This story ran away from me. Far away. Also I fixed some things in chapter four about their dad, since I got a better picture of him after playing further into the game. (I'm into sequence seven now).

Evie was gone for another two days when she received word that Jacob had woken up. She didn't bother to hide her composure this time since it was Henry who delivered the news. She all but collapsed against the other assassin, the release of tension so powerful that she was too relieved to be properly embarrassed.

When Henry had come running up to her from the train's library car she feared a whole host of things—that Jacob was dead, that the Rooks had lost significant territory, that the Templars had started a new assault while she was busy chasing after a piece of Eden that was determined to stay out of her reach. Good news, no matter how unstable was a turn she wasn't prepared for.

"Miss Frye," Henry said, alarmed as he steadied her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes I am," she said quickly, pulling away and composing herself. She hadn't really fallen into his arms or anything, she'd just swayed and used his shoulder for support. She had hardly slept and she was aching from muscle strain. The zip lines were fast but she was still unused to them and her shoulders were knotted badly. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Green. Thank you for the news."

"Can I accompany you back to the train?" he asked, his hand hovering by her arm as though wanting to help her walk. She pretended not to notice it. "We have much to discuss, I'm afraid. And—if I may be so bold as to offer my services, I believe I can help you with your pain."

"Yes—thank you Henry," she said, walking with him and trying to prepare herself for whatever he was going to tell her. Something in her gut, something she'd learned long ago not to ignore, was bothering her and she knew Jacob waking up was not all positive.

Back in the privacy of Evie's car on their train, she dared to shed her coat and outer robes, leaving her in her trousers, vest and blouse. She sat wearily on the bed and Henry stood nervously by the door, his hands clasped together in front of him as though waiting for her signal.

"It's all right, Mr. Green. I trust you," she assured him, patting the spot on the bed next to her. "Your honor is safe, I promise," she teased, smiling wearily.

Henry's smile back was tinted with worry, but he sat beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders and working his fingers gently into the aching muscle there. Many assassins learned basic massage simply because knots, swelling, and strain were all common as kills in their work. His hands were unusually warm and Evie closed her eyes, the heat and the pressure bliss against her knotted shoulders.

"The gangs are beginning to figure out that Jacob is not simply gone. Just in my brief travels between study locations and the train I've been hearing murmurs, and even in a city large as this one you know how fast word can spread. They are not used to seeing you so often, and so seeing Jacob not at all…" he paused, working his way down her back.

Evie dropped her head and breathed intentionally. "What else is it, Henry?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at him. He continued to work on her back and he wouldn't look up. "I know there is something else."

"Jacob is awake and his fever broke so it is not the flu, but he has a very difficult time keeping food down. He's still losing strength, Evie." Henry finally looked up and met her eyes, and she felt something in her chest crumble a little at the news.

"He's dying," she said finally, the numbness taking her voice. There was a dead sound to her tone, as though she was saying it but didn't fully feel what it meant.

Henry grimaced and placed his hand on Evie's forearm. "Yes, Miss Frye. Unless he can keep down more liquid and food, he will not be strong enough to recover. As it is he has already lost weight, weight he cannot really afford to lose."

Evie bent her head and hid it in her hand, quiet tears leaking from her eyes as she tried to process. Any weight Jacob was losing was muscle, something that could be just as much a death sentence as his injuries were. They were assassins—their lifestyles didn't allow them to carry much fat on their bodies, and normally a lack of fat was not a problem. They were fortunate and had plenty of access to good food. In this case that meant all his body had to run itself on was the conditioning he needed.

Even if Jacob did come out of this sickness his combat strength would be greatly inhibited and there was no way he would, or even could, take the time to build himself back up. Weakness would crush his Rooks as surely as his death would. His career as an assassin was over either way and with it his life. For Jacob to give up his place as the Rook's head and an active member of the Assassin order would be for him to give up part of his soul. He was a vital, active spirit. Being confined to research work would crush him and sooner rather than later he would get into a fight that would end with a blade in his back.

