The City is quick to heal and so am I.

Days blend into one another and I feel myself growing stronger, my arms and legs stretching gloriously when I help to lift a plank of wood up a scaffold or clamber to the rooftop to patch a hole. I am perched upon one such roof, nails in mouth and hammer in hand as I secure a final board in place. Mopping my brow I look out from my perch, my heart lifting at seeing the hustle and bustle of life down in the former Commons. The streets are filled with every type of person imaginable. Miners, Wasters and Babelonians pop in and out of canopied entryways, their shouts to one another intermingling with the.gleeful shrieks of children and the rumbling of carriages.

A shrill whistle from down below tells me that the work day has ended. I raise my hand in acknowledgement, taking my time in putting away my tools while the rest of the crew heads toward the pub. Dusting my hands off on my pants I stride across to the roof, placing one foot on the raised ledge as I consider the distance. A cooling breeze lifts my hair from my shoulders and I imagine joining the wind in flight, dashing along the rooftops to the greater unknown. Stepping up and standing with both toes hanging over the ledge I lean out as far as I dare. My bad knee trembles in warning as my heart tempts me with a soft lie. Exhaling an impatient huff I spin around and pick a deliberate path down to the street, my hands finding the windowsills and rough rocks almost without thought.

Jogging lightly down back alleyways, I zigzag my way across the City and arrive at The Beacon just as the lamplights are being lit. Shoving my way inside I keep my eyes averted and make a beeline for our usual table near the back.

"There she is!" I cringe when a booming voice rings out.

Harry waves enthusiastically, shoving a mug of ale into my hands when I slide into my spot beside Frye. I give Lara a cordial nod as I loosen my scarf and sip my drink, allowing my friends' familiar banter to wash over me. My thoughts drift and I watch Gordy glowering moodily in a corner, his wrist tucked into the crook of his elbow while Harry regales us with a story of rescuing bags of flour from the flood and nearly missing the last airship. When Marc and Gus stop by our table I pull them down beside me and badger them for details of the work Luca and Will are performing in the Wastelands.

"Latest report is that early treatments are showing great promise." Marc looks pleased to deliver the news. "They're reliant on electricity out there but the wind farms are still operational so no concerns for the time being."

"Lucky that Kay's bombs didn't reach that far." Gus teases.

I force myself to laugh along with the others, rubbing the back of my neck and looking away.

An image of Will convulsing atop one of the Vane's arms flashes before me and I startle, sending droplets of ale over the rim of my cup. The resulting surge of electricity would have killed anyone human but ended up being the key that the Technicians needed in order to turn the Brutes back. Will's revival proved that high voltage compromises the Brutes' mechanics and undoes their dependence on the horrible, tar-like poison that the Madam kept them pumped full of.

Someone asks whether the power lines will be able to run into the City once the Brutes are recovered and the boys dive excitedly into the City's plans for the future. As they talk I turn into myself, imagining Luca and Will working to cure the Brutes out in the desert while I recuperate in the City. For the millionth time I consider joining them before remembering that I can be of the most help, right here. New constructions are needed in the space between our Wall and the Outer City as more and more displaced Babelonians appear at the gates. It was my finger that pulled the trigger on an entire civilization and the least I can do is take part in the building of a new one.

"Hey."

A bony elbow nudges me and I look up, smiling at finding Frye's freckled face. My brother raises his brows in question, inclining his head toward the door. I nod, bidding my goodbyes and averting my gaze from the quick kiss that Frye exchanges with Lara. We ease our way around packed tables and escape into the night air, tracing old paths lit by lamplight.

"Kind of you to escort me home." Frye fans his face in an exaggerated motion. "It's late and gods know it isn't safe for a pretty thing like me to be walking these streets alone."

I snort. "I'm only accompanying you because it's what's safest for everyone else."

"Well, I never." Frye slings his arm around my shoulder, ruffling my hair. I shove him back and make a hopeless attempt to smooth the tangled locks away from my face, missing my Waster braids.

