Actually, it was more like two weeks; his first four days in the Institute, and she'd been stuck in solitary, yet again. Same old ritual for her, but more anxiously irritating this time around. It wasn't every day that new potential playmates arrived at the compound; fresh meat her own age was an even more rare occurence, one not to be wasted. She didn't appreciate the thought that one of the few other girls-- or more disturbing, one of the boys-- would get their hands on him before she did. Kat did not like to have her toys stolen.

But those four days in the hole were far from wasted. The older inmate who brought the meals was easily bribed with promises of future services, although he wasn't alive to collect on his favors by the time she was released. But she managed to wheedle enough information from him to gain a primary survey on her new prey. Nathan Terrence, aged fourteen, another Battle School reject, iced for attacking without provocation his commander and toon leader. Both girls; this tidbit made her eyebrows rise in interest when she was told about his situation. Definitely a fighter...

By the end of her imprisonment, Kat had a relatively accurate description and profile of the boy called Angel. Only an hour after she was thrown back into her private rom, more information began to arrive, collected surreptiously by the number of personal spies she kept floating around the Institute. When one was young, female, and as untouched as she, one had to keep ahead of the game. Having her sneaks was an advantage she used wisely and often, and they had never failed her; at least, not the ones still alive or unharmed enough to spy for her. They didn't have much more to add to her initial gathering, however, and were dismissed with orders to keep an eye on Nathan and report back if anything of interest happened.

Two days later, with still no new data coming in, Kat grew impatient and decided to conduct her own hunt.

It started relatively simply. Tying her hair back, tucking the long curls into the nape of her collar, she rubbed dirt onto her face, pulling on an old uniform before slipping from her room. Best not to draw undue attention toward herself-- the other inmates already watched her carefully, warily, but this boy was new and wouldn't know any better. She looked like any of the other psychopaths wandering the compound; dirty, disheveled, and almost indetectable from the hoards of crazies. Not one to give more than a cursory glance toward. Just perfect.

And in this fashion she watched him for days, always lurking in the background, following him on his daily rounds. She'd been in the Instiute long enough-- six years, by then-- and the guards and other inmates tended to leave her alone and ignore her as best they could. Most of them avoided even looking at her, not wanting to incite her anger, and the few who had an inkling to start trouble usually desisted when nudged by their buddies and told the stories. Kat didn't confirm nor deny any of the rumors about her, for anything that kept the older crazies from attempting to get their hands on her was a valuable commodity. As she shadowed Nathan throughout the compound each day, she wondered whether or not he'd heard the tales. It really made no difference, in her opinion. If he were smart, he'd believe them; if he wasn't, it didn't matter. Either way, he would be stalked until she decided he was no longer an adequate toy.

Exactly two weeks after Nathan arrived at the Institute, Kat wanted to play.

It was what the doctors had deemed "free time" in the afternoon. The approved inmates-- ones who were found to at least hve some semblance of control about themselves-- were allowed to comingle in the common area. She'd sauntered into the room, coppery-red curls flying about her face, emerald-gold gaze locked on Nathan as he lounged alone on one of the far couches. His features were cold, forbidding, and Kat's wicked side was piqued. The more they resisted, the more fun it always was...

Corrina Reynolds was the easily the coldest woman he'd ever met. She verified his name and his age, and other pointless triviality, speaking to him through a speaker in the plate glass wall. He learned later that this was her method of identifying the level of mental illness in a patient. Other more strenuous tests came later, but she prided herself on bringing the tests into the general ballpark with her question and answer session.

She grilled him over facts and details, but didn't touch on his infraction. She wrote down notes on his chart, some while she was talking, not him. And then she left. They woke him up roughly to let him out into the common area later, and he got his first taste of institute life.

In the first half an hour he was there, he saw two fights, one of which turned bloody, and three nearly avoided. Screams and shouts and giggles and loud clanging from the other "patients" kept him awake the first week. By the end of the second, he'd lapsed into a state of complete despair. Nothing here was what it seemed, no one was as they presented themselves. He avoided everyone and everything.

Still, he'd heard of her before she sat down. Katera Quistin, a lifer who'd been here longer than anyone else still resident (excluding the staff). She had a reputation as dangerous date. Beyond that he hadn't listened closely or cared enough to learn anything else.

When she slid into the seat next to him, he'd turned to look at her coldly...and she'd called him Angel.

"I know your name, sweetheart. I know all about you." Her own words were quiet, muted against the surrounding din, only loud enough for him to hear as she avoided his eye contact and stared at the assembled crazies. "I'm Katera, but since you're new and cute, you can call me Kat. Welcome to Charybdis. As the resident old-timer, I usually take it upon myself to show the... newcomers around." She looked at him then, cat eyes shining maliciously with playful delight. So cold and quiet, this one. Might take a little breaking in...

"There are three rules here, my little fresh fish. Don't talk to anyone unless you're bigger than them, or you'll find yourself in the infirmary, and the doctors here could give a shit whether or not you survive. Second, don't go anywhere alone, especially at night. Find a harmless crazy to partner with; it'll save your ass with the older inmates who love to fuck with the newbies." Kat twisted then until she faced Nathan, a little smirk on her lips as she leaned closer. "And third... if you've heard it, I'm sure it's true. So play nice, darling..." she winked and ran a fingernail along his jaw before settling back into the couch and resuming her survey of the commons.

His slate eyes went back to cold steel and he turned away. Turning his head felt strange with no battle braid behind him, but in a way he was grateful they'd cut it off before the flight. He would have cut it anyway, here. It was more a liability here, something that made it easier for people to grab you, to break your neck.

"You could say that," he said at last. No self-pity was in his voice. There was none left. Just rage at Wick and Jor, for taking her away from him. Dante was lost, and it was Wick's fault. He would make her pay.

