Captain: Hello my awesome lovely readers! We're back with another trip of fun in Jerusalem! And I'm getting a puppy! WOOOOOOO! Breed will depend on what deal goes through but it's going to be a boy and his name will be Altair. I plan on making him assassin costumes for Halloween :D

A note on the Bureau: I'm changing up the inside appearance of the bureau as you may notice. Parts of it will be the same but others will be fudged. The most bedding we saw was the pillows where Altair slept, but I really doubt Malik or any of the other Dia's joined him there, ergo rooms have been created and a fireplace added, since they had to cook their food somehow as well.

On Emma's history references: She's not a scholar, at best she can guestimate. So yes, her inaccuracies are intentional. On that note, enjoy!


When morning light first appeared on the distant horizon, Emma could not have been more relieved for the end of the night. It did not, however, spell the end of the storm. Her body shook in a poor effort to fend off the cold, every inch soaked to the bone. Joints locked and stiff, she couldn't bring herself to move and somehow was able to force herself into a weak doze until the rains finally ceased. The sun never made its full appearance, rather it stayed curtained by clouds that kept the temperatures remarkably lower than the day before. Emma would have much rather preferred the heat.

The robe had soaked up water better than a sponge and clung to her like a second skin. Peeling it off, she dropped it in a ball onto the floor with a splat. There was no telling if there would be more rain, but the woman knew she couldn't afford another night here, not when her body ached and shivered this much already. She had to get warm and out of the weather, or risk getting sick in this hellhole.

Slowly, feeling as if every limb was filled with sand, she forced herself to step out of the cheap garden, jaw clamping hard as a slight breeze felt like an artic wall. No doubt it was nothing more than a cool relief to those dry down below, but the only part of her not soaked was strapped under Kevlar. It made her wish she'd been in short sleeves, at least then her arms would have a chance at drying out. She was hard-pressed to say if keeping it on or removing the outer uniform would be the warmer option.

A cloudy sky did not make the city look any better than it had the day before, but from up here she had a much better view. It had been obvious it was decent sized by the amount of times she was able to get lost yesterday, but seeing it laid out before her put it into stark clarity just how massive it truly was. At most, she'd probably only covered half of it. The mission of finding the one-armed man in all of this just suddenly seemed so much closer to impossible. How could she hope to find anyone in all of this? There was no way to know where he lived or frequented, hell his appearance in the market could have been a one-time fluke.

Like looking for a broken needle in a needle stack mixed with a box of nails, she mentally cursed. The better choice would be to find a plausible way out of here, if one of the gates proved to be unguarded.

A male voice started shouting just feet away, startling her into jumping and very nearly losing her balance over the edge. "Son of a bitch!"

Whirling around, she threw a nasty glare to the one who'd very nearly sent her over. Yelling when he was so close was entirely unnecessary.

"Fuck." She raised her hands in surrender, hoping this one didn't feel the need to release the grip on the arrow he had aimed at her. Seriously? Swords and bow and arrows? What next, a stockade? Frankly she wouldn't put it past these people.

He was still shouting, the tension on the bowstring tightening, Emma did not have a damn clue what he was saying, but a quick glance at the surrounding rooftops told her that no civilians were up there. Apparently this was a 'guards only' club. Lovely.

Still keeping her hands up, she worked her way towards the ladder, dropping down onto it the second she reached it and parting with a growl, "I'm going I'm going! Damn asshat."

The bowman moved to the ledge, keeping his shouts and weapon aimed at her until her feet hit the ground and she took several steps away. When he finally turned away she raised a middle finger to him before huffing and moving off. Evidently that spot was a no-go from now on. Rooftops were not her friend.

Without the robe to hide her uniform, she was once again subjected to the spewing hatred of the civilians and guards wherever she came upon them, the only upside being the dark clouds kept many inside, and urged others to do their business quickly. No stones came her way, but the armed men were in a sourer mood than before and more apt to join in the cursing.

