tampered | Log: On-going.

Log: On-going.

When; Backdated to Oct. 2, the night of the Masque' Ball.

Rating; Strong PG-13 for language.

Characters; Nathaniel (

natty_boy) and Kitty Jones (

kittyjones).

Summary; A few hours after the start of the Masque' Ball, and a few hours before sunrise. Nathaniel, upon arrival at the Ball, has a realisation after meeting a masked young woman by the drinks. The magician goes to the rooftop of Building 7 to wait and hope that it isn't too late.

Log;

Was it still too late to be there? Nathaniel wondered as he hurried down the dark streets of the City. It was late, he knew that. It couldn't be long now before dawn, and he was suddenly grateful for the thick velvet of his costume -- the night was certainly cold and he could use the warmth. Especially if he was going to wait on the rooftop for her. If she still came.

His mouth was a grim slash of determination as he strode quickly past the Fountain towards his building. Up the stairs, and up and up and up, past his apartment door and keep on going up. He panted against the gold mask, breath steaming and warm as it bounced back at him, and his brow wrinkled with disgust when he realised he had, in his haste, not taken off the damn thing. His breath was laced with the light scent of champagne. I'm not drunk, he reminded himself as he leant against the railing for a brief rest. I wouldn't be thinking this clearly if I was.

Finally, he burst through the door that led to the rooftop and he allowed himself a slight smile as he surveyed the distantly sparkling lights of the Ball across the City. On the horizon, he could see the dark sky, dark sky, stretching out over the walls and beyond into unknown territory and sand dunes. Was dawn close? Had she come back? He looked over the City again, hopeful. Was she in the streets?

Nathaniel leant against the ledge of the roof and pulled away the bottom half of his mask again, set it on the ground. He let the cold night air flood into his lungs, wash over his face, cool the sweat from his hurried departure of the Ball.

Will she come...

Now all he had to do was wait.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

The air felt cool, sharp as it pricked against her bare skin as she climbed up the stairs. Her dress was hardly the warmest of things, and not exactly easy to climb in. Green and gold and lacy, and falling so far down her shoulders she almost might as well have just not bothered to wear anything up there at all. I should really go and change.

But she kept walking. No stopping. After she had spoken to that man at the ball, and he had left to find someone, she... She felt that she should be doing to same. She had stayed a little longer, tried to dance and talk and drink, but she had felt... if he can do it, why can't I?

Reaching the top of the staircase, she noticed the door was open, and for a moment, her heart skipped a beat. Moving so fast she was practically gliding across the ground, she crossed over the threshold. Outside. It was so dark. So much black, so much night, and after the warm lights and laughter of the party it seemed so... empty. She shivered, suddenly realising just how cold it was. How cold she was. Crossing her hands over her chest, she rubbed her shoulders briskly for warmth. It didn't help much, and her teeth chattered behind the cool surface of her mask.

Alone. Bloody cold. Scantily dressed.

But wait... no. Not alone. There, by the ledge, there was a figure. It was him. The man at the ball, the man by the drinks. With the... headdress. The man who had said he was waiting...

Waiting for...

Someone.

Her.

Me.

Slowly, carefully, she walked towards him, not making a sound apart from the soft swish as the bottom of her dress brushed the hard concrete that was the roof of Building 7. Stopping just behind him, she paused for a moment, and then, taking a deep breath, the icy air filling her lungs like a bucket of cold water, she said (as usual) the first thing that came into her head.

"Come here often, then?"

It had been minutes, hours maybe, since he had left the party. His muscles ached dimly from standing for so long, he felt the vague beginnings of a headache. But he ignored those. Maybe, just maybe... He could stay here. His costume was warm enough, he had eaten a little at the party.

Head bowed under the mild weight of the headdress and mask, drapery and all, he closed his eyes; he listened to the hollow rush of the wind that carried laughter and tinkling silverware across the City. So concentrated on the silence, he barely took notice of the door creaking open and the soft click of heels on concrete.

So it was self-explanatory, really, why he startled when he heard a voice.

Nathaniel spun around quickly, cloak snagging, wind tearing at the long lengths of cloth that hung around his face. He caught himself on the ledge with his hand, the white glove now stained with grime from the old bricks. He couldn't tell who it was, it was so dark.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to tell who it was beyond the mask (he hadn't taken his own off yet, he had forgotten). Could it be --

"For a week now, I think," he replied instead, voice faint in the wind as it snatched his words, carried them beyond the walls. "I've lost track of the days. So I'm afraid 'often' is a bit of an understatement."

This was Nathaniel. She was sure of it now. She couldn't see his face, see his body beneath the swathes of his costume, but she... she knew. When he started, Kitty couldn't help stepping back a little, giving a sharp intake of breath behind her mask. The last time he had moved so suddenly towards her had been... well. And they all knew what had happened then.

And she knew now that he was still waiting for her. And that thought made her...

"You must be very patient, then. Without a good reason. Nobody should wait that long for..." her voice almost caught entirely in her throat. And her words were almost followed by a... a little choke, a little... but no. No, there was no need to cry. What good would that do?

She moved to stand right in front of him, and was filled with a feeling of deja-vu. This was just like before, when she had been before him and then they had...

"Can you even see anything with that on?" Cautiously, Kitty reached out, fingers trembling despite herself. She laid her hands on either side of his face, palms touching his cheeks. The mask felt cold, so cold and so hard. And she knew that beneath there was a real face. A warm face. A face she hoped wouldn't have a hard expression.

Then gently, so gently, as though afraid she would hurt him, she pulled the mask off.

