Chapter Thirteen:
Scars
Madrid, Spain, 1944
"It's just a head, lassie. We've all got one."
The severed head was tossed away on the grass before Mary hit the ground, unconscious and bleeding. Katherine's heart beat hard against her ribcage. Her eyes followed the severed head until it ceased to move. Its dead eyes peered into her soul, slackened jaw protruding an unmoving tongue—.
The manor's flames produced enough heat that it was uncomfortable to linger around. Katherine tore her eyes from the head and forced her shaking legs to steady. She consoled herself by acknowledging that the head hadn't even belonged to a true person. But there was a person who needed her help immediately: Mary.
In the few years Katherine had begun to know her, Katherine could best describe Mary as reckless and prone to danger. How many times before had she helped Mary, wounded and bleeding, to stay alive? Each of those times it appeared as though Mary took the brunt of their battles. Indeed, Katherine felt a resentment brewing towards the Scot. Katherine was kept in mainly a support position with her rifle, always following the lead of the Highlander. And when Katherine was finally sent on a mission all her own, she botched it by getting caught.
Mary's confrontation with Richard Cole left her with a scar on her arm. The fight with an Assassin-hunter in London had Mary shot in the leg. And their second bout with Cole left Mary with a bleeding temple. Mary was constantly putting herself in danger to keep Katherine safe, and it infuriated her.
Katherine supposed that was why she turned Mary onto her back so roughly. But she'd not seen anything beyond the severed head when the Scot passed through the flames. Now she saw something more horrendous that nearly made her knees buckle.
Mary's bandages had been pulled and loosened. Some of it was charred, some was simply missing. But the bandages could no longer hide the scars beneath. Burns, like Mary had admitted once. They were ghoulish, pink despite how long it must have been since they were inflicted. Mary's burned eye had slanted skin and made it pop outward more. The skin around her mouth was so thin Katherine swore she could see the muscle and tendons beneath. It was all misshapen from her face, descending her neck...
Katherine remembered the bullet wound but hesitated to touch it. Regardless, the blood needed to stop. Mary's bandages were soiled with blood and soot so there was no way Katherine could use it to staunch the bleeding. She leapt to her feet, ignoring the head still staring in her direction, and made for the other vehicles around the manor. One had some medical supplies that she gladly snatched up. In only a few minutes Katherine had the wound bound and was dragging Mary to their car. After the struggle of forcing Mary's prone body into the cab, Katherine gratefully began the speedy drive back to Madrid, and to medical help.
_/-\_
Madrid, Spain, 1944
It hadn't been Katherine's first call, but she'd made a promise. And frankly, she owed it to Benjamin to explain. She would have waited maybe a few more years before revealing the Brotherhood to him, especially since there was no guarantee he would return from the war, considering the multitudes of casualties during the Great War. But Katherine knew she could trust him. How long had he discreetly delivered courier contracts and never once peered inside? Of course, a wax seal made it difficult, but it wasn't like another couldn't be forged after a peek.
As he'd said, despite it being late in the night, Benjamin was waiting outside the pub checking his pocketwatch. Katherine pulled up beside him a bit abruptly. The moment he saw Mary wounded beside Katherine he leapt into the backseat and made to check on her. He wasn't a medic, but he often watched doctors care for their patients back in Bradford.
Katherine drove them all to the nearest Assassin safehouse and had Benjamin help her into it. She'd led him inside and down the halls towards the medics where they could drop off Mary. She vowed to explain everything as soon as she knew Mary was in good hands.
And that was what she did, a few days later, while waiting for Mary to awaken from a morphine-induced slumber. Thankfully Benjamin's commanding officer, Sergeant Burns, was familiar with the Brotherhood and a sympathizer, though not an Assassin himself, so he understood completely when Katherine had a message made up on Benjamin's behalf that he would be unable to return to their rendezvous point before his leave was over.
So Katherine was able to tell Benjamin the whole of it; about the Assassins and Templars, the ancient, ongoing war, the Pieces of Eden, how Henry and Nathaniel died, and also why Katherine was in Europe rather than back home in Bradford.