Her uniform still dripped as she walked down the muddy streets, the dampness in the air promising the potential for another storm while preventing anything from drying.

Rounding a corner, Emma froze in her steps, her exhausted brain taking several moments to figure out what it is she was seeing. While the guards had been nothing but jerks towards her, none had ever actually made a move. Here however, three were physically harassing a woman, while two others stood watch.

Fucking seriously!?

She couldn't be older than twenty, crying out what had to be their word for help while the men jeered and taunted and pulled at her more. Not a soul moved to stop them, no less than ten could clearly see what was going on and every single one of them walked past without a second glance. Cowards. Outnumbered or no, there was no excuse to let something like this continue. Five men against one woman, how long would they be content to push her around before they decided to go further?

"HEY!" She shouted, gaining the attention of every person on the street. The civilians took one look at who she was talking to and quickened their pace away. There would be no backup from them, bloody brilliant.

One of the men shouted at her and waved his arm to shoo her away whilst the others went back to their game. Emma could feel her temper spiking, the heat of anger pushing away the chill of the weather.

"I said hey, assholes! Leave her alone!" She moved right in front of them, one hand balled into a fist while the other twitched towards the empty baton holster. Damn she should have listened to Eliot's insistence that she carry it.

The language barrier did not magically disappear, both watchers shouted at her now in their undiscernible language, the one closest to her reached out a hand to shove her away.

Oh hell no.

Grabbing onto his wrist with her left hand, she twisted it harshly and tugged him closer to meet the fist flying at his face. It connected with his nose with a loud crack, and he reeled back, hands going for his bleeding face with a long slew of swears. That got the attention of the other four, who abandoned their game with the other woman and turned to her. Their victim took the opportunity to dash away without so much as a backwards glance. Peachy, you're welcome lady.

The men did not wait to see if she would strike again, they came at her together, two latching onto her arms while another grabbed her waist from behind. She bucked against the hold as the one she struck came towards her, hitting her cheek with a vicious backhanded blow that snapped her head to the side. Stars danced across her vision and copper filled her mouth; facing him, she spat a glob of blood at his feet. He came at her again, but this time she used the leverage of those holding her, pitching her weight into their holds, raising her legs and landing a solid kick into the man's chest, knocking him clean off his feet while simultaneously rocking her captors off balance.

It was enough to yank one arm free long enough to send her palm into the nose of the man that held the other. His loss of grip on her was no victory however, as the last man sent a fist directly into her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs and keeping it away for several painful gasps. Straining for air, it was all she could do to keep her feet under her, even then it was the returned grip on her arms that kept her upright.

The one she'd kicked was clutching his ribs, but any satisfaction from that was short-lived as one of the others delivered another backhand, the ring on his finger splitting her cheek. The world spun off kilter and Emma had the sinking notion that she'd bitten off more than she could chew by picking this fight.

Next time she was going to shoot the bastards.

Voices were shouting back and forth, one that was almost vaguely familiar but not enough she could identify it. Her left eye was already swelling, her vision narrowing until it was all she could do to crack it open. Damn it why did they have to go for the face?

Her supports released her and her body slumped into the mud, head still ringing from the last blow too much to gather her bearings. An arm reached down around her, hoisting her up and helping her gain her feet. She tried to resist, not wanting the guards to have another go at it, or worse, but the grip would not be denied.

"You seem to attract trouble at every turn." A voice remarked, the arm around her waist adding enough pressure to force her legs to move, lest she face plant into the muck.

"It's a specialty." She coughed, knowing that she knew this voice, but try as she might she could not place it, nor could she see who it was since he was on her left, where her eye was all but useless for now.

"I advise not to go provoking a fight you cannot win, elsewise you may find yourself dead before the morrow." The voice chided, as if talking to some foolish child, Emma took mild offense to that.

"Hey bub I couldn't just do nothing while they raped a woman." She snapped, her legs working with her mind to better support her own weight again. Pulling back, she turned to see just who it was who had come to her rescue.

