Captain: Hope ya'll are still doing well! Things have been...well insane is the only way to put it and that's all I'll say about it. Some of you may have noticed repostings of old chapters to my Transformers fic No Rest for the Wicked. Yep! That's what I spent a good chunk of quarantine doing, rewriting/heavily editing those puppies and working on new material for that fic! Been a looooong time coming, but it's always bothered me that the story was left unfinished because I had so many plans for it and had so much fun working on it. Thankfully though my fickle muse is allowing me to jump between the two fics so yay! Haha. I don't intend to allow updates to slow down (more than they already are normally X'D ) for this fic and I've got a pretty solid timeline for the most part so I don't plan to leave you guys or this fic anytime soon! :)

So, if any of you are also Transformers fans and want to dip your toes into a darker tale, head on over ;) /shamelessselfadvertising /I'msorry /notreally

Now what you're actually here for, the adventures of Emma and Altair continue! I wrote a decent chunk of this on my phone during work breaks so apologies if I missed any mistakes or autocorrect fails.

There was a nearly tangible shift between the assassin and the cop. Emma wouldn't say they were friends or even understood each other better, but there was more of…..something. Begrudging respect maybe, a little more civility.

For her part, she could not say she hated him in any way. She couldn't even say she really disliked him anymore. Not that she'd forgotten the arrogance and haughtiness of when they'd first met, but she saw less and less of that man in the one riding in front of her. Whatever initial impressions he'd made were being overridden by his actions now. The shared Vision was an unexpected commonality between them, but even that was overshadowed by what he'd done.

Emma had known it was a lot to ask when she asked it, driven more by desperation than the belief that he would do it. But Altair had come through, he betrayed the leader of the Assassins, his master, to break her out and take her away from Masyaf. He'd spent the last months traveling the countryside to do jobs for that very master in order to redeem himself, to make up for breaking the rules before. Now he was doing it again, the ink barely dry on the reinstatement.

It was a debt she doubted she'd ever be able to repay.

Though Altair did not run the horse, he kept them at a brisk pace through long days. Emma didn't know if the assassins would come this far looking for her, but she could not help glancing over her shoulder throughout the day, ducking her head into Altair's back whenever another traveler passed them. Both mount and woman were exhausted at the push. Up before dawn and not stopping until well after dark, it seemed unlikely anyone would be able to catch up.

They stopped at a familiar place for him to exchange the horse for a fresh animal. Leaving her along the road, Emma resolved this time to wait where he had left her. Being alone again made her painfully aware of the number of travelers on this part of the road at midday. Though none were dressed as assassins or paid her any mind, she continually watched them with her Vision activated, pushing the new limits until a familiar pain began to build. Letting it go, she rubbed her eyes with a tired groan. No one would be looking for her this far, she had to stop being so paranoid.

A dust cloud on the horizon caught her attention. Horsemen coming fast from the direction they had come from. It was not the first time, probably wouldn't be the last. Small platoons of soldiers moved from town to town frequently. Given the size of Damascus, it was probably another group of those.

Still, better safe than sorry. Waiting until they were close enough to discern the men on the speeding horses' backs, she pushed her strained gaze once more.

White robes blazed red.

Assassins.

Cursing, she swung her bag onto her shoulders and ducked back into the trees. There was hardly any real cover there, not enough to hide from five Assassins if they chose to stop and look for her. Given the nearness of a large city, they just might. Swearing again, she hiked the robe up around her waist to free her legs and pulled herself up the sturdiest tree. The cover up in the branches was hardly better than what was on the ground, but she hoped they might be less likely to look up. At least the shadows of the leaves would hide her shape marginally better.

The horses snorted as they came to a halt next to the very spot Emma had just vacated, talking amongst themselves, apparently debating whether to continue on or turn towards the city. One rider split off and doubled back the way they had come, the other four continued talking amongst themselves. A figure walked towards them from the city: Altair with a fresh horse, mastering his expression to hide any surprise and convey only annoyance.

Though they were all equal height on their horses, Altair somehow managed to make all of them appear smaller than him. He was playing up his old reputation, Emma realized, snorting in derisment as they asked a question, responding with the old arrogance that once laced his tone. They were speaking Arabic, but even Emma could hear in his reply that he was assuming their ineptitude.

No matter his lost and then regained rank, his status among the brotherhood stood as strong as it ever had. The other assassins wilted under his stare and words, nodding and making short comments of either appeasement or agreement. Altair did not bother to reply again and under the cold look, the four turned their horses back north and rode off.

He watched them go for a long moment. Emma shifted to start the climb back down. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. Anyone might have missed it or attributed it to disbelief. Emma paused, unsure if it was meant for her to stay where she was. The assassin nudged the horse forward, resuming his trek south.

