"Be ready men, they could be anywhere!" Floki appeared in the archway, pistol held at the ready, and was quickly followed by a half a dozen of his revolutionary supporters who fanned out across the room. They were all dressed in plain clothes, presumably to get into the cathedral without attracting attention, but all still managed to carry an air of deadly intent as they sighted down their guns into the shadows, turning first this way, then that in an attempt to locate the four treasure hunters. Mathis Garnier entered the room at the back of the group as Floki finally lowered his weapon, having spotted nothing of concern. "There's no one here," the Scandinavian man growled.

"Surprise, surprise," the slight Frenchman drawled behind him. "Looks like, once again, you brought us here just a step behind." He slipped through the crowd and walked pointedly to the center of the room and down the few steps to the altar. "Drake probably made off with whatever was here that was useful, too."

Up in the cupola, Nate's arms were already burning from holding himself in his precarious hiding spot: he was spread-eagle, with his fingers hooked on the cornice on one side of the cupola while his toes hooked the other, peering straight down at the top of Garnier's head as he stood at the altar. Nate's jaw was clenched and his core was tight as a drum with the effort the position took, and a drop of sweat trickled down Nate's forehead and quivered on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall down and give him away.

"What are you trying to say?" Floki rumbled, his eyebrows knitting together over his one good eye as he stepped toward his employer.

The bead of perspiration finally lost its battle with gravity and began to fall through the air toward the altar at the same time Garnier turned to face his hired help, and it splatted on the stone slab just to the side of the map. If Nate could have sighed with relief without revealing his postion, he would have.

"I mean what I said, Floki." Garnier spoke with a force that, while certainly different from his abashed demeanor when facing the brute in Iceland, still didn't quite check the box of "confidence". It seemed more born of frustration that had finally gotten to be too much to hide than a sudden boldness to hold his own. "So far, you've mostly managed to be something like Drake's personal shadow, accomplishing little more than following in his wake and causing a stir that is likely to get us all imprisoned before we make any progress. That is not what I had in mind when I heard you were a 'military man with an knack in history and lost treasure'." He looked scornfully at the bigger man, "Perhaps you should change your description of yourself to 'stalker with a penchant for firearms and explosives'."

Nate had to stifle a chuckle at Garnier's jab. Glancing over to the perimeter of the room, he could just make out the side of Chloe's face peeking out from behind one of the columns where she and the other two had hidden.

"Oh yes?" Floki asked, temper flaring. "How about you try stopping him yourself? Or are you too afraid to get your cuffs dirty?" He looked disdainfully at the Frenchman's gray suit. "You're nothing more than a little boy whose jealous of his brother's success and your own lack of recognition for whatever service you think you've done mankind. A measly, groveling flea-"

"Let's not forget who hired whom," Garnier rebutted, his voice continuing to rise in volume. "I will not have the recognition and glory I deserve be denied me all because of some low life thug whose brain has been choked out by his own muscles, posing as some kind of treasure hunter. You had better start getting some results before you make me regret that I ever got you involved!"

Enraged, Floki lunged forward with his hands up to strangle the Frenchman, but just as quickly Garnier produced a small pistol from inside his suit jacket and held it up to stop him. "Don't, touch me." Mathis seethed. "If for no other reason then that without the funding I've provided, you and your swarthy band of half-baked insurrectionists aren't getting anywhere near Atlantis."

There was a tense stand off between the two men where they both stared angrily at each other: Floki with his scarred eye seeming to bulge out behind its closed lid and the veins on his arms popping and making his tattoos ripple as he clenched his fists into tight balls, while Garnier held the pistol steadily pointing at Floki's forehead with surprising calm, though Nate could see his gun hand trembling ever so slightly. Finally, with a growl, Floki uncurled his fists and turned halfway to the side, his chin dipping in what was, while certainly not an act of submission, at least a signal of temporary truce. Garnier holstered his weapon in its concealed place inside his jacket, then spoke with crystal clarity and pointed calm, "Gather everything together- the remaining papers, maps, books, everything. Then get ready to go to Alexandria." He picked the map up off the table and held it up so that Floki could see the markings that had been inked on around the city. "Hopefully with forewarning of where he's going you might actually get the jump on him this time. Don't mess it up." He looked at the brutish Icelander meaningfully, then walked past him and back out through the archway. Floki did not turn, did not flinch, just stood stock still until the footsteps faded into the distance and then turned to his men.

