Cold...and then nothing.

Dark moved around her like a quilt and she turned towards him, warm living dark that cradled her to himself and kept her safe. She didn't want the light. Light meant awareness, return to the pain of reality, but she was drawn to it, regardless. The dark offered silence and peace, freedom from discomfort and struggle, but a single desperate reaching moment told her all she needed to know. It wasn't really him, however much she wanted it to be. The dark had only herself and her memories to offer her.

Gabe was in the light.

The ascent was slow and difficult, and when she woke she found herself alone in the small hospital room. Her muscles would not obey her demands to rise. An unreasoning sense of loss overwhelmed her, and she wept. Her distress did not reach the level of logic. She had no reason to think him dead or wounded; something deeper assured her he was alright, perhaps close, perhaps in the next room. That little rational whisper had no effect on her emotion. It was far too simple for such a reasonable thought to make an impression. She was alone, and so she wept, and loneliness put her back to sleep.

The next time she regained consciousness her nose was stuffy and her eyes itched, but she was far more aware. Even the low level of illumination in the room made her wince, and she was still blinking the black spots away when she noticed warmth on her hand. She knew it wasn't Gabe even before he spoke, but anything was better than alone again, and she made herself focus.

"How are you feeling?"

Gerard Muraida sat comfortably at the side of her bed. A half empty glass of tea stood on her nightstand, and a small desk lay dark under an old paperback book. Her voice felt rough, unused, but she didn't bother giving herself time to acclimitize. "Where's Gabe?"

He smiled gently. "He's fine. He's down the hall, actually, and according to the attending nurses, a very obstinate patient. They had some trouble getting him to lie down long enough to recover. Luckily, he wasn't really conscious until late last night. He's very interested in seeing you."

Sol relaxed slightly, and then shoved the covers out of the way and swung her feet towards the edge of the bed. At least, that was what she had intended to do; in reality, she managed to push the covers down to about her waist level and shift a little. Her uncle had time to grin and shake his head before he reached out to stop her. "Whoa, no way. You stay where you are. You've had a pretty bad shock, you know. Vacuum is nothing to play with. You should see your face. Some of your smaller capillaries broke. You'd fall over if you tried to stand up right now." His idiotic grin got wider. "Gabe did."

Sol settled back against her pillow resentfully. "I suppose it would be pointless to ask you to get me a wheelchair."

"I thought you might want to talk for a bit first. A lot's happened since you jumped out of the airlock. That was a little...extreme, don't you think? Just to pass a test?"

Sol looked at him expressionlessly for a few moments before replying.

"They stock them in the utility closets in the hallway. I could probably crawl that far."

"Sol, there's some things we need to discuss first -"

"Actually, this bed has wheels."

"You're being unreasonable."

"Could you move your chair?"

"Hale has been arrested."

That gave her pause, and she ceased attempting to push the bed around the man long enough to look at him in some concern.

"We still passed, didn't we?"

He succeeded in pushing her bed back into place. "Yes, though there was some dispute at first." She nodded and began to examine her surroundings for something she could use as a poling device. The IV had wheels - that wouldn't work for poling, but it gave her another idea. She carefully pulled her legs up and dropped her feet over the edge of the bed. Muraida was right; there was no way she could stand unaided in this condition. Her muscles felt like weights she had only peripheral control over.

Bemused, the doctor did nothing to stop her. "Aren't you even a little interested in the reason he was arrested?"

Sol didn't stop to answer him this time, gingerly testing her muscles and inching towards the edge of the bed. "I can think of seven excellent reasons he should have been arrested at the moment, and all of those were within the last six weeks. If I was going to ask you something interesting, I'd ask you what changed their minds." She put a toe against the floor as if testing the temperature, slowly let her foot down to rest flat against the cold tiling. Her arms weren't much better than her legs, but she did manage to grasp the IV pole securely with both hands. It was the first time she'd seen anything of
herself since she woke, and she blinked in surprise. The backs of her hands were pale, and the under the surface of her skin was shot through with fading red spiderwebs in random patterns up past her elbows and out of sight. She released the pole and turned one hand over to inspect the palm.

"It's not permanent." Her uncle's gentle reassurance irritated her out of her momentary reverie, and she looked at him a trifle coldly. What did he think she had been doing the past two years? This was ugly, but it was relatively painless, and it would go away. She'd had worse, and she wasn't in the mood to be coddled.

Muraida's face hardened a little under her stare, and he shifted forward in his seat, but he took her motionless silence as an opportunity to continue. "Hale voted to pass you," he said sternly. "You should be grateful. He was under enough scrutiny as it was; he didn't have to do that. If he hadn't, your career would have been as good as over."

"It is over," she said shortly. "We're walking."

"You're..." The look of astonishment on his face was almost satisfying, and she responded to keep her initiative as she braced herself to struggle to her feet.

"Walking. After graduation, we're gone...and since I think Hale probably didn't go to any great lengths to arrange a ceremony - "

The doctor regained his speech in time to place a hand on her arm, preventing her from rising. "Sol, do you know what you're saying?" The urgency in his tone leaked into his fingers, and his grip on her arm tightened. "You can't be serious. You just completed the hardest training course we have. You've qualified for the highest level of the SOTF. What are you going to do Earthside, Sol? Dig ditches? Carry garbage? They don't like deserters down there, Sol. They know how much you cost."