Emma watched him go with narrowed eyes, wondering what he knew that she was missing. Five minutes passed, ten, twenty. Her leg was beginning to cramp from being jammed between a branch and the trunk. How long was she supposed to just hang out in this damn tree?

A figure melted out of the shadows and onto the road. The fifth assassin. He hadn't headed back after all, he'd only gone to dump his horse and come back in secret. So they or Al Mualim didn't trust Altair to be truthful. Were battle lines being drawn?

The assassin watched the way Altair had gone for another minute before walking back through the brush, soon returning leading his horse. Mounting, he cast one last long gaze around before lurching off at a gallop to rejoin his party.

Emma let out a breath of relief but held her position on the stiff bark, just in case. Another quarter hour and Altair returned, glancing up at her tree.

"You can come down now."

That was great, if she wasn't quite positive both of her legs were now completely numb.

"Was that about me?" she asked as she slowly worked her way down, grimacing as needles danced across her legs with the blood flow returned.

He tipped his head. "They suspected I might have been involved, though they lacked the courage to say it outright. I told them if only my horse was missing from the stables then it was unlikely you had made it this far."

She doubted that was all he said given the way they'd unconsciously shrunk. Probably something about their abilities, a sharp blow from a man they looked up to.

Her boots touched ground, her legs shaky and unsteady. "How did you know about the fifth?"

She was certain the other had ridden off before Altair had been able to see them.

His lip quirked as he offered his hand to help her onto the horse. After a moment to guarantee her legs were awake and functional enough to get herself up there, she took it. "They forget I taught them the trick."

With the search party effectively sent back to recover their tracks, the rest of the journey to Jerusalem was uneventful. That did not make it less taxing nor did Altair relent his pace. Though most likely an exaggeration, Emma swore only half the time of the previous trip had passed before she recognized a familiar rise in the road. They crested the hill overlooking the city late into the morning, sunlight glinting like gold off of the rooftops and towers.

Emma still missed skyscrapers, but it had its own beauty.

Leaving her at an empty market out of view of the main crowd, the assassin took the horse to barter a place for it in the stables. Emma watched him go before turning her gaze towards the gate. It was crowded, much more so than it had been when they'd left so long ago, but it seemed the number of guards was increased as well. They were certainly not as tired as last time.

"I cannot walk through the gates with you. They have heightened their guard since I was last here," Altair stated as he returned from the stablemaster, eyeing the open gate while staying out of direct view of the guards.

"Should I expect trouble?" No way was she going to be able to take whatever route he was going to find for himself, which meant she'd have to pass through alone.

Not nerve wracking at all or anything.

"No. Many are arriving for an event, I suspect they are only watching for those in white."

Good for her, not so much for him. A group of scholars dressed in plain white robes approached the gate. Perhaps if they could pass through unchallenged, he could slip among them?

A guard accosted them, forcing them to drop folded hands and hoods.

Alright, that way was out.

"Not to doubt your abilities, but can you get in?" She raised her brows at him, failing to see a clear route. As far as she had seen of the city walls, the gates were the only way.

His lips pulled into a shadow of a smirk. "I will meet you on the inside."

Disappearing from her side, Emma huffed and rolled her eyes in faux annoyance. Confidence without arrogance was attractive if he could pull it off. She really didn't need her one ally getting arrested.

Well, there was nothing else for it, she'd loitered long enough. Shifting the straps of her bag, Emma started towards the gate, chin held low in the posture of an unimportant woman, but high enough to not appear to be hiding something.

The guards eyed her as she approached, their attention lingering on her hair before sliding onto those coming in behind her. She released a breath as she walked under the stone archway, tipping her head back in silent thanks.

She barely kept herself from visibly jolting as Altair jumped over her head. Landing easily on the gate supports, he trotted over the guards who never once bothered to look up. Reaching the end of the structure, he threw himself out into the air, catching a pole and using it to swing himself out to a nearby rooftop. An archer was turned the opposite direction, oblivious to the man stealing down the ladder behind him.

Altair's boots touched dirt by the time Emma had cleared the last line of gate guards.

Whistling low to herself, she had to admit that that was pretty badass.

"You realize your entire plan relies completely on not a single one of them looking up, right?" she asked with an amused smile as she reached him.

"In all my years, they never have," he replied easily, tipping his head in the direction they needed to go.

