled them to dust.

I'll... I'll kill you. No one says no to me, no one rejects Katera Quistin and lives. I'll kill you like I killed Jax, and you'll learn your lesson too, just like he did. I'll show you. I'll... I'll hurt you like you hurt me.

But she couldn't, and she knew it, and helpless rage made her search for another source of pain. Kat stared down at her hands, wished for a dagger, saw the claws that had finally grown back... and then ripped her nails across her skin. Her arms bled, they bled like James was supposed to bleed for hurting her like this, and she knew she was crying before the tears even filled her eyes.

It's not fair. I can't even make you suffer...

And then, just like that, it was gone.

Well, not exactly gone, but like a snake her anger coiled into itself and took with it the sting of her injured pride, her hurt, the bruised emotion, and polished the edge off of her homicidal fury. She visibly relaxed, and blood dripped slowly from her arms to make crimson teardrops on her floor as she closed her eyes.

I'm a murderer. I'm a killer. I was blind, stupid... to think that someone like him would ever care for someone like me. Who was I fooling? No one ever will. Jax didn't love me, not... not the way that I loved him. If he had, I wouldn't have been able to kill him. He would have killed me first, or survived, somehow. So... no one loves me. No one.

Weeks of near happiness with James had smoothed it away, but when Kat looked up again the bitter resolve had returned to her expression, and the weary, frustrated, always present anger was once again in her gaze. She glanced at the key card on the table and then reached for it slowly, tucking it into her pocket before turning for the door.

It wouldn't do to sit around and mope all the afternoon. James was right; she shouldn't be bored. Perhaps a round with the punching bag would help return the world to its natural order, and maybe in fighting she could do as she always did-- forget.

Someday. I'm patient. Then I'll be happy.

Kat walked out of her room, and left behind that little bit of trust and happiness she'd somehow stolen before and had always known would never last.

Asmodeus didn't like people watching him practice. It wasn't that he was self conscious. People who thought he was better than he was might leave him alone, just in case. People who thought he was worse than he was would underestimate him, and he would have a better chance of instructing them in the error of their ways. People who'd seen him practice had an idea of what he could and couldn't do, and that could be dangerous. He hadn't been able to avoid it when Julia sat in on his first few sessions, but she left him alone soon enough, and he'd gotten much better over the past months.

Despite his dislike for an audience, he finished and headed for his towel, glancing at the newcomer out of the corner of his eye. His progress towards the towel slowed and then stopped and he watched Katera Quistin move angrily from one area to another, searching for something, opening everything that opened and a few things that didn't. Her rage surrounded her like a cloud, a mean, serrated cloud with a bad attitude that looked like it could use something to take it out on, but he still didn't move to leave. He wasn't sure how wise it was to attract her attention, but he knew what she was looking for. Besides, she couldn't be armed, and unarmed he thought he stood a pretty good chance.

He wondered how she'd gotten a gym pass. Didn't the administration know better? He reflected that they'd given him a gym pass, and decided they didn't know much of anything at all.

They had the keys, though.

She didn't notice Asmodeus until he threw something in the air, and her gaze flicked to the movement, saw the tape, then narrowed in on him. He was smiling at her, and she wanted to rip that bemused shark grin right off of Jax's face, just like she'd done be--

Not Jax. Mode. Who cares. They're all the same.

Kat wanted to fight him.

She hadn't fought another person in months. Rounds on the punching bag were a poor substitute for blood and flesh and the feint of her knife, and as she stood there glaring at Asmodeus, it was more than easy to divert her fury onto him.

"Mmmmode," her voice was gravely and growling and low. "Give that to me, now."

Do it.

He didn't.

Her control was forgotten as murderous anger made its presence well known again, and Kat threw her jacket to the floor, let him see the bloody rakes across her arms, and then... smiled.

Does she expect me to be impressed?

He looked her arms over. Scratches like that he'd only seen on other people a few times, and they'd always been the result of Kat's displeasure. That meant she'd done it to herself, and he had no sympathy for self-inflicted wounds. The idea that Katera - Katera, of all people, who had one of the strongest wills to survive he'd ever encountered - would think injuring herself was a good idea was a little disheartening. It made him angry with her for a reason he didn't care to identify, and that meant he was leaving. Now.

At least they looked superficial.

The scratches down her arms were beautiful; bloody and bright red and swelling around the edges, and she grabbed a stray towel and roughly wiped them clean. It stung something awful, but that pleased her, and when that task was done she began to methodically tape her fists. Careful loops around her knuckles, an intricate weave over the backs of her hands, and Kat clenched those taped hands into fists and was rewarded by the feel of tight bindings that made her smile.

Three hours later, she was still throwing punches.

Stray curls clung to her cheeks, sweat making her thin undershirt stick to her skin as she feinted, sidestepped, pounded her bruised fists into the old leather bag and spun around to kick a booted heel into its side. The bag always had a different name, depending upon the current object of her wrath, and today it smiled with friendly brown eyes at her. Kat hissed between her teeth and just hit it harder.

Memories flowed like blood beneath her attacks, inciting her further. Pain made it possible to forget gentle touches, her fury obliterating tender words and quiet whispers, and in a haze of adrenaline and rage, Kat began to heal. Slowly, slowly she began not to forget, but to accept, and if she wasn't feeling happy when she gave up on sparring and slumped exhausted to the floor, then at least she felt sated enough to think clearly.

The only thing that matters right now is escaping. After that, there will be time for vengeance. Only two more weeks. I will make it.

A smile started to grow, gradually spreading across her face, and before long Kat was laughing quietly to herself as she pushed up from the floor and headed toward the showers.

At dinner that night she sat across from James and never said a word. She didn't even feel the urge to use her knife to cut him instead of her food. That was a first.

When the lights dimmed and she lay in bed, Kat tried to imagine what freedom would be like.