October 13, 1924, San Diego, CA

Maksim was sitting on the roof, his legs stretched out in front of him, eating an apple. He had taken off his coat and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. The hot, dry winds blowing in from the desert were finally starting to die down, but it was still warmer than usual for October. Most people called them Santa Ana winds, but O'Malley called them devil winds. Maksim was inclined to agree. They made everyone around the Bureau irritable, O'Malley especially. Mostly, they just made Maksim miss San Francisco.

He finished his apple and stood, stretching his arms above his head and twisting until his back gave a satisfying pop. He repeated the process in the other direction and got ready to toss the apple core down to the garbage bin below when he spotted a young girl on the sidewalk. Curious, he stepped closer to the roof's edge and crouched down to watch her.

North Park was a busy, busy neighborhood, especially now that the theater had opened up, but Landis Street was a couple blocks away from the theater and the bulk of the shops and businesses. Someone loitering on the residential street was a little unusual. Walking by, yes. But standing and staring up at the front door of the Bureau building, no. Maksim watched the girl as she looked around then down at something in her hand and back up at the building. He frowned. Unusual.

He left the apple core next to his coat and swiftly climbed down the trellis on the side of the building, dropping silently onto the pavement below. Feigning a casual stroll with his hands in his pockets, he walked around the corner to investigate what the girl was up to.

"Are you lost?"

He watched in amusement as the girl yelped and spun towards him. He noticed three things about her in that moment. The first was that she reached for her ribcage, almost as if expecting something to be there, quickly dropping her hand when it came up empty. It was a curious reaction, he thought. The second thing he noticed was that, once she spotted him and smiled politely, she had one tooth that was slightly crooked and a slight dimple in the center of her chin. And the third was that she was not a young girl after all, but a young woman, similar in age to himself. As she laughed nervously at her own reaction, he quickly catalogued other details about the woman: dark hair tucked under a bell-shaped hat, a dress the color of apricots, hazel eyes darting across his own facial features.

"I suppose I am."

He glanced down at her hand, holding a small scrap of paper. "Do you have an address there?"

"Oh," she blinked down at the paper. "Yes. This is it," she nodded at the building in front of her.

Maksim cocked his head to one side. She was standing in front of the Bureau, with the Bureau's address in her hand, and she seemed nervous. Normally, this would be cause for alarm, and, while he knew there were women Templars, women who were deceptively ruthless and deadly, this woman seemed so small, so harmless.

He found himself smiling at her.

"So you're not lost?"

"No," she said slowly, tugging on the brim of her hat. "I suppose lost isn't the right word for it."

"Are you looking for someone in particular? Perhaps I can help."

"Yes, I…" She glanced down at the paper again. "Donald O'Malley."

Maksim stiffened at the Master Assassin's name, his smile fading quickly. She must have noticed his reaction.

"You know him. Right." She looked down at the paper again. "I'm supposed to say…'Nothing is true.'" She said the last like a question and looked back up at him.

"What is your business with him?" Maksim asked curtly, ignoring her uncertainty.

She blinked at him before lifting her chin and replying, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I will not let you in to see if him if you do not."

"You won't 'let' me?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"No." He took a step, putting himself between her and the door for emphasis. Her nervous behavior had completely switched to something more defensive, and that made his skin on the back of his neck prickle.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and something about the woman suddenly felt very familiar. He held her gaze while he tried to place where he might have seen her before. Before he found an answer, she conceded and dropped her gaze.

"I'm looking for information about my mother," she said quietly. "She was an Assassin."

On noticing her use of past tense, Maksim backed off a bit, letting his shoulders relax. He didn't know of many Assassins with children who weren't also part of the Order, but it wasn't unheard of. He wondered if he had known her mother. With a small nod, gestured to the door.

He watched her nod in return and walk past him towards the door, tucking the scrap of paper into her purse. He quickened his pace to reach the front door before her, holding it open to let her in.

"Who should I tell him is here?" He asked quietly once they were both in the dark foyer.

"Margaret Barrowman's daughter, Katherine." She tugged on her hat again, shifting it slightly on her head.

Maksim nodded once more and strode down the hall to O'Malley's office.

The door was open, but, out of respect, he paused just outside and rapped his knuckles on the door frame.

The bald man looked up from the stack of papers in front of him.

"What is it?" He frowned.

Maksim took one step into the office, folded his hands behind his back and bowed his head.

"You have a visitor, sir."

"A visitor?" O'Malley narrowed his eyes. "I'm not expecting anyone."

"She says she is here about her mother, Margaret Barrowman. Her name is Katherine."

"Shit," O'Malley hissed, standing abruptly and rubbing a hand over the top of his bald head. He jerked his head back up to Maksim. "She's here now? How did she find us?"

"I do not know." Maksim shrugged one shoulder. "She had your name and the address. And knows the Creed. Someone must have sent her."

"Probably her grandmother," O'Malley sighed. "I should have known she'd show up eventually." He shook his head and said, "Send her back."