"I didn't ask to come up here, doctor. Neither did Gabe. What we did ask for was a transfer. We could have been cartographers, scientists, anything, as long as we got to see the stars. We never wanted to be in Scorpion. We didn't want to be SOTF, but Hale wouldn't let us go. You heal people for a living. Would you rather be a ditch digger or a killer?" She glared at him, but he did not drop his eyes. "Those are the options Hale left us with. He wanted killers, he's
got two of them. We have better things to do."

His face was set, and his hand did not move. "One of them."

"What? Don't tell me they failed Thoth and let Riya pass. They were supposed to evaluate the teams. Thoth...she's alright, isn't she?" Sol felt an unwelcome flicker of concern at the thought of Thoth dying or becoming handicapped during their final exam. She'd never known the girl very well, but there had never really been time, and she and Gabe had spent little of it in the cell until Hale had forced their hand. She certainly bore the girl no ill will - she was a hard worker and a good soldier.

She never even considered the possibility that good luck had brought Riya to harm. "No, Thoth is fine." Now that he was certain he had her attention, he let her arm go, but did not back away. "They're detaining her for questioning, but I have no doubt they'll find her innocent of any complicity."

Sol kept her face blank and her tone flat. "Complicity in what?"

"Kuniyo Kinoshita did fulfill the first requirement of the final, as I understand it. She collected the schematics for our Excalibur corvette. She also killed two technicians and escaped the station with those plans in a small military transport that deviated from its flight plan almost immediately after departure. She hasn't been seen since."

Sol absorbed this for a few moments.

Riya. Free. Riya the killer, Riya the shade, Riya the nightmare. Free. And Gabe and I unconscious while she -

She was on her feet then, quickly enough to startle her uncle backwards and nearly out of his chair as adrenaline came down on her weakness and broke her free of it. She threw herself towards the doorway, felt the IV pull free, heard her uncle scramble to his feet behind her as she made the hallway.

The hallway listed, and her right shoulder hit the wall as she staggered, but her feet kept moving, and Dr. Muraida didn't catch up with her until she had fetched up against the next doorway in the hall. The chart display and the hallway were spinning, but she could read well enough, and she made out Gabriel, Hunter out of the swirling letters on the door.

It did not respond to her clumsy palm, and her uncle caught up with her before she could fall completely. He took hold of her elbow to steady her and she twisted away and grasped his wrist, slammed his hand against the palmpad with desperate accuracy. He grunted in pain and fell back as the door slid open, and she stumbled inside.

Gabe lay peacefully asleep, the same strange bloody spiderwebs under his skin that she had seen on herself. His hair was mussed, and there were bruised circles under his eyes. Her momentum carried her to his bedside, and she clung to the rail there long enough to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest before she lost her grip and sank down to the floor.

Gabe did not stir.

Warm, strong hands helped her to rise, but her knees wouldn't lock and she began to fall again. She was lifted, settled onto something soft and flat, another bed, and she felt someone tending her arm as the IV was reattached. Her uncle appeared at the edge of her hazy vision, rubbing his wrist ruefully. "I told you you'd fall over," he said with a wry grin.

"Want us to put her back?" "What for? Just leave them in here. Maybe they'll get some sleep without having to be tied down." The bed moved then, but not far. Her eyes refused to stay open, but she was certain it wasn't far. Sol tried to speak, to thank her uncle, but her body was already half asleep. There was a quiet metal clink, the sound of rails being moved, and then silence. Warmth touched her left hand, squeezed, departed.

The doctor came and asked his questions, but even if Kat had known everything, she wouldn't have told him. Eventually he gave up on her evasiveness and wheeled Wick away, and Kat watched her sister go with anger burning in her eyes.

Why, Wick? Why would you do something so foolish? Why would you let him kill you? This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. If anyone should have your blood, it should be me. And even then, I might not. I wouldn't. But why Jor? Why die?

She slumped in a chair and looked down at her hands, examining the blood beneath her nails with weary frustration. It had... it had felt so good to fight again. Her lip was swollen and she licked it experimentally, pleased with the sting. A mirror on one of the cabinets provided a clear view of her face, and Kat prodded the bruise that darkened around her eye. It was a sight she hadn't seen in too long, and it should have made her happy, but it didn't.

Mode... love, you don't understand. If we had let him win, it would have been such a paltry death. If she had died... I don't know. I could have killed her. But I wouldn't. I wish you understood why I would't.

Kat coiled around herself and hid her face against her arms, waiting for Wick to return. She slept, not knowing how long, and what finally woke her was the quiet, raspy sounds of breathing from nearby. It hurt to move, but she stretched and glanced around, her gaze settling on the pale, bruised figure in the bed beside her.

Any danger had passed, the doctor had reassured her when she first came in, and in the face of her quiet insistence, he'd been quite willing to let her see Wick. Kat didn't know what to expect, but looking down into her sister's pale, bruised face was surprisingly difficult, and she leaned closer and sighed.

She'd been hesitant to come. With a happy peace restored between herself and Mode, Kat was unwilling to fight again... but she'd been forced to admit, after much internal debate, that she wanted to see her sister. Thinking that Mode would be furious, but not wanting to lie to him, Kat flatly outright asked if she could visit the infirmary, and had been taken aback by the response.

"I just want to see her once, but... but I won't if you don't want me to."

"I don't mind."

And that was how Kat came to be beside this infirmary bed.

It flared in his eyes, brilliant, atomic, and for a split second she'd seen the essence of wrath, the thread she'd pulled at in him so many times over the years to make him react drawn tight enough to snap. And then it had, and he struck her, once, twice...

After the second it got blurry, but she remembered feeling snaps she should have heard, snaps that jolted her back to a dim awareness for a few eternal seconds at a time. And finally, mercifully, the world left her to her own devices and carried on without her. She didn't really feel the damage until she woke up, unable to manage more than the smallest of sighs to attract help.