His expression flickered under his mask. An almost-smile, if you will, at her words. He gave a careless shrug, cloak suddenly heavy on his shoulders, costume suddenly too constricting despite the breeze washing over him. He opened his mouth to answer, wet his suddenly dry lips before doing so.

"I'm not a patient man," he answered softly. "I reserve that for someone who deserves the wait."

He winced a little when she suddenly stood in front of him. The breeze drifted over her, and he caught the faint scent of lavender and mint. Strong, but not overpowering. Cool but gentle at the same time. He caught another smile before it crossed his face -- she smelled just like she was.

His heart jolted. She? he thought, vaguely alarmed. She... came. I didn't -- is this her? Or is this some woman and she just reminds me of...

His thoughts didn't go much further than that because all of a sudden, the masked woman before him was reaching up, was touching cool hands to his suddenly burning cheeks and he didn't know what to do. His breathing caught and he couldn't help but avert his gaze.

His mask fell away, the rest of his headdress falling back like a hood.

He closed his eyes as the night air rushed over his face, ruffled his hair and left him bare and exposed on the rooftop. Wasn't this what he wanted? If this was her, wasn't this what he...

Without opening his eyes or turning to face her, Nathaniel spoke. "No," he murmured softly. "I can't see with it on. Can you, with yours?"

"Or perhaps," the softness in her voice echoed his own, "it was for someone who really didn't deserve it."

Like me. I didn't deserve it, I didn't deserve for him to...

His face. There it was. Pale as death, and yet slightly flushed, perhaps from being behind inside the mask for so long, or perhaps chafed from the night wind. Wind which even now played with his hair. Wind which made her shiver.

Was it the wind, though? Was that what was making her shudder? Making her head seem so heavy, her breath so quick, her heart pound so fast? No. It wasn't. It was seeing Nathaniel. Just seeing him made her want to...

"Not as well as I would like to, no." She looked up towards his eyes, and saw... saw nothing. They were closed.

She lifted up one hand to her mask, but then stopped just inches before it, as though her arm snagged on something. He was... no. He wasn't looking at her. Didn't want to look at her. Was there any point in her... no.

Her hand came back to rest limply at her side, face bowed slightly in... shame. Shame of the fear she was feeling.

I can't even show him my bloody face.

He shook his head slightly in answer. That's not true, his mind told him to say. You're the only person I'd wait for. The words failed, his mouth didn't move to form them, his throat tightened. It would sound stupid. Even now, as far away as he could get from prying eyes, ears and press, he was still afraid of sounding bloody stupid. What kind of man was he, then? To keep mortal fears in a place that was so beyond that? But in the end, he knew it fed the City, they all did, fueled the Carousel and the countdown and the ticking. Being mortal was welcomed.

He let out a slow breath and he half-expected it to mist before him, but he wasn't sure if seasons existed here. It would be autum in London now. The golden-ochre of leaves drifting over Oxford, the chill rising up from the Thames and the streets, the whiff of warm air and bread from the bakeries, the coffee shops that littered the streets near Parliament...

London. But he couldn't think of that now. He was here. Reluctantly, Nathaniel reined in his thoughts and focused. Autumn. Misting breath. Cold. Cold. That was it.

Without even pausing to think, Nathaniel unclasped his velvet cloak and turned to the young woman, and without really looking at her, he draped it over her bare shoulders, slender fingers fixing the clasp at her throat. "You're cold," he murmured absently, not realising he spoke. "You'll get ill if you aren't careful..." He smoothed the soft fabric down her arms with careful concentration, then dropped his hands away again, as if afraid to touch her any more than he should. Nathaniel wasn't certain he had earned that right back, if he ahd earned it at all in the first place.

He smiled faintly to himself with self-loathing when he realised she had spoken and he still hadn't replied. He took a step away from her, leant on the ledge a moment, took a breath to calm his thoughts and his heart from pounding. Then he turned back. The magician pulled away a glove with his teeth, then reached up to her mask with a bare hand, caressed it so briefly that the gesture could have been imagined, before gently, gently pulling it away. It was her.

"Kitty," he breathed, dark eyes finally catching hers in his surprise. "You came."

Kitty didn't know what to do, what to say. He was moving towards her, not backing up, he was taking off his cloak, putting it on her, touching her...

When she felt his hands on her arms, it felt like... it felt completely different to how they had touched the night before. And yet in a strange way, it felt the same. Just the very fact that he was touching her, that he was still prepared to come near her... it made her mouth dry.

And now he was speaking, maybe without even thinking it, he was making sure she was okay, worrying about her. About me. After all I've done...

As he stepped back, she didn't move. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, cursing herself for not being able to even speak. She had the vague ideas of some witty line about "dashing" and "red", but could only...

"You gave me your cloak."

Her voice was completely, flat, emotionless. The velvet felt heavy on her shoulders, thick and rich, but she couldn't feel warm.

And then she felt... his hand. On her face, removing the mask, and suddenly she was hit with a cool blast of fresh air, that stung her eyes and forced her to close them for a moment, screwing them up as his words slowly filtered through to her brain.

You came.

Suddenly, she surged forward. Her arms came up and she flung them around him, pulling herself in towards him. Her hands clung at the clothing on his back in little fists, and she held onto him tightly, as though he might suddenly disappear before she said... before she could say...

"I'm sorry," she choked out the apology, her face buried in his chest, "I'm so, so sorry, Nathaniel."

He chuckled softly. "Yes," he said quietly, ignoring the impassive quality to her voice. "I gave you my cloak." He shrugged his shoulders, the deep emerald of his costume blending easily into the night sky, the gold brocade flashing for the brief moment that it caught the light from a nearby apartment building. "You needed it more than I did."