The chiseled, scruff-lined jaw was familiar enough, but it was the empty sleeve on his other side that sold out who he was. Apparently in order to find him, she first had to get herself into trouble. "It is unwise to get involved if you have no way to defend yourself."

She pulled away from him further, narrowing her good eye. "I had a way to defend myself, I just didn't want to shoot unless it was a last resort. And are you suggesting I do nothing?"

Thinking and talking about taking a life was one thing, but pulling the trigger was another entirely. Her gun was not a tool she used lightly, once death left the barrel, there was no calling it back.

No matter how much one wished it to.

"Do you wish to stay alive?" His tone was hard, serious and had the undercurrent of insult to it.

The blonde halted her steps, swaying slightly as the support he provided disappeared. "I didn't become a cop just to sit by when people needed help."

He cast a glance behind her, his look hardening and his hand latching securely onto her arm. "We can speak of this later, if you wish for my further assistance I suggest you get moving."

Giving her a tug, he forced her to follow him, and it was then she noticed the grumbling of the guards behind them. "What did you say?"

Who was this guy that he could have such pull over people in this city?

He barely spared her a glance. "I told them you were a slave I had yet to break in."

Emma tripped over her own feet, and barely kept herself from yanking back again. Her voice raised a pitch. "I am no one's slave!"

With a growl he yanked her to him, bringing their faces scant inches apart, "Be assured my willingness to assist you is only to repay the help you gave me, I am not going to throw my life away for you. Now be silent woman, unless you wish to deal with your mess on your own."

She clamped her jaw shut, her temper fighting to say something, but she needed whatever help she could get, no matter how much it wounded her pride.

Apparently the show also helped sell his story to the guards, as they finally dispersed and turned their attentions to other things. The woman let out a breath, mentally cursing for not being able to handle it herself.

The cop held her tongue as the man led her through the streets and down several back alleys before finally coming to a stop at the base of a ladder. He looked conflicted as he glanced up the rungs and Emma couldn't decide if it was his ability to climb that he was nervous about or the fact he brought her to it.

Turning to her, he stared with narrowed eyes for a brief moment before blinking and shaking his head, muttering to himself under his breath. Gesturing with his good arm, he cast one last glance around, "Start climbing."

Well, that wasn't suspicious at all. She narrowed her good eye at him, struggling to push the throbbing in her face aside to focus on him. Heart pounding in her ears, the world barely faded before snapping back, too quick to reveal any outline to him. Damn it. Her gut would have to lead here, and so far it was saying to get her ass up the ladder.

Briefly massaging her forehead against the residual thumping, she turned and stepped onto the ladder, quickly pulling herself to the roof. She sat with a huff upon reaching it, the effort of scaling the two stories more difficult than it should have been. There was no door up here, no roof garden,—though there was one two buildings over that she planned to never visit—only a single open skylight amidst latticework of thick, foggy glass. Why the hell did he bring her up here?

To his credit, the one-armed man made not a comment when he reached the roof behind her, and masked his pain completely, but for the bulging vein on his forehead. "The only way in is down, I advise you land lightly."

Huh?

He answered her unspoken question by stepping up to the open skylight, dropping down to hang by his hand and letting go.

No. Fucking. Way.

Pulling herself over to the opening, she leaned her head over, seeing the man glancing up at her with an impatient look. "This place has to have a door."

Because normal, sane people built doors into their buildings, even secret ones if they wanted to be so special as to drop through the damn roof. He looked almost as if he already regretted this. "You are at it, if you wish for help come through, otherwise be on your way."

Emma winced as she measured the drop, definitely higher than any fence she'd dove from chasing after perps. The trick would be to roll when she hit the ground, but that was much easier done when moving forward instead of dropping straight down.

"This is going to fucking hurt." She groaned, swinging her legs over the ledge. There was a fountain on one side, clear flooring on the other. Soaked her clothes may still be, she aimed for the other. Lowering herself to hang by her hands, she had a moment to reflect on how stupid this was before she let go.