"Miss Frye?" Henry's voice was timid and worried, and that concern broke the last of her resolve. She curled into his chest and wound her fingers into the white and gold of his tunic, burying her head in his shoulder. He started, but presently she felt him settle his arms around her.

They remained that way until the train reached south London.

Henry offered to come with her, but Evie didn't want anyone there when she saw her twin's condition. She conversed quietly with the doctor, but she was alone when she climbed the stairs and slipped into his room. She swallowed, a pang shooting through her chest as she saw Jacob's condition.

He was indeed awake and sitting up, but he was leaning against the headboard and his skin was too pale. His weight loss wasn't noticeable yet, but he simply did not look healthy. His eyes were closed and his hands were settled limply in his lap, but when she closed the door he opened his eyes and smiled wearily.

"Hey, sis. Thought you'd taken advantage, declared yourself an only child."

She huffed a weak laugh and moved to sit on the bed by his legs. "I was sorely tempted, but some of your Rooks are missing you. I don't think they'd believe me if I claimed you were just a figment."

He chuckled and it ended in a cough that stole any remaining color from his skin. His breathing was wet and weak, and the way his eyelids flickered told her he was holding onto consciousness almost as tightly as he was gripping his bandaged side.

His skin glistened with sweat, and Evie leaned over, pressing her hand to his cheek. He was warm but she didn't think his fever was coming back. "Jacob, we need to talk," she said when he slumped back, exhausted and panting unevenly. His shoulder didn't look much better, and she felt a stab of sickness in her gut. His eyelids flickered but he blinked a few times and his gaze settled on her.

"How are my Rooks?"

She sighed, settling her hand on top of his where it was resting on his thigh. "They're holding for now, but several have figured out what's going on. Jacob, they don't respect me, and I can't force them. Without you, the Rooks will fall apart, and we simply don't have enough assassins in London to keep the territory we have."

Jacob listened quietly, his lips pressed together for a long time. Eventually he nodded. "You don't think I'm going to recover," he said finally.

Evie gripped his hand and shook her head. "You will, I'm not saying that—but we need something for now. Something to keep what we have until we get a new plan."

Jacob was looking at their hands, and slowly he turned his over, closing his fingers around Evie's. "Evie," he said quietly, turning her hand to lace their fingers "I can't do much more than sleep right now," he admitted. "My Rooks will keep on for a while on their own, use them as long as you can, but you're right. I'm not going to recover quickly enough to keep my place as their leader."

Evie couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd been expecting him to fight her, that she'd have to threaten and pressure him just to get back into the bed. She figured she'd have to convince him of his true condition and knock him out to save his life. He was being far too calm. He needed to fight her, if he wasn't fighting her he was worse than they thought. "Jacob, no. We need your Rooks."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, giving her a look. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I said it. You've done a ridiculous amount of damage, but in the middle of it Templars are dead and children are going home instead of getting their fingers crushed in presses. I still think we need to look for pieces of Eden, but at this point your Rooks are a vital part of our defense."

"I'm not going to be able to lead them right now. There's nothing we can do about that—you're still looking for the piece of Eden which means you still believe it's out there. If you think it is, then I trust you. Take Henry, use my Rooks for backup, and finish what we started."

Evie pulled her hand away then, getting up and turning away from him. She folded her arms, trying to get the sudden flood of emotions under control. "We aren't close enough," she bit out. "We've been looking for months. I don't even know if it can do what the files think it can." She turned back to look at her brother. "Jacob, we can't do this alone."

Jacob swallowed, and she could sense something uncertain rallying inside him. "Evie…I spoke with Martian," he said slowly. "I know my condition. I can't keep food down. My fever is gone, but we don't know for how long. He's struggling to get the medicine—" he shook his head. "If I fight this off on my own I'll be weak. I won't have the strength to challenge the rest of the Blighters, let alone Starrick. We need a new leader for the Rooks."

"They don't want anyone but you!" Evie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "Don't you understand? The piece of Eden is out of my reach and the Rooks are dying without you!"

"Not if I die first!" Jacob shouted, and that stopped Evie point blank. He was trembling, his face was white and his hands were fisted in the sheets, but his eyes were clear. "Not if I'm…killed…first," he amended.

