A/N: I can't begin to say how thankful I am for all the lovely feedback! And we've hit 90 alerts on FFN alone, which is all kinds of humbling. This chapter was a bit harder to write than the others, and I'm not completely satisfied with it, but I didn't want to leave you guys without an update for longer than I had to. Katie is a bit sleep-deprived on this one, something sadly enough that mirrors my daily existence.

Keep the feedback coming guys, it got me writing more than any dose of free time would!

I hope you enjoy!


"I don't think," Falk says as he leans over her with a sneer. "That you know your place."

Katie offers him a flat look. "Classes have assigned seating, so I'm pretty sure I do."

It's amusing, she contemplates, how quickly a human being can turn such a shade of tomato-red. Falk is certainly an example of it, though the colour in his face meshes unpleasantly with the bright orange of the uniform in a way that makes Katie vaguely wonder if he's related to Commander Iverson.

She's faintly aware that she's only making things worse for Matt in the future when the red-faced boy slams his palm inches away from her head, eyes filled with rage. This awareness does not do anything beyond making her think twice.

"Besides," she says, not without a hint of cheekiness. "My place is very good as it is, while I can't say the same for you. Taken a good look at your grades lately, Falk? You should probably work on those."

She takes his small moment of confusion to slip beneath his arm, too fast for him to catch on even if the quick moment makes her a bit lightheaded. Katie can't resist a smug pat on his back as she does, something that will probably come back to bite her in the ass at some point. Katie, the mental version of her brother chides in the confines of her head, no one likes smug assholes.

Katie reasons with imaginary-Matt that Falk and his friends started it.

There's a cheerful whistle that accompanies her step as she ducks into the nearest bathroom, predicting that the angered boy will come stomping after her soon enough. What she hadn't said to his face was this: regardless of his grades, regardless of his standing, regardless of anything but an angry Katie Holt, anyone from Falk and Harrison's group that hadn't taken a look at the rankings spreadsheet after the wee hours of the morning was in for a bitter surprise.

Sometimes, Katie reasons, it feels damn good to be a petty piece of shit. Even if she'd much rather pummel her fist in the bastard's face instead.


"Matt," Shiro warns her.

"Shiro," she drawls back on the same tone he used. From his position on a chair nearby, Katie can see Keith trying to fight back a smirk, and she scowls as she turns her burning eyes back to the taller boy.

Shiro sighs, looking like he wants to drag his hand over his face. "What did you do?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Katie replies innocently. As innocently as she can, anyway, considering she's been fighting the urge to laugh hysterically all day. Dad had always said she wasn't the subtlest person around, and she supposes that hasn't changed even though her clothes and haircut and name all have. The sleeplessness certainly hasn't helped. "Is it because I left my hairbrush on the sink?"

Keith snorts at her blatant attempt at misdirection, looking far too amused at the whole thing. Asshole. Katie fights the urge to glare at him.

"I don't know," Shiro says back, and she's almost say he's snarking if this wasn't, you know, Shiro. "Why don't you ask that one group of boys cursing you out?"

"Figured it out, have they?" she asks gleefully. "Oh man, the next few weeks are going to be hell but so worth it."

"I have no idea what you mean," Shiro mimics at her. His eyes are as wide as he can make them, and she suspects he'd be fluttering his eyelashes if he could get away with it. "Is it because I left my hairbrush on the sink?"

When Katie attempts to speak, nothing comes out; she does her best impression of a gaping fish. On her third or fourth try, she squints suspiciously at him. "Did you just tell a joke?"

"How dare you." Shiro's face is perfectly impassive. "I thought you knew me better than this, Matt. I feel betrayed you thought I'd ever do such a thing."

Keith chokes on a laugh.

Katie shoves out a finger, not sure to which of them she should be pointing it at. "Listen up," she says indignantly. "I'm not saying anything because I'm still not sure if I hallucinated Shiro telling a joke or not, but I will be getting to the bottom of this. Mark my words."

She convinces herself she does not hear Shiro whisper the pun "Matt my words" at her back when she leaves the room. Improbable. Impossible. The math doesn't add up.

The fact that Keith is laughing a little too loud for it not to be true throws her for a loop, though. Shiro joking. Shiro telling puns. None of that fits with the serious rule-abiding role model image she has of him, and Katie shakes her head.

She must be imagining things.


The binder is a pain to take off. Nearly as much of a pain as it is to put it on; the difference is that when taking it off there's a sensation of immediate relief that follows it. Katie lets her lungs expand freely for a few moments, looking in the mirror as she does, taking in the pale skin and the smudgy shadowed skin around her eyes.

She looks tired.

She's never been able to sleep too well out of her bed. To make such a sudden switch is exhausting, deepened by having to leave behind all things familiar. No clothes or photos or books, nothing that could give any clues about the real Matt and her family. The one concession she makes is her computer, and on those many sleepless nights she takes comfort in it. Code is one thing she knows how to do, and she slips into the rows upon rows of pixelated characters like coming home, until her fingers ache and her eyes burn and the sun is coming up outside the small window of their dorm

It's not healthy, and Shiro looks at her with more concern each day that passes, but she can't seem to stop doing it. It's getting hard to focus on her daily life, and it's not the first time her vision has become dizzy with lack of sleep.