The pain was too overwhelming for her to categorize, and though it couldn't have been more than a minute or two before the nurse noticed her, if she could have she would have been screaming. Then they injected her with something that dulled the pain and her consciousness both, and she went back into the dark wondering which she was more grateful for.

When she woke the second time, she felt nothing. She couldn't even feel herself breathing, but after trying to hold her breath, she found she could hear it. It didn't sound good. Trying to move didn't elicit much of a response at all, but she discovered by a great deal of strain she could open her eyes.

Jor wasn't there. She'd known he wouldn't be, but it made little difference whether the blow was expected or not. She didn't speak, but it wasn't necessary; the doctor didn't ask any questions. The staff was attentive; when the pain started to resurface, one of them was almost always there with another injection for her IV. The third time she felt almost alive, and the pain was back but bearable. They were dosing her with something milder now, and it appeared that despite Jor's wishes, she would live.

Thinking of Jor accomplished nothing. She tried not to do it. He was gone, and that was all she really needed to know. Analysis wasn't necessary. It was all she did.

Why did I tell him?

That was what killed her. Jor had tried to kill her. That was bad. Jor was gone. That was worse; God knew where they'd taken him or what he would be charged with if he'd been caught, and if he hadn't...well, that didn't explain why she was still alive, did it? But neither of those things approached the third in magnitude. The third was that she'd committed the ultimate crime. She'd revealed a wrongdoing of her own accord, and had paid with Jor's love and quite nearly her life.

Why?

That cold line of logical fury with herself was what she pursued during the hours she drifted in and out of consciousness while the medical staff saw to her broken body. She tortured herself with it, and drowned herself in it, because anything - anything - was better than trying to face an image of life without Jor.

Her life.

There came a time when she was hovering at the edge of awake, striving vainly to sink again, when her name brought her to the surface. Her real name - not Moira, not Callenstrom. Not Windhaven.

"Wick...?"

She opened her eyes, but didn't look over at her visitor. She didn't have to. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, took a breath and then released it. She hadn't expected her, but she was frightened at the surge of gratitude that accompanied the knowledge that Katera Qui - Katera Terrence had come to see her.

She thought she saw a hint of a smile pass briefly over Wick's features, but it was gone before she could be certain, and nothing even close to a smile reached her own lips. This was wrong, all wrong. The taunts were there, the snide exchanges, the jokes, all ready to be spoken; that was how they were supposed to talk, but it wasn't right anymore.

Jordan is gone. He's not even on the station anymore. How can anything be the same? When Mode was taken, it was months before I could look her in the face, and now... but she doesn't know. She doesn't know I saved her, and she doesn't know he's gone. I wonder if I should tell her. I should tell her.

Her voice was flat when she spoke again, her tone serious, and Kat gave up on the pretense that everything was alright and just told the truth. It was the least she could do, for her sister.

"I brought you here, Wick. Four days ago." She looked down at her hands, avoiding Wick's gaze. "Mode and I. Jor was about to kill you, before I stopped him. You weren't even conscious."

Kat...had saved her. That part she could believe. She didn't know how, but she believed in the intent. Kat looked like she was all in one piece; maybe Jor had worn himself out beating her and Kat had been able to knock him out. But Kat and Mode had brought her to the infirmary? And she wasn't dead?

She was too numb to feel appropriately shocked at the idea of Nathan Terrence voluntarily assisting her. She swallowed and looked at Kat. There were only the faintest hints left of bruises on the girl's face, but they were enough to convince her that Kat had indeed made an intercession for her. A possible explanation for the girl's relatively unharmed state made her try to sit up and instantly regret it before she made any upward progress at all.

"Where's Mode?"

"I don't know, Kat. He's... not here."

"No. We didn't hurt him." Relief instantly flooded through Wick's expression, and she relaxed against her pillow. Kat, however, grew more skittish; she had to grip the handrails of the cot in order to keep herself in one place, and she was hard put to maintain careful nonchalance on her features. "Mode shipped him out. I don't know where to, but it's another outpost."

This is entirely too familiar. It... it hurts. It shouldn't hurt. I shouldn't care; I lived through it. Wick certainly deserves it, for all she's done. Why does it bother me?

"Whaddya do, Wick? Jor was awfully mad when I had to kick him out of the way."

Wick's face hardened, and she glared at the girl leaning over her bedside, taunting her with that disgusting look of pity in her green eyes. I didn't taunt you with Mode, Kat. Kill me, but don't fucking taunt me with him.

I should offer. She never offered to me, but I knew it was there, if I ever needed it. I'll say it. She may get angry, but I'll say it anyway.

Just before she reached the door, Kat paused and glanced over her shoulder. Wick was watching her leave, her eyes furious and icy, and Kat smiled briefly. "If you need anything, you know."

Then she turned and left.

The examination took place in his presence. The doctor didn't mind, and he sat placidly while the man looked his wife over, checking her heart rate and her pulse. There was a long series of questions to determine pedigree, and the doctor promised to look over anything in Kat's medical files that might indicate a problem pregnancy. He also performed an ultrasound; though the baby wasn't visible yet, it did afford the doctor an opportunity to examine how the pregnancy was progressing. Overall, he seemed pleased.

Then he said that he'd need to take another sample of Kat's blood, and Kat's cheerful excitement began to wilt. She was already quailing when he brought out the syringe. "It won't hurt at all," he said soothingly. "You'll just feel a little sting." She cringed away, and the doctor looked at Mode in confusion.