"Never look consistent incompetence in the mouth, I guess," she shrugged, walking alongside him. The streets were far more crowded than the last time, nearly pressing her against his side to avoid collisions. It was like Times Square an hour before Broadway's curtain. This much activity for a single event? Must be some party. Tipping her head, she noticed new soldiers than the last time she'd been here. Not just different men, but their uniforms were entirely different as well. They looked more…well…English. No wonder they didn't look twice at her at the gate. English and Saracen together, was the Crusade over?

The crowds did not let up the further into the city they went. Vendors had spread far beyond the usual market, placing stalls wherever they could find the room, calling out to everyone who passed. Guards attempted to push some from areas that blocked the main path, harrying one until he left only to turn around and find another already setting up shop. Despite the joviality of the sellers, there was a thick tension in the air. The crowd was wary, the guards were stiff and alert, eyeing the citizens as much as they were their English counterparts. The English were no less on guard, hands twitching towards sword pommels, clenching into fists as they were forced back to their side. Whatever had caused this truce was fragile at best. It wouldn't take much to turn this chaos into bloodied streets.

Altair weaved through it with a grimace. A crowd would be good for his kind of work, she figured, but it would hamper any escapes. She blinked back at the guards, narrowing her eyes. They had yet to see of the hunters from her time again. Would they be here still? Were they waiting wherever he was meant to go next? Or had her presence ruined what history they knew?

That was a problem they would have to face when or if they raised their heads again. One enemy at a time.

Raised voices pulled her attention towards a break in the buildings and vendors. Instinct pivoted her body towards the commotion.

A woman was crying for help, surrounded by soldiers who figured their few lookouts standing with arms crossed would be enough to ward off anyone thinking of helping. Emma's blood surged hot, the memory of the last time she'd come across such a scene playing fresh in her mind. She'd helped the woman escape that time, but at the cost of a beating herself and probably much worse had Malik not come to her rescue like a one-armed knight in shining robes.

Altair was eyeing the scene as well, but he kept walking, a hand on her lower back to keep her moving with him.

"We have to do something." Emma strained, turning to look back, wishing there was something she could actually do that might not end with her in the same predicament with the woman. Altair's arm came further across her back, more insistent on guiding her away.

"We will. But you must wait here while I handle the guards. Once I have dealt with them, you check on the girl." She blinked up in shock at him, surprised at his agreement and willingness to act. She knew he wanted to protect those around Masyaf, but here as well? There was no way he knew this woman personally, but still he wanted to help, was going to help.

Pressing her into a shaded corner that would be easily overlooked, he took his hand from her back and turned back towards the scene of the harassment.

Emma felt something shift in her chest as she watched him go, intending to let him deal with the guards in his own way. She was useless with the weapons of this age, after all. What she could do was help the woman once she was rescued. Something he already knew.

As hard as he tried to hide behind a mask of indifference and aloofness, she was seeing him for who he really was. Intent to protect the innocent, keep the peace by removing those who would prey on the defenseless. He didn't just care about those supposedly under the protection of Masyaf, he cared about everyone he came across that was not equipped to deal with the evil of the world like he was. Not so different from her.

He faced the darkest aspects of humanity in order to keep the innocent in the light.

No, the difference between them was not so great after all.

His methods simply had to be more brutal and lethal to fit the age he lived. A part of her wondered what might he have been like had he been born in her time.

There was no denying, as he approached the guards and was immediately accosted, that the guy had balls. Outnumbered five to one failed to deter him. As steel was drawn, Emma quickly realized that he was as good as the women in Masyaf claimed he was. Being outnumbered meant little to nothing. He danced with his blade as if it were an extension of his arm, twisting around the guards to send them crashing into each other. His hidden blade found the flesh of one while his sword slid home in another. The bodies fell as he turned to the three remaining who charged him at once.

They never stood a chance.

The violence was shocking in the ease with which he dealt it. The crime was terrible, but it twisted her gut for the punishment to be so fatal. Yet the assassin was given little choice. They were as intent to kill him as he was to stay alive. Either he and the woman would die, or the guards would. There was no middle ground.

Emma forced herself to not look too closely at the fight, to keep her eyes on the victim. The woman was almost immediately forgotten by the guards once Altair drew steel and she darted away from the commotion. The cop stepped out to reach her, drawing her over to the shaded corner.

She spoke not a word of english, her words rapid and jumbled in her fear. Emma cursed the language barrier and her failed attempts to pick up anything useful of it. She spoke softly to the woman, knowing she probably couldn't understand but hoping the tone might work to calm her. As far as the cop could see, the woman was unhurt physically. Scared, shaken, but otherwise okay.

Altair crouched by the last fallen man, wiping his blades on the soiled tunic. Emma felt bile rise in her throat at the blood and forced herself to choke it back down. This was the reality of this world, she was going to have to accept it until she found a way home.

