Wick blinked at him, and then the differences appeared. His features had a slightly sharper cast, still masculine but with a touch of Kat's chin and cheekbones. His eyes were too dark, and the way he held on to some sort of sweet drink was his mother all over again. He regarded her with confused apprehension and looked up at Owen Christopher questioningly, but the man just gave him a reassuring smile, and so the boy looked back at her.

"'lo," he said a bit shyly, and squirmed on Owen's lap. Wick summoned a smile, but it was really too astonished at the resemblance to put feeling behind it. She'd known that Kat had a child, but in a distant, clinical sort of way. Now here was the proof, and it was unsettling and remarkable in all sorts of interesting ways.

Jacks...?

Kat couldn't remember how to speak, but she did know how to stare, and stare she did. She drank in the sight of him, of the little face so like Mode's and the sharp eyes, so like hers, and promptly forgot how to breath, which probably accounted for the not speaking and the not moving and the not thinking of anything but him.

Oh, precious...

"Mommy...?" The voice was hesitant, but the small face grew larger as he leaned closer to his terminal, and Kat found herself doing the same. She pressed a hand against the screen as if she could touch him, and her eyes burned, but she wouldn't cry. She couldn't. She had to say something, and her voice caught in her throat twice before she managed to clear it, but eventually the sound came.

"...Mommy?"

All the hurt he thought he'd gotten rid of came up into his throat, but Jacks just clenched his cup and stared at the screen until she spoke.

"Tomcat?"

Jacks burst into tears. Arms surrounded him and held him close, and he tried to swallow his tears, but they were coming too fast and made him cough, and so they ran down his cheeks as he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes despite his sobs so he could still see her. She couldn't leave if he could still see her.

He was crying, her poor precious son, and she started to shake with the effort of holding back her own tears. He looked older, of course he was older, and it felt like more than just over a year since she'd seen him. There was a sharpness to his face that hurt her more than his tears did, because she knew what it was, knew that she'd always had it too, and their loss made her voice heavy.

"Tomcat," she said again, in little more than a whisper. "It's okay, it's alright, don't cry..." Her words had no effect on his sobs, and Owen hugged him more tightly, and that one gesture filled Kat with an inexplicable and unexplainable mixture of hatred, jealousy, and gratitude.

I should be there for him. Why didn't I take him? Why did I leave him behind?

Kat would have done anything at that moment to hold her son.

Jacks had slept in Owen's room for the first month that he'd been there. The nightmares had spaced out after the first few weeks, and Jacks had...moved on. He still hurt, and Owen could see that, and Jacks knew Owen could see that, but together they'd moved on. Jacks had never told Owen what he'd overheard of his grandfather's death, and Owen had never asked. Kat's appearance would bring all the memories back, and most of them were probably painful.

But he'd missed her so much, and it was all Owen had to give.

Jacks sniffled himself into some kind of composure, and Owen sighed and looked Kat a message like he'd so often passed messages to her husband.

Stay calm. Don't be upset. It doesn't help him.

"You're looking good, Kat. Ms. Windhaven explained what you need to know. I'm sending all the information I've got to you in the next message. He's doing alright." He paused to let that sink in, to let her know he wasn't just talking about her son, and then leaned down to talk into Jacks' ear, his eyes still locked with Kat's.

"I'm sending all the information I've got to you in the next message," he said, and she had time to wonder what he was talking about before he said the next. "He's doing alright."

Mode...?

Her eyes widened then, and there was confirmation in Owen's gaze, the final yes that she had been waiting for all this time, and Kat's hands tightened into fists. Mode was alive. Mode was alive. Mode was alive, and that meant she could still save him, she could still find him and take him back and then they could go to Jacks, they could be a family aga--

The next thing to catch her attention was Jacks, again, his little face so close to tears. "Bye, Mommy. I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered back, and managed a smile. "You be good for Owen, tomcat. You be good until Daddy and I come get you, okay?" Jacks nodded, and Kat's smile faded, but her expression was no less loving. "I'll call you again when Daddy's here. I promise."