Her boots absorbed some of the shock, the rest shot from her ankles to her hips in a spike of pain that dumped her on her ass, back leaning against the fountain. This was why parkour was dumb and she refused to chase anyone who did it. Better to get a name and meet them at their house with a warrant.

"You should really invest in a door." She moaned, rubbing her ankles. Hell moving the pillows on the other side of the room could at least soften the landing some. Her companion looked less than amused as he turned and walked away, disappearing through an open doorway.

Wincing at the tingles still shooting through her legs, she pulled herself up and followed him. Other than the fountain and pile of pillows the room was relatively bare. Through the door was the opposite. Filled bookshelves and a cluttered desk took up an entire wall, papers threatening to spill onto the floor at the slightest breeze.

Sweet blessed mercy there was a fireplace at the other end, down to near embers but the man was stoking it and adding another log. Getting dry would be the best feeling. Without thinking or pausing, she started on the buttons of her uniform, peeling the long sleeves off of her skin. Damn it felt good just doing that.

The man spun to face her, hand reaching for something that wasn't there when she yanked on the velcro straps, the sound louder than she'd thought it be. He immediately turned his face away, pointedly not looking as he moved passed her. "Do you have no decency woman? Cover yourself!"

Emma blinked as she pulled the vest over her head, glancing down and wondering if the black tank top she'd worn underneath had somehow come off too. No, it was still there, only slightly damp where the kevlar had covered it. She frowned, "The important bits are covered!"

At least she hadn't stripped her pants off, but really? He took issue with seeing some shoulder and cleavage? Right, he thought it was the Dark Ages or whatever.

Good thing she hadn't been dumped here in a bikini, the man might very well have lost his mind.

Her gear belt was next to come off before she sat before the fire, keeping it close just in case. So far he had proven trustworthy and he did save her ass from those brutes, but with her sense not working properly, there was no telling for sure.

A blanket hit her from behind, falling over her face and muffling his voice. She pulled it off, finding it not a blanket as she thought—though large enough to be one—but rather a black robe like what he wore. "What?"

"I said I have no clothing for you, for now wear that until yours have dried." He was behind her somewhere, but glancing back proved only that he'd disappeared into one of the other rooms again. With a shrug she pulled the robe on, kicking off her boots, wrestling the ankle holster off and wiggling out of her pants. The clothes she hung on the poker stand next to the fire, where already the moisture was steaming away.

"Where shall I begin?" The question was quiet, as if he was asking himself instead of her as he came to stand next to her, a bowl in his hand.

"A name would be a good start." At least then she could stop mentally referring to him as 'one-arm'.

"I was referring to the injuries you have managed to sustain." His dry look suggested he did not appreciate the sass. "But a fair point, I am Malik."

What kind of weird-ass name was Malik? Poor kid probably got picked on in school, no wonder he joined the reenactment; unless of course this name was part of the reenactment. Yeah, great, don't break character for an injured cop, oi.

He gave her gear a strange look as he squat to her level, setting the bowl on the ground. It was filled with water, a rag floating lazily by the rim. Grabbing the rag, he squeezed the excess water from it before bringing it to her face and pressing it against the bloodied cheek courtesy of one ring-wearing bastard.

"Shit! That's cold man!" She jolted away from it, the near freezing temperature of that water a shock against her flushed, puffy skin.

"Well Shit-that's-cold-man, I would say it is a pleasure but that would make a liar of myself." He delivered with a deadpan, lips pressed straight.

Oh, he was a sassy one.

Her lips quirked into a grin while his stayed impassive, he was good. "Emma, my name is Emma. And it would be a pleasure if you heated that water some, are you trying to freeze my face?"

"The swelling will not be reduced with warm water." He pressed it to her cheek again, dapping away the blood before rinsing it in the bowl and returning it to her eye. "Hold it there and let me see your arm."

Damn it was cold, but the woman had been in enough bar fights and back-alley brawls with perps to know the routine for a black eye. Catherine used to keep a tally board for her injuries on the job, it had gotten pretty impressive last year. She idly wondered how many points she'd get for being kidnapped.