If she found a way home.

Stowing his weapons, the assassin approached the women. The young lady he'd saved immediately turned her attention to him, repeating words that were likely of thanks before she dashed off.

"Well she'll likely be terrified of the guards, but otherwise I think she'll be okay." People were running from the scene, more guards were showing up with swords drawn. Altair ducked his head and wrapped his arm around her back to start her moving again. Quickly the bloody scene fell behind them.

"She will be safer for her fear," Altair replied grimly.

Emma frowned, glancing around at all of the guards not actively harassing citizens. "Is that a common thing? I tried to stop something similar when I first got here."

The man at her side sighed heavily. "Common enough in all cities."

He tipped his head as if regarding her. "You tried to stop them, on your own?"

She lifted the shoulder trapped against his side in a half shrug. "I couldn't do nothing."

The shadow of his hood was not dark enough to hide his brows hiking up. "Dare I ask the result of such action?"

Emma winced lightly, rubbing the eye that had swollen nearly shut after the incident. "They beat the hell out of me. Might have killed me had Malik not shown up to distract them."

"And yet you were willing to step in again."

It was hardly a question, but she looked up at him and answered anyway. "Of course. The woman got away to safety, that was what mattered. Not the first time I've been on the losing end of a fight, probably won't be the last."

Of course last time she'd been losing a fist fight, Eliot had been right there at her side to pummel the guy and together they'd been able to wrangle him into custody. She'd never been so grossly outnumbered and alone, but she still couldn't find it within herself to regret acting. A split lip and black eye were a small price to pay to save someone who needed help.

It could have been worse, but she wasn't about to let that thought prevent her from doing it again.

Altair lightly shook his head, turning his attention back to the ever-thickening crowd around them. He probably thought she was crazy and maybe she was a little, but it was just how she was built.

Her father had always sworn she and Matt had gotten it from their mother, but there were enough stories floating around from his time on the force that she couldn't help but believe he'd been the main contributor of that particular trait.

Her lips quirked up at the thought. She wouldn't have it any other way.

This crowd though, she'd rather have that another way.

Emma was not particularly fond of thick crowds, but she had practice working her way through the throng, even if that particular skill had not been used in some time.

Months, it had to have been months that she'd been in this century and she was stepping right back to the place she'd started. A familiar plaza appeared before them, a new man atop the fountain shouting his conspiracy theory to anyone who would pause long enough to listen.

Finding the alcove, she pulled herself up the ladder, wondering if she was moving forward or stepping firmly back into square one.

Reaching the open skylight, she wrinkled her nose. She'd almost forgotten how much she hated this part.

Slowly, stiffly, she worked her way down, scowling as Altair dropped easily next to her. Show off.

She let him walk into the other room first, glancing around Bureau she had come to know quite well. It didn't look like anything had changed.

"Safety and peace, Altair," Malik's voice floated in as the assassin made himself known. Well, maybe something had changed between the two men.

"Upon you as well, brother," Altair responded easily.

"I received news that our friend has disappeared from Masyaf. Do you know anything of it?" His tone lacked accusation. Emma might have dared say he sounded more concerned than anything else.

"He knows a lot about it, actually," she answered for him, crossing through the threshold into the Dai's view. His head snapped around harshly, true surprise overtaking his face. Emma offered a small wave. "Hey Malik."

His eyes narrowed sharply, shooting back to the assassin in front of him. "Just when I think you have learned the error of your ways, you prove me wrong! What is the meaning of this, Altair?"

The man tipped his head slightly, amber eyes resting on Emma. "It was necessary."

"Necessary?" Malik was not satisfied in the slightest. "What was so necessary to disobey orders yet again? She should not be here!"

"I asked him to, Malik," Emma cut in, closing the distance to the two men. "Begged him to help me escape. There was no way home for me and I wasn't…I wasn't safe there."

The disbelief was rapid to reach his eyes as he looked between them. "You are seeing enemies where there are none."

"Your master was going to kill me," she forced the words, softer than she'd intended. A cold shiver tracked down her spine. The fear could not be forgotten or totally left behind. Even here they were not safe. Assassins came and went from the Bureau almost regularly and if they couldn't get Malik to believe them…

The both might be out of places to go.

"Al Mualim would do no such thing!" Malik defended sharply, eyes flashing to Altair in confirmation. "He would not."

Altair looked away for a brief moment, just long enough for the Dai's words to begin to fade out. "I do not believe our Master is the man we have believed him to be."

Malik looked hard between the two of them, meeting their eyes. His stiff shoulders began to slump. "That is a heavy accusation to throw, Altair. Where is your proof?"

