Wait, what do you mean I updated a week after publishing? No, it can't be! It's as if the story has been planned and at least partly written in advance! This might be the time to check if Jupiter has reclaimed me.

Okay, enough with the silliness. Hope you enjoy this chapter, 'cause I've rewritten and edited this about five times! My beta is so done with me already! (And not responsible for any inconsistencies, since I didn't let her edit this for the 3rd time.) (Also also, many thanks to anjumstar, AKA the awesomest beta, and the only one who's had the patience to put up with my mysterious but incessant rambling about this story for the past years. Isn't she a jewel?)

Chapter Two

hollowed-out picture of skin and bone

Kitty

Kitty hadn't slept well in what seemed like years.

After going to the Other Place and coming back with wrinkles and strands of grey hair as a reward, she had watched as the Glass Palace loudly gave in and Nouda simply vanished, colourful particles floating up to the sky and charging the air with unspent magic.

Her feet had moved before she could think. As a result, Kitty had been the first to sprint to the ruins, the Amulet striking her chest violently as she ran and called for help to follow until her voice became hoarse.

The fires had been quickly expanding beyond the limits of the Palace. They would devour Hyde Park if the fire services didn't act quickly. However, busy as they'd been, it was a miracle they'd made it at all. But sure enough, the sirens had eventually sounded behind her, rapidly and blessedly closing in.

Kitty went up ahead despite logic dictating that she shouldn't.

Soon smoke had engulfed her in its toxic embrace, making it hard to breathe, irritating her eyes. Kitty had pulled up her jumper to cover her mouth and nose; she couldn't do much about her eyes, but she could protect her already burning lungs. Many times she'd avoided colliding with walls of fire, burning lines of hedges, trees falling to their demise in flames.

Kitty had been fully aware that the Amulet wouldn't protect her from something non-magical, however elemental it was, but she'd carried on, staying on the path and avoiding the foliage as much as possible. When she'd almost stumbled on a piece of rubble, she'd realised that she was close. And after carefully making her way through what was left of the building—shattered glass everywhere, the steel infrastructure awkwardly bent or melted in places, small pieces of barely recognisable, burnt furniture—she'd found him.

Nathaniel had been lying motionless, the broken Staff still in his hand, and what seemed to be a dome of invisible magical energy surrounding him, electrifying the air and making Kitty's hairs stand on end. She couldn't make out the shape, just a faint glimmer, the contours being licked by the fire.

Nathaniel had still been bleeding, but also still breathing. As soon as Kitty had seen his chest move, she'd rushed to his side. The Amulet had glinted and slightly levitated as it absorbed the magic, sending rapid pulses of energy into the air, and Kitty had hesitated, not knowing if that was supposed to happen.

The paramedics had been by her side before she could reach any conclusions, however, shouting numbers and words she didn't understand, telling her to please move out of the way. Spirits and humans alike flocked around Nathaniel, obscuring her vision. Helplessness had gripped her so hard she had merely stood there and watched until Piper found her.

"…and so I made that pompous git go through a good ol' flip to his essence. Twice. And let me tell you, Uraziel was pretty much fine with it, because—hey, you listening?"

Bartimaeus' chattering brought Kitty back to the present moment. She shook her head a bit before answering. "Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?"

"Well, it's not funny if I have to tell it twice, you know," Bartimaeus said sourly, crossing his arms, in spite of being over 5,000-years-old. But Kitty knew better than to point that out.

She didn't reply. They were getting closer to the hospital, which wasn't necessarily hard to spot since it was one of the tallest buildings right next to the Tower of London. And fortunately, they were going by foot. Bartimaeus had suggested another flight so they could get to Hospital St. Thomas faster, but she was still feeling ill, and from where they were it would probably be a half-hour walk. Bartimaeus had then pointed out that it was fine if she got nauseated, since they were going to the hospital anyway.

She hadn't replied to that either, since wasting words was not her usual modus operandi.