"Is that absolutely necessary?" he asked the doctor impatiently. "They've already taken a sample of her blood once today." The doctor looked down at his sheet. "Yes, I see that, but it looks like they barely got enough for the basic range of tests we ran this morning." Mode's face darkened, and the doctor sighed. "This is the last time we'll need to take any for the next two months, but if you want a complete workup, we'll need to get it as soon as possible."

Mode looked from the doctor to Kat, who was looking at him with equal parts fear and pleading. He put his arms around her and leaned in, speaking too softly for the doctor to hear.

Until the syringe came out again.

Kat managed not to kick anyone immediately, but the urge was there as the doctor approached her. He tried reassurance, which did nothing but make Kat try to scoot away, and finally Mode had to intervene on her behalf.

She heard little and cared less, but Mode wrapped himself around her, and she buried her face against his shoulder. The doctor was still there, standing ready with his weapon, and Kat looked up briefly to hiss at him before Mode tilted her chin to make her meet his eyes.

"Katera? I will, if you want me to."

Uncertain, Kat pulled away and huddled on the cot, regarding both her husband and the doctor with shaded green eyes that alternated between trusting and fearful, depending on whom she was watching. Pain from a familiar, loving source was more favorable than pain from a stranger, and so Kat nodded, holding out her arm to Mode.

He was infinitely gentle, and any sting she might have felt didn't matter, because it was his hands on her. It didn't take long, as Kat watched her blood drip away, and soon after Mode wrapped her elbow and hugged her close again. Kat hugged him back.

Her mood swings, never reasonable beforehand, were now unusually vicious. Mode had initially attempted to decipher the causes for her temper, but eventually gave up and let her tantrums run their course. In the past three weeks Kat had broken two desk terminals and made countless dents in the walls, as well as fallen into a number of crying fits. But she was always quiet and cheerful afterwards, and Mode just picked up the mess and knew better than to comment.

Her morning sickness had all but disappeared after the second month, although some days were worse than others. She was now always ravenously hungry, and Mode had to limit the amount of sugar she ate, for Kat would hoard and binge on any and all sweets she could find. Meals were amusing affairs, as Kat devoured everything in sight, and late-night visits to the post store became increasingly frequent.

Emotional disturbances and eating habit changes aside, there was still little evidence of her pregnancy physically. Three months along was not enough for a really noticeable increase in weight, especially for a first pregnancy in someone in good physical shape. The very slight bulge to her abdomen was growing, though, and it was a great source of pride for Mode. Kat just poked irritably at her nonexistent belly whenever he touched her, and grumbled about being fat and unfit for battle. She was proud too.

But with all the happiness came discord, in the form of infirmary visits. Kat did not grow accustomed to the doctor and his tests as time wore on; if anything, she disliked them more, and argued more vehemently about them each and every time she had an appointment. When Mode wasn't able to escort her once, Kat refused to go, and since then he'd accompanied her to every visit with the physician.

Today, however, was a little different. There were still the blood tests that made Kat kick and hiss. There were still the endless questions that made her grumpy and uncooperative. But today the doctor had promised that his extensive review of tests would be all but finished, and Kat was looking forward to a little peace in her pregnancy.

Optimism ran high as she sat back against Mode and regarded the physician. There wouldn't be anything wrong. Her fears of ending up like her mother were nearly nonexistent, now that she had Mode to comfort her, and Kat conveniently ignored every injury she had ever received in her hopes for their baby.

Even when Dr. Rys didn't smile as he came out of his office, Kat refused to worry.

"Good morning, Nathan," Dr. Rys smiled briefly at them both as he sat down. "Good morning, Katera." Mode liked Dr. Rys. After the first session, the doctor had displayed a remarkable tolerance for Kat's uneasiness in the examination room. He'd never asked Mode to leave and never told Kat she was being childish or unreasonable. Now that Kat was pregnant, those were good survival traits, and after months of dealing with pregnant Kat, Mode had nothing but respect for survivalists.

The doctor sat down and called up a display large enough for them to see from where they sat. "I've completed your testing, and done a good deal of research on your family, Mrs. Terrence. You'll be happy to know that I found no reason to believe that either you or your son are in any life-threatening danger." Mode smiled and kissed the edge of Kat's ear and tightened his arms around her gently. The doctor gave up another small, professional smile at their relief and then continued.

"However, I did find a good deal of scar tissue near the wall of the uterus. It would probably be much easier on both you and your son if we conducted a Caesarean section instead of going with a conventional birth. It would be far less stressful and it would let us plan the exact date for the procedure. That would give us the greatest degree of control over this process, and control is safety.

"There is one other matter we should keep an eye on. During her pregnancy, Lynn Quistin described some mild symptoms that might have been signs of pre-eclampsia, but it appears the attending physician didn't spot it. That could certainly have complicated her delivery, and there are no notes indicating that her doctor ever recognized it." Dr. Rys looked exasperated. "I can assure you that sort of thing won't happen here. What I need you to do for me is to tell me if you experience any symptoms of it - a headache that won't go away, any swelling in your hands or feet, any upper abdominal pain or blurry vision.

"All in all, I would say that you're off to an excellent start, Mrs. Terrence. You appear to be in excellent physical condition, and your morning sickness is probably gone for good. Do try to keep your sugar intake to a reasonable level, and don't give up all of your physical activity; walking is just as good as running, and for you, it's better - less stress on the baby. Don't lift anything too heavy, and be good to yourself; I think everything's going to be fine."

Mode felt like a huge weight had been lifted from him, and he grinned in delight and hugged Kat again.

