AN: Back to some repetition, but this scene in particular was important to write from both characters' POV. I tried to keep it to a minimum.

Now, I am in great shape, but I was running so hard that even I was out of breath. I reached Ms. Mina's by late morning. I was drenched in spite of my coat, and I went straight over to the fire when the girls let me in. Pearl was asleep, but Emma went to get her as soon as I arrived. She came out and I was just asking her about the new girl when I heard someone coming down the stairs. I looked over Pearl's shoulder and saw the person I'd been desperate to see for the last two months alive and walking towards me.

"Katja!" I said, moving past Pearl quickly and pulling Katja into a hug. Only something was wrong. She shrieked and began flailing at me. I stepped back in surprise. I had never seen this from her, and my relief at seeing her switched instantly to concern as she backed into the wall and sank down to sit.

"What the hell? Cat, it's me," I said, reaching out to touch her arm. She swung away, batting my arm before clamping her own arms back over her head. I moved toward her again.

"Spot, STOP!" a voice yelled in a way that nobody had ever spoken my name. I stopped and looked up to see Emma walking forward. She stepped between Katja and me, kneeling with her back to me. She murmured something to Katja, who nodded, and after a few more words, she helped Katja to her feet and led her out of the room. I moved to follow, but she turned and gestured for me to stay where I was. "Wait," she mouthed.

I paced the floor as I processed the last few minutes. Katja was alive, but something had obviously happened for her to react so violently to me. It took every ounce of self control I possessed-and that's a fair bit!-for me not to run upstairs and back to Katja's side. I wanted to see her, to touch her, to reassure myself that she was really there. I wanted to talk to her, to find out what was going on. The thought of her alone and frightened as she had been made me so angry that I was shaking by the time Emma came back down.

She gestured for me to follow her into the kitchen. "I've seen people snap after a trauma before," she said as she began making tea. "I'll see if I can figure out what happened to her, but it's obvious that when you hugged her, something went wrong. Let me look after her, okay? I promise we'll figure this out." She pulled out two saucers and cups, poured the tea, and put her hand on my arm. "I know you've been looking for her, but I will be right there with her. I just need you to trust me." My throat clenched, but I nodded. She smiled, grabbed the tea, and headed back upstairs.

I began to pace again, but it wasn't long before Emma came down.

"What the hell happened to her? Who hurt her?" I said sharply as she entered the room.

"You need to sit," she said, and I did-on the edge of my seat. Somehow I knew something bad was coming.

"So she says she's been with some Italian guy this whole time," she said.

"That makes no sense," I said, puzzled. "We checked that apartment-"

"There's more," Emma interrupted. I realized I should have known that and snapped my mouth shut. "He forced her to have sex with him," she added, and even though a small part of me had known this was coming, I felt an anger and a pain I had never felt before.

"I'm going to kill him!" I yelled, and I jumped to my feet and moved toward the door.

"Spot, you need to calm down," Emma yelled right back as she barred the door.

"Move out of my way," I snarled at her. My control was slipping, and I needed to get back to Brooklyn to kill Santorelli.

"She needs you here," Emma shouted at me, and her words penetrated the red haze of anger. I stopped.

"I am going back up there, and I am going to do my best to find out what happened. I promise I will let you know. But you need to understand a few things," she said more calmly, and I forced my body to stop shaking as I gave another terse nod.

"Katja's had a trauma, and we don't know what that will do to her. I've seen it before-it happens in a place like this. She can heal, but she will need time, patience, and understanding. She has to heal on her own terms and in her own timeline."

"What does she need from me?" I asked, and I know my voice sounded strained as I fought for control.

"I don't know. She probably doesn't, either. She probably has no idea what caused her to react like that to you, and I am willing to bet she scared herself. You need to accept her wherever she is."

"Is she in pain?"

"Physically, she's fine. She is mostly confused right now. Can you tell me a bit about the circumstances? We got the message she was missing, but there are holes in my understanding of what's been going on. I don't even know who this guy is."

I realized that Emma and the rest of the girls didn't even know Mr. Fischer had died. I went back and covered the events of the last two months as best I could. Emma nodded as I finished.

"She is so naive that she doesn't understand that what that bastard did was wrong. We need to help her understand what happened to her wasn't her fault."

I am pretty sure I just grunted at that. I knew whose fault it was and how he would suffer at my hands.

"I'm going back up there. I've already left her alone too long," she said and headed up the stairs.

I paced back and forth a few times, wanting to give Emma and Katja time to talk. But the months of fear for her and the knowledge that she had been hurt culminated in an overwhelming need to see her. I quickly got a room number from Pearl, then bounded up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Cat, please let me come in," I begged, trying not to sound desperate.

After another moment of murmured voices, the door opened slightly. Emma was at the door, but my eyes moved past her to Katja sittting on the bed. She looked so small and vulnerable, and I wanted to go to her, somehow turn back time and make the last few months disappear. Before I could move through the door, though, Emma stopped me. I didn't take my eyes off Katja-I didn't want her to disappear on me-but I did listen to what Emma was whispering.

"She says no hugs. Probably best to be careful about touching her at all. If she panics, back away and call me. My room is number four," she said.

I nodded, glancing briefly at her in gratitude as she moved past me and out of the room. I stepped forward toward the frightened girl on the bed, wanting nothing more than to take her into my arms. Instead I sat in the chair opposite her, my elbows on my legs as I leaned forward.

"Cat, thank God you're alirght. We've been worried sick," I said by way of ice breaker.

"Why?" she asked in surprise. Did she not know we would be looking for her?

"You bolted from your job, then quit showing up to work. What happened?"

"I was hiding out like you told me," she said. "Antonio said the police were still looking for me and that they kept searching work and the lodging house, so I had to lay low. He said you wanted me to stay there and hide out. I even gave him letters for you."