It's something she gets from her family, she supposes. Focusing all the pain and anger and frustration into their work until something worthwhile comes out.

She slips on a sports bra underneath the regulation pajamas, wishing beyond hope for her comfortable alien-themed sweatpants and shirt instead. There's no familiarity to this cold fabric; it's made for practicality and nothing else. It's all she has, though. Maybe one of these days she could ask Keith to sneak in some stuff, since she sees him leave for midnight joyrides at least once a week and come back without being detected.

It wouldn't be worth it, she reminds herself. It would never be worth it.

There's three months, one week, and four days left until she gets to go home and trade back with Matt, and beneath the fluorescent white bathroom light, Katie feels lonelier than ever.


Keith's stare as he bites at a protein bar is intermittent and all sorts of annoying, and Katie scowls at it. They've ended up alone again, forced to sit together by sheer dislike of everyone else who isn't Shiro, and normally Katie wouldn't mind it as much seeing as Keith generally understands that not every silence needs to be filled with words. Today, though, he is staring, and his unrelenting gaze is getting on her nerves a little too much.

"What do you want, Mullet?"

"Shiro is worried," he simply says. The about you is implied, because Keith saves up on words when he can, and besides it's not like she hasn't noticed Shiro and his worrying and his frowning and his watching her like a mother hen.

Katie contains the urge to shove a finger at his face. "If he's so worried, he can come and tell me that himself."

Keith cracks a smile. "Shiro is a firm believer that people will come to him if necessary. He never stops the hovering until they do, though."

She can't really begrudge Shiro, Katie decides, no matter how irritable and sleep-deprived she might be at the moment. He's a hard guy to dislike. Like a particularly nice rock that doesn't disrupt the landscape and that you'll never stub your toe on, but that provides a nice place to nap on if the weather is nice enough.

It's at this moment Katie realizes she should probably get some sleep, rock-Shiro or no rock-Shiro.

"Besides," Keith says, taking another bite of his protein bar and gulping it down whole before he speaks. She can smell something nice coming from it, though she can't tell right away what it is; she narrows her eyes at the wrapper. "He's not one to talk. You should see him during the examination weeks: he pretty much monopolizes the Garrison's entire stock of coffee."

"Somehow, I really can't picture that," Katie mutters. The protein bar swings back and forth enticingly; what is that smell? "He looks like the responsible kind of student."

Keith shrugs. "You'd be surprised. That responsible look of his and his grades are what keep him from ever getting in trouble."

It's peanut butter, Katie realizes. It's a peanut butter protein bar. "I can't picture Shiro in trouble," she replies distractedly. She loves peanut butter, and it's been so long.

"Who do you think taught me to sneak around?" Keith asks with a smirk. "But no one ever suspects him. It's amazing."

That's enough to distract her from the mouth-watering thought of peanut butter anything. "Wait. So you're saying the serious role model thing is a front?"

"I'm not saying anything," Keith says, swallowing the last of the protein bar. "But if you need to get somewhere you shouldn't, well - it wouldn't hurt to ask Shiro. Wouldn't have gotten all those extra piloting hours if it weren't for him."

It's unlikely that Katie will need that kind of knowledge, but she stows it away for the future just in case. She's so busy with reconstructing her mental profile of Shiro that she barely notices when Keith offers her a peanut butter protein bar - fished out from his fanny pack of all things - and tells her to get some sleep.


She's groggy and disorientated when she wakes up, not recognizing her surroundings. There's a soft blue kind of light painting the walls between shadows, and she faintly remembers sitting on the recreation room with Shiro and Keith while pouring over a book on Star class cargo ship manutention. Between the low murmurs of conversation and the background explosions on the movie showing on the projector screen, she must have fallen asleep.

Someone has removed her glasses and put them at her side so they wouldn't hurt, and she slips them back on before anyone can see her. It's ridiculous how quickly Matt's glasses have become the closest thing to a security blanket she has.

"Oh," Shiro says, from the couch, his voice nice and warm. "You're awake."

"You fell asleep," Keith says, as helpful as always. His eyes don't even leave the movie; she can't even recognize the characters in it. She wonders for how long she had slept.

"You're as obvious as ever, Mullet," Katie mutters, but she's still too out of it to pack any real bite behind her words. "How long was I out for?"

"A few hours," Keith says.

"Should have been longer," Shiro adds. "You certainly looked like you needed it. Sorry, did we wake you up?"

She rubs her eyes, smudging her glasses with her carelessness. "I don't think so? Can't really tell what woke me up."

"It's still early, but you could head on to bed," Shiro suggests. "I don't think you're going to get any studying done like that."

Katie flops down on her side, looking blearily at the movie on the screen. "Won't be able to sleep. What are we watching?"

"Old movie," Keith says, which explains why the projection is so flat. "Didn't start too long ago. But it's weird as hell."

"You should be able to catch on pretty quick," Shiro says.

"Or not," Keith snorts. "It doesn't exactly make much sense."

"It's a metaphor."

The amicable bickering is nice. It reminds her of home, of Mom and Dad, of her and Matt, and the nonsensical conversations that often plagued the dinner table.

It's familiar enough that Katie falls back asleep. She's too tired to enjoy the first good rest she's had for the past few weeks, but it's good. It's nice. It's slow going, but she's starting to think she would like it here, given the chance.

Katie dreams of home.