Nathaniel worried when her expression changed, after he pulled away her mask. She had done it to him -- was he... was he not supposed to -- ?

What -- ?

Before he could properly comprehend what was happening, she was on him. Not on him, but she was embracing him, her arms were around him, her face was buried in his chest, her words muffled and...

"Oh, Kitty," he murmured softly. He hesitated, but only for a brief moment before he raised his arms, tentitavely returned the emrbace. He smoothed his gloved hand over her back, held her close. With his bare right hand, he stroked her short hair.

What could he say, or do? They stood there for as long as she needed. He didn't know what she wanted to hear, what he was supposed to tell her. Nathaniel was afraid to break the moment and the silence. And so the young magician, without a word, rested his chin on top of Kitty's head, stroked her hair still. He whispered incoherant words to her, closed his eyes.

Take as long as you need.

Kitty hadn't been meaning to cry. She had just... wanted to let him know that... that it wasn't his fault, she wasn't angry at him, couldn't be angry at him. She had every intention of breaking away, and then trying to talk rationally about...

But then he held her in return. First it was cautious, but then she felt his hand on her back, in her hair. She tried so hard to keep her voice steady, but she could only go a few words at a time before having to pause and steady herself.

"I didn't mean to... you waited, and I couldn't come and... and I've been so stupid... so cruel... back then I... I didn't think... I just couldn't... and I knew you didn't want, it wasn't you... but I... I..."

It was then that Kitty began to...

She hadn't been meaning to...

But she...

She cried.

She didn't realising she was doing it until she began to feel hot tears down her cheeks, to feel her eyes stinging, to feel her lips sticky with salt where the tears had run.

"And before, when I was in the... when I was underground, you... you came for me... and you didn't have to... I couldn't even say... I was so messed up, I couldn't even say thank you... and when I was... when she was hurting me, I thought... nobody would find..."

At the memories her crying broke into full-out sobbing. She bit her lip to muffle the sound, screwed up her eyes to slow the flow of tears, but she couldn't stop her body shaking, couldn't stop her hands from clinging, gripping Nathaniel.

Back on that day... she could remember so little. Just darkness, screaming, some crazy woman laughing and flashing a knife and then pain. But she could see... just a hazy image, but she could remember seeing Nathaniel's face, swimming there before her as she ranted and raved in her delirium. Finding her. Saving her. Taking care of her. And this was how she repaid him?

She didn't know how long she cried. She slipped into some sort of limbo, urged on by his quiet whispers and his firm, unwavering grip on her shuddering body. There was so much she wanted to cry for. And with each tear she hated herself even more, hated herself for crying and weeping like the victim, when it had all been her own stupid fault. Hating herself for making Nathaniel do this for her. He was her friend, she shouldn't be forcing him to --

Still, eventually, she managed to give a short, ragged breath, and look up at him. She probably looked a mess. Face blotchy and tear-stained, getting more stained by the second. Eyes wide, eyelashes soaked. She brought one hand up to stroke his cheek where she had... "And I punched you."

Quickly, she snatched the hand down to her mouth to stifle another sob, closing her eyes tightly. When the moment passed, she looked at the spot where her face had been buried. Without really knowing why, she gave a little rough laugh, the noise sounding strange, somehow thick with the tears she had just been crying. "And now your costume's all wet."

She was reminded of another time... another time when she had cried.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

Nathaniel frowned as she began to speak, her words muffled against the thick fabric of his costume. He tipped his head slightly, attempting to catch the words, cringing when he tried to make the movement less obvious than he knew it was. He continued to stroke her hair, the short strands slipping through chilled fingers, then they stilled.

He heard her.

His chest clenched with some unnamed emotion when her words hit him, and instinctively, his hands tightened on her, curled into the fabric of her dress and into her hair - protectively. He closed his eyes again, trying to quell the surge of panic that forced itself through him, up his throat, squeezed his heart. She's crying, he thought with alarm. Oh God. What did I... what do I do now? I don't know what to do! Fuck!

The magician let out a slow breath, willed himself to calm. Slowly, he unclenched his hands and he let them resume their motions over her back and hair. He didn't know what to do to make this any better. She was crying, for God's sake, and what could he do but stand there?

Without thinking, Nathaniel pulled away slightly, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Shh," he whispered against her skin. "S'alright."

He let her cry for as long as she needed. That was the important thing now, he knew. He couldn't stop her, and it would be cruel to do so; he knew she had kept this bottled up - he had never seen her lose control. He grit his teeth to fight back the hot prickling at the corners of his eyes at her distress. Not now.

Then she pulled away. He opened his eyes, startled, and it took a moment for them to get adjusted to the darkness. He shivered when she touched him. The bruise was a mass of splotched purples and blues, fading at the edges but still there. He tried for a smile, even when her sob punctured the silence.

Slowly, cautiously, he dropped his hand from her hair and reached out to her. Cold fingers against her warm cheek, and he curled them under her chin, touch light. He used his thumb to brush away the tears. He had seen it done before, he thought the action cliched and ridiculously cheesy, but... he knew why men in movies did it now. It was just something that was done, and it worked.

"Doesn't matter now," he heard himself saying to her. "None of that matters now. You don't... Kitty, you don't have to apologise. No one does. I was" -- here he broke off and allowed himself a bitter chuckle -- "stupid to be so angry about things that can't be changed."

