(Y/n) sat in the carriage, watching as the countryside passed by the windows; the letter from Aberama placed on her lap with her hand covering it carefully. Frankie had done well. He had found out about the trains; found out when the next one would be leaving the little local station, and (Y/n) had made sure that she was on it.

She had to admit that the letter was a little cryptic. All it had really said was that he might have a job for her that could make her some good money. That it was something that need her particular skills; and if she agreed, then she should make her way to Small Heath in Birmingham, as soon as possible.

Her particular skills............that could only mean one thing: her eyes looking to the bag by her side. From when she was young, she had always had a way with plants. They fascinated her. They spoke to her. The then young woman learning quickly how if things were distilled and treated in one way, then they could produce something that did nothing but help; but then, on the other hand if used in another way, they could do nothing but harm. And that was her particular skill.

She had been doing it for some time now. She treated the people that came to see her, even people from the towns and villages that she and the rest of group went to, for nothing. People that couldn't afford to see the local doctors, would come knocking at the door of her caravan. Just like her mother, she would assist with the birth of children, would aid the elderly and infirm. But to make sure that she could eat, to make sure that she and the others could have things that they needed, there was the side of her life that people did have to pay for. The side that did anything but care. People calling in the darkest hours, for her potions and concoctions. Yet on the odd occasion, she would have to do things herself. Administer her own brews, and it appeared that Aberama was calling her to Birmingham for just that.

"Next stop........Small Heath............." A voice loudly exclaimed. (Y/n) looking to the corridor and seeing the conductor make his way along the passage.

It was strange. She was so nervous; a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she never normally felt. It wasn't that she cared about the job that Aberama claimed he might have for her. Just like him, she was an assassin, it was just that their techniques were different. No, she was nervous about seeing him again. It had been so long.........far too long, and she couldn't help but wonder if he had changed, how he had changed since the they had last laid eyes on one another. Would he still be the rogue that she remembered.

"Small Heath..............." The same voice came again. (Y/n) nodding, as the conductor opened the door to the carriage. Grabbing hold of her bag, as she felt the train begin to slow. The countryside that had been moving past the windows, now replaced with something much more industrial. Much greyer.

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(Y/n) made her way from the train platform and into the grey surroundings of Small Heath. The air was thick with dirt, with smog and smoke. This was why she didn't come to places like this; this was why she never ventured into the towns. She preferred the clean air of the countryside, the smell of cut hay and flowers, as the seasons changed. She preferred the open road and the sounds of the caravan wheels and horse's hooves, as she and the others made their way from one place to the other. Yet she was here for a reason, and now she was, she was going to make sure that this trip had been worth her while.

She had asked in the town about the whereabouts of Aberama. Some of those she spoke to, appearing nervous, hesitant as she mentioned the Romany's name; but given his reputation, she had to say that it wasn't unusual. But eventually, she had been told that the older man and his son were camping out in some woods, not far from town. And now, here she was making her way through the woods, the smell of a campfire filling her senses. Her heart jumping into her mouth, as she saw an old caravan in the clearing in front of her. Two men watching her as she moved towards them.

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Aberama looked into the campfire that crackled happily, as he sat on an old wooden chair. He had sent the message to (Y/n) a number of days ago now, yet he had still to get anything in reply; he had still to see her. He knew that it would be a long shot, that perhaps she and the others had changed their routine over the years, yet he still hoped. He knew that if she got his note, she would be intrigued, that she would be interested in the notion of a well paid job, given that she never took anything for the assistance she gave to others. Never took anything for the care that she could offer to those that could not afford a doctor. That she could not refuse desperate mothers that came to her with their children, men that had been injured and feared that they might lose their jobs, their source of income and their ability to care for their families.

But more than hoping that she would come for the job, he was hoping that she might want to see him again. His mind, more than once having gone back to the night when he had almost been able to know her. What might have happened, if someone hadn't come looking for him.

"Dad..........." A familiar voice said from behind him. The door of the old caravan creaking, as Bonnie opened the door and made his way outside.

"What............?" Came the reply, Aberama looking up to see his boy pointing at something in the woods.

"Who's that...........?" Bonnie continued. The Romany assassin turning his gaze. A smile gracing his features, as he got to his feet and watched the person come closer.

"That..........that is an old friend.............."