Everything's going to be fine, just like it should be. Our baby is going to be alright. And... and I will be, too.

She was so pleased with it all that she let the doctor poke and prod her without any sort of complaint, and it wasn't long before he let them leave. Mode started to steer her down the corridor toward their room, but Kat had something else in mind, and she tugged insistently on his hand until he paused.

"Mr. Terrence, please," the nurse half-demanded, half-pleaded, and he released her.

"What did you say?"

She straightened her uniform and repeated herself warily. "Sir, your wife has just gone into surgery. It may be a while yet. The doctor asked that I make you comfortable in his office."

Mode blinked at her and then took a step forward and ripped the curtain aside.

Kat's bed was gone.

"She's...in surgery?"

The nurse's voice was less wary and more understanding now. "Yes, sir. He thought it best that they go ahead and deliver the baby now - less stressful for both of them." She took a step toward the doctor's office, and Mode took a step towards her. "I'll make you some coffee. You just have a seat in here," she led him in and got him to sit down, "and the doctor will be in as soon as he's out of surgery."

"What's going on? What's wrong with her? What happened?"

"I don't know, sir," said the nurse with mild asperity, "but I do know that you interfering at this point is only going to delay and hinder what he's doing in there, and you're going to have to wait."

The look on his face must have told her what he was feeling, because her face softened somewhat. "Don't worry too much, Mr. Terrence. Dr. Rys is an excellent physician. I'm sure he's doing all they can for them. It won't be more than an hour."

An hour.

His life to this point hadn't been nearly so long, and he buried his face in his hands and waited for it to begin again.

The office door opened, and Mode was on his feet before the doctor made it halfway to his desk. When he saw the doctor's face, however, he sat back down heavily. The man looked worn out and tired, and Mode was interpreting death and sickness for his wife and child from the lines on his forehead and the circles under his eyes until the man spoke.

"They're both stable, Mr. Terrence," he said in a surprisingly firm voice, and the younger man sagged back in his chair and tried not to cry with relief. The doctor waited until his breathing evened out and then offered him a box of tissues, which he gratefully accepted. "What...what happened to her?"

"Your wife suffered from a severe case of eclampsia, Mr. Terrence," said the doctor reprovingly, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms. "I told you to contact me if she started experiencing any symptoms that might indicate a pre-eclampsia state. In my professional opinion, there is no way this degree of illness could have approached completely undetected. Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't tell me. Why didn't she tell me? I should have noticed. I should have paid more attention. I should have kept a closer eye on her. I should have taken care of her.

"I'm sorry," he said weakly. "I didn't know."

The doctor regarded him with pity. "Then she just wasn't telling you. When you brought your wife in, she wasn't even breathing. We had to bring her back, Mr. Terrence. She was almost gone. It was a very close thing."

Had to...bring her back? Mode stared at the doctor, trying to imagine what he would have done if Kat had died, and trying just as hard not to. He couldn't see past it, that point in his life when Kat was no longer a part of it. He only saw black, and that wasn't something he could handle - not right now, and maybe not ever.

But...but it's ok, now. He said they're stable. What's wrong?

"But she's alright now?" he asked without pre-amble.

"Yes, she's alright. But the delivery had complications. The eclampsia was the first problem. There was some hemorraghing as well. We had to give her a transfusion. She's going to be fine, Mr. Terrence, but...but it would be best if she didn't have any more children."

No more children. After facing the ultimate price, this seemed like a cheap alternative, and Mode struggled to feel the sadness he knew he should at that statement. No more children. But Kat's alright, and...

No more children.

"The baby." He searched the doctor's face. "The baby's alright too?" Dr. Rys finally smiled, and Mode didn't realize he'd been waiting for it until he felt himself relax. "Yes, he's fine. Quite healthy and an excellent size, especially considering his prematurity. If you'll come with me, you can see them both." The doctor offered him a hand, and Mode took it.

He went to see Kat first. Her cheeks were still flushed with the transfusion, but she was breathing evenly and didn't appear to be in any distress. They had her connected to a system monitor, but she was respirating on her own and the only other machine attached to her was an IV drip.

"She'll be fine," said Dr. Rys reassuringly. "She's had a very rough time of it. She'll probably sleep for a day or two and then wake up hungry." Mode took her hand, and the doctor left him alone with his wife.

He sat down shakily in the seat next to her. Her skin was warm, and he kissed her palm and put her hand on his cheek. She didn't even stir, and the tears he'd managed to restrain in the doctor's office spilled over and left him weak and empty, sobbing against her unresponsive fingertips until he'd bled himself of his terror and sat leaned over with his forehead on the edge of her bed.

Oh, Kat, why didn't you tell me?

When he emerged, there was a nurse waiting to take him to the nursery.

There wasn't enough demand on a military command post to have a full-time dedicated nursery, but there was a small area in the ICU reserved for infants. The baby was over a month premature; Mode expected it - expected him - to be locked away in an incubator or another sort of sterile environment, but after the nurse gave him a mask she led him to an open cradle and said he could hold him if he wished.

Asleep in the cradle was a very small old man, with a little wrinkled face and a light down of blonde hair the same color as his. The baby had his nose, too, but the delicate little eyebrows, barely visible, had the same arch Kat's did. In every feature Mode was able to place himself and Kat together, and he looked at his son so long that the nurse grinned at him.
"Mr. Terrence?"

He couldn't pull his eyes away. It was incredible, really. The baby looked just like Kat. It looked just like him, too. And instead of being a distant amorphous Baby, something to buy things for and blame for Kat's bad moods, it was now a living, breathing reality. A person he and Kat had made together.