It was hard to think when the sound of your own sobs was filling your ears, and all you could see was the darkness of a young man's shirt. So Kitty was completely lost. Completely broken down. Nothing to stop her or check her, nothing to guide her back into composure. And then suddenly she felt... on her forehead... for a moment she had no idea what...

But then she knew. She knew, on some level, that Nathaniel had kissed her. For a moment she suddenly felt so calm, so safe. Like nobody was ever going to touch her except for him, and he would never touch her to hurt her. It was just them, together, here...

When he reached out to her face once she had stopped crying, Kitty shivered a little. Not because his hands were cold, but because he was touching her again, and the feeling of protecting came flooding back again. He was... cleaning the tears away. She tried to smile at him, through the sadness still engraved on her face, "And now your hand's all wet too."

But then she shook her head. No. No, she wasn't going to let him brush over this, like it wasn't... like it wasn't her fault. "I do. And I'm going to. Besides," she tried to smile again, "you're always doing stupid things, Nat. I shouldn't get angry at you for that."

The smile grew a little then, genuinely. She was still teasing him, even after that. And maybe it could be better, they could go back to...

Do you really want to go back to that? With him thinking you...

"And I... things..."

Can't be changed?

No.

She would change things.

Still smiling, Kitty placed her hand over his, and held it gently, bringing it down between them. His fingers were freezing, and she squeezed them carefully. "Nathaniel, I... please, I want to talk to you. About what you... what you said. That night. Before I," she swallowed, eyes flickering to the floor for a moment, "punched you."

He smiled, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes, lines where there shouldn't have been on such a young face. He glanced to his fingers where they rested on her cheek, and he dropped his hand to her shoulder, onto the velvet of his cloak. He shook his head, lips still curved in the faint smile; "It'll dry."

Nathaniel shook his head when she spoke again, dark wisps of hair falling across his eyes. "No, you don't. I already told you that you had every right, and I don't intend on taking back those words." He raised his brows at her, teasing lightly. "Magicians, yeah? Stubborn lot."

He startled when she took his hand. He hadn't thought she would return the gesture. For all he knew, she would have stepped away from him, if not hit him again, but... that was before. Things were different now; they would never have touched or spoken like this before. And --

Nathaniel paled, wincing at her next words. I'm in for it now... He turned his face away, already dreading the lecture, reprimand, sharp words. Maybe things hadn't changed at all. He regretted what he said, but there was still some part of his that thought them true. He couldn't help it.

"Go --" he cleared his throat, the words coming out louder now. He averted his gaze. "Go on, then."

"Yeah," she grinned a little at him, the expression feeling strange on her cheeks, something she hadn't done in an age. "Tell me about it." Every right. Yes, she supposed she had been perfectly entitled to it. She could remember it now. Back in the room. Nathaniel looking down on her with that cruel sneer, and saying...

But what should it matter? You probably liked him a lot more than you ever cared for me. You went to the Other Place for him, didn't you? And all I did was die. Funny, that.

Then the anger that had followed. Her anger. The anger, the frustration that even after all this time he still didn't understand. Wasn't even trying to understand. How she felt, why she... what his death had meant...

And now he was turning away. She almost felt like sobbing again, her hand suddenly feeling very cold as she gripped his. "No! No, Nathaniel, please don't..."

More than anything, she wanted to reach out to his face, gently pull it back to look at her. But she refused the urge. She didn't want to... to force him to do anything. She didn't have that right, no matter what he said. "I just want to talk about how I feel about you... about how you..."

Dying.

Why can't you say it?

"About how you got here."

Just say it.

"About you... dying. And what I feel about... what that did to me... and then you arrived here, and I..." Kitty took a deep, shuddering breath, closing her eyes, lips mumbling some unspecified curses. "Is that all right?"

He studied the ground, suddenly deeply interested in the cracks and thin shadows cast across by the bits of gravel and stone. Some of the shadows fell in such a way that reminded him of half a pentacle, of runes and letters and broken buildings. He scuffed a soft-soled boot over the rooftop, erasing the images and patterns. Here, not London.

Before he could stop himself, Nathaniel looked up at her, surprised at her next words. He had always assumed this subject would go unvoiced, that it was done, and that it didn't need talking about. He had come up here with the simple need to apologise for what had happened, and now they were going beyond that. His insides curled with guilt when he realised he had let her do all the talking, the opening up -- he had stood there, too much of a coward to be human.

The wind whipped colour into his cheeks, brought out the deep, almost unnoticeable green in his hazel eyes. He flushed deeply: they had arrived at his death. He wet his lips and nodded once, a small movement.

"It is."

Kitty couldn't read him. At all. She wondered what he was thinking as he looked at her, pale as pale, still as still, not moving and only speaking a mere two syllables. Wondered what he wanted her to do, to say. And then she began to wonder what she was going to say.

Where could she start? What she had felt straight after his death? Months, years afterwards? When she arrived here?

"You died, Nathaniel.

Simple. Blunt. To the point.

"For London. For the people. For..."

Not so simple. For me? Don't be an idiot, Kitty.

"Don't think that doesn't mean anything. It means more than..."

This was all wrong. Coming out all wrong. It sounded forced, stupid. The obvious things to say. This wasn't going to get her anywhere. She coughed slightly, clearing her throat, and squeezed his hand once more, begging him through touch to believe her sincerity when she said...

"Look, when you left, I was... there was nothing. Not for me. Nothing."

He winced again at her words as they punctured the night. Not so much that she said it bluntly, but the fact that she had to say it again. It was difficult for him to know that he would never age past 17 years old, that he wouldn't return home, even if the City was better than being trapped six feet underground. Yes, he thought bitterly. I died, Kitty.

