The wait for this chapter was much too long, but with school starting and all, the next chapter was difficult to write. This is the longest chapter in the fic as of yet, though, so I hope that makes up for the wait. There are only four more chapters after this, and I hope you enjoy them.

Thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers. You guys have no idea how much it helps.

Also, the alternate title for this chapter is "The Insanely Long Chapter That Leads Up To The Climax". Really. I could have called it that.

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Chapter Eighteen
Just Before We Say Goodbye

"I have spoke with the tongue of angels,
I have held the hand of a devil.
It was warm in the night;
I was cold as a stone.
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for."
-U2's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"

Kitty had caught on before Bartimaeus had begun running headfirst at a stone wall, which she thought was pretty stupid.

Apparently, though, his head was a lot harder than the wall could ever dream of being. Surprise, surprise.

A huge crack appeared where he had hit, running right through the small window. He stepped back and began punching it repeatedly, until finally chunks began to fall onto the floor. After several minutes of this, he broke through, and a few kicks gave them a fairly large hole through which to escape from.

Bartimaeus smirked at the two. "That's quality work, you have to admit."

What John had to say to this she would never know, for a yell came from behind them.

"I thought I heard something up here!" A guard was standing about ten meters behind them, holding a gun with trembling hands. "Put your hands up!"

She glanced at John and he nodded, and the two obliged. "Okay, just settle down," John said slowly. "Don't do anything stupid."

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" the guard yelled furiously. His eyes were wide, his breathing shaky: he was panicking.

"Calm yourself," John tried again. "I'm a senior member of the government, everything's alright. We haven't detonated –" he put particular emphasis on this word and she heard Bartimaeus move behind them "– a bomb or anything like that."

"You're making a hole in the wall of the Tower!"

"Oh, yes, that. Well, you see, it's a very long and interesting story and I'd love to tell it to you sometime, but I'm afraid we have to go now. By the way, you might want to duck."

There was a large explosion behind the guard, throwing him face-first onto the ground, but John had already grabbed her arm and was running the other way, towards the hole. Instead of a gargoyle, there was now the same large eagle from hours before, positioned to take off through the hole.

"Do hurry," Bartimaeus said. "We haven't got much time to spare. That won't keep him out for long."

John stepped back so she could mount the eagle, and as soon as she was situated, hopped on right after her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Go!"

Bartimaeus pushed out of the hole and began a sharp descent towards the streets of London as gunshots rung over their heads. The djinni perked his head upwards, intrigued.

"They are using silver bullets," he mused. "No wonder the bugger didn't faint at the sight of me. Of course, he may not have been able to see me over your big heads."

"What was that?" Kitty asked breathlessly as they began to gain altitude.

"A Detonation," the djinni answered. "You might've seen a Detonation stick around before, I believe they've gotten better since the last time I encountered one –"

For some reason, he laughed at this thought, as though it was an old joke of his.

"I'm just glad you caught on." John leaned closer to her. "I didn't want to be so obvious, but I didn't know what you'd do otherwise, and that chap didn't look that bright, either."

Bartimaeus somehow managed to nod. "Yeah, I was thinking about how to handle the situation at that very moment. You'd think that with spending so much time with magicians and whatnot, he would've known what we were going on about."

"Maybe you're giving him too much credit. He is a security guard, after all."

"Oh… yes, that does explain a lot."

"Look out for that bird," Kitty pointed out quickly. Bartimaeus swerved to the right and a collision with the pigeon that had been in their path was avoided.

"Whoops. Thanks."

"No problem."

The wind tore at their faces, although Bartimaeus did not seem to mind it very much, and Kitty's skin stung horribly, like it was burning, but she did not complain. John was enduring it too, and although she was growing to respect him more and more as time went on, by no stretch of the imagination did she consider him… physically apt.

Bartimaeus was thinking along the same lines. "Alright up there, Johnny? I don't fancy you tough enough to face this again and not whine about it, but then again, I never thought I'd call you Johnny, either."

"And I blame Morris for that," John said, slightly irritated. "He must've called me it a dozen times before the fried feces incident when I was trying to plan out everything. I actually remember the first time he called me Johnny: it was when he applied to be a CSI."

"Interesting," Bartimaeus yawned. His wings flapped lazily but still propelled them to surprising speeds, to Kitty's grim satisfaction – while she was glad they were moving fast, her face really hurt. "Just wondering, what's the plan now? We've gotten Kitty's friends out of the Tower, but I hardly think that will make the magician government come crashing down around us."

"I'm not completely sure," John snapped. "I think first we must take care of whoever was behind Lovelace and Duvall –"

"What do you mean, I thought Duvall was behind Lovelace?"

"No, that can't be, because I believe this person also stole that Archway from the museum. That's assuming that your group didn't steal it?" He gave Kitty a curious look.

"I don't really have much of a clue what you're talking about," she said honestly.

"As I thought. I don't even know what it is and I'm a high-ranking member of the government with access to all sorts of books and such about magical artifacts, and I have no idea what it is. The idea that your group would is, no offense, laughable."

Kitty rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the moral support."

"That's what I'm here for." He shot her something between a smirk and a grin. "This Archway, though… I'm almost positive it's some sort of weapon. The Amulet of Samarkand was very close to a weapon, and Gladstone's Staff is… whoever is after these things wants to do something big, really big."

"Why not let them?" Bartimaeus suggested. "They may just bring down the government for us."

"Well, you see, if they take over as I believe they are planning to do – after all, that was Lovelace's aim and Duvall's, also – I have this nagging feeling that they might not be so pleasant. Call me pessimistic, but Lovelace's spirit and Duvall's golems and werewolves have kind of put me off."

"Oh. Right."

"What I want to know is who set you up to the incident in Gladstone's tomb."

Kitty whipped around suddenly, looking at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Someone had to have put you up to it. You would need a magician's help to get past Gladstone's defenses."

"Well, besides that Pestilence, we didn't quite get past Gladstone's defenses."

"Yes, but someone had to have let you in."

"There was a benefactor," she said blankly without much feeling – she had long ago hardened herself against him and Hopkins. "He told us how to get past the Pestilence, and how to get into the tomb, although Hopkins helped."

"Hopkins?" John said quizzically.

"He was another commoner helping us out, kind of pointing us in the 'right' –" she spat out this word with anger "– direction and helping decipher some things."

"Hopkins!" he exclaimed. "Now I remember! There was a scholar named Hopkins that Duvall had said was the whole brains of his operation, that had shown him the golem's eye and that mercenary!"

"That mercenary?"