"Mr. Terrence?" The nurse repeated his name, and he finally looked up, a small, wondering smile on his face.

"Aren't you going to pick him up?"

Mode blinked. "But...he's sleeping," he said with a surprised tone of voice. "I don't want to wake him up."

The nurse laughed. "I think it'd be alright with him. He hasn't had a proper hug yet." Mode looked back down at the fragile creature in the cradle and counted that an excellent thing, but he gingerly reached down into the cradle and put his hands on either side of the infant. The nurse gave him an encouraging look. "Go on. Be sure you put your hand under his head to support it, and he'll be fine.

The baby seemed to weigh nothing as he lifted him free of the cradle, but it was the most precious nothing he'd ever held. The nurse smiled at his slow, deliberate movements and tucked the blanket in around the child. Mode felt him stir, saw the little brow furrow as the baby became aware of the lower temperature of the world, and cradled him close to his chest. After a few more seconds of small baby wiggling, the baby decided it had been a fluke, and went back to sleep.

The nurse let him stay all day. He learned to feed the baby and to change his diapers, and he left to see Kat once each hour, but in between lessons and checking on Kat Mode held his son and watched over him while he slept. Kat was tough, and there was nothing he could do for her until she woke up; here he was needed, and so here he stayed. Eventually the doctor told him to go home and get some sleep, and Mode said no. The overnight nurse finally convinced the doctor that she would keep an eye on him, and the doctor shrugged and went home himself.

The next morning Vaisou insisted he return to work, but for the next two days, Mode spent his evenings in the infirmary. He and the overnight nurse ate dinner together. When the baby woke crying, Mode always let the nurse examine him before he took him. The third night he woke up four times, and wouldn't stop crying until Mode had walked him around for a few minutes each time. "He's fine," said the nurse when she saw his worried look. "He just got lonely in here all by himself, is all, I'd bet. You hold him all day. He got used to it." Mode returned her smile faintly, but he knew better.

It remembered her, too.

"Hey, Kitten. Long time no see." This from very close nearby. Kat blinked, and there he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor and watching her. She bared her teeth at him. "Aren't you dead?"

"Aren't you?"

Kat thought about the question for a long time. That was silly. She wasn't dead. She couldn't die. But she remembered the dark, and she remembered his face, and even though it made no sense to the rational part of her mind, she answered. "That's stupid. I haven't been here since Charybdis. And I'm not there anymore. Why am I here?"

She got a smile. "You asked me that the first time. Why am I here, then?" That was an easy answer, and she shook her head at him. "You're dead. I'm not."

"Then wake up." There was a challenge in his voice, and Kat scowled. "Why should I listen to you?" He imitated her scowl, and mocked her tone. "Why should you be afraid?"

"I'm not afraid."

"But you're talking to me. So you know why you're here." He stood slowly, stretching, and Kat stared at him. Imagination. This was nothing but imagination. She'd fallen asleep, and dreams were very odd things... and this time she'd wake, but not in the labs. Not downstairs. Not dead.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. "Go away, Jax."

When she opened her eyes again, it was still dark.

She felt heavy, like things were holding her down, and when she tried to move her body refused to cooperate. It wasn't willing to wake up, even though she struggled to, and she stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember.

Where am I? This isn't home.

There was no one beside her, no Mode curled behind her, and she looked around in a panic. A machine next to her bed beeped in rhythm to her pounding heart, and there was something tied to her hand. She recognized the IV, but it still didn't seem right.

This isn't Charybdis.

She couldn't feel a thing. Warmth lapped around the edges of her consciousness, and she tried to fight her eyelid's repeated attempts at closing. She couldn't sleep. Sleep meant dark, and him again, and Kat only wanted the one who wore her ring now.

Where are you?

"...Mode?"

Kat! He bolted into her room and almost tripped over the chair he'd been sitting in off and on for almost three days.

Her eyes were open, and she looked a little dazed, but definitely awake. He didn't dare pick her up, but he wrapped his arms around her as gently as he could and embraced her, leaning over the bed and kissing her cheek as he did so. "It's ok," he whispered quickly, "everything's ok, you're ok, the baby's ok, everything's fine, Kat." He couldn't get past the I.V. from this side, but he was unwilling to let her go to move. He realized he was shaking, and he stroked her hair to calm himself and kissed her temple.

Everything's... okay...

Most of the talking faded away without her notice; she had little ability to think further than herself, and even Mode's voice blended into a soothing murmur that made her tighten her fingers around his hand. He felt real and solid and reassuringly alive, and Kat breathed in his familiar scent and tried not to cry.

Everything's... fine...

"J-bear... lied..." she murmured, more to herself than to Mode, and her brow drew together as she tried to take it all in. How do.. I... feel? Kat pushed against the constrains of her world, but her muscles made little progress, and she settled back into Mode's embrace with a sigh. "Said... I died, but... you're here..."

Mode isn't dead. So I can't be. Silly.

The nurse checked her vital signs and changed her IV bag. "She'll be just fine, Mr. Terrence," she said with a small smile. "She's been through a lot, though." The baby began to cry in the other room, and Mode hesitated a moment and then left to comfort him.

His son quieted as soon as he picked him up. He hadn't soiled his diaper, and he'd eaten only the hour previous. As the nurse had predicted, he was just lonely.

The little face was much less ruddy and compressed than it had been. He still looked like a tiny old person, but things were smoothed out a bit. The tiny hands and feet were less raw, and his hair was fluffier. He'd gotten to assist the nurse in bathing him just after he'd arrived from work, and the mark on his belly that had seemed far too big to be normal was healing quite nicely.

