March 27, 1925, Philadelphia, PA

There was no artifact in the box. When Kate had opened the box again on the train, she only found the note, a journal, and what turned out to be an old hidden blade. And some dirt and dust.

Kate had checked the first entry of the journal to confirm it was what the note said it was-Cecily Barrowman's journal. And it was. The first entry was dated 1718 in Nassau, which fit everything else she had found in her research. But she put the journal back in the box, deciding to wait until they got to the Bureau to start reading.

Instead, she had pulled out the copy of The Brothers Karamazov that Max had given her for her birthday. And promptly fell asleep. Her all-nighter the day before had caught up to her.

She woke sometime in the early hours of the morning, before the train had reached Philadelphia. Next to her, Dutch was still sleeping soundly, mouth agape. And Max was sitting across from her, awake and working on the hidden blade.

When she had pulled what she thought was just a scrap of leather out of the safe box, Max had asked to see it. She didn't hesitate to hand it over when she saw the way his eyes were sparked with excitement.

Sitting across from her now, he was frowning in concentration, tightening something on the blade's mechanism with a small screwdriver. His hair was a little disheveled, his tie was loose, and the top button of his shirt undone. And she remembered what he was like that first day on the train—stiff and serious and painfully polite.

He seemed so different now. And yet he wasn't at all.

She glanced down at the book still in her lap. Her birthday present. It was on that first train trip that she'd learned it was his favorite book. Her birthday present from Dutch, along with the most recent letter from Nana, was tucked between the pages. Just like every other birthday, Dutch had given her a note promising to take her dancing.

And she couldn't even remember the last time she'd been dancing. Sometime before leaving San Diego. Five months ago? Six? She looked back over at Max. She understood now why he was always so serious. Knowing what she knows now, it would be impossible to go back to the carefree and somewhat reckless lifestyle she had been living.

But Max wasn't serious all the time. She knew that now, too. She understood that half of his frowns were because he was thinking about something, not because he was unhappy. Though she couldn't remember ever hearing him truly laugh out loud, she knew how to coax a smile out of him. And she knew she could still make him blush if she caught him off guard.

Like right now, when he realized he was being watched.

Kate smiled at him. And, despite the hint of pink that had risen in his cheeks, he smiled back.

"Dobroye utro, Max."

"Dobroye utro."

Kate nodded to the hidden blade. "Does it work?"

"Surprisingly, yes," he replied. "I sharpened it while you were sleeping. It is a beautiful piece. I don't think I've seen one this old before."

He gestured for her arm. Kate obliged, holding her arm out and pulling her sleeve up. He reached between them and wrapped the simple leather bracer around her forearm.

"The blade is a little crooked," he explained as he fastened the three buckles for her. "But the mechanism works perfectly otherwise. You just need to make sure to flex your hand all the way back when you activate it." He demonstrated with his own hand. "Otherwise, you will cut yourself."

Kate frowned. "You put it on me before telling me that?"

"Just be careful," Max shook his head, his lips twitching. "I don't have the right tools with me, but when we get to the Bureau, I will fix it for you."

She nodded and turned her arm over, examining the mechanism on the inside of her wrist. When she flicked her wrist, the blade slid out with the distinctive shink sound.

"It's so small," she commented, looking closely at the blade itself.

"It is thinner and simpler than the one Jo had you practicing with, but the whole piece is less bulky that way. It seems perfect for you."

Kate flicked her wrist again and the blade retracted. She looked over at Max, at the faint smile on his lips, and asked, "Do you want it back?"

His eyebrows drew together almost imperceptibly, and he hesitated before saying, "Technically, Novices don't carry hidden blades...but I don't see why you can't wear it and get used to the feel of it. It's not like you'll need to use it between now and when we arrive at the Bureau."

Not two hours later, Kate was tempted to tell Max he had jinxed them with those words. After seeing two Templars on Market Street, they had pulled their hoods up and taken to the side streets and alleys instead—only to come across another Templar blocking their path to the Bureau.

"Charles said their presence had increased," Max frowned. "But I had not expected so many."

"Well," Dutch said, "If they're watching this alley, they're probably watching the others around the Bureau, too."

"We could go up and over the rooftops," Kate suggested. "Or we could just take this one out."

"If he's looking for us," Dutch replied. "And has been looking for Katie all along, there's no reason to keep him alive and risk him seeing her."

Max glanced around the alley and nodded. "I agree. One less Templar is always good. But we have to be quiet about it. Gunfire would draw attention."

Dutch pointed at a nearby fire escape. "You could do one of those air assassination things from up there," he offered.

Max tilted his head and looked at Dutch. And Kate saw him slip into his Mentor role.

"And why do you think an attack from above would be best in this situation?"

Dutch shrugged. "The distance between us and him," he said. "You run the risk of him turning around and seeing you. Although the lighting right now is in our favor. There are lots of shadows." He grinned and added, "Too bad there aren't strategically placed piles of hay like at the Homestead."

Max shook his head.

And Kate interjected, "We don't have time for a lesson. The longer we wait, the busier the streets get, the brighter the sun gets, and the lower our chances are of success."

But Max and Dutch continued debating the merits of various approaches. Kate rolled her eyes. She wanted to get to the Bureau, to Sal, to Charles.

She took a small, quiet step backwards. When neither of them seemed to notice, she took another step away from them. Again, neither reacted, so she turned and silently made her way towards the lone Templar in the bowler.

As she approached the man from behind, she held her breath and slowed her pace, letting her mind run over everything Jo had taught her. When she got close, she flicked her wrist and released the hidden blade. She paused for a fraction of a second at the sound, but the Templar didn't notice her at all. Taking two more quiet steps behind him, she looped her left arm around his and, in the same motion, drove the hidden blade between his ribs, aiming for his heart. She heard a strangled sound come from him, pulled the blade out, and stabbed him again for good measure.