"There is a mercenary I've had the misfortune to encounter who seems to have your resilience, except…"

"More resilient?" Bartimaeus offered.

Kitty nodded. "This just proves it. Hopkins wasn't on our side at all."

"And I doubt he was on Duvall's side," mused Bartimaeus. "After all, Duvall was one of those captured in the pentacle during that whole Lovelace fiasco, meaning that he wasn't in on that, as John and I figured out. I'd be willing to bet money that Hopkins was behind that, too, seeing as the mercenary was in Lovelace's employ, and said that he'd been serving a higher master at the time, too."

"That's all fine and dandy, but tell me more about this benefactor." John seemed particularly ruffled about this.

"Well, he said he wasn't much of a magician anymore, but dabbled in the art from time to time –"

"I'm sure," Bartimaeus scoffed.

"He said he wanted to bring down the current government, and he wanted to help us."

Behind her, John coughed. "And what did he want in return?"

"Some items… Gladstone's Staff and a cloak, I think."

"A cloak?"

"A cloak."

"I know I've heard talk of this cloak somewhere…" He sighed. "It doesn't really matter. As you didn't have the cloak, that means that Honorius did, and the possessions he was carrying must have gotten destroyed by the golem."

"No, Honorius just shattered into a million pieces," Bartimaeus said. "I don't think anything happened to the possessions."

"But obviously Hopkins or this magician did not have much interest in the cloak as they did not pursue it as they pursued the Staff. Off of that subject… where did you meet this magician? There aren't too many places that it would seem appropriate to make such a deal."

"I met him alone in an old building… a theater, I think."

"A theater?" She glanced at John, who looked particularly troubled by this, and nodded.

"That's right. Is there something wrong about this?"

He shook his head. "Hm… no, it's probably just a coincidence."

"Okay, be mysterious and vague," Bartimaeus growled angrily.

However, at that moment, there was an explosion below them, and it was all Kitty could do not to fall off of the djinni, although John was thrown so that Kitty had to help him back up. After much trying, he remounted Bartimaeus, who was now beginning to descend again to investigate.

"Don't go closer to it!" huffed John breathlessly. "We don't want to be anywhere near that! What if it explodes again?"

"Well, I don't think there's much to explode, is there?"

Bartimaeus was correct. Something that had once been a building now lay below them, just a pile of rubble. And there, in the middle of it all…

"Bones," he remarked. "Pleasant. So, we just witnessed what looks to be a murder. This just gets better and better."

Something caught the corner of Kitty's eyes: was that a person wrapped in black, limping away?

"Look –"

"No time for that." Police cars were already coming to the scene, and an officer was speaking into a megaphone.

"Come to the ground and put your hands on your head!"

"Well, my dear children, it looks like we will have to run again." Bartimaeus's wings began to flap faster. "Luckily, the police force of your fair city is not at all competent, even those werewolves. Hold on tight, now."

They began to fly away, gaining speed as they went, when gun shots rung out behind them. Bartimaeus cried out angrily as a bullet entered his side, and cursed terribly.

"Silver!" He began to fly slower, obviously pained by the bullet lodged within him. "Bloody… oh, that's it!"

He turned around sharply, much to John's protests, avoiding shots as he went, and went into a tremendous nosedive towards the police cars.

"Hello, my pretties," he snarled furiously. "How are you doing today?"

He opened his beak, and a thick beam of blue light emerged from his mouth, cutting right through the police cars and into the street. The police screamed and hit the cement just before the cars exploded. Bartimaeus cackled and turned around once more.

"That's what I thought!" he shouted back over his shoulder as they began once again to fly to the park. "Not very nice, is it?"

John swore loudly and uncharacteristically as the police began to regroup behind them. "We're going to be late."

"Like it matters. What's the chance of an ambush?"

"What's the chance of a building exploding beneath us?"

"What's the chance of both happening within minutes of each other?"

John sighed. "Forget it."

The rest of the flight passed mostly in silence – that is, until the three began to actually come up on the park.

"What the hell?" muttered John as they began to approach Bishop Park.

Kitty did not know what it was, but it was large and dome-like, and barely rose over the tips of some of the innermost trees. She supposed that if she had not been in the air then she would not have seen it at all, and although it didn't really worry her, as she had no idea what it was supposed to be, it seemingly did worry John very much.

"There's Ffoukes's car," he said hurriedly, pointing to the edge of the park. He swore again. "Well, Bartimaeus, it appears that you may have to soon be eating your words."

The djinni was not paying much attention to him. "How the hell did they get here so fast?"

"Well, we spent the better part of fifteen minutes attacking worthless police officers, so really it's anyone's guess."

"Shut up, you. Besides, that could just have been created by Ffoukes or Morris."

"Somehow, I doubt it. Land."

Bartimaeus followed the order, choosing a nice spot at the edge of the manmade forest, and she and John dismounted him quickly.

"Change into something more suitable," snapped John hurriedly as he entered the forest, his breathing rapid.

"This'll do, I hope." There was a noise behind Kitty, and in the place of an eagle there was now a great red lion, with a wild mane and a snake-like tail. "Impressive, no?"

"If we're too late…" John trailed off.

His words hung thick in the air, perhaps thicker than the twigs and branches in front of them.

Voices began to come into earshot up ahead of them as they plowed on, and as they progressed further and further through the dense forest, they became clearer and clearer.

"…Nice place you have here," someone was saying, a woman. She spoke slowly and smoothly, and yet her voice was subtly seductive.

John sped up. "No!"

"Why don't you –"

The magician named Morris cut Elliot off. "Listen, I know we've had our differences in the past –"

"You've asked me out no less than twenty-two times, you twit."

"Yes, well that should be viewed as a compliment! Now, George here, that's a different scenario. I wouldn't blame you in the slightest –"

"Shut up, Mo," Katherine's voice rung out. "Now's not the time."

"I think I've earned the right to speak! After all, I betrayed my own government –"

"Something that will not be ignored," the female voice said smugly. "Settle down, children, I think we have visitors."

"Who're you calling a –" John stepped out through the underbrush and into a smaller clearing than the one they had occupied earlier in the day and held up a hand to silence Elliot.

Stopping at the edge of the dome, his lips pursed. "Hello, Ms. Farrar."

"Hello, Mandrake," replied the woman coolly. "Come on in, I don't think it will kill you." She gestured to the dome.

"I doubt that."

"Well, then, how would you like a proposal? You step forward into this little ball of mine, and I don't kill all of your friends. Ethel has been getting dreadfully bored lately, after all." The chick on her shoulder made a growling sound.

