Most soldiers and officers moved out of her way, and those who didn't she weaved past, her copper curls flying and her expression one rarely seen on Kat's features. Fear. It was fear. She was so afraid that her father would follow, that he would catch her, and that he would make her sign that terrible paper that in one line could take her away from Mode forever.

There were bruises around her throat, bloody lines drawn across her skin, and still no one stopped her, and still she ran. It seemed like an eternity. Her breath was coming harsh and raspy when she knocked into another technician walking down the corridor, and as she glanced up to give him a stare, her tortured green eyes widened and she almost shrieked.

Avrey. Her father's Avrey.

No... And then she was off and tearing through the corridors again, desperate to escape. Avrey had seen her. He would tell her father. She needed to hide. Random doors remained locked as she slid her palms along the locks and continued her rapid pace, until a large portal opened before her, and Kat nearly tumbled over in her haste to get inside.

A hiding place. Rows and rows of shelves lined the walls and divided the immense room into aisles, and there were dark corners, hidden couches and nooks and stairways in much the same fashion as the library at the Command School. Ignoring the incredulous looks from others in the quiet area, Kat bolted up the winding staircase to the top floor. It was silent and dusty, and it wasn't until she'd secreted herself into a tiny alcove in the back that she was finally able to draw a breath.

Gradually her breathing slowed, and she looked around her in curiosity, but her thoughts were running too quickly for her to slow enough to be able to examine the place more closely. She twisted uncomfortably in the cramped space, but didn't dare to move, even to relieve her sore muscles. Her face stung, and she ached, but when she brought her hands to rub the blood from her cheeks, she found the steel ring dulled and crimson, and it made her frantic all over again.

Only when her eyes stared back in a shimmering reflection of fear did she place it the band upon her finger again and leaned back, letting those eyes fall closed as she waited.

Mode would come to her.

He would.

The stairs spiralled up against the far wall to the second level, and he walked the rows between the bookcases slowly but deliberately, heading back towards the wall that composed the entrance on the first story. He tried not to think of how he knew she would choose a high spot, how unsurprised he was that she had chosen the library to conceal herself. He told himself it was because she knew Quistin wouldn't think to look for her here.

It had taken him only a few minutes to scale the bookcase and hide himself. No one had seen him come in, no one had seen him secret himself into this dark, dusty crawlspace, and that made him feel safe. His mind was still confused, but he felt clearer up here. He felt cleaner, more in control and less like he was about to commit some nameless atrocity...

The back wall of the second level held large bookcases separated by small alcoves, and he stood at the intersection of this wall and the center row and listened. The room was quiet and empty, all noise muffled by the carpeting and the soundbreaks the bookcases created, but after only a few moments' pause, he turned slowly to the right and walked silently down the aisle. He stopped before the final alcove, sighed, knelt. He didn't want to stand over her. He could not see her from this angle, but she was there. Had he been blind and deaf, he could have found her as easily; the scent of blood - of Katera, and of blood - he knew it too well.

Then there were footsteps approaching her sanctuary, and she was instantly awake, her gaze dulled by fear as she waited in silent horror as a pair of boots stopped before her lair.

No, I won't go...

The voice that spoke was not her father's. "Katera?" It was gentle and concerned, but she didn't dare move until a hand appeared. It wore her ring. She managed a choking mewl of relief and hesitantly reached out to touch her fingers to his, and she allowed him to carefully extricate her from the hole and into the aisle.

Her curls were warm and soft under his fingertips, and he stroked them gently with one hand, embracing her softly with the other as he reassured himself that she was not badly wounded, checking her response as he pressed gently on her ribs. If she was suffering from something serious, he would have to take her to the infirmary, and he knew how much she hated them. To his relief, it looked as if Quistin had done surface damage only.

That covers a lot, Captain. I might not be that kind.

Wick didn't look up from her work. She didn't have to. Major Haruki would remain her instructor until tomorrow, and for some reason he seemed to think she had something better to do with her time than work, and she was an hour and a half over her scheduled shift. If she'd desired freedom from her work, she might have liked him. As it was, he was just another obstacle between herself and her task, and she was hoping he'd go away if she didn't respond long enough. Her hope dwindled and sank when he stopped next to her chair.

"Do you still have a room, Ensign?"

She kept typing. "Yes, sir."

"Go make sure."

She grit her teeth and avoided looking at the old man as she shut things down. There was no point in taking her aggression out on a superior officer. He thought he was doing an overachieving child a favor. There was nothing wrong with that, and it wasn't healthy to hold baseless grudges against the head of the Demolitions training department. Haruki was old, but he knew the material he taught, and a great deal he didn't. That was something Wick could respect, and so she snapped a salute and fled to the library.

There were plenty of empty stations, and she took one, but she was only there a few minutes before she looked away from her desk, frowned at the ceiling and admitted to herself that avoiding her uncle wasn't going to make him go away. She had to go back to her room at some point, and he would probably be there; she'd only been gone for twelve hours. Chances were he was still standing where she'd left him.