Chapter Fifteen:

Farewell

Edinburgh, Scotland, 1945

The weather reflected the mood in the cemetery. Rain poured on outstretched black umbrellas, few as there were. Some men in dirty overalls shovelled wet dirt onto an elm casket as quickly as they could, eager to get their job done and get out of the chill. The priest had long since departed. Those remaining just couldn't bring themselves to leave yet.

Katherine was among the mourners, as was Joseph Hall, some Assassins Katherine didn't know the names of, and a couple residents of Edinburgh who'd heard who was being buried and came to pay their respects. Most of those people were elderly. Katherine couldn't see a single younger couple outside herself and the other Assassins in attendance.

There was an elderly couple nearby that was bawling quite a bit more fiercely than Katherine had seen anyone else at the funeral. She kept her eyes off of them, feeling the prick of tears, and fought to keep them down. No, she told herself. Not again. Not again...

Hall had arrived in Beelitz and found Katherine cradling Mary, sobbing and wailing. He'd shut down. Assassins came in to remove the bodies and clean up the damage. It wasn't until Hall had to explain a cover story to the doctors (who were up in arms with the noise) that he spoke again. The last of a few German spies were ambushed and killed before they could do any harm to the recovering soldiers in the adjoining hospital. The doctors' blustering then became praises and gratitude, and they'd offered to look after Katherine's wounds.

They didn't for long. Katherine's desire to leave that place kept her uncooperative. Hall had Katherine moved from Beelitz to London for treatment. It wasn't until she'd requested to be moved to Edinburgh that she calmed down. Technically, she shouldn't have even been up and moving to attend the funeral, but she wouldn't let herself be confined to a bed. Hall intervened with the doctors and asked that she attend. They relented. After all, she could walk fine. The only damage she really had was in her upper body.

She wasn't sure what the worst part was: having to come to terms that Mary was dead, or learning the Assassin-hunter still lived.

Katherine had exploded with rage when she found out. The hunter had ripped through her body bag, healed and ready to go, startling the Assassins carrying her. But she'd been confused. Asked what was happening. Her mind was restored, for the most part. Because then she was told what she'd done and the memories rushed back. She hadn't spoken since then, only sobbed.

Katherine felt she didn't deserve to feel sorry. But she was terribly confused. She felt deceived. The Apple was supposed to kill that monster. That's what the glow was for, but the hunter lived still, an empty shell of her former self.

The American shook her head. She didn't want to think about that. It was Mary's day, not the hunter's. Hall was already dealing with that.

The last Assassins, save for Hall and Katherine, wandered away from the cemetery and into the awaiting cars. Hall stood dutifully beside Mary's headstone, umbrella lifted to keep it dry. His shoulder was soaked with rain, staining the crisp black suit he wore, and the bowler hat he'd tucked under his arm. Thankfully there was no wind, or Katherine would have lamented the black dress she wore. She'd fought herself, wondering if she shouldn't just wear trousers, but then she would draw too much attention to herself as a citizen. Rather, she just had her cut on her thigh bandaged, and the dress was luckily long enough to cover it up. She had to wear a coat to hide the other wounds that her sleeveless dress would have revealed. It reminded her of Mary, all the bandages.

Katherine turned on her heel and finally began walking away. Hall wasn't finished yet, but she didn't mind waiting in the vehicle for him. He knew her for so much longer, he probably needed more time, and some time alone. Some regular citizens departed the burial, and then the only ones standing around the grave was Hall, and that elderly couple crying with each other. Katherine had hardly made it to the vehicle before she had to stop and glance over her shoulder. And she wondered, where was Mary's husband? After all, her tombstone read as Mary Helling rather than her maiden name of MacKenzie.

She couldn't wrap her head around it. Where was he? Mary'd said he was at home for her.

She hadn't realized the elderly couple had caught up with her. The three locked eyes and extended their hands to shake. The couple was very conscious in keeping their kerchiefs out of their extended hands. They weren't dressed expensively. They seemed like fairly average, simple people.

"Thomas Helling," said the man.

"Margaret Helling," said the woman.

Katherine shook each of their hands. "Katherine Prince," she replied courteously, interest piqued. They were British.