I was beginning to understand. The whole thing had been some sort of ruse set up by Santorelli so he could take advantage of Katja. It was obvious she didn't understand that yet, so I forced my anger away as I answered her. "I never got them," I said. "We had no idea where you were. I even went to his apartment, but nobody was there. We followed the man home every day for weeks and had newsies stationed outside the building for the first month. We were looking everywhere for you." How in the world had she been in his apartment without our knowing it?

"You didn't know where I was? I didn't leave that upstairs apartment at all. He came home every night and . . . . It was awful. It smelled bad, I missed Papa, and I missed you all so much," she said. Upstairs apartment? I wanted to smack myself. I had never thought to look elsewhere in the same building! The tremble in her voice kept me grounded in the moment, though.

"Why didn't you come to me?" I asked, trying to keep my tone inquisitive rather than accusatory. This wasn't her fault, and I couldn't let my anger at that beast get in the way of helping Katja.

"I couldn't. I didn't want to bring trouble for you or the boys if the police were looking for me. I was doing what you told me to do-hiding out. He told me you kept wanting me to stay a bit longer. He told me it wasn't safe to leave the apartment," she explained. With every word she spoke, my heart broke just a bit more. In spite of everything she had been going through, she'd been trying to protect us. She had stayed because she thought I wanted it, and she trusted me. The guilt of not finding her intensified as I realized what she had endured because of me, and I barely managed to grind out my next question.

"What made you leave?"

"I didn't like it. I was scared all the time, and I didn't know what was going on. I didn't know how much longer I had to hide out, but I couldn't do it anymore, so I snuck out one night. I couldn't stay in Brooklyn, but I couldn't tell you. I didn't want you to be mad at me for leaving," she said in a tumble of words. Her eyes were cast down, but I suspect they were filled with tears. This was a start, but I knew that she needed to talk this out. I needed her to look at me so I could understand how she was feeling, so I could help her.

"Don't do that," I said.

"Don't do what?" she asked, eyes still down.

"Don't look down. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't hide from me. Tell me what happened," I urged, begging her mentally to look up. She did, and my gut wrenched as I realized how immense her trust in me was and how much I had failed her.

"What did he do to you that made you prefer the streets?" I prompted softly, hoping I could get her to tell me what had happened.

"He just wanted sex," she said, blushing. "I know you said it wasn't a big deal, but I didn't like it. I tried to do as I was told, but I just couldn't do it. I'm sorry," she said.

God. This really was my fault. I thought back to what I had said on New Years. Was it really only a few months ago? It seemed like a lifetime had passed. Katja, my beautiful, kind, selfless Katja, had put up with that bastard because she was trying to please everyone, including me. The wretched irony was killing me, but this wasn't about me. I could see that her tears were for her perceived failure. She was blaming herself, and I couldn't let that happen.

"God, Cat, you didn't do anything wrong. That bastard took advantage of you. He hurt you. You were right to leave."

Her head, which had begun to fall again, snapped up in obvious confusion.

"But I thought-I mean-what?" she babbled. I needed to make sure she understood.

"Cat, sex is no big deal between two people who both choose to have sex. But you have to choose it. You didn't have a choice. That's a big deal." My need to touch her, to connect with her, got the better of me, and I found myself asking, "Can I touch your hand?" I reached my hand out to her, and when she put her hand in mine, that part of me that had died during her absence came back to life. She was here, and I was never letting her out of my sight again. I would make sure nothing bad ever happened to her again, and I would spend my life making sure she understood so she could heal-even if she blamed me and hated me forever afterwards.

"But I wanted to do as I was told, like Papa taught me. And I owed him; we owed him money, and he kept me hidden from the police." Her gaze dropped again as she said it. I was beginning to understand the depth of this man's deception and how he had used her innocence and kind heart against her. It made me even angrier to understand that the very qualities that made Katja so special were the ones that bastard had used to take advantage of her. But she needed to fully understand if she wanted to move on, so I pressed on.

"Cat, he tricked you. He took advantage of you and lied to you. There were no more raids on the lodging house or the factory after those first ones. I'd bet you could walk into any station in Brooklyn and state your name, and nobody would take note of it. In fact, I'm surprised they came to the lodging house in the first place. I've felt for awhile someone must have tipped the bulls off that you were there. He made up the danger to keep you at home with him. And even if you owed him the moon, he did not have the right to collect in the way he did. Never, you hear?"

"But-" she began to protest, her face still clouded in confusion.

"No," I interrupted her. "You did nothing wrong. You remember that. Nothing. None of this is your fault. Do you understand?" I was going to say it until she understood it, and I said it with every bit of urgency and authority I could muster. My mind begged her to look at me so I could see if I was getting through to her. Miraculously, she looked up at me.

I watched her green eyes search my face for a moment. Then something happened and her face froze, then paled. It took me a moment to register that she had quit breathing. This was not good. Unconsciously, I knelt in front of her and clasped both of her hands in mine, giving them a small shake.

"Katja! No, no. Sweetheart, breathe. It's okay. You're okay. Just relax. Everything is fine. You're fine. Just breathe," I commanded as calmly as I could even though I was panicking inside. I was on the verge of getting up to call Emma when Katja looked down and took a deep, shuddering breath. Her face cleared slightly, and I felt my own panic subside a bit. This was too much, too soon. I had pushed too hard.

"We don't have to talk about it, okay? Just relax. It's okay," I said in the most calming tone I could muster.

Her eyes cleared and comprehension dawned. Something had changed, and even as I registered it, her face crumpled.

"Spot!" she cried out, falling to the floor and into my shoulder. Her sobs were muffled by my shirt, and I gingerly put an arm around her shoulders, taking great care not to frighten her, and held her as she cried.