But that was later, this was now, and this at least halfway lucid girl had offered him something like a tour. And he'd been nothing but rude. She'd used his old title, true, and that angered him, but only the first time. The second time it didn't hurt at all.

With Nathan behind her, Kat stalked toward the fight, winking at the two guards who turned to nod at her. Crazy Steve, for that's what everyone called him, was pummeling Cris mercilessly, and with a swift kick, Kat knocked Steve from his companion. The man looked up at her with wild eyes, but she shook her head silently, drawing a fingertip across her throat with an innocent smile. He crawled backwards, screaming profanely as the guards grabbed his arms and dragged him away. Cris grinned up at her with thanks, and she nodded to him before turning around to eye Nathan appraisingly. "Now we go."

Leading him slowly from the commons, she stalked quietly beside him, paying careful attention to him while maintaining an air of feigned nonchalance. Best for him not to understand the depth of her interest, nor its implications. This boy promised to be fun, if she could get under his skin just enough to provoke some sort of reaction. And manipulating the toys she chose was Kat's distraction from the danger of her life. Some inmates played chess, some participated in the assigned therapy exercises. She broke people. All a matter of personal preference, in her mind. She certainly was entertained, and nights in solitary were more than worth it.

This girl obviously had a larger following than he had surmised. The way people avoided them, the wary glances they shot at Kat and the curious glances they snuck his way were beginning to irritate him. There was more going on here than he understood, and he didn't like that.

"Now that you said that, and if I didn't tell you everything, I'd just be unfriendly, wouldn't I?" Her tone was silky, sardonic as the corners of her lips twitched. "You already heard the three rules of this place. Follow those and if you're lucky, you'll still find yourself alive each night. Just remember what I told you..." she trailed off as a large group of boys her age stalked by, smirking at her openly with sharklike appraisal on their faces. The latest gang of army brats, fresh from being expelled at another ground academy, sent to the Institute for whatever terrors the military could invent. She hadn't tussled yet with these ones; it promised to be bloody, and Kat hissed menacingly at them as they passed, whistling cockily at her, catcalls at caused Nathan to glare at them also.

He was still learning all the sigils that the different "uniforms" carried. His had the wings of the IF sewn into the sleeve. He didn't know the specific military school they came from, but it had the overall crest of the Army over it. He understood the glares they cast his way already. He'd dealt with his first Army brat the second day he'd arrived. He didn't cause a great amount of damage, but he defended himself well enough to be left alone.

"Almost. You'll lose yours eventually too... no wings for you, Angel. After a few years, there's no point in wearing them anymore. Pray you won't reach that point, sweetheart." They reached a dead end in the corridor, the wall a solid glass window laced with steel bars. But you could still see between them, watch the forested surroundings, trees stretching toward the sky with a freedom that none of the inmates here would ever feel again. Folding her arms on the windowsill, Kat yawned lazily and stared outside, the sun shining in creating a glowing halo on her coppery-gold curls, warming her face. Turning to look at Nathan seriously, she whispered. "Watch the sun while you can, because the nights are what will kill you." With that, she pushed away from the wall and sauntered back down the hallway toward her own room, leaving Nathan alone at the window.

To most, it would have been a bleak view. The interior courtyard of the Institute was all concrete and metal, the few wilting plants doing nothing to relieve the oppressive angularity of stone buildings, stone steps, metal rails and flourescent lights. But the sunlight was something. His eyes still weren't completely adjusted, but he refused to squint. His eyes watered, but didn't tear, and as the sun sank lower he watched it go with an inexplicable sense of loss.

When the lights outside in the courtyard flickered on full blast as the last of the natural light sank away, Nathan left the window, padding back to his room at an inconspicuous rate of speed, not too slow, not too fast.

"If I'm a game to you, Nathan, then let go of me right now and leave. I... I don't want this to be some... I don't want to be something you play with. Do you... do you understand?"

His footsteps on the tiled floor made no noise, bare feet landing silently one after the other as he made his way mechanically through the familiar darkened hallways of Charybdis. When he had first arrived, imagining such a place as familiar hadn't seemed possible, but after nearly a year, he was moving easily on autopilot. His slow, comfortable pace allowed him the physical focus to keep the metal sphere in motion, and that quiet, repetitive exercise gave his mind something to focus on as well. It helped to keep his emotions at a distance; it kept him calm as he gingerly explored the same memories again and again. Cycles had their uses. Each repetition assured him the pain was less, that he was bearing it better, though he could not tell the difference.

Dante wrapped her own arm around his neck and stood on tiptoes to meet his kiss, her fingers nimbly trying to untie the loop that bound his hair. Finally succeeding, she smiled as she continued to kiss him, running her hand through his braid as his long blond hair fell across them like a veil. Reaching her other arm up, Dante encircled his neck, pulling herself up higher to reach his lips...

Neither the ball nor his pace slowed, but he closed his eyes slowly and opened them again, the remembered, familiar sensation of her crisp curls under his fingers taunting him, making his unoccupied hand tense involuntarily. What wouldn't he sacrifice, to have her that close, to have that trust just once more? Physical sensation was nothing. It was the joy he'd seen in her eyes when he was near her, when he held her. That was what he wanted back. These were not new thoughts. Analysis provided no relief, but it did pass the time.

"Je vous aime, mon ange..."

He held on to those words for a moment, letting them wash through him as he steeled himself for the next segment of memory. The ball wavered a little in its path, and he immediately paused his thoughts and his step to devote a few seconds to steadying it. When it began to move fluidly over his hand once more, he eased back into his walk, back into his recollection.

"You betrayed me, Nathan...save your kisses for the next person you stab in the back. You're no better than Jorry, why don't you just kill me now, mon ange..."