We chat about his work on the greenhouses and the City's rain-fed gardens for several blocks until Frye finally broaches the real reason he asked me to walk him home, delivering the question with his trademark frankness.

"So, how long are you planning to stay this time?"

I keep my face carefully blank, staring resolutely ahead as we cross the cobblestone square of the marketplace.

"What do you mean?" I respond vaguely, tilting my head up to catch a glimpse of the stars hiding behind the roofs. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for good."

"Come off it, Kay."

"You come off it. The City is my home and I'm not planning on abandoning it again."

"Going your own way can hardly be classified as abandonment." Frye pulls me to a stop so that I'm forced to look at him. "You know that we all love you and want you around. It's been great having the old crew back together, again and I'm so pleased that we're finally getting the chance to know one another, but I have to wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"If this is really what you want."

"Of course it is." I say quickly. "I want to be here with everyone. With you and Meg and Will and—"

"Luca?" He raises a brow. "He'll be right cozy between you and the Commander."

My cheeks burn as I shake my head furiously. "Forget it."

"No, I'm sorry, I was only teasing. I caught that oddball warrior looking at you, once when we were all out on that hunting trip and, well..." Frye shrugs, shooting me an impish grin, "What can I say. I'm a romantic. But I'm sure that this William fellow is lovely as well."

Ignoring the invisible punch to be ribs I avoid my brother's gaze and glance down the street. "I appreciate your concern but my mind is made up. I'm not running away anymore. I can't change what I did but I can at least stay put and try to be better."

"Anyone with half a brain can see that you're a good person, sis. You don't need to live out your days pounding nails into ceilings just to prove it. I understand that you feel bad about what happened in Babel but that doesn't mean that you need to keep on punishing yourself."

"You don't get it." I snap, "It's not just about that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's the fact that everything...the lying and the fighting..." I squeeze my eyes shut tight, speaking from the dark, "...it all started because of him. I did those things to try and bring Will back. I think that I knew it was impossible...maybe that's part of the reason why I went as far as I did. I figured that if he was already in the beyond, then that was where I was going, as well."

Slowly, I return to the present. Frye watches me intently but somehow remains blessedly silent.

"I raised wars and toppled cities, all for the man I supposedly love more than anything in this world." A sad smile escapes me at the thought of steely grey eyes. "And it worked. I had to go to the Burn and back in order to find him but somehow...it worked. Will is alive and the City is better off for having him. Do you understand, now why I have to stay? I have everything I ever wanted. If I were to give it all up..." I give the barest shake of my shoulders, dismissing the idea before it can fully form. "Not even I'm that reckless."

Deadened streets are pierced by a distant shouting as Frye and I stare at one another. Annoyance prickles and I dismiss the sound as obnoxious late-night revellers. The yelling continues and at the mention of my nickname I cast a reluctant glance into the alley.

"Aye, it is her!" A group is headed toward us, the man at it's head lurching from side to side as he attempts to point a wobbly finger at me.

Frye immediately comes to attention, stepping up and forming a type of barrier between myself and the intruders. Spindly arms are crossed as Frye taps his foot and regards the group with a pointed glare.

"Good evening." The voice he uses drips with warning. "I see that you're out enjoying yourselves, as are we. Might I suggest that you continue on your way so that we can all get back to our respective conversations?"

"Hold on, hold on now." The man wipes an arm across his squashed and sun-blistered nose. "No need to show such disrespect. We're admirers, is all."

"It's fine," I edge my way out in front. "Gentlemen. How can I be of service?"

"Oy, you're younger in person than the posters let on." My nose wrinkles when his foul breath hits my nostrils. "And not nearly as frightening."

"I have my days." I respond, impatience seeping through my cracks.

"So I've heard." A chorus of drunken laughter follows his remark. "Anyway, my pals and I just arrived from Babel—or rather, what used to be Babel. Rather inconvenient that was, to be honest."