The baby wasn't asleep, but his eyes remained mostly closed. Mode had been surprised and interested to see blue eyes on his son, but the nurse told him it was just a "baby color" and that it would pass in a few days. They seemed to be getting darker, though. Now he tried to hold the baby someplace he could see his eye color without disturbing him, and after turning in a circle he finally reached out with his free hand and touched the baby's palm with his fingertip.

The eyes opened and the hand closed, and Mode smiled.

The child's eyes were grey, darker than his own, with tiny fragments of green scattered through them. They were the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and though they weren't quite focused, they did attempt to look at his finger. This game went on for forty-five seconds until the baby got tired and went back to sleep, and Mode held him and smiled at the little old faces he made.

"Have you decided on a name, Mr. Terrence?" the nurse asked as she emerged from Kat's room. Mode looked up and then back at the fragile being in his arms.

The truth was, they hadn't. They'd never been able to agree on one that sounded just right...but he'd thought of something a few months ago and had never quite gotten the courage to ask her. Now he couldn't ask her, and for some reason it seemed very important for the baby to have a name now. It gave him permanence, and Mode wanted that very much.

"Jackson," he said after slight hesitation. "Jackson Victor."

This time her body was light, easy to move, and she curled her toes and stretched a little. Pressure along her stomach made her wince, so with gentle fingers she explored the area. A short line of stitches were discovered, and Kat lifted the sheet and peered down to examine her new scar. It was one of her less serious injuries, and after making sure that nothing else hurt, she managed to sit up in bed.

Then her stomach rumbled.

"Mrrrgh," she muttered to herself, just as her door opened and someone stepped in. Nurse, she determined, and the woman gave her a friendly smile. "Are you hungry, Mrs. Terrence? You've been asleep for a few days. I can bring you some lunch, if you think you could manage to eat."

Ever pleasant, Kat scowled back. "Where's Mode?"

"Mr. Terrence is at work, ma'am. He usually arrives here around six. Do you think you could handle some water or juice?"

Kat was irritated by the nurse's placid demeanor, but another grumble from her stomach spurned her to be as close to polite as she could be. "I'm hungry... please." The nurse nodded and stepped out the door again. "It'll be just a moment."

Half an hour later, Kat was just finishing a very, very large bowl of jello when an angry-sounding wail from the adjacent room made her stop mid-bite, and she looked questioningly at the nurse seated beside her. "What's that?"

"Seems like someone else must be hungry, too."

"Oh." Oblivious, Kat swallowed the last bit of lunch and licked her lips. She set the bowl down and settled back into her pillow, and it took her a good minute before she realized that the nurse was watching her. "What?"

"Do you want to feed him, Mrs. Terrence? You haven't seen him yet."

"I haven't see--" Baby. She's talking about my baby. Realization made Kat's eyes widen suddenly, and she sat straight back up again. "Can... can I?"

Then just like that, the nurse fetched the baby, and Kat laid eyes on her child for the first time.

He's awfully funny looking.

She eyed the screaming wad of blankets skeptically, but held out her arms. The nurse showed her how to hold him, and too awed to be annoyed by the childish explanation, Kat carefully cradled the little squirming bundle. She tried to hold onto him securely, but the thing kept kicking its feet and wailing loudly, and she looked up at the nurse again nervously. "Why is it shouting? Is it okay? Is it hurt?"

"He's not hurt, just hungry. Here." The woman handed her a bottle and tucked it into the baby's mouth for her. "Be quiet for mommy, Jacks, and eat your lunch."

...Jax?

Kat held her breath and tried to hide her disbelief. "Did you... did you just call him Jax?"

"That's what Mr. Terrence said you two wanted to name him. Jackson Victor Terrence, I believe. Doesn't he look like a Jacks?"

Shaking a little, Kat peered down into the thing attached to the bottle in her hand. It peered back up at her, watching her intently, and she looked him over, from granite and moss eyes to white-blonde hair. Jackson, she said, not Jaxen. But... he almost looks the same. He looks like... like Mode. She lowered her face closer until the baby's eyes unfocused trying to see her, and gave him a hesitant nudge with her nose. He dropped the bottle and wailed, and Kat drew back in surprise. "What's wrong now?"

"I think you surprised him," the nurse laughed, and Kat frowned at the laughter. "I want to see him. Can you go away?"

"...yes, I can do that, Mrs. Terrence. I'll... I'll be in the next room, if you need me. Just ring the bell."

Kat made a noise of assent, and quickly turned her attention back to the bundle in her arms. The baby continued to wail, and Kat bounced him a little. He wailed louder. She tried hugging him closer, and he screamed into her ear. At a loss, Kat growled and was ready to call the nurse, when suddenly everything was silent.

Taken aback, she petted his tiny head and gave a hesitant purr. The baby didn't make a single noise. Now worried that something else was wrong, Kat took him from her shoulder and looked him over, and the baby... smiled.

It was a beautiful smile. Dark grey eyes met bright green, and Kat smiled back at her child. He gurgled something, and she imitated him, gurgling to him. Then he gurgled, smiled, and waved his chubby little arms at her, and Kat laughed in delight.

Mine.

He sucked happily at the bottle this time, and when the nurse peeked into the room to check on them, Kat hissed and chased her away. The baby finished his meal, and Kat hugged him close and purred to him, petting him reassuringly until he gave a funny little hiccup. It made her laugh again, and the baby squirmed a few times and then promptly fell asleep, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

It gave Kat time to think, now that the baby was asleep, and she held him and focused on nothing but the tiny ball of warmth in her arms. "Jacksssssss," she purred to him, and smiled quietly to herself at the name.