"I have none, yet. But these tasks have raised questions that need answering, questions that trouble me."

The Dai sighed and Emma was sure that they had at least bought themselves time before he would alert Al Mualim to her presence in his Bureau. Time was all they could ask for right now. "Fate, it seems, may still be meddling with you, Altair."

"So it's true then, Robert de Sable is in Jerusalem." A note of grim determination entered his voice as the name rang bells in Emma's head. She'd heard it before, she knew she had, but when?

"I have seen his Knights myself."

"Misery and misfortune follows that man, I will not give him the chance to act."

Malik raised his hand to stop the man from leaving. "Do not let vengeance cloud your thoughts. We both know no good can come of that."

Altair tipped his head in concession, hesitating a moment before answering. "I have not forgotten. I go not for revenge but knowledge and justice, for all the death and suffering Robert's plans have caused."

The Dai stalled, his glance rolling over the assassin heavily before sliding to Emma for a brief moment. "Truly you are not the man I knew."

Emma had to agree as she watched the hostility fading between the two men. She didn't think she'd ever seen anyone completely 180 themselves in so short a period. Just what happened on his missions? Something to cause him to question everything he thought he knew. Something to give him enough doubt to betray his master to help her. Something, she realized, that had reminded him his duty was to help who he could, rather than just blindly listen to his pride.

"My work has taught me many things, revealed secrets, but still there are pieces I am missing. All these men I have been sent after were working together, united by Robert and his plans."

Emma scrunched her brow, certain of only two of his targets that had been right here in Jerusalem. The slave trader and the tyrant who enjoyed causing pain and fear. They were linked? And not just to each other but to others outside of the city?

It sounded like a 12th century conspiracy theory and yet somehow it probably made it more likely to be true.

"Saracens and Crusaders working together?" Malik sounded just as surprised, bordering on disbelief.

Altair shook his head, "They are neither. They are...something else, Templars."

Like...the Knights Templars? Emma rubbed her brow, struggling to rifle through her weak memories of learning about the Crusades in high school history. Who would have thought something like that would have ever been this important to remember? Try as she might, she could remember nothing of import about the group of knights, only she was certain they worked for King Richard.

"The Templars are a part of the Crusader army," Malik confirmed she wasn't too far off in her recall.

"Or so they'd like King Richard to believe." Ha, she got the English monarch right too. But she was definitely certain that there was no conspiracy about any of his knights working jointly against him. That she knew she'd have remembered. "No, their only allegiance is to Robert and some mad idea that they will stop the war."

Now how in the seven hells did that figure? They were going to stop the war with the likes of a tyrannical killer and a slave trader? How? By fear and enslaving the rest?

"You spin a strange tale," Malik looked over to her with raised brows, "I imagine it will only get stranger."

Considering his master had nearly killed her without ever physically touching her while using a golden orb thing that caused a voice to snarl at her in her own head? Yeah, Saracens and Crusaders working together would seem like just another Tuesday compared to that story.

Altair tipped his head and Emma knew he'd no doubt be wanting that full story from her as well. The simplified version had been enough to convince him to help her escape and they hadn't spoken of it on the road. She did not look forward to reliving it, but it had to be done.

"Later, time is against us. Tell me where the Knights have been seen, I should be after him before he has the chance to slip away." Well at least she wouldn't have to dive into her experience right away.

Malik nodded once in concession. "Three places I can say for certain: west of here near both a guard tower and a hospital, and southwest, at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. See what you can learn, I will do the same."

"I will be as quick as I can." Altair turned towards the other room and the skylight escape.

"Stay safe, my friend." The assassin visibly hesitated in surprise. Malik's expression stated he hadn't expected his own words either, but that he wasn't about to take them back.

Emma couldn't say that she had entirely followed that conversation nor understood the reason behind Robert's importance, but Altair had continued straight here despite his unplanned company. She doubted it was solely due to her familiarity with the Bureau leader. If this man was truly behind all of Altair's recent targets and if they were all as bad as the two she knew of, then she knew he had to be stopped. Whatever his plans for this region couldn't be allowed to come to fruition.

"Anything I can do?" she offered before the assassin could resume his exit. At least in the Rich District, English had been common enough among the locals and she'd established a rapport with several of the women who often found themselves there. With an influx of crusader knights, there may even be something she might glean from them. Certainly they would never suspect her of being anything but a harmless woman.

Altair shook his head before pausing to reconsider. "If you are willing, see what you can hear in the markets. Be cautious and stay hidden, we are unlikely to be the only assassins in the city."

Emma nodded, shedding the pack off her shoulders. An easy enough task, provided the modern day mercenaries weren't also lurking around.