"Let them all walk out and I'll come in."

Farrar waved a reprimanding finger. "Now, now, Mandrake, do you think I'm that dimwitted?"

"No, I just think I'm marginally cleverer."

"We'll see about that," she breathed. Jack looked at Kitty in desperation, but she could only shrug helplessly. "How about this: I'll let half of them out before you step in, and half when you do. That way we're both giving a little."

"Fine."

Farrar pointed to several of the people on her left, none of them being Morris or Ffoukes, and said sharply, "go."

They did, and Kitty felt herself relax slightly, but only for a minute: there were still a few members of the Resistance in the bubble, Jack among them.

"Just you," the woman warned. "Not the girl or your demon."

"Damn," Bartimaeus mumbled.

John nodded and took a step forward. Kitty made a start, as if to pull him back, but he had already stepped through.

"Let them go."

"As you wish." Farrar nodded to the rest of the group and they filed out quickly. She then turned to John and gave him a sickly smile before saying something Kitty did not understand, some command in another language. "Now, you know what I have done, I presume?"

"Of course," he stated breezily, as if he was describing the weather. "This is a Coming-and-Going Dome. You released the barrier when you let them out and me in, and as soon as I was left alone in here with you, you closed the Dome once more."

"You always have been a quick learner, Mandrake."

John nodded. "At least you acknowledge that. Now, before you kill me as you so surely will, would you at least let my allies escape?"

"Oh, of course. I have no interest in them at the current moment."

"Good." John looked at the group that had just been released. "Go… all of you."

Bartimaeus began to move away from the Dome, but Kitty grabbed his mane.

"Ow!"

"Hold on, I want to see this."

"Why?"

"Maybe we can help him."

"Not really," said the lion carelessly. "He'll be killed, and I'll be freed. He's done better lately, but I'm not going to stick around and fight Farrar with you. And as strong as I am, after so much recently, I haven't a chance against that thing. I'm not even fibbing, either."

"Just… wait. It won't kill you."

"I guess it won't do any harm." He laid out his front paws in front of him and lied down lazily on the grass, his eyes focused on the Dome with mild interest.

John cleared his throat and scuffed the grass with his trainer. "Now that that's done, I believe we can proceed. As you were saying?"

"First off, I'm pretty surprised that you let them just walk off like that. Since when have you been selfless?"

"I'm not at all selfless," John replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "Their lives are just more important than mine at the moment."

"Don't you worry, I'll be going after them once I'm done with you." Farrar paused. "Do you know why I have been stalling so long, Mandrake?"

"I have my suspicions."

"Suspicions?" laughed the woman. "Like what?"

He gazed at her casually. "Oh, you probably want to gloat a bit, let me know that you are, in fact, better than I am."

"Is that it?" Farrar was incredulous.

"No. As I said, I have my suspicions. Surely you would not have so willingly taken on an entire group with resilience so cockily without a reason. After all, it might've ended in your death if I had wished it to do so."

"Really?"

"Really. I could have told them to attack you, and you would have been overpowered, your only defense being the self-destruction of the Dome. But as I said, their lives are more valuable than mine, and that would not have been very convenient for my purposes."

"Your purposes? Oh, you're a riot, Mandrake. But you're not as nearly as intelligent as you think."

"And what is your proof of this?" John asked.

"It was very simple to realize what was going on," replied Farrar maliciously. "I was watching the security cameras in the Tower from a building nearby this very park. I saw you help that group escape, and then, I watched as you evaded capture and flew away. I also watched as a group flew away on a hawk, and how some used a car, a car that belonged to the magician Ffoukes."

"Ah, I think I see the flaw in our little escapade already."

Farrar nodded. "Yes, I would not at all be shocked if you do. To find them, I merely used the cameras on the city's traffic lights; they were speeding fantastically, to tell the truth, but it didn't matter. My location helped me greatly… after all, I was already here, in a sense!"

"As I thought. Please, continue." His voice was even and stable, much as Kitty's had been that night years ago when she had first encountered him in her parents' house. She felt a great respect for him at this point: it was not easy to be so calm.

"And so I followed them here and ambushed them. To tell the truth, I had been eagerly awaiting the perfect moment to confront you, Mandrake. A short while ago, I learned of some very useful information."

"Oh really?" John did not seem surprised by this, either, although the look on his face was now decidedly grimmer, and more calculating. His eyes darted around the area thoughtfully, as if to look for a weakness in the Dome.

"Yes. Do you know what this could possibly be?"

"I can think of a million possibilities."

"Oh, but you could surely narrow it down."

John stared at her stonily. "Yes, I very well could."

"So, Mandrake," she said, spitting out his name happily, "what do you think this could be? This key to your downfall, this weapon against you?"

"I think you would prefer to tell me, actually," he said.

"Yes, I would," agreed Farrar. She looked him over carefully, as if weighing his price. "Do you recall a secretary by the name of Jenkins?"

"He used to work in Internal Affairs, until I had him moved out about a year ago."

"Why?"

"It was at his request. I was all too happy to move him into Security."

"You see, that's it!" she exclaimed. "He was not very fond of you at all, and imagine his surprise when he walked past a dumpster near his favorite fish and chips restaurant and overheard a conversation between you, your djinni, and that Morris fellow?"

Bartimaeus paled, and looked away guiltily, although Kitty did not know why.

"I imagine it was some surprise."

"Yes, but he got over his shock quite quickly, I will assure you. For he heard something that was spectacular – or terrible, I suppose, if you look at it from a different point of view."

"I don't think it's all that terrible. Maybe a bit unfortunate."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. Then you know what he heard, don't you… Nathaniel?"

Kitty stared at her stupidly – Nathaniel? What?

Oh.

Right. John was Nathaniel. That was his true name. It seemed too… normal, too good-natured for the person she had always considered an enemy until so recently. It rolled nicely off the tongue, and Kitty rather liked the sound of it, which was peculiar, but she supposed it was just a vast improvement over John Mandrake, which was not at all a wonderful name.

"Well, as I said, it isn't all that bad," said John – Nathaniel – in a bittersweet voice. "I could have been named Wilford or something dull like that."

"Yes, you could've, and it is a shame: I rather like the name." The chick on her shoulder bounced anxiously. "But you will be dead soon enough, so it doesn't matter."

Nathaniel chuckled. "Do you honestly think I won't go without a fight?"

"Are you stupid, boy?" she snapped. "You can conjure a defense, maybe a Shield or a Blocker, but even without the power of your name, Ethel would overpower you. With your name… it just makes things easier."