Kitty had simply walked on, fiddling with the Amulet of Samarkand out of sheer habit, pretending not to notice the wary looks Bartimaeus sent it. They'd made good progress already, and should arrive at the hospital in under ten minutes. In fact, as they rounded a corner, Westminster Bridge finally started appearing—gloomy and battered—in her line of sight.

"Tell me again why you were on the wrong side of the Thames if you were supposed to be on the other side to begin with," Bartimaeus said after a while. There was even an eyebrow arched at her to go with it.

Kitty sighed. She really didn't want to explain to Bartimaeus that she still had no idea if her parents were alive and that she had been trying to locate them, going to the makeshift hospital tents that had been set up around Westminster to deal with the wounded. Her mother might have been working at the printing firm in South London (if she still worked as a cleaner there, that was), but her father's job had been in central London. Assuming he hadn't been made redundant or simply fired for having a deviant daughter, he could have very well been caught in the middle of the revolt.

Kitty didn't feel guilty about the fact that she'd first checked on the Hyrneks. She'd rushed to the house the moment she was left in peace, and had found all of them gathered at the familiar living room, worried sick about her. Kitty had been pulled into the only group hug of her life, tearing up a little as relieved words were exchanged. Then she'd written a quick letter to Jakob to let him know she was fine before he got too worried. She'd left the Hyrneks with the promise of returning soon.

Her parents hadn't been home. The house didn't look like it'd been lived in for the past months, and the Hyrneks simply told her they'd left six months before. That didn't leave her too much to go on, but Kitty was trying. Whether she should was of no consequence at the moment. In her spare time, Kitty made her way through the tents and hospitals, enquiring after Mr and Mrs Jones. More often than she cared to remember, Kitty had been asked to look at unidentified dead bodies, her heart clenching painfully each time before the blanket was lifted and neither of her parents' dead faces were uncovered. She didn't want to think of what became of those that remained unidentified for longer than a few days.

Nathaniel was a magician; one in severe condition, no less, so of course he'd get to go to a fancy hospital like St. Thomas—get the royal treatment. On the other hand, Jones wasn't exactly an uncommon surname. Besides, even if her parents had been identified among the casualties or were receiving care at an actual hospital, they would surely not be expecting her after their last encounter. She'd told them so, after all.

So, Kitty merely shrugged and said instead, "They wanted to run some tests, so I figured that was the best time to leave since that tends to last all morning. Besides, I needed to find a suitable place to summon you."

"And that was the best you found?"

Kitty wrinkled her nose at him. "Believe it or not, yes. Yes, it was. Have you looked around?"

As she said that, she took a left down a smelly alley with irregular, wet pavement and shoddy-looking brown-bricked buildings. More of the same greeted her on the other side. Kitty knew London had a lot of narrow alleys one must cut through to get places. She avoided them as a rule, but with Bartimaeus by her side they didn't feel as daunting.

Which was humiliating enough as a thought, much less verbalised.

Kitty halted as she saw two people run from inside a small house two buildings down, leaving the door ajar. She felt Bartimaeus stop as well. After a few seconds, he murmured, "Just petty thieves, I'm afraid." In spite of reason telling her that Bartimaeus belonged to an entirely different species, he could sometimes seem so human to her that she forgot how much farther his sight could see. Which made her previous thought not seem as humiliating.

She started walking again, a long and tired sigh erupting from her chest. Bartimaeus followed. "This is definitely starting to become a big problem. I should tell Piper about it."

"I thought you said she has her hands full with the hybrid hunt."

So she had. She barely remembered mentioning it to him earlier, which just reinforced her desperate need for sleep.

"Well, yes, but she will probably communicate this to the Council, and they'll decide on what to do. I don't know what other way to go about this, Bartimaeus. I can't exactly do anything by myself."

"Remind me again why you aren't a member," Bartimaeus said. Sarcastically, she supposed. It always seemed to be the case with him. And she knew he knew the answer, but she obliged him anyway.

"Because I'm supposed to be travelling, which I'm clearly not doing right now, but will be as soon as Nathaniel wakes up. Don't want to be held down by a position now."

Bartimaeus stayed surprisingly silent for a bit.