Malik eyed the both of them for a long moment before sighing, gesturing towards the stairs. "Your old room is available to you. I expect a full explanation this evening, from both of you."

The woman grinned as Altair disappeared, tucking her bag in a corner out of sight. Slipping around the table perpetually strewn with documents and maps, she wrapped Malik in a hug before he could think to evade her reach. "Missed you too."

As much as he tried to make his resulting huff sound annoyed, she could hear the amusement in it as his single arm stifly returned the gesture. "It has been rather peaceful since you left."

"Sounds boring," she chuckled as she pulled back. He looked better, like his missing arm was not bothering him so much.

He jerked his chin towards the door, humor dancing in his eyes. "Do you not have work to do yourself?"

"Alright, alright, consider me on the clock." Snapping a mock salute, she spun on her heel and returned to the gurgling fountain. The only thing worse than dropping into the Bureau was getting out of it. Huffing to herself, Emma found the familiar footholds and hauled herself up.

It definitely went easier than the first time she'd tried it.

Despite a possible variance in available information in the markets of the poorer districts, Emma had never mapped that much of the city out. More soldiers theoretically meant the streets might be safer or it could be just the opposite.

Even so, Emma resolved to stay out as long as she could to hear as much as she could, even if it meant braving unknown territory.

Unfortunately hitting the outskirts of the district offered nothing. Only a lone Crusader offered anything in English and it was a lewd comment that had her clenching her fists and walking away before she decked the man. He had a sword, she had a knife, that would be a fight she'd lose.

Circling back towards the wealthier district, she resigned herself to being only able to monitor the one area where her own language was prevalent.

Even that lacked any real fruit.

Little and less of what she was hearing was useful. The event was a funeral for Majd Addin and apparently the appearance of the English Knights was some sort of act of faith towards peace. The people wondered hopefully if the war was ending, if the roads south might finally be open again.

Nothing Altair hadn't had to have heard already.

Late afternoon was giving way to evening when she finally caught sight of the two Crusaders just outside the bazaar. They were standing against a wall, just barely apart from the crowd. One had his hand on his sword pommel, the other had his arms crossed, leaning leisurely against the stone at his back.

Bingo, now all she had to do was get close enough to overhear them without drawing their attention to her. Easier said than done, given the wide berth the market-goers were giving them.

Worth a shot anyway. She worked her way over to them in a lazy trail through the masses, careful to avoid making a straight shot to them. Several women she recognized greeted her as she passed, noting her blonde hair with an easy familiarity that instantly relaxed the others around her. She was not with the Crusaders, she'd always been here.

Emma could have kissed those wonderful ladies even as she sent a regretful wave back at them as she continued on her way.

The soldiers were close now. She kept her gaze from settling on them, working her way out of the throng and to the shaded stone several paces away. It was closer than she wanted to be, but any further and she'd never be able to make out what they might be saying.

"This assignment is punishment, I tell you. Why else would he send us here?" the relaxed knight grumbled to his partner, eyes on the ground as he toed the dirt with his boot. Emma leaned against the wall, pretending to scan the crowd for someone she couldn't find.

"Because it is necessary. Now quiet, the assassin could be anywhere," the second snapped back, his gaze sharper than his comrade's.

Emma's attention perked up. Could these be the mercenaries of the future? No, the second man looked right at her before silently dismissing her as a threat. She was certain the mercenaries knew her face. These were knights of this era and they knew Altair was around and yet disdained being a part of this 'necessary' assignment.

There was somewhere more important they thought they should be. Could be just about the funeral, wishing they were on the front lines. Could mean nothing.

But the comment on the assassin made her think otherwise.

She needed to know exactly who Robert was to them. Was he a no one that the soldiers disliked playing guard for? Or was something more sinister at play? Could these be Robert's men just as Addin and Talal had been?

Her gut refused to believe in coincidence after all this and bet on the latter.

"He may not show," the first shifted, taking his weight off his legs to lean further against the wall.

The second knocked against him to get him back upright and at attention. "He will. Now quiet."

His gaze was lingering on Emma in suspicion. Miffed at getting nothing truly concrete, she waved at no one and left the wall to work her way through the crowd, as if she had found her target.

The English soldiers had no true cover around them that might allow her to eavesdrop further unnoticed, but she doubted the more attentive man would allow the other to reveal anything more as they kept vigil over the market.

One thing was certain, she couldn't believe they were talking about just any Assassin, not after the reported work Altair had been doing across the countryside. They were waiting for him and they expected him to show.

Which meant they were ready for him.