"That is where we part ways," Nathaniel stated as he crouched slightly and put his hands in front of him. "Your greatest weakness has always been a lack of creativity."

"You think you can escape this? Be my guest to try, although you will undoubtedly fail. Now, Nathaniel, like all things, this must come to an end. Ethel!" The chick hopped off of her shoulder and onto the ground, giving Nathaniel a menacing look. "Finish him."

The chick gave s nod, and raising a tiny wing, it growled something, followed by one unmistakable word: "Nathaniel!"

A gigantic blast of blue fire swirled towards him, but he had already flicked his wrist at the fire and said a few words in another language, and then something that Kitty couldn't quite make out but sounded English…

"No," breathed Bartimaeus as the fire flew at him and collided with a wall of energy that had surrounded him. "He can't have tried that. That couldn't have possibly worked."

Time seemed to stand still as the flames hit the Shield; finally, there was a great noise like a car backfiring and the whole Dome filled with a blinding light that did not escape it until finally the magical barrier shattered to pieces. Flames were still swirling around the area, and a thick smoke obscured it from view, but the ground that Kitty could see was dark and nearly torn to shreds. Pieces of earth were scattered all about, and as the smoke cleared, she felt her breath catch in her chest.

First, Farrar and her servant became visible as the smoke and flames subsided. Farrar looked rather irritated, and her clothes were covered in ashes. For some reason, Kitty could not help but feel that this had not worked out as she had wanted it to.

As the smoke continued to subside, Kitty realized that the ashes on Farrar's clothes could very well be the ashes of Nathaniel.

She felt ready to vomit.

He couldn't be dead… he couldn't have taken all of that so calmly and just died… what were they to do without him? She did not know what to do…

"Hm," commented Bartimaeus, bemused. "My ties to this world aren't loosening. That's odd. Unless… that would explain it."

Kitty turned her head to see where he was looking, and automatically she was filled with a violent sort of euphoria.

Kneeling on the ground, battered and dirty and bloody but very much alive, was Nathaniel.

"I guess his plan worked," Bartimaeus said quietly.

"What in Gladstone's name?" spat Farrar furiously. "How the hell are you not dead?"

Nathaniel laughed, although it was a very weak and tired laugh. "As I said, Farrar –" he coughed, and blood splattered on the ground in front of him "– I am marginally cleverer than you."

"I wouldn't be condescending," Farrar said. "You're the one that looks ready to drop dead."

"But I haven't yet, obviously."

"Don't smirk, boy, it's not a becoming look."

"Funny, I thought it was. You do it all the time, after all."

She glared at him before clearing her throat to reset the mood. "Very well. On my employer's whims, I had orders to follow in the case that you did survive."

"I'm guessing that this employer isn't the Empire," said Nathaniel shortly.

"Of course he isn't the Empire, you prat." She wiped some of the soot off of her skirt and continued. "He had other business to take care of today, and felt that I could sufficiently take care of you. Nevertheless, he had a suspicion that you might yet live, as he has tried to kill you quite a few times already, but you have an annoying habit of surviving when you oughtn't. And so I have a proposal."

"A proposal?"

"Yes, a proposal," reiterated the female magician briskly. She was not deterred much by Nathaniel's survival, although she was bitter. "You are familiar with the Tower, I believe – after all, you did just help a large group of prisoners escape from it. Well, in two weeks' time exactly, at this time today, you will arrive at the Tower and commence to the top floor."

"The top floor? The top two floors are off-limits."

"My employer is not stupid, Nathaniel. Don't worry, either, the path will be clear, he will see to that. He has some influence, you see."

"And why does he want us to do this?"

"He feels that you have now deserved the right to live long enough to be enlightened," she said vaguely. "You will die regardless, but you shall learn of… well, certain things."

Nathaniel regarded her cautiously before giving a stiff nod. "Fair enough. Two weeks from now at sunset."

"Yes. Two week from now. Sunset on Saturday."

"Got it. Is that all?"'

"Yes." She smirked. "Don't worry, you won't see me again. This will be the last time we meet."

"We shall see," Nathaniel stated simply. "Goodbye then, Ms. Farrar, until we meet again."

She shook her head. "Don't count on it, boy."

Farrar snapped her fingers and there was a puff of smoke, and when it had finally disappeared, so had she. Nathaniel still stared at the spot where she had stood, as if he were considering something grave and important – the proposal, perhaps?

Bartimaeus sighed. "Good riddance. She was getting to be a pain in the arse, you know. Any more of her stupid chit-chat and I was going to go crazy."

"Why didn't you catch her?" Kitty quizzed him quietly.

"Like I said, I'm weak. That chick may not have looked like much, and on most days I could take it one-on-one, but not now. I need to recover. Just as I suppose dear old Nat here does." He jerked his head towards his master.

"Alright then, we'd better get back to the others." Bartimaeus nodded his agreement and got up on all fours as Kitty treaded towards the magician carefully.

"Er… Nathaniel?" The words felt odd coming out of her mouth, but he looked up regardless. "I think we should get back. Do you need any help?"

He glanced at the blood on his clothes and chuckled. "Yeah, I think I do." She grabbed him by the waist and slowly helped him to his feet. "Thank you. My left leg seems to have taken the brunt of it – I think it was the leg I placed forward when I conjured the Shield – and if you could help me out with that, well – Bartimaeus could clear a path, I mean, and –"

"That's fine, just put your arm around me," she instructed. Realizing what she said, she quickly recovered. "You know, to stabilize yourself. I'll help you out."

He swung his arm over her shoulder shakily and lifted the injured leg tenderly. "I don't think it's broken, luckily, just a little banged up. I'll be better in no time. So, off we go, I suppose."

They began the slow walk towards their old camping ground, and the lion was waiting in front of the thicket of trees. "I'll clear a path, I guess."

Kitty nodded at him gratefully, and he turned and began crushing the plant life in front of them easily. She and Nathaniel followed his path, stopping once to pick up a thick stick with knobby bumps from weathering.

"I think I'll be needing this," remarked Nathaniel dryly, taking it in his other arm. "I don't trust it to get me through all this uneven land, though."

"Don't worry about it," Kitty said firmly. "I'll help you. You deserve it."

Their eyes met briefly, and she shared a grin with him.

"I'm not entirely sure about that, but I don't think I'll deny it."

She laughed as she helped him over a log and they entered the old clearing once more. He nodded to her and removed his arm, switching the stick into his left hand and using it to hobble towards a sleeping bag they had left there earlier.

"You're alive!" exclaimed Thomas, shocked.