It took Benjamin a while to process all the information. Katherine couldn't blame him. He wasn't like her. Katherine's mother had told her about the Assassins as a young girl and trained her to eventually follow in her footsteps. Benjamin was much like Mary, in their way. They were not born into the Brotherhood, knew its hardships. But Mary understood. Benjamin was simply grasping at the bare bones Katherine offered. It would take time for him to understand as Mary did.
Benjamin was seated beside Katherine in the medical ward of the Assassin safehouse, his chair almost completely facing her but angled still toward the bed. His helmet was balanced on his bayonet, and his rifle was tucked carefully into a corner. But he'd fortunately had his uniform washed and pressed so it was crisp and clean. The doctors had ordered it done, since they could be carrying diseases or otherwise. Meanwhile, nurses had folded Mary's clothes, patched and washed of blood, and placed them at the foot of her bed.
The young man pulled at the collar of his uniform and warily examined Katherine. Was there any doubt in his mind, she wondered? Was some part of him, small or large, questioning his sanity, or the sanity of Katherine? And yet there it was, all laid bare before him. She couldn't imagine being in his seat at the moment. Neither one could break the silence between them. Benjamin could barely wrap his mind around the true cause of the war and why his friends and comrades were being slaughtered, let alone magical objects of immeasurable power. That the enemy had one within their grasp...
"I didn't know how to tell you before," admitted Katherine, and she tentatively reached for his hand. He didn't flinch at her touch or pull away, yet Katherine couldn't help but attribute it to the years overseas surrounded by naught but men. Reassured, she boldly moved her other hand to his as well. "Truthfully I still don't know how I managed to bring the words into clarity. But now you know: I'm an Assassin. I kill those who try to control, protect those who value liberty. Mary and I have worked hard for the past few years to discover solutions to killing those who murdered my brothers and keep the Templars—."
"I know," the soldier interjected, halting the progress of the conversation. "I know... You said so before. I just..." When he leaned forward to place his head in his hands, bringing Katherine's with him, she gently placed her lips on the crown of his head. Perhaps there were truly no words to be said about the situation or his newfound knowledge of ongoing wars and shiny, powerful and ancient baubles. No one could truly muster a sentence to react. In his shoes, Katherine was sure she'd have thought anyone who told her just what she'd explained to Benjamin as completely mad and worthy of an asylum. Yet the comfort of a kiss helped. Benjamin eagerly met her lips when he lifted his eyes to look at her again.
"Lassie, ye've mistaken the hospital for a cathouse. Sounds like ye're slurping some magic soup."
Katherine was honestly unsure if she'd merely imagined Mary's snide sarcasm or if the Scot was awake. Yet there were two things that confirmed the latter: one, her voice was weak. While able to put a full sentence together, it was clear that the smoke she inhaled had harmed her. Perhaps not as badly as Katherine had originally thought, but still hoarse and gravelly. Two, Benjamin heard Mary as well, and pulled away from the kiss Katherine longed to deepen.
Mary looked like a mess. Her bandages had been changed and altered to accommodate the new wounds inflicted by the Assassin-hunters within the manor, concealing most of her face to wrap around the whole of her head. Her arm, burned and veiny flesh pulled taut over muscle and bone, was exposed. A nurse had administered some cream, though the name Katherine couldn't recall. It was meant to treat the redness, nearly as severe as one who was recently burned.
Just looking at her arm made Katherine feel sick. The burned half of Mary's face was almost lopsided. Badly mended flesh was drawn over the corner of her eye like sagging skin, and part of her nose was missing. Her lips were flat and blended with the rest of the sear. If Katherine had run her fingers over the disturbed skin, she could probably equate the feel to dry, fleshy parchment.
In her eagerness to see Mary awake, Katherine forgot about the monstrous and damn near crippling injuries Mary sustained. She wasn't certain if she could sleep without dreaming of them and wondering what Mary had gone through to deserve such heinous scarring.
"What're ye staring at, Katie?" asked Mary hoarsely, her visible eye trained on the young woman. "Ach, I'm not blootered, am I? I feel blootered..."
"You were under with morphine, ma'am," said Benjamin, who tried to hide the crimson that rose in his cheeks. He was unused to being interrupted during a kiss, and more than likely forgot Mary's presence altogether. "You've been asleep a few days."
"Felt like only a few hours. Though the sleep seemed induced by a truck with lassie here at the helm."