The market and surrounding streets offered little else in the way of information. No other English soldiers were present and the public knew nothing outside the funeral. It was not the most successful intel gathering, but her neck was beginning to itch. Someone was watching her.

Her time in the market was up.

Keeping her pace a general meander through the streets, Emma weaved and ducked through the crowd in seemingly random directions. As she passed between several rather large men in black robes, she dropped down and pulled her hood up, twisted and began to walk back the way she had come with head bowed.

She couldn't risk looking up for whoever might have been attempting to follow her, she could only trust that her doubling-back maneuver had worked.

Making it away from the market without incident, she let out a breath, relaxing as she turned to make her way towards the Bureau. Who was watching her? The soldiers because of her hair? The mercenaries from her own time? Maybe it was neither, maybe it was just another citizen that had taken too much of an interest in her for her exotic looks.

The thought of it being the men from her time worried her. Altair had said nothing of them on their journey so she did not believe he had run into them again. They had seemed so intent to kill him that she couldn't believe they had just given up. Perhaps they had been accosted by natives and arrested? Perhaps they were long gone, moved on to some other location he might be in the future to set an infallible trap.

Perhaps they were here, biding their time for the opportune moment, for a moment of weakness.

Now she wished she'd brought her gun with her on this little outing.

"That was an effective trick." Emma lurched sharply away as Altair materialized at her side.

"What have I told you about doing that?" she growled, fist pressed against her racing heart.

The evening sun cast too sharp a shadow over his face to make out anything under the hood, but she swore she saw his lip twitch. "I thought you enjoyed it. Did I misunderstand?"

Her jaw dropped as she stared up at him. His arm found hers and deftly steered her out of the path of a pair of Saracen guards.

She couldn't believe it. The dirty, rotten, bastard knew she hated when he snuck up on her and now he was doing it for amusement and cracking a joke about it.

Who in the hell was this and what had he done to Altair?

For once rendered speechless, Emma settled with sticking her tongue out at him. Even if the gesture was lost on him, the surprise left her falling short of a better response.

"Wait," she scrunched her brow, "that was you in the market watching me, wasn't it?"

Well that was certainly the best possible scenario. Not a nefarious foe to watch out for at all, just the assassin.

He tipped his chin. "I saw you as I returned from my investigations. The sentries lose what little inhibitions they have in the later hours, I thought I might escort you back. I did not expect you to evade me so quickly. Did your Sense alert you?"

Emma shrugged. "Not really, that's more to do with being a cop in a big city. You learn fast to recognize when someone is watching you regardless of their intent."

It was too bad it wasn't as entirely reliable as her actual sixth senses. Otherwise Altair might not continuously get chances to scare the piss out of her.

"And turning towards your watcher after adjusting your appearance? I would not believe it to be a wise move, but I could not find you for some time."

"Most people follow the original line of travel when they lose sight of whoever they were watching. Only works in large crowds, but sometimes getting closer to the danger is the safer option." Granted it wasn't actually a trick she'd ever used to escape someone before. She'd only ever used it to catch a perp by surprise if they were a known fight or flight risk at the first sign of cops. But if it worked well enough in this case for a trained assassin to lose her temporarily, then it was well worth keeping in her arsenal.

"An interesting notion, but as I said, effective."

"One you could probably pull off, if you were ever willing to drop the hood out in public." How he hid at all with the armory hanging off of his belts, she hadn't a clue. He was better armed than most of the guards that she'd seen and yet they tended to overlook him.

"Not likely," he snorted.

Yeah, she didn't think so.

As they reached the ladder to the Bureau, Altair once again allowed her to go first. She shot him an unimpressed stare. "You know I'm beginning to think you let me go first because you enjoy watching me struggle to get down."

She got the feeling he was raising his brows at her.

"I do not know what you are speaking about," he mused. Emma didn't buy it for a second. His tone may be perfect for poker but that scar on his lip gave it away every time he was fighting a smirk.

Huffing and muttering to herself, Emma pulled herself up the ladder.

"But," his voice came from beside her and she blinked at him in open shock. He wasn't even on the ladder, he was hanging from some barely-there lip in the stone, pulling himself up as easily as if it were a staircase. "You do free run about as well as a newborn filly. I cannot say I trust you not to fall on me should I drop first."

Her jaw dropped and her scowl deepened as he passed her and climbed onto the rooftop. Growling choice words under her breath, she couldn't help but half agree with him. She was so not as awkward as a newborn horse thank-you-very-much, but she didn't completely trust herself not to fall half the time.

Maybe she should fall on him, just to pay him back for that comment.

He'd probably move in time though.

Damn him.

As luck would finally have it, Emma did not fall through the skylight door into the Bureau. In fact, she would even say her uneasy trek down was the smoothest she'd ever managed.