"Good luck," was all he said, and then cut the connection. Jacks didn't show any inclination to move, and so he held the boy while he did some quick work at his terminal to make sure the call hadn't been traced. There were no indications that anyone but the four of them had monitored the call, but he promised himself to look into it more deeply in the morning.

Jacks was very quiet, and Owen didn't have much to say himself. He took them back over to the television and let Jacks fall asleep over the movie, and after separating him from the rather sticky cup he woke him up enough to go over his face and hands with a wet washcloth and put him to bed. He left his door open, though, and as he'd predicted Jacks crept into his room just after midnight and crawled in next to him. Neither of them said anything, and Jacks didn't cry, but when the boy fell to sleep there next to him Owen didn't have the heart to put him back in his room.

Time passed. There were no more nightmares, but there was a new gravity about Jacks that made Owen worry. Jacks was waiting now, expecting to be rescued at any moment, and after a while Owen could see the strain on him. The boy went to sleep later and woke earlier, and shadowy circles began to become a regular feature under his eyes. His grades suffered. Owen tried to discuss it with him as he had things in the past, and Jacks always promised with the utmost sincerity that he was sorry and would do better, but a few weeks later his performance would wane and the teachers would want another conference. The only thing lacking from the picture was a schoolyard scuffle, but Jacks appeared to have no interest in his fellow students. Owen pulled some of the video records and observed that Jacks didn't really have much to do with them at all. Occasionally the others teased him, looking for a reaction, but they didn't get much of one, and Jacks never initiated contact himself. Why make friends, Owen deciphered, when one could be leaving at any time?

One afternoon, Jacks was not there when he returned home from work. Owen waited there nearly two hours, hoping the boy would come back on his own, but eventually he was forced to go to his office and track him down with the cameras.

Three boys who appeared to be at least a year older than Jacks had approached him after school, and though no blows were exchanged and the audio was not there, Owen could tell from the body language on both sides that threats were being made. Jacks broke and ran, and they gave chase, but they were hard-pressed to keep up with him. Unfortunately, Jacks chose a poor avenue of escape, and ended up cornered in a rather remote sidetunnel. Blows were exchanged - not many, but most of them landed on Jacks - and then they left him alone. Owen felt simultaneously cold and hot with fury as he watched Jacks pull himself up painfully and wander aimlessly, eventually finding a box in a little-travelled corridor to sit down on.

He was still there when Owen came to fetch him, and though it caused him pain to watch the boy wince when he got up, he knew Jacks didn't want to be held right now.

They didn't say anything to one another on the trip back. Owen got him some water and gave him an icepack to put on his cheek, and they sat across from each other at the little table and waited for someone to say something.

"Sorry," mumbled Jacks finally, and Owen ventured to cover the boy's hand with his own.

"What for?"

"For getting in a fight," Jacks explained to the tabletop.

"Didn't look like much of a fight to me."

Jacks looked up with an almost comically aghast expression, but Owen made sure not to look pitying or mocking. "Yeah," Jacks replied at last, sounding ashamed.

Owen was at a loss. He could call the boys' parents, but that would probably just make it worse for Jacks in the long run; despite the boy's wishes, Owen had a feeling he was going to be here for some time yet. Not only that, but he and Jacks had developed a relationship that was almost equal; it was like rooming with a very small adult, and Owen didn't want to make Jacks feel inferior. On the other hand, if this happened again he'd have to kill those boys, and it would probably not be good for Jacks to be orphaned a third time.

"I know you're ready to leave, Jacks," he said carefully. "But I think it might be a while." Jacks looked up at him again, and Owen gave him a small smile. "I think we've got time to take a rec class or two together. You know, get you in shape for when your mom comes to get you. It might be sort of rough going with her for a while." Jacks drank his words in hungrily, and nodded, and he said it before Owen had the chance.

"How about a self-defense class?"

Owen grinned a little, and then grew more serious. "If you want. I was looking to brush up on that anyway. But that's not going to solve your problems, kiddo. Beating up other people very rarely does. Sometimes it makes you feel better at first, but it always causes problems later, and guys like that aren't worth getting in trouble over. Do you know what I mean?"