Jacks. Funny, to think you almost killed me twice. Jax. Jacks. The baby shifted against her, and she held him more tightly and sighed. Mine. Mine and Mode's. You're our baby... and I promise we'll take care of you. I promise you'll have a life better than ours. Nothing is ever going to hurt you, now that you're mine.

An hour passed, then two, and every time the nurse appeared Kat made her go away. She wanted nothing but quiet and solitude and her baby. When her door opened a third time, she was ready to chase the intruder away, but it was Mode who met her eyes.

Just like the nurse had said, Katera looked much better and very aware, and the sleepy affectionate smile she gave him when he came in belied the nurse's opinion of her mood and banished any weariness he might have felt and drew him to her side. She looked up at him with that smile and whispered something, so softly he almsot didn't hear it.

"His name is Jacks."

She likes it.

He gave her a relieved, delighted smile and kissed her as gently as four days of practical separation could allow, and gently lifted Jacks away from her. He shifted a little, but didn't really wake up, and Kat reluctantly let him go and settled back against her pillows. He left only long enough to put Jacks back into the little cradle, and then returned to her bedside.

Her water glass was already in reach, and so he sat down on the edge of her bed opposite the IV and kissed her again, trying not to hug her too hard.

He returned after putting Jacks to sleep, and Kat filled the empty space in her arms with him instead. It was her turn to be cuddled, to be coddled and held, and she clung to him, little hands clutching at his back in much the same way Jacks had clung to her.

I missed you. Don't let me go away again.

"Okay," she answered softly, disregarding the IV and her injuries in favor of being closer to him. All the fear of the past few days, all the confusion and excitement and concern, all of what had slowly been building finally reached a peak, and Kat buried her face against him and cried.

"Too bad. Maybe. I'll get you a lighter blanket and some more jello, with whipped cream, if I can get some." He leaned in close and kissed her ear. "Of course I'm sleeping in here. They don't have any bigger beds, though, so I'm going to sleep in the chair. You can see Jacks again in the morning. I promise." He nuzzled her neck and embraced her again.

"I missed you too."

He eventually tried to pull away, but she would have no such thing, and Mode finally shifted nearer on the bed and let her curl against him.

The doctor was just stepping out of his office when Mode came out of the small hospital room. "Dr. Rys?"

~~~

By the time he returned Kat was fast asleep.

He slept in the chair next to her bed. In the morning, while she was still asleep, he messaged Vaisou and told him not to expect him at work today. Vaisou could take it out of him tomorrow - and would, most likely; he'd been extremely exacting in his demands on Mode's time. It was obvious he resented the time Mode was taking for his family, but he had the time off to spend, and Vaisou couldn't refuse it without drawing an inquiry.

Just the same, Mode didn't like forcing Vaisou into it giving it, either. He unfailingly took it back.

Jacks woke up just after that, and he went to tend to him. He'd been thrilled with Kat's reaction to him, and with his reaction to Kat; if Kat had been awake he would have taken Jacks in to her immediately, just to see them together. But she was still sleeping, and he put Jacks back down and went to wait for her to awaken on her own.

She woke up hungry and cranky, and he made good on his promise for whipped cream with her jello and made her finish it before he started talking.

Home. Home, with Mode and Jacks.

"Good." While he was nodding at her, Kat abruptly dropped her bowl and leaned toward him, until her nose brushed his. He sat there and waited, and she gave him a big, sweet smile. She closed her eyes and made to kiss him, waiting until he did the same, before sliding to the side and kissing his ear instead. "Can I see Jacks? He's not going to shout again, is he? He kicked me."

Mode just laughed and kissed her forehead. "I'll go get him."

Kat made eager grabbing motions when Mode brought Jacks out, and he watched her closely as she cradled the baby to herself, but Kat was too absorbed to notice. She purred at him, and he gurgled back, and she examined his wiggling little limbs with interest. "He's so fat," she observed. "Like a sausage. Look at his feet." When she touched his tiny toes, he kicked her in the chin, and Kat bared her teeth at him before grinning proudly at Mode.

"I thought you might."

He took her baby back to his own room, and she was really too tired to protest. Staying awake for more than an hour at a time was proving difficult, and when Mode reemerged, Kat was fast asleep.

She didn't wake again until late afternoon, when the nurse came into her room to check on her. Kat sleepily submitted to the poking and prodding, allowed herself to be herded to the bathroom with only a minimum of groggy complaining, and was finally bunkered down in her bed once more and beginning to wake in truth when Mode arrived.

"Home?" was the first thing she said, and when he nodded, she beamed and wiggled her toes to express the extent of her happiness. The nurse appeared to take out the IV, and Kat watched the proceedings with an intense satisfaction.

Home.

Mode loved his wife. He trusted her. But handing Jacks to her and then turning his back for the few seconds necessary to gather the baby's things was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Kat was loving and loyal and dedicated, without doubt, but gentle was not often in her physical vocabulary. He hadn't realized before the baby was born that he would be so...fragile, and juxtaposing Katera on a bad day with such a tiny little dependent creature was not a pretty thought. But he couldn't raise the child on his own; she had to learn to be gentle, and he had to trust her to learn to be gentle.

When he turned around, Kat was holding the baby in a rough imitation of what he'd been doing, close to her chest. She seemed pleased when he snuggled in, and the uncertain delicacy she held him with made Mode ashamed that he'd ever doubted her.