"Thank-you for coming to Mary's..." the woman stopped and choked. Her husband held her tight.

"Thank-you for coming," Thomas finished. "Were you a friend of hers, Miss Prince?"

"Yes. And a work associate," Katherine responded monotonously. "You were her parents?" She thought it was impossible, but wanted to probe. Mary had already mentioned her parents were long dead.

The man shook his head gravely. Margaret bit her lip to keep it from quivering. "In a sense, my dear. Her in-laws. We were Thomas' parents. Her husband."

"Misfortune after misfortune..." mumbled Thomas. "Accidents claimed them all... I suppose it's because of this damned war."

"The war is over, Mister Helling."

"Alas it is, but at its beginning, our son died. Not because he'd enlisted or anything. Just died because of an accident."

Katherine felt a lump in her throat.

"Poor Mary... Such a good woman. She and Thomas were so in love. I couldn't ever imagine them apart." Margaret took a moment and dabbed at her eyes with her kerchief. "It was a freak accident when their cottage burned down. Mary never said why. She hardly ever spoke when she was in the hospital. All those burns..."

Katherine tried to keep her voice steady. "Her husband died in the fire?"

"They didn't find the bodies until morning. It was a hard road to the cottage." Thomas sighed, finger and thumb massaging his eyes.

"Mary never mentioned..." Katherine trailed off. She could only imagine how long Mary would have had to be inside to receive those burns, how desperate she was. "Wait, bodies? Thomas wasn't the only one?"

Margaret choked on a sob. Thomas might have been the only thing that kept her standing, with his arms wrapped around her.

"The children, too. William, Connor, and little Agnes. Thomas was discovered with the boys. Mary was found alive trying to shield Aggie from the flame, but the poor girl died of asphyxiation. The smoke was too much." Thomas held his wife tightly. "She spent months in recovery. We tried to visit as often as we could, sometimes with pictures or items we'd managed to scavenge in the wreckage, but Mary never responded. It was like she'd died with them, like we were just trying to preserve a body for a funeral. Then one day she disappeared. Left a short letter for us, a thank-you, and we didn't hear from her again."

"Until some weeks ago," Margaret added. "Mary sent us her Last Will and Testament. She requested to be buried next to them all."

Katherine didn't hear the last vestiges of conversation with the Hellings, who praised Mary as the daughter they never had. She focused solely on marching towards Mary's headstone. Her eyes had been fixated on it before, unmoving, in disbelief. So of course she'd never read the headstones beside the grave.

There they were. Thomas Helling Jr., William Helling, Connor Helling, and Agnes Helling. All dead in 1938. The year the strike team went missing—the year the Assassin-hunters were created.

Mary spun just enough to give Katherine her usual cheery, mischievous grin. "Mister Helling's waiting for me at home, lassie."

Katherine was numb. She felt like a fool. A terrible, inadequate, unconcerned fool. Mary had kept all that to herself. If a doctor hadn't told Katherine of Mary's husband after their first encounter with the hunters, Katherine wouldn't have known anything about Mary's private life.

Cole killed Mary's family, had the Assassin-hunter douse the house in flame, and trapped the Helling family within.

When Katherine returned to the car, that time with Hall in tow, the Hellings were still standing there. Margaret had a small piece of burned paper in her hand.

"Miss Prince," Margaret called. Katherine slowly walked up to the older woman. "Thomas and I want you to have this. Mary didn't have many friends to start out with, even less after her accident, but we thought it was incredibly kind of you to attend and help us say farewell to her. We hope this brings you some measure of peace."

Katherine gently took the paper out of Margaret's hand. She waited until the Hellings had departed in their own car before she dared look down at what they'd given her.

It was the burnt remnants of a photograph. Thomas Helling stood behind his family, sons Connor and William alongside him. The boys resembled him greatly, with dark hair and stony features, but they were too young to have their father's side whiskers. In front of them sat Mary on a simple wooden chair, holding her daughter Agnes on her knee. Those two were the only ones grinning, but Katherine expected nothing less. Mary looked beautiful, and her daughter was almost identical, though she had her father's nose. All the children had their mother's eyes.

Mary looked happy.