Mentally shaking herself, she shoved the long loose sleeve up her left arm and held it out to him. The 'bandage' on her lower arm had come off at some point and the cut was bleeding again, but the one on her bicep was still there, soaked with more water than blood.

"How did you manage this? I did not see the guards use a blade." Even with only one hand he undid the other bandage quickly, that injury was bleeding more than she'd thought. Apparently a red cloth was not the best choice of color for gauging injury leakage.

He began washing them with another rag, his missing arm keeping him from stopping her flinching away. His steely look however, was enough to force her to try to stay still….ish. "That was courtesy of the gate guards yesterday. I committed the horrid crime of trying to bloody leave."

His brows raised slightly as he continued his work, "You seem to make a habit of finding trouble. How did you get to the city?"

"Would help if I knew what city we were actually in." She stated dryly.

"I have already told you," He remarked, standing and walking away for a moment before returning, needle and thread in hand. "This is Jerusalem."

"Yes I know what city you told me this is supposed to be, enough of the reenactment bullshit, where the hell am I?" Everyone's insistence on continuing this damn stupid charade was really starting to piss her off. If someone didn't break character soon they were getting their ass arrested along with everyone else that took it too far.

Malik tensed as he fumbled with the needle, his look serious. "This is no play, now tell me woman, how did you come by here?"

Jeezus fuck was he committed, "I don't know! I was investigating Abstergo when those bastards knocked me out and I woke up here in some alley."

He frowned at her, taking a long look between her, her clothes and her gear belt. He reached out to touch the belt and it was her turn to tense, fingers twitching, ready to go for her gun should he attempt a grab at it. The man did not go for it, rather returned to regarding her. "Where do you hail? I have not seen the like of these on any English, man or woman."

Emma was very nearly ready to bite his head off, until she took a look at his face and saw the honest confusion and curiosity there. Holy shit he really had never seen it before.

He couldn't be telling the truth about everything could he? As a cop she had learned how to spot the tells of a liar, but he had exhibited nothing of the sort. Every part of her training said he spoke the truth, or at least what he believed to be the truth.

Her gut was in knots at the implication. Jerusalem? It was a land surrounded by war and people not known for their love of Americans. Unless she could somehow reach an embassy there was little chance of making it out of there in one piece. There weren't enough swears in any language to describe her feelings towards those psychopaths at Abstergo. Didn't want to get their hands dirty killing a cop so instead they dump her in the middle of a damn warzone where the chances were high of someone else doing their work for them.

Even then….he should well know what a gun was, the fact no one seemed to recognize it nor carry one was throwing up all kinds of red flags. It was as if she really was in whatever year he'd said it to be. That was impossible though. Time travel didn't exist. Something else was going on here.

Blinking, she realized he was still waiting on an answer. "I'm from New York. I'm a police officer there, that's part of the tools I need for my job. Ahhh, kind of like your guards, except my goal is the actually keep the peace and protect people."

Some of his confusion cleared, but his frown still remained heavily in place. "They allow women such professions?"

This was going to get old really fast if everyone kept taking issue with her lack of dangly bits down below. "Yes they do, we're allowed any job we want so long as we have the skills to do it. This is all part of the uniform."

She gestured to her drying clothes and he briefly felt her thick Kevlar vest that was steaming from the heat of the fire. His attention returned to her injury, the needle hot against her skin before it was piercing it. He was quiet for a long moment as he worked on the stitching, speaking only to give instruction for her to help hold the thread here, pinch the skin there and to stop moving. Emma had to grit her teeth against the rather painful abuse. Finally, as he was cleaning the last of his work, he asked, "Where did you sleep last night?"

Wincing slightly, she looked into the merry flames of the fire and the rather impressive amount of steam rising from the rest of her soaked clothing. "In one of those garden things on the roof."

