Title: Window of Opportunity

Summary: With the old government overthrown, London is in an uproar. New positions are trying to be filled, and not always by the right people. Kitty has enough pain and problems on her mind without imagining she is talking to Nathaniel in her dreams, let alone when she is awake. Whether there's a Kitty/Nathaniel ship is up to you guys.

Rating: T, to be on the safe side. Call us paranoid.

Disclaimer: If we owned it, this story wouldn't be fanfiction!

A/N: Just a quick notice...this starts out with a minor adjustment of Ptolemy's Gate. Thought you'd like to know. Kyrie and I didn't like the idea of getting our readers lost by the second line. I'll stop rambling now.

Prologue

Nathaniel

Suddenly, Nouda was upon them. Mouths opened, tentacles slashed down, Nathaniel finished the Dismissal. Bartimaeus went. The staff broke. Nathaniel's world exploded, dissolved, and he knew no more.

-oOoOoOo-

Pain blistered everywhere; he could inhale the strong smell of burning flowing off of everything. His jaw muscles stretched and his voice fought to scream, but nothing was conceived of his efforts. His eyelids groggily flickered open instead. His vision swam, gradually sharpening.

Great, this is where you go when you die? Nathaniel thought grimly, with a mild curse. Just about everything in all directions was a hazy-golden color, even the—was it a floor?—retained the boring hue. The only exception was above his head: it looked like milky-clear water rippling in shallow waves. Shadows and dark grey intangible objects seemed to flow lazily on the surface.

At least Nouda's gone, Nathaniel thought with satisfaction. And Bartimaeus is free. Bartimaeus...who would have known he cared, and that wonderful free-wheeling feeling that we've ripped them out of for centuries. I wish I would have thought about it sooner, Nathaniel thought guiltily. Those last few fateful hours had shone beloved images, courage, and unimaginable feelings surrounding the poor treatment of his slaves that he never believed existed. On the other hand... He then thought of the ruin Nouda and many other djinni had brought upon his people. Yep, Bartimaeus was a special one indeed, he thought with a small smile, and a whip of sarcasm. Dozens of emotions raced in and out of him, and still he had hardly moved an inch.

Unbidden, but extremely welcoming, a magnificently beautiful face burned in his mind with an aura worthy of ruling the universe. He felt his face flush with pleasure at just remembering her. He absentmindedly raised his hand to brush his hair back as usual, and stopped abruptly with dread. Weakly, he attempted to scream again, but no sound emerged. The hand in front of him was semi-transparent, glittering in pale colors even remarkably less than those of his normal pallor. Scars, red, inflamed, and jagged ran down his familiar arm. With effort he sat up, and examined himself in shock. All of him was the same pale semi-transparent color, and his clothes had burned down to tatters in many places. The longer he stared, the less time it took him to realize his skin, wounds, and even clothes were blurry. Shaking and panting, Nathaniel couldn't stop his horrified thoughts from coming in pieces. What happened to me? Am I a ghost? Am I reaping my reward for being an extreme, power hungry idiot? NOW I CAN'T AFFORD TO START THINKING RIDICULOUS...hopefully my hair doesn't look too bad! What am I saying, it's a crew cut! Wait, theoretically, I should be blasted to bits!

Extremely gradually Nathaniel's mind slowed down into his calculating, shrewd, and impressively intelligent self. First off I have to figure out where in the heck I am. Straining his muscles felt pretty much like murder, but after a few tries Nathaniel shakily got to his feet and with a magnificent flourish, promptly fell back down. Why does a tiny bit of me feel if I try I could fly right now? he wondered, frustrated. Numbness and exhaustion slowly settled over the former John Mandrake as he lay helpless. The ceiling may have something worth checking into, but, obviously, it'll have to wait, Nathaniel thought with sleep slowly calling him back to unconsciousness.

Okay, I (Sali, short for Lacrimaesalix) just wanted to advise you readers to wait until the next two chapters at least before you judge this fic. Kyrie and I are still trying to pull everything together and get the feel for writing for this fandom. This is (obviously) just the prologue and therefore the chapter that sets up our story. Yes, ours is rather short, but don't use just it to judge all however many chapters we're going to have.

Muchas gracias!

Next chapter coming courtesy of Sali.

—Kyrie and Larcrimaesalix

(P.S. We live on reviews. Please hit that little button...you know the one...and help us out. Thanks again!)

R & R