"You two," he ordered, pointing to the men in question, "stay here and keep an eye out for them. The rest of you go patrol upstairs and around the building. I'm going to get a case from the truck to stick all this shit in." With that he stormed up the stairs, followed closely by all but the two he had indicated to stay. These two looked at each other and shrugged, then walked toward the altar.

"I can't believe we still haven't caught that Drake fellow," one said to the other as they paused at the stone platform. "We're going to have to step it up."

"Ha! It's just a bit of practice for us, getting us ready for revolution!" the other replied. "He won't last long. After all, he's just one filthy American."

That's my cue! Nate thought to himself. Releasing his toes from their hold on the cornice, he swung down from his hold on the other side and lifted his legs to strike.

"Holy shi-" the first goon cried. He was interrupted by Nate's boots making impact on his face and he fell unconscious to the floor under Nate's weight. The second man tried to line up a shot, but in his surprise he didn't see Charlie's fist coming from the side, and the pile-driver punch connected solidly with his temple, rattling his brain and making him slump to the ground beside his partner.

Charlie rubbed his knuckles and flashed a grin at Nate. "Great timing on the delivery of that attack, mate! That was the stuff of cinema- solid gold!"

"You noticed?" Nate asked dryly. Chloe and Sully appeared from the shadows and joined them at the door, and he frowned. "Time to get out of here while we still can!"

They rushed up the stairs and through the crypt, keeping their eyes peeled for Floki or his minions while trying themselves not to look suspicious. A couple of people gave them curious glances as they passed, but the gang gave wide smiles in return and they quickly turned away. By the time they reached the ground floor, Cutter and Sully were in the lead and reached the exit a good five paces ahead of Chloe and Nate, who were still crossing the main room of the cathedral. As he walked, Nate glanced toward the choir and spotted two of Floki's men turning out of a doorway, both of them moving with great determination. Inhaling sharply in surprise, he shoved Chloe behind a column and stopped behind another one himself; they both flattened themselves against the stone as the goons trotted by between them, never noticing them as they moved on a path perpendicular to the four treasure hunters. When the men exited through another door, Nate finally let out a breath he had been holding since he saw them, and he gave Chloe a look.

"That was close!" he said.

She nodded. "Yeah. Those boys weren't looking like they wanted to play nice. In fact, they just weren't looking at all."

"Lucky us," Nate agreed.

They rushed out the door behind Sully and Cutter and out to the parking spot where they had left Charlie's car earlier, then piled into the back seat. Charlie and Sully were already in, and once Nate and Chloe were on board Cutter pulled out and began driving down the street slowly enough to not draw attention, heading in the direction of his flat. Nate watched as they passed near enough to reach out and touch one of Floki's men on the sidewalk who was following the car with his eyes, but he knew that with the heavy tinting on the windows he never could have known who was inside. It was still unnerving as heck, though, and he found himself looking repeatedly out the back window as they drove to make sure they weren't being followed.

When Charlie threw open the door to his apartment twenty minutes later, Nate went immediately to the couch and flopped down, burying his head in his hands, while Cutter went to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. "Drinks, anyone?" he asked.

As the clink of glasses came from the kitchen, Chloe stepped around the couch and took a seat on the coffee table. "Nate?" she asked, concern obvious in her voice. Nate scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked up at her, and when his eyes met hers they looked indescribably weary. "What's going on?"

Without warning, Nate's expression suddenly hardened into something that looked like it could cut steel, and he spat harshly, "Nothing's going on." He stood abruptly. "Everything's perfect."

Chloe sat motionless on the table as he strode into the spare bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling in thought.

Charlie stood frozen in place, a bottle in one hand and a full glass in the other. "Was it something I said?" he asked.