His brows rose at that and the questions began again, mostly about her work, home and yes amazingly enough she was a single woman and had miraculously survived living and working on her own. Shocker. Emma returned his barrage with her own, flipping the wording and changing topics to try to catch him off guard, but his story never changed. He insisted this was Jerusalem, and that it could be nothing but 1191. They were at an impasse of each believing the other to be off their rocker. The cop had no idea how he was so convinced what he was saying was the truth, but not once did he falter or show signs of a lie.

"Emma," It had taken four reprimands to get him to drop the 'My lady' crap, but despite getting her way, the women felt less like she'd gained a victory and more like the man had just decided to give it to her. "You may stay here for tonight and I will assist you in finding suitable lodging on the morrow. The guards should have forgotten about you by then."

Gee, glad to know she was so bloody forgettable. At least in this case it would be a good thing. Malik, for his part, looked decidedly uncomfortable about the offer, and she couldn't help but liken his expression to the kid that stole the cookie but got away with it. A guilty conscious was a hell of a thing. She couldn't decide if there was some reason she wasn't supposed to be there or if it was just the backwards belief that an unrelated man and woman couldn't sleep under the same roof if they weren't married.

Despite his apparent apprehension, she nodded her appreciation, feeling the warmth finally return to her bones. "Thank you."

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THREE WEEKS LATER…

July 24th 1191 (so Malik is still claiming)

'Tomorrow' my ass. To be fair he did *try*, but unless I was willing to become a hooker (no thanks) there was nowhere for me to stay and no one was willing to smuggle me out. I was stuck—fuck I'm still stuck! Three damn weeks of this stupid charade and no one has so much as busted a fart out of character! These crackpots really believe we're in the past (and a week ahead, unless those Abstergo bastards had me knocked out for that long, totally plausible).

The first few days were a cluster, this place gets fucking creepy silent at night, like I can hear Malik breathing in the other room. How do these people sleep without sirens and car horns?! And does seriously no one but Mr. Righty speak English?! Bah, means I'm stuck with him until shit gets figured out. He insists it's a far better fate than being stuck with *me*. Sassy bastard, I like him. He reminds me of a weird mix of Eliot and my brother Matt. Fuck I miss them both, they'd know how to get out of this and already be laughing about it while knocking back a beer. They don't even have beer here! Some bitter wine that would take a load to even get a buzz going and a nasty-ass ale…thing, worse than cheap vodka. By far the worst offense is the lack of coffee though. Malik claims he's never heard of such a thing. How the fuck do they expect me to act like a person in the morning?! I'm a cop, don't they know that stuff is my blood? At least it only took a few days before Malik just stopped talking to me in the morning. Good. His voice is obnoxious that early, and the dude is up at the damn ass-crack of dawn. How the hell does he do that without an alarm? More importantly *why*? I liked my evening and swing shift schedules, mornings and I do not agree.

Huh, I guess the Grump-meister was right about this whole 'writing stuff down' thing. Here I'd thought he'd finally lost what was left of his sanity when he hucked this journal at my head. For a cripple, he still has scary-good aim. Then of course he had to add 'so I can have some peace and you will stop defacing my maps'. Ass. Doodle on *one* map and he won't ever let it go! Jeezus I was bored! I'm not allowed to leave 'the bureau' (what is this a fed sting?), without covering every inch of my damn skin and hair. Even then blue eyes aren't exactly a common thing around here so I *still* get the looks. Oh, and of course, Malik as my escort. Pretty sure his skull is thicker than a donkey's, and he's as stubborn as one too. I don't need a fucking babysitter (one who won't stop trying to correct my language. Suck it propriety). That's you Malik, suck my non-existent balls.

Annnnnd he's looking over my shoulder, can I help you nosey? Ha, he can't read it! Score one for 'future' English. Finally I can feel a little less inept. He gave me something that was supposedly 'my language', yeah no. That wasn't even pig-latin.