Nathaniel's jaw tightened slightly as she continued; did he really do it for London? The people? Was it to prove something to himself instead, or to simply save Bartimaeus and Kitty? No one more, and no less. He couldn't answer that now. He supposed he'd learn the answer in time, but it was too soon for that.

Why is she telling me this? It hurts enough. Absently, he dropped his hand to his left side, where, under the layers of cloth, stretched a light bandage. A few more days, and he wouldn't even need the bandage. But it would scar, and that reminded him enough of what happened without having to be told.

He came back to attention when she squeezed his hand, and he snapped his gaze back to her, studied her face as she spoke. His expression twisted, a sadness mingled with bitterness.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, "for lying to you. Before I died. I knew we -- well, I -- wouldn't make it out. I wish Bartimaeus could have gone to you, to tell you sooner. Maybe then you wouldn't have tried, and you'd still be home. And not trapped here, with the rest of us."

She was saying it all wrong. She could already see how this was going to play out. Once again she'd ruin the moment, and they'd both look away, unable to meet each other's eyes. His jaw would - yes, there was the clench - and she would bite her lip, and words would stumble out that couldn't even begin to imitate what they both wanted to say.

Her gaze followed his hand to his left side, and she felt a surge of... something... run through her at the remembrance of his wound. She shifted forward a little, as if she was going to... what? What could she do? Touch the scar, and make it fade away? Her eyes felt hot once more, but she blinked back any tears. "Don't! Don't say you're... I don't need, I don't want you to... that's not what this is about!"

Closing her eyes for a moment she swallowed thickly. "I would have tried. Whatever happened I would have..." A pause, and then she fixed him with a sad, honest stare. "Nathaniel, after two years of searching, don't you think I had a little idea that you were really gone?"

And then... trapped. Trapped here. With us. With Bartimaeus. With Nathaniel. Us. Here.

Wasn't this the crux of the matter? Wasn't this what she had been wanting to say, trying to say, ever since... But even now, here in the moment, she had no idea how to say it. Her gaze flicked from Nathaniel's eyes to the ground, to where their hands were still touching, and then back up to his face once more.

"I don't mind being trapped here. If I were still at home right now I'd probably be d-" Kitty shook her head a little. No, that's not important. "But that's not the point, that's not the reason, the reason why I..."

Again, she shut her eyes. She felt a powerful urge to bite her lip and mutter something stupid but... no. She wasn't going to. Not this time. She would say it. She would. I can. I will. I will. I will. I-

"I... I don't want to leave."

His eyes narrowed, cheeks flushing when he saw her drop her gaze to his side. Nathaniel quickly let his hand fall away from the masked injury, already starting to loathe himself for letting his guard down. And oh, it was coming back up too damn quickly. It was a defense mechanism - soon, he'd be beyond words and he'd just nod and grunt and he'd leave.

His gaze snapped back to Kitty at her exclamation, and he grimaced.

"Then what is this about, Kitty?" he asked sharply, before he could stop himself. He dropped her hand as he began to gesture as he spoke, pacing now, wind pulling at his hair and clothing.

"No. Of course you knew. But I suppose the question that's been plaguing me this whole time is if anyone even cared?" He looked back at her, eyes quick and serious. "And connected to that, why did you care? Of all people, you were the one who risked whiplash from a spirit, just to try and find me. I wasn't worth the loss of your freedom like that!"

That's not the point?

"What do you mean, 'That's not the point'? You could have died! You could be stuck here just like --"

He broke off when he realised two things: his words had grown in volume, and what she said. The quiet words that finished had silenced him, and he fell still and stunned. Nathaniel then noticed that he had wandered several feet from her, and he dropped to sit on the ledge.

"You don't want to..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing hard, eyes shut. "Fuck."

They were back to anger. Back to pacing and cheeks reddened with rage, and heated words that grew louder and louder. Or at least, Nathaniel was. Kitty didn't begrudge him it. She would react the same way - what he must be feeling... Besides, he'd just let her cry all over him. She could stand to be the object of his anger. She owed him that, at least.

But she had no idea what to say. Had anyone cared? After he had died, there had been so much to do... a city to rebuild, people to heal, a war to end. They had wanted her to come and join the merry band of reformers, but she had... she hadn't been able to. Had she been the only one? "People did care. When you do something like that, people can't not care. But so many people died that day, so few were left to... there was me, Piper too, she...

Her voice trailed off, but she refused to let an awkward silence descend, picking up immediately on his next words. "And me, I... what do you mean, why did I care? Nathaniel, you and Bartimaeus were the only people I ever... You were worth it! You are! After what you did? For everyone? You..."

Then she noticed Nathaniel was... walking away. He was...

Fuck.

Was he... was he angry? Did he want her to... did he not want her to... had she got it wrong?

"Yeah. Well. It's true. I haven't... there's nothing back there for me. You aren't..."

She wanted to walk over to him, sit beside him, try to explain... but he didn't want that. She was sure he didn't want that. And so she hung back, standing still on the roof, holding the cloak around her, looking at the ground. "Besides, back home, I only had a little time left before I... before I was going to... after Ptolemy's Gate, my body was... well, it was never really the same, you know."

The boy -- for that was what he resembled now, slumped on the ledge, head hanging and hair disheveled -- barked out a harsh laugh at her words. "No, they didn't. You told me yourself: nothing in memory of Mandrake, the one who saved the whole damn city in the first place!"

