You guys must have known you weren't rid of me yet. This one's a one-shot too, as stated in the summary. There are vague Nathaniel/Kitty implications, but nothing really overwhelmingly romantic. I hope neither Nathaniel nor Kitty is OOC, although I couldn't really tell. Just to clarify this from the start, yes, Nathaniel's changed a bit for the better. He's not an arrogant prick, at least, which is something. But I guess I should stop talking about this and just let you read it, huh? ;)

The Bartimaeus Trilogy belongs to Jonathan Stroud. I'm just a poor, pathetic fanfiction writer who is borrowing his characters.

Enjoy the fic! Revel in the Nathaniel/Kitty-ish goodness. And, if you're feeling generous, review with comments and/or criticism.

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Inescapable

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It was a clear night, the first after a week or so of cloudy skies. The ground was still moist from the few days of constant rainfall, and squelched noisily under Kitty Jones' boots as she made her way across the damp grass of the park.

Coming back here, to a place so near her home, had been more painful than she'd expected. The urge to go see her parents had been overwhelming, and she'd almost done it. But in the end she had convinced herself that nothing would come of such a visit, and anyway, she hadn't come to see them. She hadn't come to see anyone, really. Just to think.

It had been two years, and Kitty was still deeply involved with the new Resistance, which was steadily gaining members; some had the powers they had all shared in the first Resistance, and some did not. As time went on, it had become clear that it didn't really matter. Numbers and popular support were what counted, and it was what they had lacked before. But those days of petty raids and graffiti were over. Kitty couldn't say she missed dodging the Night Police and carrying a knife in her coat. But she couldn't ignore the regret, or the pang of loss she felt if she allowed herself to dwell on it too long. Stanley had been a ridiculous prat. Mr. Pennyfeather was as ambitious and corrupted as any magician. Fred was just plain stupid. But they had been more like family to her than her own parents.

She kicked absently at a tuft of grass, sending small pieces of the blades drifting into the air.

How strange that after so many years of avoiding it, of avoiding even thinking about it, she would find herself drawn back to this park years later. This was where it had first started: her hatred of magicians, the burning desire for revenge, both of which had eventually led her to joining the Resistance in the first place.

Would she have found herself in league with them if Tallow hadn't attacked them? Would the mere fact that she possessed resilience have drawn her to them like a moth to a flame, regardless of whether she cared about magicians or not? She wasn't sure.

All she was really sure of was that she was confused and agitated. There was too much on her mind, too many questions that she wasn't sure she could ever answer. They ranged from wondering if her parents would talk to her even if she did go to see them to picturing what her newest allies were doing to why she stopped the golem from crushing John Mandrake.

One of her eyebrows rose at that last one. She'd been thinking about it a lot, even more lately than she had straight after the incident, and she couldn't come up with a half-suitable answer, other than that she just wasn't as cold-blooded as she sometimes acted.

A chilly breeze swept through the park, rustling the leaves in the tree where the crows had been sitting on that awful day. It was dark, so she couldn't see if there was anything there now. Her feet carried her towards the wall where they had been playing, and she rested a hand on the cool metal of the water fountain. She had been so frustrated, missing all those pitches of Jakob's. She would have given her right arm to have smacked the ball way back into the grass so she could watch him run after it. But two seconds later that had faded into insignificance. Funny how a dose of reality could do that.

She turned away from the fountain and headed in the direction of the small lake. She and Jakob had only been in this particular area of the park a few times, and had never done anything around the water. There was a kind of comfort in that. Perhaps that's why she was drawn to it – there were no painful memories to be had there.

There were a lot of wooden benches close to the water, which lapped at the muddy ground around its edges. She sat on one, letting the scent of damp wood fill her nose. She could see the reflection of the moon in the water, distorted by the wind that skimmed its surface. She heaved a sigh and let her chin drop into her hands, staring out at the glassy surface of the lake and letting her mind wander.

She had only been sitting there a few minutes when she heard footsteps. Whether they were trying to be quiet or not, she couldn't tell – the mud made it impossible to sneak up on anyone anyway, sucking at people's shoes like it did. She stood up and turned around to see who it was, and felt her jaw tighten once she recognized him.

John Mandrake was looking at her, too, though with a slightly different expression: shock. At least he was speechless: how she liked him best. She took advantage of his surprise to look him over.

Two years had allowed him time to get rid of that hideous drainpipe suit and lacy cuffs, although he had chosen to keep the long coat. His hair was still long, though it seemed that it had been washed at least somewhat recently, which was more than he could have said for it when she last saw him.

"A little past curfew, isn't it?" he asked coolly once he had recovered. She cocked an eyebrow – that was a pretty stupid way of greeting someone you were rivals with.

"And what are you going to do?" she asked sarcastically. She hadn't wanted someone to come and interrupt her while she immersed herself in the past. Very rarely did she allow herself this privilege, and he had come along and ruined it. Typical of him, that was. "Arrest me? I'll be gone before you can do anything, and your demon friends won't be of much use."

She smirked a little at his annoyed expression: apparently he remembered how she'd thwarted his last attempt at ambushing her. He'd ended up with mouler residue all over his suit.

"I'm not going to try to arrest you," he said stiffly, and looked out at the lake. Kitty crossed her arms.

"Making allowances for the person who saved your life? How generous. I noticed that you didn't have search parties turning the city over to find me."

"Why would I do that?" he asked irritably, though when he glanced at her his expression softened a bit. "I thought you were dead."