"Yes, don't look so disappointed." Kitty smiled as Nathaniel began to lower himself onto the sleeping bag.

"Wow, didn't think that'd happen," Morris commented. "Good job, Nat. Don't want to ask how you got out of that one."

"Who's Nat?" said Glen quickly.

Nathaniel shot Morris a knowing look, and she could only assume he knew Nathaniel's true name. "Coincidentally, that is related to the whole ordeal. I'll tell it to you after I rest… I think we all need a little sleep."

"I can't sleep," said Joel simply. "I don't have anything to sleep on, and the bugs are murder. Plus, there's not a restroom in site. "

"Ask Morris, he's a magician. There is a bathhouse at the edge of this forest, and that should do nicely. Now, I will have to respectfully bid you all a good night."

He threw the covers of the sleeping bag over his head quickly, as if to dodge more questions, and the barrage stopped. Instead, Katherine, who was to Kitty's left, nudged her in the ribs.

"What happened?"

"He escaped."

"No, really?" Katherine said sarcastically. "What happened, Kitty?"

"I don't really feel comfortable telling everything about it. You'll have to ask him tomorrow."

Katherine shot her a questioning look. "Is it something personal?"

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty personal."

"Oh." She sighed. "Well, it's been hell back here, if you must know. Everyone's been squabbling about whether to stay or leave, and everyone hates Ffoukes. Jack doesn't like Morris much, so naturally Glen doesn't either."

"Why?"

"Probably because he's a magician," she answered skeptically. "Morris is a nice enough guy, although he can be a bit stupid sometimes."

Kitty scoffed. "How would you know?"

"I used to be good friends with Morris. Remember Mo from the Tunnel of Love?"

"That was Mo?"

"Yeah. He ran away from his master when I was ten – and he was twelve, of course – because magic scared him to death. About a year after the Tunnel of Love, the government came to him and told him to either go to school and get a specialized job or to give up the practice of magic."

"He chose the government over you and his friends."

"Yes, basically. He's an alright guy, but I don't think he was too fond of the life of a commoner."

"Don't judge him too quickly," said Kitty. "He did choose to help us of his own free will, after all."

"I'm not judging him," Katherine responded, shrugging. "I already have."

Before Kitty could protest this, Glen arrived at her side. "So, what're you two up to?"

"Nothing suspicious." Katherine grinned. "Stop worrying so much, Glen. You're the owner of a pub. You're supposed to be irresponsible."

"That's what you think."

Someone yelled across the clearing at them. "Katherine!" It was Clarice. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Katherine said a hurried goodbye to the two of them and went off towards Clarice. Glen sighed.

"Thank God. I was about to strangle someone."

"Why?" Kitty asked.

"He's killing everyone, Morris is," he said as he rubbed his beard tiredly.

"Like you're not biased."

Glen stared at her. "I'll admit that I want to side with Jack. I want to make sure he doesn't get hurt, because if he does, his uncle will kill me."

"Wasn't Jack the one who recruited you, not the other way around?"

"Yes, but you don't know Jack's uncle," said Glen grudgingly. "Fiercely protective of the boy. He and his brother were really close, before Jack's dad went and got himself killed in some forsaken place far away from here. No bloody idea what happened to his mother, although his uncle isn't too fond of her. And Jack's a friend, after all."

"Why doesn't Jack like Morris?"

"Isn't it obvious? Morris and Katherine are so close, or were so close, although she seems to be pissed at him now. You have to know how Jack feels about Katherine."

"I can guess," she admitted.

"And Morris is what, two years older than both of them? I think he probably intimidates the boy, too. Although mainly Jack's angry that he… that he hurt Katherine."

"Your fighting spirit seems to have instilled itself in Jack."

"God, I hope not," grumbled Glen.

"Do you guys need sleeping bags?" Morris had appeared in front of them, clutching a bloody right hand with his left.

"What happened to you?" she asked curiously.

"A snake bit me," he said ruefully. "So, sleeping bags?"

"Uh huh," Glen grunted.

Morris nodded. "Right, then." He waved his uninjured hand and two plush rolls appeared in front of the two, although Kitty noticed they didn't look nearly as comfortable as the ones Nathaniel had summoned.

"Actually, Morris, I already have one," Kitty explained.

"Oh. I guess this one'll go to that loud bloke over there." He pointed to Elliot. "Well, g'night, then!"

He trotted off, and Kitty shot Glen a humoring look before going to find her sleeping bag.

As she passed by Nathaniel, she couldn't help but think that Morris wasn't that unlikable, really. Just a bit of an idiot.

But most guys were.

Nathaniel rolled over in his sleep.

-

Kitty woke up early the next day. The sun was shining to the east, although she could only see the tip of it over the tops of the trees. Throwing the covers off of her makeshift bed (and silently thanking Morris for casting a spell to repel the bugs in the area), she got to her feet, only to wrap her arms around herself and shiver. It was very cold.

"Here." It was Bartimaeus. He threw a jacket to her, which she caught and put on quickly. "Thought you might get cold."

"I did. Thank you."

"No problem."

She licked her lips and sat down next to him. For a lion, he looked peaceful enough, but still regal. "You don't sleep, do you?"

"No," he said. "Instead, I went around stealing clothes for everybody last night to pass the time."

Kitty noticed the bags next to the resting bodies and smiled. "Without orders? You're not softening up, are you?"

"Not a bit."

"Of course."

Bartimaeus laid his head down near her. "Are you willing to die for this?"

She sat down next to him and crossed her legs. "Yes," she said. "It looks like I already will, according to Farrar, but yes."

"Your friend Jack said he would last night," the djinni stated in an off-hand voice. "And that Glen, he seems to be some sort of father figure for Jack, so I'd bet that he would also."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"And then Morris came over to complain about some snake that bit him." The lion snorted. "Pansy."

Kitty smiled. "Yeah."

A bird chirped behind them and Bartimaeus's eyes flashed dangerously towards a stone in front of him, as if he wanted to throw it.

"You were telling me the last time we met," she began slowly and deliberately, "that there had been a case of a spirit and a human becoming 'friendly', as you put it."

"I did."

"Well, when?"

The lion waved a paw noncommittally. "A long time ago. It doesn't matter now."

"I think it does."

Bartimaeus laughed. "Oh, you do?"

"Yes," she said. "I want to understand you, the spirits."

"Why?"

"I figure as long as I'm trying to make commoners equal to magicians, that I might as well try for spirits while I'm at it," she replied.

"Well, that's a new one." He stopped. "Not entirely new, but I haven't heard that one in a few thousand years from a human. The whole magician-commoner concept is pretty popular, though."