They finally rounded a corner and spotted the entrance to the Westminster Bridge. Hospital St. Thomas greeted them right on the other side of the Thames in all its renovated, modern, many-windowed glory.

The hospital had been built right on the banks of the Thames, but she knew it had barely been affected. Ironically, the river itself seemed to somewhat have acted as a deterrent of sorts, keeping the hybrids from wreaking further havoc in Lambeth and fully destroying the hospital. Even with the layer of physical protection that the human bodies provided, afrits and marids alike had been reluctant to come to unnecessary contact with water. Or maybe Nathaniel and Bartimaeus had stopped them before they could get too committed to destroying that side of the river too.

Kitty began carefully crossing over Westminster Bridge, questioning her choice not to fly to the hospital for the first time. She usually crossed Lambeth Bridge instead, begrudgingly sitting in a shiny black car driven by Piper's personal chauffeur at the latter's insistence. Westminster Bridge had been deemed unsafe to cross by car, and very few people dared to even do it by foot.

Bartimaeus adopted the guise of a raven and flew beside her, the iron probably repulsing him. The Thames roiled sourly beneath, grey and ominous, its stench getting stronger and stronger to the point Bartimaeus started making gagging noises in clear protest. Kitty rolled her eyes at him and proceeded, minding where she stepped. Twice Bartimaeus had to grab her by the collar of her jumper to keep her from going for a swim.

As they reached the hospital's garden, Kitty felt like they'd entered a new universe where the uprising had never occurred. Green foliage extended ahead, dotted by trees and rows of flowers. At the centre, overshadowing all else, was the Revolving Torsion. Even a month after the attacks the iron fountain remained unused in silent respect for the many lives that had been taken or aggrieved. A few people had gathered around it, some of which seemed to be praying.

Kitty moved along, making for the cream-coloured stairs that led to the entrance. Bartimaeus's flapping wings sounded slightly farther than she remembered. She turned around to see him putting as much distance as possible between the fountain and himself. At some point he alighted on her shoulder and remained there until they reached the door.

There they stopped in silent twin contemplation. Bartimaeus returned to Ptolemy's form when he ascertained no one was looking his way. This time he opted for trousers and a shirt instead of the usual loincloth, which Kitty was glad for. She didn't know how she'd explain a teenager wearing a loincloth in 21st century London.

After a few more seconds of idly standing there and getting shouldered by patients and medical staff alike, Bartimaeus gave a resigned sigh. "What if he doesn't wake up?" he quietly asked.

Kitty had thought about this, of course. Many times. And with the hospital looming before them, the possibility seemed to get bigger and clearer. She understood this as a logical outcome. Nathaniel shouldn't even be alive—Bartimaeus had said so himself. They didn't even understand yet what had protected him from the building. Nonetheless, all of that was irrelevant at the moment: the doctors hadn't given up yet, so neither would she.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "But it doesn't matter. I'm coming here every day until we get a conclusive result."

"How charitable of you."

Kitty bit her tongue so that she didn't reply in kind. Bartimaeus was doing the exact same thing, and yet she was the generous one.

Kitty didn't know much about Nathaniel. Nevertheless, all her memories of him were charged with strong emotions, marked the ending of a chapter of her life and opened the door to another. It was an odd connection, one she didn't quite understand herself, so how could she explain it to Bartimaeus?

Kitty didn't suppose spirits sat around waiting for their masters to get better—not after everything Bartimaeus had told her. Or that they understood this sense of duty to another human when most of the time they only got to see the worst in humans. Well, given his history with Ptolemy, maybe Bartimaeus would partly understand.

Regardless of him understanding her perspective, she knew he didn't care as little about Nathaniel's fate as he tried to make it seem. For one thing, he'd basically gone into overdrive on her after the big revelation that Nathaniel was alive (there had been smoke coming out of his ears, but she had decided that that too should remain unsaid). And Bartimaeus hadn't said Nathaniel's name once ever since she'd summoned him. Given her history with uttering names around Bartimaeus, Kitty wasn't altogether surprised, so she kept it to a minimum herself.