Shaking himself, the magician stood, wavering a moment, slowly unclenching his fists; his body ached, a reminder of the days of sleeplessness he'd recieved for this moment. What moment? It was pointless, he was getting angry. He needed to... Should he go to her now? Did she want him to? He wasn't sure, but his body was moving on its own. He crossed over to Kitty, stood before her a long moment, silent and hesitant. Nathaniel reached out again, grazed fingertips over her cheek, traced the corners of her eyes where the wrinkles used to be, reverent, slow, cautious.

"What did Bartimaeus and I ever do for you, Kitty?" he asked softly. "Your freedom -- for me. Your youth -- for Bartimaeus. What did we..."

Then she spoke again. His eyes widened in shock, hand dropping abruptly. He couldn't believe her there, wouldn't. "You're joking," he breathed. "You..."

Kitty winced at his laugh, it cut through her like a knife. She hated that he was... that he was feeling it like this. How else was he going to feel it, though? Wouldn't you be angry too?

"There wasn't... not in memory of Mandrake, no. But some people... some people remembered Nathaniel. And isn't that..."

Isn't that better?

She shared in his silence, everything about her feeling utterly exhausted from just saying what she was saying, or (more accurately) trying to say what she trying to say. It was like every thought was a ten-tonne weight she was pushing out of her mouth, only to have it fall with a crash and break into a million inarticulate statements.

When she realised with a jolt he was touching her again, she... she blushed furiously. She couldn't help it. The way he was looking at her, like she was... "Freedom? Youth? What do they matter? You and Bartimaeus... you and me... I... we understand each other, don't we? We..."

And then he... heard what she said. And immediately she cursed herself for even saying it. There hadn't been any point to it. This would only make things worse. She looked to the floor, with a little hollow smile on her face. "When bodies get old they do tend to... you know."

Nathaniel looked at her, eyes dark and hollow. He couldn't help but feel skeptical, eyebrow raised and mouth a frown that cut through his features.

"Nathaniel?" he scoffed. "No one knew him. Only you and Bartimaeus."

It was so pointless. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to tell her things here, but all he could do was gripe and snap and hiss about things that can't be changed. He was going against his own words, and since when did he ever do that? What unsettled him about now, threw him off and made him pace, ramble and hurry? Was it --

"They matter, Kitty. Doesn't matter how or why they do, but they do, and you just gave them away like..." He sighed. "Listen, it was -- brave -- of you, to do the Gate and to later summon that... spirit, but -- but, Kitty, you didn't have to. I just..." He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ground now. "I just want to know why."

Nathaniel couldn't believe it. His insides were twisting and turning to ice. His mouth was dry and he clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. He didn't know. It never occured to him that the consequences of the Gate would be so...

"You were dying," he said breathlessly, with a trace of horror. The magician reached out to her again and curled his fingers gently under her chin, raised her head to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but failed with words there, and instead pulled her into a fierce, hurried embrace.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered to her hair. "Me, or Bartimaeus, someone?"

They all had made sacrifices now.

Kitty could only stand still, mouth slightly agape at his words. She... she didn't know what to say. For once he was actually right. If there could have been a worst, stupidest moment for him to be right about something... well, there couldn't have been. She wanted him to be wrong so she could shout and scream him down, hammer some opposite truth into his head, but... but he was right. Nathaniel had been... locked up. And so few people had known him. Which was why so few had...

"They don't matter. I did have to! What else was I supposed to do?" She knew she was babbling, slipping into a rant, but she couldn't help herself. How could he not understand? Not understand why she hadn't been able to do anything but... "Why?" Kitty choked out the word like it was some abhorrent, evil curse, "Why? Because I... you... because I..."

Because...

Because I...

Nathaniel, because I lo...

But all thoughts were cut off at his next words. She felt... instantly numb. Colder, colder than the night air could ever have made her. "Yes." That was all she could say, a hollow agreement before she felt his arms around her once again, and that wonderful feeling started to help to quell the sadness. "Don't tell Bartimaeus, please, I don't want him to..."

Unable to say anything else, she simply shrugged a little into the embrace. "Didn't seem very important, really."

Her silence was enough of an answer for him. Nathaniel smiled grimly, nodding to himself. "Exactly," he muttered.

The magician couldn't understand what she was going on about. How could it not matter? Wasn't their world a better place than this hellhole? She still had a chance of escape from the cycle, the curses that bombarded them every other day, the impenetrable walls and ticking. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block it out, just thinking about it made him notice it all the more. He closed his eyes against her words, and with his disbelief. She didn't want to leave, and he couldn't...

Nathaniel let out a soft breath of surprise, eyes opening to stare at the ground. What are you trying to say, Kitty?

"Because you..." Don't jump to conclusions, Nathaniel, don't! "I - I don't know what you're trying to say, Kitty. I don't want to... assume anyth -- tell me?"

The young man all but sagged against her, arms still strong in their embrace, cheek resting against hers. His hands smoothed over the velvet with restlessness, his eyes wide open as he tried to think. "I won't tell him, not if you don't don't want me to, but..." He almost choked at her words. "Not -- not important?"

Fuck. He was... it sounded like he was trying to... like he was figuring out... And that would mean she would have to say something, and he would probably stare at her out of sheer disbelief, and then... it would all go horribly, horribly wrong.

But wasn't it wrong enough already? What with the bloody City, him being dead, her being not-dying anymore, the anger and the curses and the... Weren't things mucked up to the point where it wouldn't matter any more if she just...

"I can't leave. Because you..."

What are you trying to say?

"Because you're here. And I can't... I don't want to... leave you."