Apparently he's going out and I'm not invited. Jerk. Cause *one* brawl in the market and suddenly I can't be taken out in public anymore. Yeesh. I know his arm's been better but he didn't have to seem so enthused to sideline me. At least I don't have to stay locked in the bloody room. Malik is an unflinching hardass on one particular detail. Every time he gets a 'visitor', I have to stay mum and out of sight like the red-headed step child. At first I'd hoped he was getting laid (might relieve some of that tension he's carrying) but nope, no luck. It was always men who came, one or two at a time and they never stayed long (thankfully, I can only stay quiet so long). I can't hear what they talk about through the closed door, but the secrecy is getting old fast. I don't know how much longer I can keep up playing nice, no matter how much I owe the man for saving my life. Anyway, crank-pants must not be expecting anyone since he just left with a 'Don't touch my maps.'

ONE TIME, LET IT GO.

Bah, I've got to get out of this damn place before I lose my mind, or what's left of it.

How the hell am I supposed to end this thing? That's all for now? Until next time? Peace out bitches?

If anyone can read this, help!

Emma leaned back against the pillows, tossing the feather pen to the side and nudging the ink pot safely away. Damn, that amount of writing rivaled the day she and Eliot made bets on who could hand out the most tickets in a single day. She had won of course, but he claimed it was only because he couldn't make himself give anything more than a warning to the ladies. He did end up with more phone numbers though.

With a groan and the popping of several joints, she stood, taking her writing things back to the safe place of Malik's shelves. She missed pens, the entertaining novelty of dipping the feather in the ink wore off fast, half her words were lighter than the rest on sheer stubborn refusal to dip when it started running thin.

A thump in the other room had her cocking her head as she idly shuffled through her host's papers the same as she did every time he left her alone. A thin strip fluttered to the floor. She didn't give the strange writing a second thought as she tossed it on top, tucking her new journal under her arm and stepping out to greet the man she was coming to enjoy screwing with.

"Malik! I told you to say 'Honey I'm home!' when you came….fuck." She jolted to a stop, freezing in place as she took in the white-dressed visitor. The man (because hot damn that was all man under those robes) was most certainly not the one-armed King of Snark. A hood covered the top portion of his face, but his chiseled jaw shadowed by a slight scruff and broken only by a scar over the right side of his lips was distractedly visible. Helllooo stud-muffin.

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"I am terribly sorry I cannot be of more help Officer, but as you can clearly see, Officer Harp left the building with the rest of the investigators." Eliot rubbed his neck as the Abstergo guard looped the video through again, showing a grainy image of what could be his partner leaving the scene of the accident.

Three weeks, three bloody weeks she'd been missing. Other than her somewhat tamer nature the days before, there'd been nothing out of the ordinary leading up to it. Obviously she had been distracted by something, but she hadn't felt the need to share with him just what it had been. Now it seemed to be the potential reason for her vanishing. Of course the woman had left no clues behind as to what it was she'd been focusing on, so he was left to retrace her known whereabouts. This building just happened to be the last place she'd been seen, and according to the footage, she'd left with the other officers.

In other words, he was back to square one.

Eliot stared carefully at the guard, looking for any signs of nervousness. The other man looked as though it was simply another day on the job, no concern whatsoever. Heaving a sigh, he nodded his thanks and left, deciding to try digging through Emma's apartment again. There had to be something he missed the first time.

A chill raised up his spine as he left the building, the cop turned to glance back but seeing no one blatantly watching him, he continued on his way. He wasn't done with Abstergo either, not by a long shot.

Something was definitely going on there, and he had a feeling his partner was caught in the middle of it. 'I'm coming Emma.'


Captain: Oh hi Eliot, haven't seen you in a while! We'll see the happenings of Abstergo next chapter, they have certainly not been sitting idle. Emma's journal will continue here and there, to give a better insight into her bright and sun-shiny thoughts aaaand it will play a role in the future. I know you all are probably saying "You said Altair would be here and you give us ONE paragraph?!" I know I know! There was going to be more of their interaction but the rest turned out so long and the way their meeting is going to go...well this was the best place to break it up. Until next time you awesome peeps!