Kitty supposed Bartimaeus didn't know how to react after everything that had happened. The entire situation couldn't be easy for him, what with the way Nathaniel had acted right at the end—dismissing Bartimaeus when he'd sensed they'd both die unnecessarily. He'd unknowingly done the exact same thing Ptolemy had millennia ago.

If Kitty were being honest, she hadn't sorted through her own feelings yet either. She didn't know if some form of guilt was driving her, or if it truly was simply a sense of duty, of feeling indebted to someone who had risked everything regardless of what it cost him. Maybe it was their weird history, or the fact Kitty felt connected to him after this last adventure. Maybe that was part of the reason why she'd summoned Bartimaeus specifically, and not just because she trusted him.

Piper was nice to her, and she'd been through some trauma of her own. The Hyrneks were supportive and sweet, always making sure she ate and rested properly. Even Mr Button had put an offer on the table.

But—she realised with some surprise—nobody truly understood.

Bartimaeus cleared his throat, reminding her that they'd been awkwardly standing there for minutes now. As her mind ceased its wandering, Kitty found her answer. It was simple, really. No big or astounding revelations. No deep ones, either. She'd known it for a while.

Kitty stared at the door ahead, body and soul steeled and ready for the battle within. With a newfound clarity washing over her, Kitty answered Bartimaeus's implied question:

"He has nobody else."

Kitty was hitting her very last nerve. And the people around her seemed to know it, because, as far as she could tell, nurses and visitors alike were clearing away from around her. Which was just as well. Jakob himself had told her on more than one occasion that her face did all the talking for her, and Kitty had found this to be true throughout the years. Even if more recently she'd taken to schooling it to fit in with the crowd, the past month had erased all that training.

Having the distinct hospital smell—that of disinfectant, and still of something stuffy and sickly lingering in spite of it—assaulting her nostrils was more than she was happy to deal with. But now they were being barred entrance because Bartimaeus was a spirit and well, hadn't they just destroyed London? Kitty had pleaded with three different secretaries, and all had asked her to leave. The burly security officer had been giving her the eye for the past ten minutes, a red sphere on the wall over his head angrily watching her every movement.

Now she had ambushed one of the nurses who'd been tending to Nathaniel, who seemed to like her well enough but wasn't ecstatic about her tactics.

"Please just let us in. You know me, Sam. I've been here every day since John was checked in, and I was the one who led the paramedics to him at the scene. Why would I suddenly have the urge to murder him?"

"Well, if you'd lived with him—" Bartimaeus started.

Kitty whipped her head around to glare at Bartimaeus in a way she'd learned to master years ago. "Please stop helping." He raised both hands in defence, and Kitty decided she would take what she could get.

Turning back to the young man behind the counter, she added, "This—" shoving a thumb in Bartimaeus's direction, who made an indignant noise at being called 'this', "—was the djinni who helped John save all of your ungrateful butts, you know? It would do you good to show some respect."

Sam looked appropriately surprised, staring Bartimaeus up and down as if to evaluate him. Bartimaeus was enjoying the attention, Kitty could tell, if the way he stood up straighter and puffed out his chest were anything to go by.

Kitty watched Sam while he debated the possibilities. He was quite plain looking, if she were being honest—dark eyes and brown hair, nothing particularly outstanding about his height and weight either, just average—except maybe that he looked like the type of person who laughed a lot. The lines on the corners of his eyes and around his mouth were those of someone who seemed to find amusement in everyday life, and Kitty supposed that was what made him look attractive.

Bartimaeus obviously had to interrupt Sam's inner debate. "Look, Samuel, I'm as happy about this situation as you are. If it were up to me, I would have stayed back home, but Kitty here just had to ruin my peace, so really, we're in this mess together. She's terribly stubborn."

"Oh, bloody hell, Bartimaeus!"

Sam looked slightly amused by their banter, but he still wouldn't budge. "Kitty, that may be true, but I can't just let a spirit in without proper clearance. In fact, I don't even know how you made it to the upper floors," he added, eyebrow raised.