Suck on that, Altair.

His hand caught her arm as she turned to head to the next room, halting her progress before she could make any. His eyes were on the doorway to the next room where no doubt Malik was working on some map or paperwork. Altair's previous humor was gone, replaced with a distant look of some haunting pain.

Emma recognized the weight of regret.

"Will you give me a moment to speak with Malik alone?" he asked, blinking down at her without really seeing her.

She nodded, hoping that whatever he wanted to say in private might erase the last of the animosity between the two men. Malik had not said it outright, but she suspected once upon a time the two had been close friends. Given the solitary nature of their jobs, friends were exactly the kind of thing they would need to stay sane.

Sitting on the rim of the fountain to give the two however long they needed to sort out the rest of the mess between them, she let her mind wander to her own saving graces back home. To Cat, who had curbed some of her more self-destructive habits; to Eliot, who had her back no matter what. She wondered how they were doing, how her family was doing. Were they still piecing together what happened to her? Did they have a story to bring them closure? Were they moving on?

She didn't know and with a twisted sinking gut, she realized she would never know. All she could do was hope that they would come to terms with her disappearance, or whatever story Abstergo had fed them, that they would move on. She hoped Cat would say yes the day her boyfriend proposed, that her dad would take that teaching job at the Academy and continue doing what he loved. She hoped Matt would find purpose again in something other than the military and get up the balls to ask the cute nurse he liked so much on a date. She hoped Eliot's next partner was less insane than she was but would have his back when it counted. Most of all, she just hoped they would get happy endings, as cliche as that was to think.

All she could do was hope.

Closing her eyes, she let herself imagine those futures playing out, a soft smile on her lips. If anyone could find happily ever after, it was those she'd left back home.

Present Day

"When I said it was going to be a Harp that got me killed, I didn't mean that as a challenge, you know," Eliot grumbled, adjusting the hood pulled over his head for the eighth time. How in the hell anybody managed to do anything with these things blocking peripheral vision he had no idea, but he hated the damn thing.

"This kind of thing reminds me of back in the day," David mused with a chuckle, reaching over to slap Eliot's twitchy fingers.

"Didn't you go after the mob back in the day?" Matt asked with a raised brow from Eliot's other side, binoculars hanging loose in his grasp.

His father shrugged loosely. "Not that anyone in said mob can prove."

"As fascinating as that all is, can we please get back to why the bloody hell it has to be me?" Eliot growled.

David gestured to himself as if it were obvious. "Because I'm old."

Matt swept a hand towards his leg, his amusement no less obvious. "And I'm missing a leg. Besides, they know our faces."

"But haven't seen yours," David finished.

While they'd filled the cop in on both sides, he'd yet to meet any of the assassins. Well that was about to change...intentionally.

Kind of.

With a little luck, William Miles wouldn't have a clue he was ever there. The head of the Brotherhood had called some secret meeting of his assassins and the Harps were rather miffed about being left out of it. Miles had tried to talk them out of investigating into his side, but his continued suspect behavior was not aiding in reassuring the men of his forthcoming honesty.

They knew Abstergo was really a front for the Templars. They knew the Templars were responsible for Emma's disappearance, that she was alive, and that she was not being held in the state of New York. That was it. Still no what they had done to her or why or where she actually was.

David was determined to change that gap in his knowledge by any means necessary. The means currently being sending Eliot into the secret meeting of assassins dressed as one of their own, the code he would need for the front door extracted from the unconscious assassin tied up and gagged in the trunk of the Camaro.

He didn't think Miles would do anything too terrible if Eliot was found out, but he had a contingency plan in place to pull Emma's partner out just in case.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Aren't they our friends in this?" Eliot shifted his weight, already knowing the answer that was coming. It wasn't as if he didn't want to find out what they were hiding, but he was one man going into a hive of damn assassins with his only backup being 'old and missing a leg'.

Not the biggest confidence booster there. No matter how much he trusted both men, that family had a habit of getting a touch too crazy when things got personal. He'd have an easier time taking a bone from a pitbull than talking a Harp down once their mind was made up.

"Enemy of my enemy is a useful ally, but not always a friend," Father and son intoned in tandem.

Eliot glanced down the block as movement stirred near the door they'd been watching. It was go time.

Squaring his shoulders, he adjusted the hood once more and nodded at his backup. "If anything happens, I'm haunting both of you."

Captain: Ah I love when dynamics begin to shift! So much fun hehe. And Big Badass Altair proves he has a Little Shit side to him and it's going to come out to torture Emma because when is it not hilarious the scare the snot out of someone? :D Please drop a review!