Maksim bowed his head once more and returned to the foyer where the woman, Katherine, was staring up at a painting of Venice. He cleared his throat, the sudden sound causing her to jump.

"Cripes," she sighed, shaking her head. "You're sneaky."

Maksim resisted the urge to smirk at the comment, instead gesturing her to follow him and leading her back to O'Malley's office. He stood at the doorway and watched O'Malley greet her.

"Donald O'Malley," he said gruffly, holding his hand out. "You must be Katherine?"

"Kate is fine," she answered, shaking his hand. O'Malley stared her just a moment before letting out a bark of laughter.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, girl," he shook his head. "You're the spittin' image of your mother."

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir," the woman replied, amusement clear in her voice.

O'Malley glanced up at Maksim and nodded. Maksim recognized the dismissal for what it was and made his way back outside. He needed to get the apple core and his coat from the roof before someone else found them.

Once he'd disposed of the core and buttoned his coat up again, he wandered into the library and pulled out one of the recent record books. He was curious about this woman and her mother. It took him a few minutes to find the name Barrowman in the book. Katherine's name was listed as her only child, born in 1901. And apparently Katherine's mother had been killed while on a mission in Europe. He frowned. That was years ago. Almost ten years ago.

He wondered what had taken the woman so long to come looking for answers. Perhaps she didn't want to know anything until recently. Or maybe she just couldn't find O'Malley until now. She could have also been completely unaware of her mother's occupation. She did seem unsure of the Creed when she gave him the first part of it. Maksim, having trained by his father's side since he was six, couldn't imagine what it must be like to grow up not knowing what your parents did.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard voices in the hallway. He quickly shoved the book back on the shelf and turned to head for the training room. He spotted O'Malley escorting Katherine to the front door and paused to let them pass.

"I'm sorry I can't do more for you, Kate," O'Malley said.

"I understand," she replied. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

O'Malley nodded and shook her hand. She glanced over at Maksim and offered him a small smile. He nodded in return, wondering again why she seemed familiar.

When O'Malley closed the door behind her, he turned to Maksim and let out a sigh.

"That was painful," the bald man said, shaking his head.

Maksim sensed that his Mentor would have more to say and followed him back to his office, settling in the chair Katherine had likely just vacated. O'Malley stopped in front of the window and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before speaking again. Maksim just waited.

"That girl's mother, Mags we called her, she was a real corker." O'Malley shook his head, grinning at his own memories. "Came up the ranks with her myself. She could shoot a squirrel from a quarter mile nine times out of ten, and ten was usually a misfire. Had a mean right hook, too."

"She died in the war?" Maksim asked, cocking his head to one side.

"You look up the record while we were in here chattin'?"

Maksim nodded, and O'Malley took another drag and sat heavily in his desk chair.

"Mags was part of the team sent to take out a few of key players over there, in the early days of the war. One of the Bulgarians, Zhostov I think, was her last target." He shook his head again, frowning. "Got her man but didn't make it out."

"Was that what she wanted to know?"

"Not exactly, no." O'Malley rubbed his free hand over his head. "You ever heard of the Barrowman women, Maksim?"

"Not until today."

O'Malley grunted and leaned back in his chair, blowing a puff of smoke at the ceiling. "The story is that one of their ancestors, back in the 18th century or so, was given a Piece of Eden to keep safe. Some say she lost it, some say she hid it. No one really knows for sure. But the Templars tried to track it down a few times. Came after Mags back when she was pregnant with the girl. Mags went on a bloomin' rampage after that." O'Malley sighed. "Guess that's when she decided she wasn't going to let the girl follow the family line. Didn't tell her a lick about the Order."

"So she wants to know about the Order?" Maksim guessed again at the purpose of the woman's visit.

O'Malley nodded. "And about her family. Which is really the same thing. At least five generations of Barrowman women accordin' to the story, maybe more. But those records were stolen years ago. Damn Templars chasing a bloomin' artifact that probably doesn't exist."

O'Malley sat up straight then, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on his desk, and leveled his gaze at Maksim, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"If that girl is anything like her mother, she's going to dig into this. Even though I just told her there's nothing to find."

Maksim frowned. "You think she will cause trouble?"

"It's in their blood," O'Malley snorted. "Which is why I want you to keep an eye on her."

Maksim's frown deepened when he realized what he'd just walked into. But O'Malley held up a hand, preventing him from arguing. "I don't believe that cock and bull about a missin' artifact connected to the family, but Mags did and the Templars did. You tail her for a few days, and we'll see if she gets up to anything."

"Of course," Maksim agreed, biting back his complaints about having to play nanny for some misguided girl.

A/N: Maksim's and O'Malley's pictures are up on my tumblr (wwnl).

And to Reviewer Kate who I can't respond to via PM: Thank you, thank you! I'm so glad someone's enjoying the story. I should be able to keep updating twice a week. Keep letting me know what you think.