Benjamin cracked a smile, then nodded to the women. "I... I'm going to get a drink. Do either of you want something?"
"Water, please," Katherine replied.
"Vodka. The Russian brand," voiced Mary.
Benjamin looked to Katherine for confirmation. Her arms had crossed over her chest and she glared at Mary's prone but smirking form. "She'll have water."
"Ye fannybawz..."
"I'm glad I have no idea what you're saying, but don't you think for one second I won't strike you on the sickbed!"
Benjamin managed to sneak away from the bickering and into the hall. Left alone, Katherine's shoulders slumped and she watched Mary, who stared right back at her with her good eye. Katherine had spent so much time just waiting for Mary to awaken and devoted all of her thoughts to explaining to Benjamin what the reality of the world was that she hadn't at all thought of what she'd say should she and Mary be alone. Thankfully, a thought came relatively quickly.
"I could have helped you in that building," said Katherine as she rested her chin on her fist. "You wouldn't be so hurt if I had."
Mary shrugged a shoulder—her left, the good shoulder—and broke eye contact with Katherine to look at the ceiling. "T'was a narrow fit. Ye would've only gotten in the way. Besides, we couldnae have any o' those Assassin-hunters bugger off."
"The other Assassins are dead, Mary." Katherine set her sights on the floor. "They were in the cellar. A doctor said they were dead before the fire."
The Scot fell silent. More allies lost to those monsters. Katherine was glad to finally be rid of them. All that remained was Richard Cole and the Apple. Already Joseph Hall was in the midst of preparing a strike team to chase after Adolf Hitler, who was once more in possession of the artefact. But Katherine felt as though Cole wouldn't be far from that kind of power.
Mary was in the same frame of mind. It was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Cole's profile was just within reach, and she intended to make him pay for all the harm he'd wrought.
Katherine stood, dragged a chair to the other side of Mary's bed, and sat herself down by the nightstand. The cream that the nurse had used on Mary before was placed there. Mary seemed to know what Katherine intended.
"I dannae need it," growled Mary stubbornly, and probably would have crossed her arms if she had the ability.
"You need another treatment. The nurse was cross when she saw..." Katherine trailed off. She'd always, always wondered what kind of scars Mary needed to hide under those bandages. Knowing made her gut churn. "They're not in good shape, Mary."
"Aye, I assumed as much. I dinnae expect 'em tae be."
"You never took care of them."
Mary frowned. Had Katherine not been pointedly looking, she would have missed the twitch of pain from such a subtle gesture. Had Mary always been in pain when making faces? When she laughed or smiled, or even spoke?
"These scars need tae be painful," Mary responded hoarsely. "They need tae remind me."
"Of what?"
A grin from the Scot, and another twinge. How had Katherine ever missed it? "Aren't ye a wee snoop?"
Katherine grabbed the cream and began to twist off the top. "I'm done with this shit, Mary. You run into buildings infested with monsters, you jump onto moving planes... This can't go on! You're going to die, Mary! You're not invulnerable, and I won't be the one who stood aside so you could act as recklessly as you do!"
"Yer brothers were calculating, Katie. It made 'em hesitant. Best tae be reckless and get the job done than await my death patiently."
"Don't you dare use my brothers to justify your selfishness." With Mary distracted in her brooding, Katherine began loosening and removing the bandages on the Scot's arm. Mary didn't so much as move until the entire arm was revealed. When Katherine took a scoop of the nurse's cream, Katherine saw Mary's left hand shakily white-knuckle the bedding. Her eyes were closed. As the cream was applied, Mary hissed sharply.
Katherine stopped. "It hurts that badly?"
Mary needed a moment to gather her words. "The... nerves are... fuckin' sensitive as shite...! The cold hurts... like a bairn's smacked arse!"
"I'm sorry, Mary." Katherine steeled herself. "Take a minute to get ready. It's got to be applied."
Her grip on the sheets like steel, Mary breathed deeply, and then nodded for Katherine to attempt to continue.
"After we kill Cole, you tell me everything, even about the scars. Do you swear?" Katherine asked, her hand hovering over the dollop on Mary's arm.
Mary seemed to consider, but ultimately nodded again. "Aye... I promise, lassie."