"Oh." She hadn't been expecting that. "Who told you that?"

"Bartimaeus, who else?"

"Ah. Remind me to thank him, should I see him again."

"I doubt you will."

"It's a little thing called 'sarcasm'," she replied scathingly. "Maybe you aren't used to it."

"After spending all that time with that bloody djinni? I'd say I know more about it than most."

Kitty paused and contemplated the strangeness of the situation. Here she was, having a half-civil conversation with the person she had despised for ages. It was surreal and kind of absurd. He continued to contemplate the surface of the water, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. She noted that he looked a little tired.

"Why did you save me?" he asked at length, and the question caught her a bit off guard. How was she supposed to answer that?

"I don't know," she said shortly after a moment of silence. "It was stupid of me, all things considered."

For a second he looked offended, but he quickly rearranged his expression into one of calm indifference. Another pause, this one more awkward.

"Well," she said gruffly, if only to break the sudden stillness. "What're you going to do now? You know I'm alive – what are you plotting?"

He gave her a sidelong glance, but didn't answer.

"You won't be able to find me, you know," she told him, inexplicably irritated with his silence. "I disappeared for two years, and I can do it again."

"I know," he said quietly. "I'm not going to try looking for you."

"Good," she said coolly. "Wouldn't want you to waste your precious time."

She took a few steps backward. She wouldn't be able to sink back into her memories again, not after this little episode. She had just turned around when he spoke up again.

"I felt guilty, you know."

She turned her head so she was looking over her shoulder, still poised to start walking away.

"Guilty about what?"

"About breaking my promise. A while before that, I would never have considered it even if my career was on the line."

What? John Mandrake, honorable? She turned around.

"That right? What the hell happened?"

He lifted a shoulder, a wry smirk twisting his mouth.

"Fame happened. I had a career, I had power…I fell into the trap. Bartimaeus had even warned me about it, but I forgot about that until it was too late."

"He's egotistical, but he's smart," Kitty said, folding her arms. "So…do you like what you've become?"

He looked at her sharply. "What do you mean, 'what I've become'? We haven't seen each other for two years – you don't know what I'm like."

She laughed: a quick, sarcastic bark.

"Odds are you haven't changed a bit. You lost that awful suit, but you're probably still corrupted, still rich, and still fighting for every opportunity for power that comes floating by."

He ground his teeth together – she could hear the sound from where she stood several feet away.

"If I was still like I was then, I'd be stupid and arrogant enough to try and attack you again," he snapped, clearly upset with her description. "Now I'm willing to just let you go, even though if I managed to bring you back in I'd be handsomely rewarded. Tell me, are you still painting insults on walls and picking pockets? Or have you graduated from that kind of trivial resistance?"

She felt her face flush. He'd touched on a reservoir of painful memories, old anger, and shame. He couldn't be aware of how much that simple jibe had hurt. She knew that her old efforts had been useless and stupid. She had always known they wouldn't succeed. But that didn't give him the right to taunt her about it, to mention these painful things so casually.

"Bastard," she whispered, her fists clenched.

"What was that?"

"I said, bastard!" she fairly shouted at him, suddenly overwhelmingly angry. He took a step back, looking fairly stunned.

"Calm down," he said hurriedly. "I really didn't mean –"

She turned on her heel and started stomping away, her teeth clenched. 'Calm down'…what an idiot. What a sodding idiot! She jumped when his hand clamped over her upper arm.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, struggling against his grip.

"Kitty, stop." His voice was suddenly weary. "I'm sorry."

She stopped trying to twist her arm out of his hold and looked at him disbelievingly. She would never have expected those words to actually come out of his mouth.

"You're sorry?" she asked, her tone sounding as bewildered as she felt. He winced.

"I know it sounds like nothing, and most likely extremely stupid given all I put you through, but…yes."

He let go of her arm, which hung limply at her side in imitation of the other. Two words, and all the fire in her was extinguished. He had looked and sounded so human…in all the time she'd known him she'd never thought of him as an actual person. She didn't really think of any magician like another person: they just didn't know what living a normal life was like.

For a long time they stared stupidly at each other, and then she averted her eyes, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"Well," she said softly, "Thanks. You're not really that much of a bastard."

"Well, that's reassuring."

She imitated his earlier smirk before twisting her lip like she always did when she was uncomfortable. 'Your face is never the same twice.' She really needed to learn to be a little less expressive…and explosive. If she truly thought Mandrake was horrible she would have left when he first arrived, maybe punched him again.

"I'll be going then," she said, realizing that there was no need for her to stay any longer. She turned and started to walk away, but he stopped her again, grabbing her wrist this time. She turned to face him, unsure whether to be expectant or annoyed at his interruption of her exit.

"Just…thank you."

"What, for leaving?"

"You know what it's for," he said, giving her an exasperated look. Ah, yes: saving his life. At least he'd acknowledged it. Perhaps he had changed…a little.

"You're welcome," she said, surprised at how easily the words came. "Goodbye, then."

He looked at her, expression unfathomable, and for a split second she could've sworn he was going to ask her to stay. For that same split second, she even wanted to. But all he did was release her wrist and say, "Goodbye, Kitty."

His voice was tender. That was something. The spot where his hand had been felt strangely cold to her. She wrapped her free hand around it as she turned, and as she started to leave she could hear him going as well. They both went their separate ways, boy and girl melting into the night.