The metal ball left his fingers, and he tried in vain to catch it before it could escape. It was solid, and the loud ping it made as it struck the tile echoed through the hallway like a gunshot. He caught it just after the second impact, but he could already hear movement in the shadowed side rooms of the open cell block. It was very, very late; most of the inmates were sleeping, but his clumsiness had awakened at least a few of the locals in this area.

He drew back against a pillar, hiding himself in shadow. Minutes passed, and the quiet stirring died down, but as it did, he became aware of another sound, a low metal scraping sound that set his teeth on edge and drew his attention. It didn't appear to have any particular rhythm. Strange sounds in the night were nothing new to him, and he had almost dismissed it when he realized it was getting closer.

kssscch ksssssscch ksch ksssssssssssssssch

Metal against stone.

Dropping to a crouch, he twisted to see around the edge of the pillar as his heart began to pound. There was a figure in the hallway, apparent to his accustomed sight only in outline, darting back and forth from wall to wall. The figure held something, scraping the wall with it, something cylindrical, something hard, and this created the sound. Something metal, then, against the concrete walls. Nathan had no wish to find out what.

He moved backwards, away from the pillar, out of sight of the approaching inmate. His back pressed against the wall, and he started to slide away.

The scraping sound ceased.

Should I look? If I look he might see me. I could run. If I run, he could catch me in the back. I wouldn't see it coming. Maybe he didn't hear me. How the fuck could he hear me? I didn't hear me.

Shoving the little ball into his pocket, he crept forward to the nearest pillar and then dropped backwards as something sharp came out of the dark and sank itself into the wall beside his head. Flecks of concrete flew out and stung his cheek and neck and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out, dodged down and to the left, towards the open corridor. A hand landed on his arm and yanked him back and into the wall with stunning force, and he hit it hard and fell back, lost his balance and landed on his back, dazed and blinking.

"Coming. Anyone else see him?" Sounds of rustling inside, a muffled metal clink, then a creak as the door slid open. A pair of sharp green eyes peered out from the darkness. "Well?"

This time the voice was meekly afraid, almost apologetic. "Burr and his boys." A pause. "They think he's pretty."

The serpentine gaze narrowed. "So do I. I already claimed him. They know that." The pale face that surrounded those eyes came into view then as the girl padded barefoot into the dim hallway and shook her head, a glimmer of copper giving hint to the color of the curls that ran down her shoulders. "You're not telling me something." Her tone was flat, a question in a statement. "What."

Silence, and then a soft reply. "Said your claim don't count, cause you a pussycat. That if you wanna lay stake then you hafta take it up with him. Katera..." The boy stepped closer and laid a hand on her arm. "Burr told me to tell you once they're done with your toy, they gonna finish what Rat and the army jackals started."

Kat smiled brightly, shoved him aside, and took off running. They know better than to steal what's mine.

Five minutes later she knew she'd found them, by the echoes of heavy breathing and the hard concrete cracking as something impacted with amazing force. She snuck closer to peek from behind a pillar, her eyes widening with a mixture of delight and irritation as she recognized the white-blonde spikes that stood out in the dark. Nathan was fighting, with the same nearly refined grace he'd employed the time he had saved her, and she could not help but bite her lip in appreciation.

There was only one attacker, and that was odd. Burr rarely fought alone. He liked a show of force, of intimidation. But she was not unduly concerned, more engaged in watching the show than worrying about numbers and unimportant little details.

Then the figure he was battling with came into view, and she grit her canines hard enough to taste blood in her mouth. No. No. No amount of grace or skill could defend against that, against the inhuman strength of muscles fueled by Crystal Bliss. It wasn't Burr, nor his brats, nor any other number of predators that roamed the black halls at night.

Junkie. And he had a weapon.

No one could stand before such a force, and despite bone-crunching efforts, there was little Nathan Terrence could do to stop the sharpened metal pole that swung through the air and drew a long thick ribbon of crimson from the back of his hand. A high-pitched giggle rang out, and with little forethought Kat sprung from her hiding place, snarling loudly in extreme displeasure. Not fair. That was her toy.

With a dagger in hand and a smirk on her face, she decided it was time to join the fun.

The junkie did not notice her until she was already on his back. The stab to his shoulder drew his attention away from Nathan, and the second gash to the face only irritated him further, but it was the third and last cut across the throat that finally dropped the blisser to the ground. The giggles ended, and she grinned at him with triumphant satisfaction, as if daring him to say something.

Down the corridors, whispers and footsteps began.

Her fingers around his wrist were inhumanly tight, and he didn't even consider trying to break free. His body was trying to go into shock, but motion kept it at bay. The numb warmth in his hand was leaking, running down his fingers to fall on the stone floor in little drops, and his head was beginning to spin. He could hear his boots and her lighter steps, but the sounds were beginning to fall out of sync.

He ran anyway.

It wasn't until she let him pause that he realized how out of breath he'd been. She pushed him into a small inlet and peered around the edge. Looking for...followers? Could he really have gotten back up? He visualized her pouncing on the junkie, the vicious arm movement that was all he could see as she stabbed him in the back. He'd blinked, maybe looked away, maybe blacked out, but when he'd looked back the junkie was already falling, blood pouring from his ruined throat as he choked for air.

No fucking way. He was too busy bleeding to death to get up. It's someone else.

There wasn't much light in the inlet, but a single light from the hallway was enough for him to see now that her eyes were wide, her teeth clenched as she gazed furtively down the dark corridor in the direction they'd come from. Her eyes were yellow-gold, and her pupils were wide in the poor lighting. Her canines were longer than the rest of her teeth, and they made her look feral, like a hunted animal.

She was also covered in blood.

Behind us. I can hear them behind me. Won't be long now until they find us. This sector doesn't have much sanctuary. Down the corridor, and she scanned for anything. Inlet. Cover. Kat ducked inside, taking Nathan with her, and he had the sense to stay hidden as she peered around the corner. Nothing but dim, dark hallway. Nothing yet, but I know they're there. Fuck. We'll have to fight.

Her muscles were coiled, ready to spring, and when something brushed her arm she whirled with a hiss, her canines bared in anger. Only Nathan. Settle... He was giving her a look she took for concern, but she wasn't sure why. She wasn't hurt; nothing serious, anyway, nothing that couldn't be ignored until they were safe. When he flicked his gaze to her left hand pointedly, it drew her attention, and she glanced down to see the blood that covered her skin. Wasn't hers, she didn't think. Had to be the junky's.

But Nathan, on the other hand...

He's bleeding all over. They can probably follow the blood trai--

In the night, she began to hear the voices.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere kitty kitty kitty..." Taunting and coming closer. Bootsteps and the sound of a group. Had to be Burr. Him and his boys. Nathan didn't protest when she shoved him further into the tiny alcove, shook her head warningly, and whispered. "They want me as much as they want you. Stay here. I can handle it."

Louder now. "Heeeeeeeeeeeere kitty... c'mon little kitten, bring your mouse out to play with us too... don't hide, we know you're right there..."

Kat tightened her grip on her dagger handle, grimaced again, and stepped into the open hallway. She could see them now, a good fifteen paces away, and her silent count had just passed eleven boys when Burr emerged from his gang to stand in front. He grinned at her. She smiled back and showed the blood on her teeth.

"Hey there, pussycat. Where you hidin' my little blond-haired beauty?"

"Ain't yours, Burr. You know I laid stake a'lon' time ago. 'Less you want to fight me for 'im--" She flicked her dagger in Mode's direction and smiled again, "Then you're just gonna hafta back the fuck off."

Eleven of them, twelve including Burr. I could take him and four others. Maybe five. That still leaves too many, and Nathan can't fight them all. Fuck. This isn't fair. I don't like unfair games.

She fluttered her eyelashes playfully at Burr and purred. "Rat an' his boys all went to the labs after what they tried to do to me... you wanna join him, Burr baby? I'd be more than happy to send you."

That got her a hiss from him and angry mumblings from the group, and she narrowed her eyes and stood her ground as Burr took a few steps closer.

An older boy's voice greeted her, scratchy and low, like he had a sore throat. "Hey there, pussycat. Where you hidin' my little blond-haired beauty?"

He sank a little lower against the wall. Me? Why do they want me?

"Ain't yours, Burr." Kat's voice, light, teasing, but with a menacing undercurrent. "You know I laid stake a'lon' time ago. 'Less you want to fight me for 'im--" He saw her dagger point flick to indicate his current position, and his eyes narrowed. " - then you're just gonna hafta back the fuck off." She's not giving me up. We wouldn't have run in the first place.. He looked around what he could see of the chamber they were in. There were only two ways out, and "Burr" and the rest of them were blocking the one they'd come in at.

Maybe that's why everyone leaves her alone. Maybe she leads them into these traps for the others. No. She could have just let them take me. This can't be just for show. She's protecting me. Goddamnit, why do they want me?

"Rat an' his boys all went to the labs after what they tried to do to me... you wanna join him, Burr baby? I'd be more than happy to send you." The army brats. So they're after her after all. He just wants to make sure I can't interfere. He could see four, behind the leader, and he could hear shuffles and giggles behind them. They were outnumbered, and he was injured. Kat couldn't handle them all. That's why she saved me from the junkie. They were after her and she wanted help. Frustration twisted his insides, and he shivered once. I'd help you if I could, Katera, I swear, but I can't. We're even, we're fucking even, I don't have to die for you here just because you paid me back.

His breath paused, and he replayed that thought. I don't want to die. He blinked and shifted a little, pushed his hand up a little higher. How about that?

Burr was talking again. "Your precious angel dere is gonna watch me finish what Rat started before I do the same to him." Nathan let a slow breath out and stood up straight in the dark corner of the alcove, unbuttoning his left sleeve and ripping the seam enough to tie it around his forearm. Clumsy, but the bloodflow was already reduced, and it would do. "I'ma gonna have the kitten and her mouse."

Alright, Kat. I won't leave you. But you owe me.

He stepped out of the alcove and turned to face them, Katera ahead and to his left. Twelve. Nathan felt like laughing. He wanted to live, he finally knew he wanted to live, and now he was going to die. Just my luck.

You fucking idiot. I'm trying to fucking protect you, and you're going to get us killed, raped, or worse. I wouldn't have laid stake on you if I knew this was going to happen. Nothing is worth this.

The murmurs grew louder as the group noticed Nathan too, and Burr cocked a grin at her and whistled in appreciation. Kat scowled. She could kill most of them before they got their hands on her and Nathan, but there wasn't much she could do to stop the talk.

"See, now that's what I'ma talkin' about." Burr licked his lips and winked at Nathan, then began to move forward. "Give it up, kitty. You and the angel ain't gettin' away this time. Maybe if you don't fight me this time, I'll leave a piece of him for you after."

Definitely time to fight.

She waited until he was close enough for her to feel his breath hot on her face before she smiled. Burr wasn't stupid, but he wasn't smart, either. He tried to grab for her, managing to knock her off balance as he latched a hand onto her arm. Damnit. Her knife hand. Kat kicked him to the side, catching a blow to the face, but it wasn't going to be enough to save him as she attacked.

There was no forethought. The motion was practiced, fast, like the strike of a snake, and she could feel blood on her skin as she twisted the blade just a little deeper into Burr's side. "You can't have him."

Now run, before the others finish this. Get Nathan and run. RUN!

She turned and grabbed him and began the race again.

They weren't going to catch her. Everyone hated her, but they were more afraid of her than Burr, and with him down it was perfect. Charybdis inmates were not difficult to understand. Shove one down, and anyone with the strength would kick the fallen.

"Burr's down!" Her voice was shrill and happy, and doors slid open as they ran down the corridors with an entourage on their heels. She could hear the sounds of scuffles and screams behind her, and yanked Nathan down a side passage with a hiss of urgency. Almost there. Her room was sanctuary, and it was so close...

There were no footsteps following them when she stumbled in her haste, but still she scrambled to her feet and shoved him inside. It was dark, silent, the air musty and warm, and Kat let him go and limped across the room. He was watching her when she turned around, and she frowned.

The stone was cold, but solid, and relieved of the strain of standing, his body began to ache in a thousand places. His hand was bleeding again, and it hurt much worse now than it had before. His sleeve had come undone and the run had increased his circulation enough to get the blood flowing again. He was blearily trying to decide how to retie it with only one hand when Kat's voice made him jump.

"I told you to stay there," she said irritably. "You almost got us killed."

A good deal of his gratitude shriveled, and he painfully pushed himself to his feet. He was nearly fifteen, still lanky with youth but tall for his age, and she was shorter than him by at least six inches, but she showed no sign of being intimidated. He discarded the idea of thanking her almost immediately; it looked like she wouldn't appreciate it anyway, and in any case, he'd saved her first. Still, he had to say something before he left, and his eyes fell on her bloodied hands and uniform, softened a bit.

The lie was automatic, her voice sharp and short. "I'm fine." Not so true, but she was better off than he was, and the way he was watching her with something akin to concern made her eyes narrow. He should be thanking her for saving his ass from Burr's intended attentions, not giving her that same pity-party look he'd had the first time those army merdanas had her down and almost out. She didn't need his worry. Kat didn't need anything.

He didn't respond so she ignored him, turning away to drop her jacket to the floor and hold her arms up to the meager strip of light that filtered through the poorly-fitted doorframe, so she could survey the damage. Ouch. Plenty of blood that wasn't her own, but she'd contributed her share, and she'd earned a nice gash on her forearm. Kat pressed the wound to her mouth and nursed the pain in silence, glowing green-gold eyes focusing on the crimson that dripped from Nathan's hand as he stood against the wall, watching her in return.

I knew it'd cost me someday, me owing you for waylaying those army brats. I saved your life and more tonight. Now we're fucking even.

She licked her lips clean and pointed with a bloodied finger at his hand. "Anyone with half a mind could follow you, bleedin' al'over like that." She turned away from him again to lift the edge of the cot mattress and rummage around outside, finally coming out with a roll of bandage. He blinked at her, his eyes bleary, and she shook her head and reached for him. "You still got alot to learn 'bout this place, Angel-boy. I shoulda let Burr have you, after that shit you pulled. Now lemme wrap that."

When her hands touched him, he pulled away with an odd mixture of uncertainty, reluctance, anger and discomfort, and she sneered at him with injured disgust. Idiot almost got her killed, and then dared to refuse her help? She wasn't letting him out of the room when he was bleeding like that; all her effort would be wasted.

"I said, lemme wrap it. You go out like that and they'll be on you fast, and I ain't killing for you again tonight." This time she grabbed his wrist and tugged him off-balance, enough so that it took him a moment to reorient while she began to bind the wound. He watched her with obvious distaste, but let her tend him, and when she was done she peered up at him in the dark and shook her curls, before backing away.

She finished her work and looked up at him, and he watched her as coldly as he could in his wavering state. He didn't want to be here any longer. He couldn't fall asleep here. He had to get out, back to his cell, back to where he was in control, not this girl with the talons and the teeth who seemed to want to play house.

Her curls bounced as she stepped back, shaking her head, and he immediately moved towards the door of the cell, trying not to notice how much effort it took to keep from stumbling. "An' you're welcome," came her voice out of the dark behind him, but he didn't pause. It was enough effort to keep moving. He couldn't afford to stop.

The dark hallways of the Institute were quiet, and he moved as stealthily as he could. Whispered giggles and other less appealing sounds ceased as he passed, but he kept moving, and miraculously, no one followed him. When he heard footsteps, they were always departing, never approaching, but each noise made him move more quickly, less carefully. By the time he reached his own hallway he had his shoulder to the wall for support, pushing himself forward one painful step after another.

Almost...

He fumbled with the lock he'd rigged open and nearly locked himself out, but he caught the edge of the door at the last minute with his good hand. Pain shot through his fingers as the door closed on them, and he hissed in pain and yanked it open, sliding inside without looking, into the small chamber that had been assigned to him. He didn't think to check for intruders until he was already inside, but the cell was empty, and the click of the lock allowed him to sink down onto the small cot that was hung from the wall.

He never noticed her following him. She sauntered silently behind him, not even bothering to be stealthy, but if he paid no attention then at least the other inmates did. Giggles, comments, movements; everything ceased the moment they saw her, and she waved her bloody hands cheerily as they glared their displeasure.

Nathan finally made it into his cell, but it was a surprising thing, after watching him struggle. Brave boy, or very stupid, to leave her protection when he was as injured as this. Kat smiled quietly in the dark as she plunked herself down onto the floor outside his door and relaxed against the wall, eyes tracing the shadows.

She was lucky that Burr had been the only one who wanted Angel enough to fight her, because she could still feel thin rivulets trailing down her injured arm, and another battle was out of the question. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she'd have to admit that she wasn't sitting guard on Nathan. He was locked inside; no one would be bothering him again tonight.

It was only that she hurt, and it seemed like such a very long way to walk back to her cell.

Just a moment. I'm just going to sit for a moment, until this stops bleeding. No one will attack me; surely word's gone around of what I did to Burr tonight. I've my knife. I'll be fine...

It seemed like only a second, an eyes-blink of time, but awareness didn't surface until two hands wrapped around her forearms, two white-uniformed guards hauled her to her feet, and one very irritated voice clucked her name.

"Katera... one of your friends came into the infirmary tonight and said you'd been a busy girl. I think a few nights in solitary will persuade you to leave him alone. Let's go."

But... Angel... it wasn't for fun this time... I was saving him... oh, he owes me now for this, solitary for his life, I swear it...

He hesitated a few moments and then tried the handle, but the door was locked. He thought about trying to force it, but decided that would be above and beyond the call of gratitude. He rested his ear against the surface of the door, half to try to hear anything that might be happening inside and half to rest himself. His head was still throbbing, but it was much clearer than it had been last night, and the pain in his hand was bearable, if not pleasant. His first stop had been the infirmary, and they'd given him some water and rebandaged his hand without asking any troublesome questions.

Maybe she just wants to be left alone. But she was hurt last night. What if she needs help?

A shuffle of a shoe against the floor behind him ended his conflict, and he whipped around quickly enough to startle the newcomer, a short, wire-thin boy with dark hair and skin and wide, frightened eyes standing just inside Katera's alcove.

Nathan relaxed. He'd learned to spot predators and victims among the inmates at Charybdis, and this boy was no predator. He looked like he was about 12, and a small 12 at that. His clothes were all Charybdis issue, and he didn't have an identity patch. His feet were bare, and Nathan estimated he weighed less than 40 kilos. His entire manner was that of a rabbit, poised for flight, but he wasn't running. He seemed to be trying to decide something.

Nathan wasn't feeling patient.

"What?" What are you doing here, what do you want, and what makes you think I won't hurt you?

The boy flinched and began to shake. His eyes flickered over Nathan's bandaged hand and back to his face as if trying to tell odds on Nathan attacking him if he responded. Nathan experienced a reluctant surge of pity and tried to look less menacing. The boy didn't seem to notice, and it took him two attempts at opening his mouth before sound emerged.

"K...Katgirl isn't here," he said fearfully. His voice was high and reedy, and after speaking he braced himself, as if he expected to be punished for delivering such unpleasant information, and started talking more quickly, trying to get it all out while he had the chance and before he lost his nerve. "They took her. Took her away, you know? Last night, you know? They found out, someone told and they found out, you know, 'bout Burr, and they came and took her to the dark." This was all spoken very quickly, some of the words running into each other, and Nathan had to translate it in his head before it made sense, but when it did, he began to grow alarmed.

"The dark? What dark? Who took her?"

It came out more forcefully than he had intended, and the boy made a tiny whimper and took a step back, though he was careful not to leave the alcove. "The dark, you know," he said desperately, "solitary, the dark, no light, you know? Katgirl got the dark, two weeks, they said two weeks, you know, for Burr. They say Katgirl likes the dark, cause she's always there, you know, but no one likes the dark, 'cept me." This last was abrupt even compared to the rest of the jerky, rapid sentence, like an afterthought.

She's in solitary because she helped me. Shame tried to gain a foothold, and he fought it. No. No, I saved her first. I saved her first, and she was just paying me back. I didn't tell her to stab Burr, I didn't make her do anything. She just did it. It's her own fault. It didn't do much good, and he tried to bury it, focusing instead on the boy before him. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked suspiciously. "What do you want?" Victim or not, the boy was still alive, and that meant he was cutting a deal. No one here gave anything away for free.

The boy started trembling again. "Sandre, I'm Sandre, you know, and me, I'm good at knowing things, you know? Katgirl, you know...Katgirl's good at...at hurting things. When she needs to know something, she asks me, and I tell her, you know? And when, you know, I've got, you know, problems, sometimes Katgirl helps me out, but Katgirl got the dark, cause she was trying to help you." The wheedling, whining tone became accusatory for a single beat on the word you before it returned to its former state. "And now I got problems, you know, and Katgirl's gone." And for the first time, Sandre looked Nathan full in the eyes, his own full of pleading and frustration and fear.

And now you want me to help you instead. Nathan tried to get angry, but his heart wasn't in it. Kat was in solitary for the next two weeks on his account; the least he could do would be to help keep her affairs in order while she was gone, and hope that whatever she normally did for Sandre wasn't too bloody.

The boy let a out a long breath and seemed to calm down a little bit even before Nathan nodded slowly. "What is it you need?"

~~~

Sandre's little room was on the other side of the compound, in a nearly deserted cell block. Nathan had learned the hard way that "deserted" didn't mean "safe"; it was generally more practical to stick to the places the guards patrolled the most frequently, on the off-chance that they might choose to break up a fight before it got too violent. Out here on the edges, it was much harder to guard yourself, and if something bad happened involving you, chances were it wouldn't be interrupted by any of the staff. Why would he stay out here? There's no way he could protect himself, and Kat can't guard him all the time.

"You stay over here?" he asked with a frown.

Sandre looked at the floor in front of him and kept moving. "Yeah, no people, you know? It's quieter, makes it easier, no people, no flashes, just quiet."

He didn't say anything else, and Nathan didn't press it. He didn't plan on making this a habit, and he didn't need to know.

The hallway turned around a corner and into a dead end. The boy led him to a doorway on the left and stopped outside, looking ashamed and nervous. "Here," he whispered hoarsely. "In there. They're in here now, been in there all day, you know? There's two. Waiting on me to come back." He flinched a little and took a step away from the door. "Just...just make them leave, you know? Just make them go away, that's all, just away, you know?" Sandre retreated farther, and as Nathan turned towards the door he moved around the corner and out of sight.

Just make them go away. I can do that.

~~~

He found Sandre later, crouched in Katera's alcove with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes closed. Nathan made no sound he could detect as he approached the boy, but Sandre instinctively shuffled a little farther into the alcove. When he entered the alcove instead of passing by, the boy opened his eyes and peered up at his face.

Aside from a dark bruise on his cheek and a split lip, Nathan was unharmed from his encounter in Sandre's room with the two intruders, and when Sandre saw this he stood up slowly, his constant fearful look altering to almost hopeful.

"They...they gone?" He sounded even younger than he looked, and Nathan answered more gently than he needed to.

"Yeah. They're gone."

Sandre jumped to his feet and bolted for the hallway, and Nathan caught his arm and held him easily. Sandre was as weak as he looked, and he let out a pitiful whine, but he didn't struggle after the initial jerk, just leaned against Nathan's grip with all his spindly might and looked back at his face with miserable certainty. "...please..."

Nathan's conscience pricked him, but he needed information, and this boy had it. "You said you know things. You said you tell Kat what she wants to know and she helps you out. I helped you out this time, and that means you tell me instead." He waited until some of the fear had gone out of the boy as his demand got through and then let him go, ready to grab him if he tried to run again.

Sandre rubbed his arm absently with one thin hand and nodded rapidly, more at ease now on familiar footing. "Yeah, yeah, I know things, you know, like I never forget anything, you know? You want to know something, you helped me, I'll tell you, just ask, you know?"

Years ago, when Kat had first become a frequent visitor to the cells, she'd figured that someday she would grow accustomed to the dark. After all, once she realized that she couldn't leave, it wasn't so bad. The cold metal floors were familiar, the scratches and writings on the walls comforting textures under her fingertips. Every little sensation became a friend, and she knew those cages like she knew herself; how many seconds it took to trace a line from wall to door, how often the guard changed outside, and just when the cage would open for a few blissful bright moments as someone delivered her meal.

So dark.

She had long since learned how to be alone with her thoughts. Control was not something Kat had struggled with for quite some time, and it did not frighten her anymore to sit in the black and remember. Memories were something she savored, and days in solitary afforded her the luxury of uninterrupted time to simply dream. No one would disturb her here. No one could attack her. When she was here, she did not have to fight, and despite all she had done and would continue to do, Kat cherished the peace.

I want to see...

Perhaps someday she would be used to this. Perhaps someday she would love the dark as much as she loved the light. It was not a preposterous thought. Others spent all their time in solitary, and certainly some-- such as Sandre-- enjoyed it. For a length of time, Kat was one of those people. For a few days, she did indeed relish solitude. But not for fourteen days. Not for two weeks. Two long, long weeks. Two never-ending weeks...

Let me out. Let me out, let me out, letmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeou-- The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and Kat was pressed against the door in an instant, eyes closed as she focused on the only sense she had left; hearing. Heavy footsteps. Guard footsteps. They came closer, and closer, and Kat backed away as the door slid open.

In the dark too long, and she had forgotten how much the light hurt.

She recoiled and winced, trying to shield her eyes and remain alert at the same time. Stars danced in her gaze and lightning shot through her head, and the guard laughed as she curled in the corner and hid her face. She hated this, hated feeling weak when the light came, but she would endure it like she had every other time, and soon it would pass. It did. The guard waited until she managed to squint painfully at him, her canines bared, and so used was she to the silence that she jumped when he spoke.

"Time's over, Quistin. Get the fuck out of here."

When she didn't respond another guard joined him, and together they carried her to the anteroom of the solitary quadrant and unceremoniously dumped her to the floor. She hissed and snapped her teeth, watching them walk away from her, and when they were finally gone from sight she rubbed her eyes and sighed.

Everything hurt. She tried to stay active when she was stuck in there, but with little room and less patience, her body gave up on her infrequent attempts and made her regret causing trouble. Joints ached and muscles protested as she slowly hauled herself to her feet and tried to shake out the soreness. She was just beginning to feel strong enough to begin the long walk back to her room when a sound nearby made her pause, and Nathan stepped around the corner.

I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. Last time I risk myself to save you. I should have let you deal with that blisser alone, I should have let Burr stake his mighty claim, I should have let you learn for yourself instead of trying to save you. What the fuck did I get? Two fucking weeks.

To hell with her. I have my own problems. If she wants to go it alone, let her. What the fuck do I care? I saved her, she saved me, we're even. I don't owe her anything. These thoughts marched in time with his footsteps as he followed her through the hallways, withstanding her occasional vicious glare or scathing comment, until she'd reached her room and slammed the door behind her. He didn't bother approaching it, just looked at it from a distance for a few seconds and then headed slowly back to his own cell. The stream of mental grumbling died down, and he sighed and decided he'd try to thank her again tomorrow, if only so he wouldn't have a reason to talk to her again.

The next morning there were two new capsules of differing size in his med allotment; he studied them as carefully as he could before he took them. He didn't dare try to leave the meds chamber without taking them, but there might be someone who could tell him what they were from a good description. Maybe he could ask Sandre; the boy had been here a long time and probably knew almost every medication the doctors put into the patients. On the other hand, given the information that Sandre had provided on Kat a couple of weeks ago, he might not be totally reliable. He had almost dismissed the wild story out of hand, but something about it rang true. Something about it fit into the patterns of green and gold he'd spent a good portion of that two weeks thinking about.

"Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to see you alive and well. I'm sure nothing has changed... you're probably still all bark and no bite, eh, little kitten?"

She smiled in the dark, and her canines flashed. And then someone knocked on her door.

"Go away," she muttered quietly, more to herself than to whomever waited outside her room. She didn't want to move, and she certainly didn't want to interact with anyone. Kat wasn't feeling well, and hadn't been since she was first thrown into solitary two weeks ago. Headaches came more frequently than usual, and she was tired; groggy and frustrated with her slow recovery. When she'd first started becoming a regular to solitary, it had taken her a few sessions before she realized that they drugged the food, but in the past year or so they'd stopped the practice altogether. Maybe someone just forgot to leave her alone this time. She didn't feel like dwelling on the idea, and so rolled clumsily off of the bed and limped to the door. Better conversation than disturbing thoughts.

She peered into the hallway to see nothing but a uniform jacket, and she sighed, irritated that she had to exert herself to look up at whom it was standing there. Then green eyes met grey ones, and Kat stared up at Nathan as he stared down at her.

It occurred to her then that he looked like Jax, and the thought made her wince. "Oh, it's you," was all she said, but she let him in anyway, and retreated to her bed to sit there and silently watch him glance around the room before his gaze settled on her. Kat blinked, shook her head to clear the mental picture, and then looked more closely.

That's... not right. Not black eyes. But... he looks different. She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes, staring into his. Again he stared back, but his pupils focused unevenly, and she frowned. There was something off about the way he stood there, as if even the tiniest movement was deliberate, and a rather belated alarm sounded in her head as she realized what the difference was.

what do I want? Apologize. I was coming to apologize.

"Wait," she said quickly, even beginning to rise to her feet before he stopped and turned to face her again, and she frowned as he steadied himself and met her gaze. She tried for cool indifference, the blankly predatory mask filtering over her jade eyes once more, and she hid the surprise in her voice as best she could. "You're not the first to get me sent there. It's nothing new." He'd apologized. She could hardly believe it, even as she threw his words aside with a lie. "I'm used to it."

He said he was sorry. No one has ever said that to me before. I wonder what he wants. People don't apologize to me. I bet he's just trying to get something. That's the only explanation. He can't really be sorry. No one is. Her face hardened as she looked at him sharply, as if she could read his intentions so easily, but he was far more unreadable than she was. Confusion furrowed her brow, and she sat back down on the edge of the bed, watching him. ...right?

On the other hand, she obviously wasn't asking for his health. That was evident in her posture and her disinterested expression; however, struggling with the motives of a mental patient while maintaining his own equilibrium wasn't proving to be an easy task, and in the end he decided it was more useful to tell her than not.

"That's not funny, Nathan, that's not funny at all." Kat frowned at him and shook her head again. "Even I wouldn't joke about those. I've had them. You'd be down on the floor all twitchy and--" The memory made her shiver, but as she watched him waver slightly on his feet, his pupils dilated unevenly in the dark of the room, she began to wonder. No, he was joking. No one took that amount and was coherent enough to tell the tale. Drugs like that left you helpless, reduced to something less than infantile, and there was absolutely no way he could have taken a dose that size and still be standing before her. It was unbelieveable.

She slid off the edge of the bed and stepped closer, examining his face for any sign of laughter. There was none, but she had a hard time believing he could be serious. It just wasn't possible.

Coming here had been a mistake. He'd come to apologize, and been stupid enough to tell her what it was they were giving him, and now she was trying to scare him. She probably did know what the pills were for, and instead of telling him what they really did, she was making something up so she could see him frightened, just for the hell of it.

He was beginning to feel a little more out-of-touch, and he was unable to hide his disappointed frustration as he turned away.

I must be going crazy. I almost thought she was real. I almost thought she was sane. She almost had me fooled, and what then? I would have trusted her. I would have let my guard down, and then she could have done to me what she does to all the other boys she leeches onto.

The door was impossibly heavy. He dragged it open, and found it yielded much more easily than he'd thought it would. It fell closed behind him and he pushed himself out into the hall. Despair he'd somehow kept at bay the last two weeks while Katera was in solitary came welling out into his stomach, wrapping itself around his bones and making it harder to walk. His right hand he kept to the wall for reference, but his left remained clenched into a useless fist. He felt like crying - that he wanted to cry, that he should cry, but the tears wouldn't come. People snickered and giggled at him or ignored him completely in the manner of mad people everywhere, and he made his way slowly to his room and sank down on his cot to shiver under his single blanket.

What's the point in asking anyone anything here? They're all crazy, and that shit rubs off...and now this medication bullshit. What did I do wrong? Are they punishing me?. He continued to shiver, but he closed his eyes and slowly the shivers quieted as he drifted wearily off to an uneasy sleep, and his lonely, frightened mind dropped off on a single thought.

He was lying, and I was the one telling the truth. For once. For him. They only give you the blue when they want you in the labs. The sudden realization shook her from her contemplation, and she stiffened, stepping out further into the hallway to see if he was near enough for her to call out to, but he was gone. The internal battle began again, and she slid down to sit on the floor, right there in the center of the corridor, and propped her chin in her hands. It's not my fault he didn't believe me. I was only trying to help. He doesn't care. He doesn't want my help. Let him find out on his own. I did. Kat hugged her knees tighter and tried to fan the flame of anger a little higher. I bet he was lying when he said he was sorry, too. Why would anyone apologize to me? He was probably trying to play with me, just like everyone else. He isn't any different. I should have done with him what I do to all the others. I didn't have to save him. He doesn't even believe me when I try to help. I don't care.

With that thought she brushed the curls from her face and stood, eyeing the few inmates who tried to slip by her unnoticed as she glanced around the hall. She dug her nails into her palms, and set off toward the unguarded section of barracks on the other side of the compound, intent on forgetting. No, I don't care at all.

Yet, the next morning, bruised and battered and bloody, she found herself outside of his cell.

She knocked hesitantly, almost too quietly for anyone to hear, and tried to justify to herself that he must not want to talk to her since he wasn't opening the door. It didn't work. Worry she hadn't known she was capable of feeling for anyone save herself manifested itself in a frown, and she tested the doorlock quietly. It slid open with little resistance, and surprised, Kat peered inside.

Nothing.

Even the cot had been stripped clean of bedding, and there was no sign of any occupation. Tired understanding weighted her feet to the floor, and Kat closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the cold metal wall, and sighed. They took him. I saved his life only so that they could take it. It was all worth nothing. Everything is worth nothing here. I hate this place. I just want to go home.