Kitty sighed, positively exasperated. Why must she always get doors slammed in her face? "What do you need, then? Does Piper have to sign something? Issue a government certificate of some sort? Because if you haven't noticed, there is no government! Whitehall is pretty much destroyed, and the majority of the ministers are dead. The entire Council was decimated but John, who needs proper protection but can't call on it because he's in a coma."

Sam grabbed the bridge of his nose, glancing at the remaining people waiting in the lobby to his left, and Kitty was sure he was finally going to simply beckon the security officer over to kick them out. Instead, he examined Bartimaeus again, and then gave a long sigh.

"I'll let you in on two conditions."

Kitty beamed, having to refrain from throwing a fist in victory and jumping over the desk to hug Sam. "We'll behave, I promise."

"Yes, well, that goes without saying." He gave her a warning look. Kitty brushed off the memory of threatening a secretary with a punch a few minutes ago. Bartimaeus had bodily restrained her before she could act on her words. "One, Piper does indeed need to give formal authorisation, and two," he turned his gaze to Bartimaeus, "you need to be discreet. None of that demonic business in here, alright? No horns, no tails, no wings, no inhuman parts on a human. Everyone is a little jittery after what happened and while we're all in your debt, most people don't realise that."

Bartimaeus rolled his eyes. "Humans are jittery about spirits when it's magicians who enabled this disaster to happen."

"I agree," Sam said, surprising both Kitty and Bartimaeus. Sam shrugged at their expressions. "You can't be a nurse without being perceptive to a degree," he offered. Kitty wasn't sure that applied to every nurse, but she didn't comment. "Regardless, people are scared."

Kitty nodded. "That's fair. I'll talk to Piper when she comes by later." As an after-thought, she said, "Sam, are there… any news?" She gave him a meaningful look.

Sam's expression softened. And he was perceptive enough to understand Kitty didn't want Bartimaeus to catch her drift too, bless him. "Nothing so far."

Kitty nodded again, ignoring the look Bartimaeus was giving her. She hoped that question could be confused with her asking about Nathaniel's condition, but she meant her parents, and Sam knew it. Bartimaeus didn't need to know. Not yet.

Sam cleared his throat before the awkwardness could stretch further. "I trust you know your way by now, Kitty, so I won't accompany you. I will notify the doctor you're here and come by later. For now, I'll have to inform security to lower the protective wards and let you through."

"Well, that's certainly better than having to dismantle them one by one," Bartimaeus quipped.

"Or getting stuck in them," Kitty said.

"Tsk."

Sam shook his head, but he was smiling. "No need for either. Now, off you go."

Kitty swung her backpack over her shoulder, ready to leave. Sam too had turned away and was talking to the security officer, presumably explaining the situation and having him alert the department of security of the hospital.

"Oh," Sam said as they moved past him. "Thank you for your service, Bartimaeus. Much obliged."

Kitty thought Bartimaeus's head might just balloon and explode in a burst of rainbow confetti, which wasn't what they'd agreed to at all. She dragged him along, waving to Sam in acknowledgement on Bartimaeus's behalf.

Nathaniel was lying in the only bed in the room, next to a window overlooking the Thames and the hospital gardens. Two chairs and an armchair encompassed the scant decoration of the room, but the white and yellow daisies on his nightstand added some hope to it. Kitty had brought them the previous day, figuring Nathaniel needed some more cheer if he was to be motivated into coming back.

However, and regardless of the flowers, Nathaniel was still a hollowed-out picture of skin and bone, and it never got easier to see it, even after a full month of daily visits.

He seemed to disappear under the blankets from how frail and thin he looked. His skin was yellow and pasty, with dark circles around his eyes and prominent cheekbones. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, two drips hanging above the bed, one of them crimson, snaking down and disappearing underneath a dressing on the inside of his elbow. The heart monitor beeped steadily and quietly, just like his almost imperceptible chest movements.

Kitty looked up at Bartimaeus to see how he was taking in all of this, finding nothing but a blank expression plastered on his phony face. Kitty suddenly remembered their long conversation when she'd summoned him for the first time. Back then, Kitty had told Bartimaeus he was lucky to live on after so many empires had fallen. His response had surprised her at the time, turning all her preconceived notions of spirits and their masters on their heads once again. But now she understood it better, and she reckoned she wouldn't have traded places with Bartimaeus no matter the offer.