She gave him an odd look. "When was the last time you heard it?"

"It doesn't really matter," he said again, skirting around the subject.

"Again, I think it does."

He gave a low growl. "Listen, to give you the simple version, there was once a boy who summoned a djinni and decided not to use any protective clauses – you know, 'thou shall not kill me' and whatnot – and instead trusted the djinni."

"What happened to the boy?"

"He died."

"Well, I wasn't expecting him to live thousands of years."

"He was sacrificed," stated Bartimaeus simply. "He began trying to get what you said, and the leaders of his empire sacrificed him."

"To what?"

"They didn't sacrifice him to anything, they sacrificed him for something," he said.

"For what?"

"It doesn't matter, really. Like I said, it was a long time ago, and the leaders… well, I don't quite know what happened after that, but for some reason the thing they sacrificed him for was never used."

"Why?"

Bartimaeus glared at her. "I don't know! They got scared of it, I suppose."

"Huh?"

"They realized that what they had made they didn't quite want," replied the lion. "That's just guesswork."

"What were they trying to create?"

"A weapon, probably. No doubt they'd already sacrificed dozens of spirits to make it."

"Then why'd they sacrifice him, too? He was a human."

"Because – because –" his eyes widened and his head shot up for a moment, only to lay back down "– no…"

Kitty was getting rather irritated at this point. "You and Nathaniel had better stop trailing off like that whenever I say something or I'm going to do something about it!"

"It's nothing, really," he said quickly. "I was just thinking about something, but it's meaningless. It's unlikely: I think the weapon was destroyed shortly after they sacrificed Ptolemy."

He stopped short, realizing he had said too much.

"Aha!" she cried. "So, you knew his name! Ptolemy!"

"Yes, well us djinn like to use a person's name when we're talking to each other, don't look so surprised."

"You have to tell me more about this –"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. We've talked enough about this. It's unimportant."

"Fine," Kitty sighed. She rested her head on her palm wearily. "So, where do we rank on the all-time list?"

"Tycho Brahe is definitely up there," said the djinni, happy for the change of subject. "Sometimes summoned me just for a talk, Tycho did. I never did really like the Egyptians or the Romans, usually pretty rude and such. The Czechs were just like the British, who're pompous and vain. Actually, Nat's not that bad as far as magicians go, and now… well, he's getting better, really. Champion of commoners… you don't see that too often in magicians. And you're not that bad, but commoners aren't really that bad generally, although they always call us 'demons' and offensive stuff like that because they fear us."

"I've done that a few times before."

"Yes, and I asked you how you would like being called 'female mudspawn'," chuckled Bartimaeus. "I have a terrific memory, as you can tell. No, you're not very bad, really, although it pains me to admit it. You can talk to me normally, can't you?"

Kitty looked at him quizzically. "You're pretty normal to me." He laughed. "You're just… a bit different."

"That I am," he agreed, albeit with a comical smile. He looked to the sleeping form of Nathaniel and let out a deep breath. "I had high hopes for Nat when I first met him, you know. He had a conscience, unlike most magicians. Then, after the whole golem incident… well, my hopes reversed. But it's weird to see that he might actually become a decent person, after all."

"It's weird to think that I enjoy John Mandrake's company," Kitty commented.

Bartimaeus smirked at her. "I wouldn't go spreading that around. People might get the wrong idea."

"Oh, very funny."

"I'm a funny djinni. I'm Bartimaeus."

"Of course you are, how could I forget?"

The djinni smiled. "You're acting like you aren't going to die in two weeks' time."

"I don't plan on it, but I've gotten over my fear of dying a long time ago," she explained as she picked at a blade of grass with her hand. "You're pretty calm."

"I'm a calm being. When you've been around for five thousand years, then you generally can take just about anything with ease."

Her mind was filled with the image of Bartimaeus speaking in a bored manner to Honorius the afrit right before the golem arrived, and she couldn't help but think to herself that Bartimaeus was a very serene djinni, if not a vocal one.

"I don't really know how Nat plans to get us out of this one," Bartimaeus remarked. "Whoever's behind all of this is pretty powerful, especially if he orchestrated Lovelace's and Duvall's little uprisings. And he has your old chum Hopkins on his side, too."

"How do we know it's not Hopkins?"

The lion placed its head on its paws. "If he truly is a commoner, then he doesn't have all of the necessary resources. To find out all he did about the magicians, he would have to find an inside source."

"Do any suspects come to mind?"

"Yes, but it doesn't really matter," he said. "Who is inconsequential. It's what that worries me."

"Then what comes to mind?"

He grinned. "He has a taste for old artifacts. The Amulet of Samarkand, which was at the base of the Lovelace uprising –"

"What does this amulet do?"

"It absorbs an almost limitless amount of magic," Bartimaeus said. "Well, after that, there was the Staff, and let's not forget that he wanted that cloak, too, and now, I'm pretty sure he's gone and stolen an Archway."

"And what do you think this Archway is for?"

"I'm not completely sure. It's probably some way to summon multiple beings or to harness their power or something of the sort. It seems logical, if you judge by the other items."

She sighed. "But we won't know until we go to the Tower."

"That's right."

"Fun."

"Everything's fun when you hang around Nat."

"It's interesting, at least."

Bartimaeus nodded. "Oh, and speaking of which, look who's waking up."

Nathaniel was sitting up in his sleeping bag and rubbing his eyes wearily. His hair was slightly disheveled, and Kitty smiled: he looked very odd.

"G'morning, beautiful," called out the djinni with unhidden sarcasm. "How're you doing? You conscious?"

"Yes, thank you," replied the magician as he grabbed his stick and, very wobbly, got to his feet. He walked over to them slowly and painfully and, with much effort, sat down next to Kitty. "Are you two having a good time?"

"Surprisingly," said Bartimaeus.

"That's good," he muttered. "Let's see if I can't heal this up a bit."

He lightly touched his leg with his fingers and said a few words that Kitty did not understand. His leg glowed for a few seconds before he leaned back and let out a breath of relief. "That feels better."

"I'll bet it does." Bartimaeus looked up lazily. "For all of that you did back in the Dome, you still got beat to a pulp."

"It's not such a high price if it means living through that."

"No, it isn't," he agreed.

Kitty looked from one to the other. "You still haven't explained to me what went on back there. If your true name is such a weakness, you should be dead, especially since you were going against a djinni… right?"

Nathaniel smiled. "Right."

"Then why are you still alive?"

"Because he's a bastard, that's why," answered Bartimaeus, and Nathaniel laughed.