"I'm sorry." I state simply. "It was not a decision I made lightly, or took any pleasure in."

"Pretty words. You were always good at those, weren't you?" The pleasure he takes in goading me is clear. "Anyway...we've been taking stock of the local watering holes and debating on whether we should settle down in the City or keep moving. Now that we've come across the Runner, herself...I have to say, I'm inclined to head North."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"It's no big secret, is it?" The man's unfocused eyes dart to Frye, as if imploring him to agree. "Anything the Runner touches is doomed. If we were to settle here we'd be in danger of what? A bomb? A storm? A war? Gods' know for sure but I haven't got a deathwish."

Another cruel round of chortling cuts through me as Frye's hand lands on my shoulder and he steers me away. "Come on," He murmurs, shooting a disgusted look over his shoulder. "They're just trying to get a fight out of us."

I nod dumbly, hands balling into fists as the man's taunts continue to pummel my back.

"Where are you going, Runner?" He jeers. "Back home? To mommy and daddy? Oh no, I nearly forgot," There is the sound of spit hitting the ground, "Your bad luck rubbed them off, too."

Frye whirls around, his fist connecting in the instant before the pack descends. Gritting my teeth against my still-mending body's protests I dive into the fray, pulling my brother away and delivering a quick blow to his attacker's gut. The goon releases a muffled oof and I turn to take care of the others, slipping into my old ways with a frightening ease. The drunkards pose little challenge and I drive an elbow into the nose of one before dropping to the ground and sweeping the leg of another. My next opponent trips over his falling cohort and I deliver a swift kick backwards, catching him where it counts while dodging a poorly-judged punch. When I'm finished the crew is moaning in pathetic heaps and I'm left standing in the centre of it all, chest heaving as I fight to bring myself back under control. Gingerly, I look up and flinch when I catch the horrified expression written on Frye's face.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

"It's alright," His voice is hoarse. He coughs, offering me a shaky grin. "Nothing to be sorry for, those jerks were asking for it. We should get out of here, though."

"Yes." I take a step back, reflexively glancing up the side of the nearest building. "I should leave."

"How about you stay with us, tonight." My brother's invitation falls on deaf ears. "My flat's just around the corner."

I shake my head and fall back another step. "That's kind of you but I just...I have to go." Spinning on my heel I dive into the nearest shadow and explode into a run.

Inky gloom meets scattered memories as I throw myself down side streets. The stone walls seem to loom over me, foreboding in a way I never noticed before. I keep my eyes trained forward, the thunder in my mind momentarily muted by the sound of my own, even breaths as I tear toward the City limits. A high, faultless wall appears before me and I leap, wounds tearing as I heave myself into the star-filled sky.

When I crest the Outer Wall's parapet I discover open ground and a moon as large as a mountain. I sit with my legs dangling over the side of the Wall and stare out at the sleeping desert, wide and wild even in it's stillness.

Anything the Runner touches is doomed.

The sudden reappearance of my old demons is enough to suck the wind from my lungs and as the adrenaline ebbs away I am left with chattering teeth and a thudding heart. The scene in the alley replays itself over and over as I rocket between bouts of self-pity and anger. How naive was I to think that I could fall back into this City life without any consequences? It won't matter how many houses I build or apologies I dole out; my name and the stories attached to it have taken on a life of their own. There isn't any escaping what I am.

Gradually, I realize that I am shivering and abandon the night in order to retrieve the pack I have stowed beneath one of the Wall's seldom-used towers. Since leaving the infirmary I have been camping out on top of the Wall, preferring the cold stone and open skies to the bed that Meg keeps for me at the Palace. Retreating into a corner beneath the lookout I withdraw my cloak and wrap it around myself, curling into a ball with my back pressed against the barrier between the City and the Wasteland.

Sleep comes gradually and with it bad dreams of being trapped beneath layers of stone. As I fall into the nightmares I breathe deeply, burying my face into the folds of my old cloak and arming myself with the fading smells of campfire.