_/-\_

Outside Edinburgh, Scotland, 1945

Katherine had managed to convince Hall to drive them to Mary's farmhouse outside of the city. It was a long drive, made treacherous by the various deep treads thanks to the rain and potholes from poor road management, but somehow they arrived intact. It was hard to mistake the scorched earth, even in the rain.

The debris hadn't been fully cleared. Wooden scaffolding had collapsed in on what must have been a quaint, unassuming little cottage. No one there would ever suspect a former member of an organization of freedom-fighting killers to reside. A garden nearby was overgrown, a barn listed dangerously to the side.

Katherine took a deep breath and opened the door. Hall didn't follow. Katherine didn't ask why. She figured she knew. He wasn't ready. But neither was Katherine.

She stepped out into the mud, umbrella unfurled, and walked towards the wreckage. She gulped. Katherine felt as if she was trespassing on something important. Sacred, even. But she didn't want to stop. She wanted to see.

Katherine activated her Sight and looked.

She saw Mary in the remnants of the house, busying herself as though she was in the kitchen. Agnes clung to her and helped her mother wherever possible. William and Connor were outside with their father working with a horse leading the plow. Thomas sent the boys inside ahead of him, removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He peered towards the house, through what must have been a window. The boys had stampeded into the kitchen grabbing snacks Mary had laid out and began playing with their young sister. Mary grinned and returned Thomas' gaze through the window. He smiled and returned to work.

Then Katherine saw the children gathered in front of the radio, listening intently to the radio shows that ran in the evening. Mary and Thomas sat together on the recliner as they watched their children and listened with them, occasionally joining them in sudden gasps when a villain captured a maiden in distress, and cheering when the hero rescued her. Katherine couldn't see any weapons, save for the rifle Thomas kept on the mantle, obviously his, and obviously meant only for hunting. Mary's life as an Assassin was behind her, and she wasn't training her children for anything but a normal childhood, and a normal life.

Katherine choked as the scene changed. Her eyes stung with tears and the use of her ability, but she wouldn't look away, wouldn't stop it. Thomas and Mary, sleeping soundly in their bed. Anges rising from her small bed, rubbing her eyes and entering her parents' room. Mary awoke groggily, spoke a few words with Agnes, then let the girl crawl into bed with her mother and father. Hours later, the two parents awoke to a strange sound. Thomas glanced at Mary, already halfway out of the bed, stopped her and rushed for his gun. Mary stayed behind with Agnes, comforting her with soothing words, assuring her that it must have just been a strong gust of wind. Katherine saw the two boys rise from their bed and grab small toy guns. They'd joined their father in the parlour, and while Thomas tried to herd them back into their room, Katherine saw new people enter her vision.

It was Richard Cole and the Assassin-hunter. The hunter dumped the last of the gasoline around the cottage and lit a match. Cole nodded, grinning. The hunter dropped the match and the two fled to a safe distance while Mary cooed her young daughter and Thomas kept his sons safe. The explosion killed Thomas, William, and Connor instantaneously. Agnes and Mary were thrown from the bed and into the wall. The support beams fell on Mary's side. Katherine saw Mary scream. Agnes slowly walked from the wall to her mother, sobbing in fear. Mary tried to lift the beams to no avail. The girl crawled toward her mother and tried to help. Agnes couldn't even budge them. She laid beside her mother, coughing and sputtering. Mary saw fire heading to Anges, grabbed hold of her child and held her close. They couldn't run. The Assassin-hunter stood in the doorway, blocking their path. Agnes' wails became louder. The two passed out before Mary could say anything to Cole, curse him or whatnot.

When Mary awoke later, Agnes was dead.

The pain became too much, physical, mental, and emotional. Katherine's Sight faded until all she saw was the charred remains of Mary's former life, remains she'd carried with her until she finally passed on. As per her wishes, anyone who wished to attend was allowed. If Assassins came, they would wear nothing obvious tying them to the Brotherhood. There would be no talk of Assassins or Templars, Pieces of Eden, or anything they shielded the world from. She wanted a simple funeral for, as she put it, "a simple woman".

Katherine felt Hall's hand on her shoulder guiding her back towards the vehicle. There was nothing left for them.