When his body went limp, she stumbled under the weight of it but managed to lower him to the sidewalk. She stood up straight and stared down at the now lifeless body, a wave of nausea passing over her. She looked at her right hand, covered in blood, the hidden blade still extending past her fingers, and her stomach rolled again. She swallowed thickly and flexed her wrist to pull the blade back in.

The shout from her left only barely registered in her mind. She turned towards it just as a second man barreled towards her, his shoulder hitting her in the stomach and knocking the breath out of her. She gasped for air and realized her feet had left the ground. The man had her by the waist, no doubt preparing to throw her against the wall or on the ground.

But her arms were free.

She brought her right arm up and slammed her elbow into his back, just between his shoulder blades.

He grunted, dropping her instantly and stumbling back a step.

"Son of a bitch!" He looked up and started to lunge at her again.

But in the moment it took him to regain his balance, Kate had regained hers as well. She easily spun away from his sloppy lunge and crouched, ready for his next attack.

And he swore again when he finally got a good look at her.

"Goddamn Assassin whore," he growled, taking a wide swing at her.

She thought of Sal when she blocked the Templar's swing with her forearm and countered with a shot to the kidney.

"You bitch," he grunted, swinging again.

This time, she ducked, letting his fist pass above her head harmlessly. And before he had a chance to make another move, she made hers. In one fluid movement, she gripped the front of his collar, the fingers of her right hand wrapping around the knot of his tie, and stepped across him, hooking her right leg behind his left. And she shoved him backwards.

Unable to maintain his balance with her leg pinning his in place, the shove sent him to the ground. As he fell, she released the hidden blade again. Ignoring the sharp pain in her hand as she did, she followed the downward movement of his body and knelt next to him.

His eyes went wide when he saw the hidden blade raised above him.

He barely got out another curse before she jammed the blade into his throat, whatever words were left turning into a gurgle.

As she stood, she heard footsteps. She spun into a crouch, blade ready, only to find herself facing Dutch and Max.

She glanced down at the two bodies next to her then back at them. And relaxed, retracting the hidden blade again.

"That was foolish," Max said. She couldn't see his eyes under his hood, only the grim line of his mouth. And her memory flashed back to the Botanical Gardens in San Diego, when Max had said the exact same thing to her.

She lifted her chin. "Going to tell me I'm meddling in dangerous affairs again?"

He frowned. "No. But I will remind you that revenge does not cure grief."

"This was not revenge."

"What was it?" Max tilted his head slightly.

Kate frowned and looked back at the bodies.

"This one," she gestured to the first man, whose bowler hat was somehow still in place, "was because you agreed it needed to be done." Then she gestured to the larger of the two, "And this one was...instinct." She blinked at the thought.

"And how did he get to you without you noticing?"

"I froze," she answered. "When I saw the blood on my hands, I...I..." She shook her head and looked down at her hands, still bloody. And that's when she noticed the cut, a long thin slice through her palm from the blade. She dropped her hands quickly. As if freezing up wasn't bad enough, she'd forgotten Max's instruction on keeping her hand angled away when releasing the blade.

"C'mon, Maksim," Dutch stepped forward. "You can be her Mentor later. We need to get off the street."

"Dutch is right," Max said with a sharp nod. "Let's get to the Bureau."

Kate looked back down at the two bodies on the sidewalk and the blood now pooling around them. It wasn't until she felt Max's arm loop through hers and gently pull her away that she moved.

"You did well, Katherine," he whispered. "It was still foolish, taking off without us like you did. But you did well."

The front room of the Bureau was empty, but they heard voices coming from the dining room. Kate frowned. It was unusual for everyone to be at breakfast together, let alone so early. But there they were, Charles, Etienne, James and Sal with his shoulder bandaged and in a sling, all sitting around the table.

"Perfect timing," Charles said. "We've got a situation."

"Wait," Sal interrupted. "Kitchen Kate's bleeding again." Then he smirked at her. "Did you shoot another Templar boyfriend?"

Kate opened her mouth to reply, but Dutch beat her to it.

"No," he snorted. "But she stabbed two."

There were a few chuckles around the table, but Charles's was not one of them.

"You're serious?" He asked, cutting off the laughter.

Kate nodded. And held up her hands. "Can I go clean up? Max and Dutch can tell you what happened."

Charles nodded, and she headed for the kitchen.

Kate held her hands under the running water for a long time, watching the blood of the two dead Templars trickle away. She had killed four Templars now. And one had not been in self-defense. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that this is what Assassins do before finally turning the water off.

She was eyeing the shallow cut on her palm, debating how to bandage it with just her left hand, when Etienne showed up in the doorway.

"Who do you want?"

She blinked at him. And he gestured to her hand.

"You'll need help with that."

Looking back at the cut, she sighed and said, "Charles. I want…I want my dad."

She was still staring at her palm when Charles put a warm hand on her shoulder. And she turned to him and wound her arms around his waist. With nothing but a sigh, he returned the embrace.

And Kate let herself stay there for several deep, steadying breaths before pulling away and holding up her hand.

"I have a malfunctioning hidden blade."

"I heard," he chuckled, reaching for the first aid kit.

"So," she arched an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Ah," Charles sighed. "Vera has gone missing."


A/N: Dobroye utro = good morning

And thanks for the follows and reviews and messages. I've been struggling with writing the final chapters (it's looking like 36, for Emily and whoever else is wondering), and it's nice to know people are still reading and the effort is worthwhile. :)