Kitty sighed, squared her shoulders, and walked in with more confidence than she had, hoping Bartimaeus would follow her in.

He eventually did, quietly closing the door behind him, in an uncharacteristic show of respect for Nathaniel and the general human population. Kitty lowered herself to a chair next to the bed, taking Nathaniel's cold hand by force of habit and greeting him in a quiet whisper. She felt Bartimaeus's eyes on her, but she didn't let it bother her.

"Here he is," Bartimaeus finally said.

Kitty nodded. "Here he is."

Bartimaeus said nothing else, choosing to lean against the wall and look outside the window instead. Kitty was thankful for the quiet—truly, she hadn't experienced it much lately—but it was also quite disconcerting. She considered trying to engage Bartimaeus in conversation, but she had never been the best with words, especially not at times like this.

So, instead, she talked to Nathaniel, like she usually did. She began recounting the events of the day, starting by her summoning Bartimaeus and the attack that followed, adding some humour to it whenever possible. Kitty included good news, saying that, so far, they hadn't been attacked by any of the Empire's enemies, not even the Czechs. Magician-governed nations were rattled, and public riots had started up all over Europe, most prominently in Prague and Rome. She didn't tell him that the war in North America was obviously lost, nor how many soldiers had been held captive and were probably being tortured for information at the moment.

Eventually Bartimaeus dragged a chair and sat opposite her. She watched as his eyes scanned the unconscious magician in silence. His brow was furrowed, whether in concentration or contemplation she did not know, and wouldn't ask. When he didn't say anything for a while, Kitty continued.

"Wait till you wake up and we tell everyone." Kitty didn't look at Bartimaeus when he lifted his head to stare at her. "You have fans now, can you believe it? Well, you were sort of popular already, I suppose, but now people actually like and admire you. Of course, they think you're dead… It'll be quite the surprise, eh?"

Kitty laughed quietly, noticing how sharp it sounded in the otherwise silent room. "There are rumours of a statue in Hyde Park and everything. I'm sure there'll be some sort of fancy celebration too, in your honour."

Bartimaeus started grumbling something about magicians getting all the credit.

"And Bartimaeus's too, of course. Wherever would we be without him?" Kitty gave him a look, but Bartimaeus was busy pretending he wasn't listening. So she returned her gaze to Nathaniel's unresponsive face. "You'll have to get used to the idea of a mixed government, I'm afraid. There's no going back now. Piper is going crazy over there, so I'm sure she'd appreciate the help."

"You could also make sure Kitty wouldn't bother me anymore," Bartimaeus retorted.

Kitty would have attempted to hit his legs under the bed if she weren't in a hospital. She settled for an eyeroll. "And make sure Bartimaeus gets his fair share of recognition, so that he can stop being such a grumpy old man."

"I'm not old," he protested. "I'm wise."

"Well, that sure explains the childish bickering with Nathaniel, and the tantrums."

"Excuse you, I do not throw temper tantrums!"

"Of course not." Kitty gently squeezed Nathaniel's hand and leaned in closer, as if to divulge a secret. "You agree with me, don't you?"

There was no reply, obviously, and Kitty tried not to get dispirited by it, but it was getting harder every day. Harder to wait, harder not to feel like a failure who kept disappointing the people who relied on her, like Jakob, Anne, Fred, and even Mr Pennyfeather and Stanley had. Now she was adding Nathaniel to the list.

"He probably would," Bartimaeus wryly said.

Kitty smiled a little at that, but made no comment. With her free hand, she pushed back Nathaniel's oily hair from his hot, humid forehead.

"But, you know…" She shrugged noncommittally, fighting off the surge of emotion rising to her throat, clenching it in a tight grip. She swallowed. "You can't do all of those if you don't wake up. So, come on now." Her voice caught, her eyes stung.

"Kitty…" Bartimaeus whispered.

She ignored him. "We'll be waiting right here."

There was no reply.

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