From his chair in the corner, Sully stroked his mustache and shook his head. "I doubt it." Looking to Chloe, he asked, "What exactly set him off?"

Chloe frowned and shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "Wish I did. We were talking there in the temple, I checked my phone, and all of a sudden he just freaked out." She sighed. "It's beyond me."

Sully slid his phone out of his pocket and looked it over, and then his face screwed up into a frown. "I think I know what's up," he said. "He broke the first two rules of marriage I gave him before he and Elena tied the knot."

"Which iiiiss?" Chloe prodded.

Sully looked serious. "Rule number one: Never forget your anniversary. Rule number two: If you're going to forget your anniversary, don't let it be your first. And especially not when you're already on thin ice and you promised her to be there for her." He stood and rapped his knuckles on the table. "Sit tight. Wish me luck."

Nate stood with his head bowed, shoulders hunched, palms flat on the bed, open and partially packed suitcase sitting in front of him in the middle of the disheveled sheets, and he thought. Just thought. Thought a million and one biting, negative, and damning thoughts that swirled through his brain, trapping himself more and more in his own toxic stew of condemnation while he resolutely suppressed the tears that stung his eyes as he mulled over his own feelings of guilt. He didn't even turn when the door opened behind him, but he didn't have to. He knew who it would be.

"Nate." Sully's voice was low, subdued, and compassionate, carrying with it undertones of fatherly love and guidance.

Nate lifted his head but did not look back. "Yes?"

A pause. "I know what's up."

Nate sighed. "I know."

Another pause. "I'm here for you, kid. If you wanna talk, I'm here for you."

Nate turned to face him, leaning back on the bed and staring through glassy eyes. "I failed her, Sully."

"I know."

Nate's head drooped. "I failed her, and all I was trying to do was do the right thing. It's so stupid I forgot!"

"Stop beating yourself up, kid. It's not doing you any favors," Sully said sternly. He nodded at the suitcase. "Are you going to see her?"

"Why should I?" Nate asked, his voice rising as he spoke. "I'm already a loser, it's not like that's going to change. That was a fact from before we even got married. And besides, you all need me to go with you to Alexandria."

"Look Nate, for the last time- we don't need you," Sully said, his volume increasing mostly to keep Nate from interrupting. "Not like she needs you, we don't." He folded his arms over his chest and continued. "We're not a bunch of greenhorns or something. I've been doing this for a long time, and so have the others. We'll manage without you-"

"You're gonna get yourself killed, is what you're going to do!" Nate exploded. He stared stubbornly at his mentor, his features bitter and angry. "I've already failed at one responsibility, I'm not going to fail at this too," he declared.

"Nate-"

"I promised her, Sully!" Nate nearly yelled. "If she ever had a reason to trust me, she definitely won't now!"

"Okay, your right," Sully said, holding up his hands. "You messed up big, I can't deny it. But you've been trying to carry the whole world on your shoulders when all she's been asking of you is to not let her down!" He looked at Nate to show that he wasn't going to back down, but kept his voice steady. "You've gotta get your priorities straight, kid. Look, maybe you got a couple strikes on you, but you can't just run away now and hope that it gets better. You gotta face it, and it's better late than never. Just go home Nate. Let her know that even though you messed up, you still care about her. You've got to. You'll never forgive yourself if you just keep going like an idiot."

Nate folded his arms and inhaled slowly, staring off into the corner of the room. After a very long pause, he asked in a voice barely over a mumble, "Are you going to keep me posted?"

Sully nodded. "I'll even text you our dinner plans if you want."

"And if anything goes wrong?"

Smiling, Sully nodded again. "Promise."

Nate sighed deeply and turned back to packing his suitcase. "I want pictures of whatever you find. And I'm coming back as soon as things are smoothed over and my I know for certain my wife doesn't want my fool head on a stake." His gaze fell on the bronze astrolabe and he stopped to consider, then tossed it in with his clothes. "And, I'm taking this with me to make sure you don't try to talk me out of it."