"That would make sense." His facial expression became more serious. "You do know what I did, right?"

"Unless my hearing has gotten worse or my guessing is way off, then yes."

"I still don't," said Kitty hotly.

Nathaniel looked away from her and out at the trees. "Your name… it is not a source of weakness for you, is it?"

"No. I don't use magic."

"Exactly. But I would be just like you if I had not been orphaned and trained. I would not know magic. Magic is not a birthright, it is something that every individual can do, but they must be trained."

"Unless you're a djinni," said Bartimaeus.

"Of course. But I was thinking… who says that a name has to be a weakness?"

The lion shifted its weight to the right. "As I suspected."

"It's who I truly am, right? It's my birth name. So, if who I am is a weakness, then it also is a strength, because there are all sorts of facets to my personality, some positive and others negative."

"But how did that help you?" Kitty asked, perplexed.

"Simple. He used my name against me, but I did the same back: I said the words of command and then added my name to strengthen my spell-casting."

"But… if they just cancelled each other out, isn't the djinni still stronger than you?"

He rubbed his leg absentmindedly. "Yes, but I don't think they just cancelled each other out. I am Nathaniel, so my name should he most powerful when I use it. I should be able to unlock its full potential."

"Seems pretty iffy to me."

"It was a risk, but it was my only chance," he agreed. "I'm just surprised that no one's ever done this before."

"They probably have," said Bartimaeus. "But magicians don't keep much records like that, and whoever did it first wouldn't spread the secret, would he? But they also pound it into your heads that your name is a weakness. Djinn, on the other hand, acknowledge that the rules binding our two worlds mean that you can summon us using our name, but you can't really use our name against us in a fight, so we never explored the subject. It was some creativity, I'll admit to that."

"It'll take more than creativity to pull us all out alive from the Tower in two weeks, I think," Nathaniel said darkly.

Bartimaeus looked at the rock again as the bird began chirping once more. "We've done it before."

"But we've never gone against whoever is behind it all, have we? He – or she – must be an extremely powerful magician."

"Or he could just be clever," argued Kitty. "Magical ability isn't everything."

"You're right." He smiled. "You're a living contradiction to that statement."

"I'll take it as a compliment."

"It was meant as one," he said. "Well, it might've been. Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're going to knock all magicians again like you have before." She raised her eyebrows. "You've done it before."

"Fine." She extended her hand to him, and he stared at it. "I won't automatically assume all magicians are pompous bastards, and you won't automatically assume that magical ability is necessary to have power."

He took her hand. "Deal."

They shook hands before releasing from each others' grip, both grinning.

Bartimaeus broke the moment.

"Oh, get a room."

-

Almost a week passed without incident. Morris, Thomas, and Elliot kept themselves occupied by playing a magician's game that involved a rock, a stick, and an explosion. Ffoukes sometimes played, too, and there was more than one occasion of explosions happening where they shouldn't have.

The others resorted to talking or finding other ways to amuse themselves, which did not involve explosions at all. Morris found this rather boring, but he kept his distance from Jack and Glen – he wasn't completely dense, after all.

Kitty floated around the clearing, but most of her time was spent with Nathaniel and Bartimaeus. Nathaniel would try to plot, or figure out a way to get them out of the Tower alive, while Bartimaeus would provide some different insight every now and then and also a little comedic relief. If she hadn't been predisposed to hate and fear him when she first met the djinni, she might have noticed that he had a very good sense of humor, but she was only discovering this after spending night and day with him.

"I have no idea what he's planning," groaned Nathaniel as he rubbed his face with his palms.

"None?" questioned Bartimaeus lazily as he swatted a fly with his hand, having reverted to the form of the African boy. Kitty noticed that he preferred this form, but she did not say anything about it.

"Well, naturally I have some ideas, but each is as outrageous as the next."

Bartimaeus snorted. "Since when have things not been outrageous? That giant pentacle Lovelace came up with? Duvall's golem?"

"Thank you for the help," Nathaniel snapped angrily.

"I'm trying to help you, but you're kind of an idiot, Nat."

"Who's this Nat I keep hearing of?"

It was Glen. He sat down next to Kitty and gave Nathaniel an inquisitive glance.

"It's no one," said the magician quietly. He still did not seem to want to make public the knowledge of his true name.

"If you say so, Mandrake."

"That's his name," quipped Bartimaeus. He loved to torment Nathaniel. "Don't forget it."

Glen looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head and Kitty had to hold back a laugh. "Well, do we at least have a plan for this whole Tower thing that your lot is always talking about?"

"No."

"That's wonderful. I'm glad that you're leading us, Mandrake."

"Thank you for the show of support."

"You're welcome."

"As fun as this is," Bartimaeus said, "I think I need to relax. Maybe I'll teach you all the Aztec ball game. It's great fun, really, and I'm very good at it."

Glen sighed and got to his feet. "I need something to do, so that sounds good enough."

And so they went off to find the others, and Kitty and Nathaniel were left alone. Nathaniel shook his head for some reason and laid back onto the grass, resting his head on his hands.

"You know that most of the people here don't trust you, right?" Kitty asked.

"Yes."

She gave him a sideward glance. "And do you care?"

"Not much," he replied. "It won't matter much in a week. We're all going to have to trust each other then."

"Right." She picked at a loose thread that was trailing from her trousers absently. "And what about you… do you trust all of us?"

"I'm trying to, but some of your friends make it very hard. I think their intentions are good, but I'm not sure if I completely trust all of them."

"Oh," she said. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

She blinked. "Why?"

"I just do," Nathaniel responded as if it were a very simple matter. "You're a trustworthy person."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He made a weird facial expression and turned towards her slightly. "How do I put it… well, you…" He bit his lip. "I guess I just feel that you're a good person, and thus you're a trustworthy person."

Kitty smiled. "I'm a good person?" she chortled. "Really? I'm a wanted criminal!"

"No doubt I am, too, if Farrar has told the government about me," he replied. "But I'm serious. I feel, I know, that you're a good person."

"Really?"

"It would take a good person to save me from that golem two years ago."

She blushed unexpectedly and looked at the ground. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I am," Nathaniel stated, a small smile on his face. "I was a real prick back then. Matter of fact, I'm still a prick now, but back then… well, you saw the ridiculously tight suit and the greasy hair."

"That I did," she agreed lightly.

"And also, I betrayed a promise I made to you and your friend," he continued. "You know, two years before that, I wouldn't have even considered breaking that promise. I… I used to be a more innocent magician. I wasn't influenced as much by the material prizes the government could offer."

Kitty looked at him. "Bartimaeus mentioned as much."

"I'm sure it pained him enormously to admit anything of the sort," he said with a grin. His face became graver, though. "But then, even after I betrayed you, you saved my life."

"It wasn't much, really."

"You can downplay it all you want; that doesn't matter to me. But… let's just say I am more appreciative nowadays."

"I guess that's a good thing."

"It is."

"Well, you're not as bad as you're made out to be, you know," she said.

He laughed. "I'm not so sure about that, but thanks, I guess."

It was silent for a few moments.

Finally, Kitty said something. "And if we do fail, I don't suppose it'll be all that bad, will it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We've done a lot already," she replied. At his questioning gaze, she continued further. "We've stopped a golem, you've found out how to use your name to your advantage, we've become friends even though you're a magician and I'm a commoner…"

He looked up at this and, to her surprise, smiled. "That's right. I don't think I'll be too disappointed if I die in the Tower. I've accomplished quite a bit in my rather short life, I think."

"Exactly."

"Well, then, I think I can die peacefully knowing I have befriended Kitty Jones," he stated. His eyes gleamed. "Probably won't ever befriend any of Kitty Jones's friends, but I think Kitty Jones is enough."

"I'm surprised neither of us have died of shock. I would have if you would've told me a few weeks ago that we'd be having a decent conversation."

"I would have, too. But the past… it doesn't matter much anymore. What matters is now."

She nodded and smiled. "Yeah… what matters is now…"

And at that moment, Kitty knew that now, which was all that matters, was perfectly fine, and that she would not die in vain, no matter what happened.

-

A few more days passed, and sooner that Kitty would have liked, it was their last night before they would depart for the Tower. Only the next day would everything come together, if Nathaniel's suspicions were correct, and she had found that usually Nathaniel's suspicions were accurate.

She was genuinely disappointed that they would have to be leaving soon, but not for reasons she was expecting. The prospect of having to die the next day was not a new one, nor did it bother her very much: she'd been threatened with death too often to really fear it anymore. She was disappointed that they would have to leave so soon, just when she felt she was connecting with people she never thought she'd connect with. Even Morris began to grow on her, and his lighthearted comments were always welcome to her.

Nathaniel was altogether a very likeable person, she decided, once one really got to know him. John Mandrake had slowly disappeared, and an altogether different person was now there: Nathaniel. To her surprise, she found that he really was more like her than she could have ever guessed, and she found herself spending more and more time with him. Jack made a point of this to her, and when she asked him why it mattered, he just smirked and gave no answer. The issue of what had happened back in the clearing had become somewhat of a secret between Kitty, Bartimaeus and Nathaniel; contrary to his word, Nathaniel did not disclose what had happened to those who asked.

Bartimaeus was Bartimaeus, of course. He was still witty, and still calm, and he and Morris were quite the duo. He never admitted it, but the djinni had taken a liking to Morris for some odd reason, although it might have just been that Morris entertained him – Kitty supposed she never would really know. Bartimaeus wasn't really all that bad, although he would make a few scathing remarks about humans every few minutes, and he was more interested in his own well-being than anything else, but she could relate to him. He usually seemed interested enough in what she had to say; although, at other times he would pretend to go to sleep after Yasmin or one of the other members of the Resistance had asked him to turn into a unicorn or something equally unimpressive.

Kitty found herself sitting alone over by the edge of the clearing that night, but she was not alone for long – Glen, Joel, and Thomas soon joined her.

"Hello," she greeted them in a dull voice. "How are you doing?"

"Remarkably well, considering everything," grunted Glen. "And you?"

"Alright. A bit irritated that we have to leave so soon."

Thomas took his place next to her. "I'm not too keen on dying tomorrow either."

"It's not the dying that bothers me. It's the leaving."

"Leaving as in…" Joel stopped, as if inviting her to finish.

"Leaving everyone. I've kind of grown attached to this little group, actually."

Glen looked at her darkly. "I think you're growing too close to the magicians and the djinni."

"You spend a good deal of time with Bartimaeus," she scoffed.

"Yes, but I'm trying to make sure I don't get attached."

"Why?"

"I don't trust magicians."

"They're not all that bad. Morris and –" she caught herself before she said 'Nathaniel' "– John are trying to help us out, and they really… they mean it."

"You're growing too close to both of them," Thomas said quietly. "Especially Mandrake."

"What?"

"I'd like to believe that he's got good intentions, Kitty," Thomas continued, "but I can't completely trust him. We don't think you should, either."

"I think I can judge for myself," she said more harshly that she had meant to. This was ridiculous. Nathaniel wasn't trying to trick them, or capture them, or anything of the sort! "Thank you for the concern, though."

Joel ran his hand through his hair tiredly. "Listen, Kitty, we all like you. We like you a lot, really: you're a good friend and a good leader and such, but we don't want you to get hurt by these magicians. Yes, they seem alright now, but what about later? I want to believe you, I want to believe that they've got good intentions, but like Thomas, I can't."

"I can," she said coldly. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

"I know," agreed Glen, grabbing her shoulder. "Ultimately, you have to make the decision, and whatever that is, we'll try our best to support you because you are our leader, and we trust you. We're just trying to give you advice, to help you make that decision."

"I'm glad that you trust me, because you're just going to have to trust me on this one."

Thomas looked at her helplessly. "Kitty, you let me in to the Resistance and you don't care that I'm the youngest, or at least you don't show it. You treat me as an equal, you know? I appreciate that, and… I'm trying to help you out. We all are. I'm the youngest, but… well, age isn't everything."

"I know, Thomas," she said softly.

Glen smiled. "I've made the mistake, but I trust Thomas. Sometimes… age underestimates youth. It's a common mistake, but it shouldn't necessarily be made."

"I know, Glen. I accept your counsel, but that doesn't mean I'll follow it."

"We accept that," said Joel, "and we will trust your judgement no matter what. We wanted to try to give advice, but more importantly, we want you to know that we're behind you, no matter what."

Kitty looked from Joel to Thomas and then finally to Glen and felt that, if she were to die the next day, then she would have no regrets.

"Thanks," she said weakly. "You don't know how much it means to me."

But for some reason, she suspected that she did, and she would not at all be disappointed if her words were proved untrue.

To Be Continued

Author's Notes: The longest chapter yet (again)! You really get some good insight into Kitty in this chapter, which I like, and there are several clues laced into this chapter that the clever reader can catch. I hope you liked the name bit - for some reason I really liked that, and have always wondered about it.

Next Chapter: The Good Die Young