Ice shot through Evie's veins. "Jacob, what are you saying?"

He closed his eyes, his shattered breathing striking through him painfully as he gathered himself. "Thomas Wick. He's one of my head Rooks and he joined me not because he was part of the old gangs but because his sister was an assassin. She died trying to bring Starrick down, and when he realized who we were he became one of my most trusted men." He looked up at her. "He can lead the Rooks, but I have to die first. The Blighters have to kill me, because if I die a martyr I'll still be the Rook's head in spirit. They will fight in my name. Nothing will tear them apart and Thomas will continue to help you until London is free."

Evie swallowed, going back to Jacob's bed and sitting down. "Jacob, you're going to live through this. You just need to rest—"

He shook his head. "Evie, we don't have any other options, and if we wait for this to kill me it'll be obvious the Blighters weren't responsible. By the time this takes me I'll be skin and bones and washed out color." He gripped her hand and for a moment his earnest fever returned some life to his skin. Their eyes locked and even though tears were pooling in hers she couldn't look away. She could sense what was coming because it was logical. It was logical and barbaric and she wouldn't consider it for a second. "Evie, you have to do it yourself. If I'm not ready to get out there and fake it in the next few days, you have to take your blade and finish me proper."

She shook her head, pulling away from him even as he gripped harder on her wrist to keep her there. "No, no Jacob this is not a plan, I would never—I can't—"

"We're backed into a corner!" He took her other hand and pulled her to sit again, and she complied because he was using strength he shouldn't be wasting just to make her listen. "You have to be able to use me as a rallying point. We can't lose what we've accomplished."

"Dad wouldn't—"

"This isn't about Dad!" His hands gripped her wrists almost painfully and she felt the tears run hot down her cheeks. "This is about Andrew, and the children and the people and the fact that this is bigger than either of us. We are so close to giving this city back to her people, and we cannot let anything compromise that." He softened and lifted a trembling hand to her cheek. His voice was gentle, but she could sense the fear he was hiding. "I don't want to die. I don't want to die and I'm not ready to die." He shook his head and swallowed, one tear striking down his pale cheek to catch the gold of the lamp. "But I can't proclaim myself a leader and then not be ready to lay everything down for my cause."

She was trembling, shaking her head, pressing her lips together to hold back the collapse that was threatening. She pulled her wrist free to cup his cheek and he leaned into it. The sensation of his heat behind the rough patch of stubble at his jaw was one she would never forget for the rest of her days. "Jacob, I don't want to do this without you."

"But you can," he said, his voice choked up as he drew their foreheads together. "You can and you will. You've always been the strong one. The smart one. You and Henry will take this town by storm and establish it for the people who deserve to live here." He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, a rough thumb brushing away her tears. "I love you, Evie. I have all my faith in you. That's why I'm asking you to do this. I could do it myself, or have Henry, but I don't—" he swallowed, his breathing catching on a sob he tried to suppress. "I don't want to die alone."

"You won't," Evie spat, anger suddenly taking over her shock. She turned her hands to grip his forearms. "Do you hear me Jacob Frye? You won't die alone, and you won't die this soon. Death may be our ally, but your death is not."

"Evie," he tried, his brow knit together.

"No!" She gripped his forearms tighter and forced him to look into her anger. "I won't be the one to take your life. I don't have another solution right now but by heaven I'll find one, and you will get your strength back and come back me on it."

She pulled away, and the look of loss and despair that flickered in his eyes was not enough to bring her back. It made her heart ache, but him giving up hurt far more. She turned to go to the door but just as her hand was on the frame his quiet sound of pain stopped her. She didn't dare look back at him, but for a moment she listened to his breathing and felt the poison of comparison overwhelm her control. She'd heard that kind of breathing before. She'd been the one to cause that broken rhythm. They both had.

"Just…promise me you'll make it quick?"

Evie tore out of the room and didn't pause even when she knocked hard into Henry where he'd been waiting for her by the door. She ran. She ran and she didn't stop until she collapsed.