She couldn't even believe she'd said it for a moment. Her eyes opened wide, shocked at herself, a deep breath filling her lungs, her heart pounding in her ears. Had she really just... really just said that... Yes. I have. I did. I... fuck, I told Nathaniel that...

Kitty tightened her hold on Nathaniel, her voice ragged, pleading. "Please, don't tell him, I didn't want him... I didn't even want you to..." She shook her head a little. "No. It isn't important. Not in the slightest. I don't know why I brought it up. It doesn't matter, forget about it."

God, it's sweltering up here.

Nathaniel wasn't sure if it was just him, the situation, or even the bloody weather, but he was starting to sweat, and the velvet of his costume was stifling now. Certainly he heard wrong. The lack of sleep was getting to him, or something. He was imagining things, because no one -- no one had ever told him before... no one had ever said...

"Wh... what?"

He was so stunned that he hardly noticed the way the word had left his lips: tiny, child-like in its delivery and tone. He didn't know if it was true, and he knew he wouldn't be able to take it if he found out it wasn't, but oh, there was a hope that it...

The young man nodded quickly, understanding and serious. "I won't, Kitty," he said. "Neither of us know what he'd do. Best to just keep quiet about that." He frowned at her as she continued. "But I can't very well forget about it."

His voice was so quiet, all of a sudden. From the powerful magician to a young boy, frightened that someone might not love-

Love.

A million other thoughts popped into her head with that word, things that were somehow associated with it. Nathaniel. His voice. His smile. His glare. His silliness. His stupidity. His sense of humour. His tea. His kiss, his embrace, his touch...

Then she realised he was granting her request, and nodded briskly in return. "Thanks," was all she managed to say, before he spoke again, and her nodding changed to shaking. "No, please... you can. You should. I didn't mean for... we're here now. It doesn't matter. We're not there anymore, and I don't look like some five-hundred year old crone on her deathbed," she glanced up, giving him a little smile.

"And before? I said that I... that I didn't want to leave you."

With that, not knowing what else to do, Kitty did the only thing she felt she could do. Without another word, she rose herself up onto the balls of her feet, and placed a single, chaste kiss on his forehead.

Nathaniel swallowed roughly against the feeling in his throat. Her silence was not assuring in the slightest. Was she doing it on purpose, to make him fret just that much, to come up with his own conclusions? No, no! He shook his head slowly, like he was trying to get water out of his ears. He didn't want to come up with his own conclusions. His own conclusions worried him.

Don't expect too much, you daft boy!

To buy himself some time, Nathaniel rubbed a hand over his clammy face, barely noticing that he had left one glove still on. Maybe she'll continue if I shut up.

He blinked at her words, then smiled briefly. "Crone?" he asked, tone light, teasing. "Hardly. You're no dainty rosebud, Jones, but crone's shooting a bit too far." He grinned, continuing, "Now, if you added wizened to the description..."

Nathaniel stopped when he found himself blinking at her throat, the young woman stretching up to plant a kiss on his now burning forehead. John Mandrake does NOT blush! he reprimanded himself, but there the proof was. He cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbed the back of his neck, smiled a little.

"I would hate," he murmured to her, "for you to leave me."

Kitty almost felt like laughing out loud for joy when he began to banter playfully. If he was all right with this, then it meant – it meant they were all right. It wasn't as bad as... as she had thought it had been. He was still talking to her. Still teasing her. Still... still being there. Being Nathaniel. With her.

"I happen to think I'm very dainty," she gave only a very small smile, but her eyes were bright, and not with tears. Quite the opposite, in fact. "Of positively pixie-like proportions."

She couldn't help smirking a little as he turned a deep shade of red, and began all a manner of fidgeting and coughing. The expression on his face was priceless. "You know, you're blushing rather a lot from just one little kiss. I do like the red though. So dashing."

It sounded like he was about to say something, and Kitty listened intently, though her outward appearance did not change. Secretly her ears were straining for the smallest of words, her eyes fixated on his mouth for the most insignificant movement, her heart... her heartbeat seemed to slow in her mind, as though she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hear his voice above its rhythmic beat.

And even then, when Nathaniel spoke, she hardly heard him. And she was sure for a moment she had misheard him. But then maybe... maybe she hadn't.

Did he really just say...?

... he did, didn't he?

Kitty locked eyes with him, not blinking, not breaking the contact, and her voice was soft, gentle, her throat tight as she whispered back. "Well, I'm not going to."

A moment, and then she smiled cheerfully. "So there, Natty," she reached up and ruffled his hair. "You're stuck with me."

But if what she had said before had been a whisper, what she said next was... was so quiet it was almost as though only her lips were moving. The faintest of sounds, that could have been drowned out by a single breath. "I couldn't ever leave you, Nathaniel. Not now. Because I... I think I lov-"

No. No, stop it. Kitty, stop it. Don't go saying that. Don't ruin it all again.

Nathaniel risked a fleeting grin, under the cover of darkness. He had been worried she'd take the comment as an insult - they were always on shaky ground, and this was possibly one of the few times they were being civil to each other.

Hazily, he recalled some time during his arrival, when he was still delirious with fever from Nouda's attack. They hadn't spoken, he knew that, but she was tending to him nonetheless - also some sort of moment. And while this was infinitely better in terms that they were talking - touching - that would still hold a place in memory for him: it was when he realised that maybe something could work here.

"Almost as frustratingly mischevious as a pixie," he added good-naturedly. But then he snorted at her next words, shaking his head quickly. "My costume is velvet, Jones," he said. "I'm not blushing, you see -- I'm just sweltering under these layers."

He smiled faintly under her gaze, reflected her smile easily. He didn't reply at first, not yet. He knew something else needed to be said, and he waited for it.

Nathaniel chuckled softly under her hand, hair touseled and twisting, falling into his dark eyes. Those eyes suddenly narrowed with intensity when her lips began to move, words snatched by the wind, only enough for him to hear the last syllables. He froze, then swallowed again, trying to wet his dry mouth. That was it.

This is it, you do realise, he said to himself. Fuck it up, and you're stuck with the consequences for eternity. Because if you haven't noticed, Natty boy, you're dead. Therefore eternity? Inevitable.

"Shhh, shh," he murmured, stepping up to her and cupping her face gently in cold hands. He pressed his forehead briefly against hers, smiling down at her. "Think we both knew it before, yeah? Just too... too damn proud to admit it."

And even though his last experience was beyond disaster, that didn't dissuade him from doing it again. Nathaniel kissed her.

Kitty couldn't help it. She... she giggled. Something she probably hadn't done since a curse. Or since she was drunk. But Nat smiled at her, and before she knew it she was smiling and... giggling. Only for moment, but it was there. "Frustrating? Me?"

An eyebrow was raised at the snort. "Good excuse, Nathaniel. Very good. Though you know what that means, don't you?" Her grin turned into a slightly sly one, "The layers will have to, at some point, come off."

But suddenly they weren't playing anymore. Suddenly she realised she had said what she had been thinking for so long out loud, and Nathaniel had heard her, and he...

We both knew it. We. Both. Us. Nathaniel and I. Together. He... he...

He's touching me.

Once again she found herself looking up at the young magician from a very close range. And once again she found herself noticing strange little details about him. How delicate his fingers were. How pale his skin was. The colour of his eyes, the shape of his nose.

"Yeah," she muttered, not prising her gaze away from his as they touched foreheads, "I think we both knew. Silly us."

Kitty had had an idea Nathaniel was going to do something, but... no, she hadn't expected him to... Almost instantly her eyes slipped shut, and she tilted her head slightly upwards, deepening the kiss, arms snaking round his back, fingers gently brushing the back of his neck. She didn't know how long it lasted, all she knew was that they were touching, kissing, and the rest of the world was fading away.

Eventually she pulled away gently for a breath, and then murmured softly against his lips. "That was much better than the last time."

Nathaniel's eyes darkened just that much at her words, smile softening to a faint one that held an almost predatory edge. He brought a hand up, casually running it through his hair so that the dark strands fell into his eyes, and with that same hand, he ran it down the front of his coat, fingers catching on the gold buttons, almost thoughtfully.

"Well, Miss Jones," he said lowly, grinning That Grin all the while, "There are quite a few layers for you to work with."

The young magician paused as his own words registered. Did I just say that? Did I just do that? He was actually making Comments of That Sort now? Apparently Kitty brought out some new side to him, and while he was startled at it, he was glad for it, too. He was relaxed around her, a feeling he had never experienced around a woman, particularly that Jane Farrar. But best not think about the tramp now, he reminded himself.

Nathaniel's shoulders relaxed under her touch as her arms came around him, and he let one hand drop from her cheek to her shoulder, fingers sliding under the velvet cape to meet warm flesh. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he registered that her dress really wasn't as modest as he would have expected of her, and that he should probably control his migrating hands, but it was difficult. He curled his fingers gently around her arm, parting his lips just that much to hers, tipping her head lightly with his hand and eyes slipping shut and...

They stopped. It took him a moment to realise it, his heart was pounding a fierce beat in his ears. He opened his eyes, blinked at her through the waning darkness, and smiled at her words. "I'm glad," he whispered huskily. "I was worried you'd punch me again."

Then he turned his gaze to the horizon, and chuckled softly. Wrapping his arms more securely around her, her brushed a kiss over her lips again, then dropped his head to nuzzle a little into her neck as he added softly, "Sun's coming up. Sit with me?"

A faint shiver ran through her, but not one of fear or trepidation, a shiver of... of expectation. Coolly, her eyes followed his hand as it moved past his buttons, her face expressionless but for one raised eyebrow. So he wanted to play did he?

"Whoever said I'd be the one to work with them? But, if you need a hand..."

At that she lifted her arm up and brought her hand to his face, softly laying her index finger across his cheek, a smile playing on her lips to match his own. "I'd best get started then."

Slowly, she trailed the finger down his cheek, bringing it across his bottom lip, down his chin, ever-so-gently down his neck, still giving that same undeterminable smile all the while. "We wouldn't want you to get..."

Her hand reached the first button, and she casually undid it, her face coming in as she did so to hover right before his, the smallest of distances keeping them from touching as her smile grew a little wider, and she whispered before his lips. "Hot."

When he kissed her, when his hands came round her, she felt herself shudder under his touch, felt her skin suddenly feel hot and cold at the same time, and when he held her arm she couldn't help but give out a harsh gasp.

"You shouldn't have worried," she grinned a little at him, and then spoke sincerely, "I won't. Ever. I promise. Even if you are an idiot. No more punching."

For a moment she looked over across the City, and saw... yes, the faint touches of yellow light beginning to spread across the sky. He was right. It was morning. And she worried that... that in the morning light, it wouldn't be like this. Things would change. And they'd never, never be like this again.

So she lent into his embrace, her eyes closed as she felt him upon her neck, savouring the moment murmuring... "Do you even have to ask?" Carefully she placed her hand under his chin, bringing him up to look at her, before leaning in to kiss him again, lightly at first, then bolder as she tried desperately to fix this feeling in her mind.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Log: On-going.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject