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five.
THEFT, OR JUST AN
AVERAGE SATURDAY
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FOR SOMEONE WHO LOVES to travel, it's a shame that Tate loathes airplanes.

The fact that they're flying on a private jet doesn't make her feel any better. First, she's overly conscious of the environmental impact of their flight. She would rather be crammed elbow-to-elbow with a random person in economy than choose to fly privately if it was up to her. Second, the spacious jet draws more attention to her miserable expression as she clutches her stomach and fights off each wave of nausea that attacks her.

"First flight?" Sully asks from his spot across the aisle from her.

"No," Tate replies, glaring at him for commenting on her displeased appearance. "I just hate planes."

The jet is small. Usually, international flights allow for larger aircrafts, giving Tate more room to breathe. Or there would be a screen for her to watch movies on and distract herself. There's nothing of the sort here. She's forced to spend the seven-and-a-half-hour flight with her own thoughts.

It's almost as bad as the flight to Florence where Ronan had been on one side of her, and on her left had been an older, neckbearded man with some of the worst B.O she has ever had the misfortune of encountering.

Despite her preoccupation with trying not to hurl, anxious thoughts about her sister begin to invade her thoughts. Tate has spent the past day trying to convince herself that being face-to-face with Jo after so long hadn't bothered her, but it's quickly becoming futile. The encounter had ripped open old wounds that she thought she'd sewn shut long ago.

Maybe the worst part is that Tate doesn't understand why she is still hurt by everything Jo has done to her. It had been easy to convince herself the only thing she felt about her sister was animosity when she was keeping tabs on her from afar, but now that she's tailing her so closely... maybe Tate hadn't been making as much progress as she thought.

Her hand drifts to the spot on her abdomen where the bullet had embedded itself in her flesh. Sometimes it feels like it's still there, ripping through her organs and making her hands slippery with blood as she tries to apply pressure to the gushing wound. Now is one of those times. She shifts to ease the phantom pain, trying to stretch out her torso.

There are six seats on the plane that face each other in pairs. Tate is alone for hours, leaning her head back with her eyes closed so she doesn't have to look at the plane, until Nathan plops into the chair opposite hers.

"Scared of heights?" he questions.

She cracks an eye open. "No, I'm just not overly fond of the idea of hurtling over the ocean in a metal case at five hundred miles per hour."

"Well, don't worry. The odds of us crashing are one in one-point-two million."

He's trying to help, but it's not working. The blank expression on Tate's face before she closes her eye again seems to make him realize that, so he switches topics.

"So... uh... you have a sister?" Nathan asks.

Tate's stomach lurches, but she doesn't outwardly show it. She merely adjusts her position in her seat to nestle into it more firmly. Or maybe it's to ward off that stupid imaginary pain in her scar that has flared up again.

"If that's your attempt to change the subject and distract me, you're gonna want to pick a different one," she says flatly.

"Well, it's just that you didn't mention her earlier," he explains. "Like, when I talked about Sam, you never said you also had a sibling."

"Nathan." Tate's eyes flash open, leveling him with a sharp stare. The edges of her mouth go firm. "Drop. It."

She hadn't meant to seethe like that, her words hissing through clenched teeth and charged with venom, but the mention of Jo brings out a different side of her. Rage bubbles over and warps her mind. It poisons her tongue, forcing her to cut off all conversations involving her family life.

"Okay. Sorry."

He looks across the aisle at Sully, who gives a nonsensical shrug. Sully knows about the bad blood between the siblings, but not the details of how or when it occurred, and he clearly isn't going to divulge anything right now. He's smart enough to know that Tate would probably lunge across the plane and throttle him.

Instead, he pulls something from one of his bags and sets an ancient-looking book on the table in front of him.

"Don't suppose either of you would want to read this?" he drawls, his eyes flickering between the book and the two young adults.

Now this is a change of subject Tate can get on board with. Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "What is it?"

Sully nods toward the book as if to say, Come find out.

Nathan rises from his seat and returns to his former one across from Sully. He lifts the book with gentle movements so as not to rip the tattered cover, opening it to reveal yellowed pages filled with cursive-inked lettering. Tate can't see much from her seat. However, the careful, awestruck movements with which Nathan inspects the book reveal it has some level of importance.

Instead of jumping the gun so soon, she allows Nathan to flip through the weathered pages first. She wants to give herself more time to quell the nausea in her gut before she attempts to stand. Plus, something tells her that even if she tried to read the book with Nathan, he'd clutch it close to his chest and glare at her like Gollum. He's already getting lost in the information as he soaks it in, his eyes taking in every detail he can find.

He eventually breaks the silence by saying, "Wow, the Captain's journal. This is amazing!"

Even though he'd called them nerds, there's a small grin quirking up Sully's mouth as well. "Some crazy shit in there, huh?"

"Unbelievable," Nathan agrees. "I mean, it totally confirms the legend."

Tate's curiosity gets the better of her and she risks getting to her feet to peer over Nathan's shoulder at the journal. He'd paused on a page with writing on one side and a drawing of an indigenous tribe member on the other. The Spanish words are difficult to read due to the crammed, curling manuscript and old spellings, but she's able to get the gist of what's on the page before Nathan flips to another one.

He continues, explaining as he thumbs through the book, "Magellan did find tons of gold in the Philippines. They hid the gold in Barcelona and then told the Moncadas that the trip was a bust."

Tate's eyes widen. She glances at Sully. "Sorry for laughing in your face when you tried to tell me that the legend was real."

The man shrugs again. "I don't think I would've believed me, either. Nate, do you have any bright ideas on how to use the keys?"

"Yeah." He flips to the middle of the book where the spine is the most severely cracked, causing it to lay flat on the table. Obviously, this portion of the book had been important enough for the Captain to need it falling open so easily. "Here, the Captain wrote, 'The path begins in Barcelona where the keys turn into pine.' And then there's a sketch here of a pine tree."

He turns the book around so Sully can see it. "So we're looking for a tree."

Tate stares at him. "Nathan."

"Hmm?" He turns to look up at her.

"Do you think there's going to be one single tree in Barcelona or something?" she asks, motioning wildly with her hands. "Or just, like, one big pine in the middle of the city so we can go, 'Oh shit, it's the tree!' and find a bunch of gold just sitting there?"

"Hey, I just got the book!" Nathan replies defensively. "I didn't see you providing any helpful analysis."

"That's because you've been hoarding it." Tate grabs the journal from the table and stares at the inked words, which are streaked and faded from the centuries between them being written and her reading them now. The drawing looks like a Stone Pine — it has the signature long, thin trunk and foliage at the top. "The keys turn into pine... doesn't mean we're looking for a specific tree, right? Just pine wood in general. Or maybe an image of a pine tree like the drawing shows."

Sully points at her. "That's a better explanation."

Nathan frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. He and Sully continue bickering about the tree as she wanders into the plane's bathroom and locks the door, leaning her weight onto the edge of the sink.

Tate's breath puffs from her lips in a slow exhale. She glances at herself in the mirror and tries not to cringe. Her complexion is a bit paler than usual thanks to the nausea that hasn't stopped tormenting her throughout the entire flight, a thin sheen of perspiration dotting her face. She spends a good fifteen minutes fixing her appearance— blotting her face with a sheet of paper towel after splashing cold water on it, taming her hair, and adjusting her clothes.

Once she's satisfied that she no longer looks like a zombie and her complexion is evened out by makeup (plus winged eyeliner that she's impressed she managed to apply in an airplane trembling with turbulence), she exits the small bathroom to find both guys staring at her.

"Oh good, you brought makeup," Sully deadpans, eyeing the small pouch in her hand. "Nathan was wondering if you could touch up his mascara."

"Joke's on you," Nathan says. "I'd look good in it."

Once they land, Tate ends up being dragged along so the others don't accidentally leave her behind. She's eager to explore even though Sully insists they don't have time. Fully aware she looks like a true tourist, every sign stops her in her tracks, her brain eager to soak up the new information the city has to offer. Nathan eventually has to link their arms together so they don't lose her along the way.

"So where are we starting?" he questions. His quick steps subsequently pull Tate away from gawking at the architecture of another building, her feet tripping over themselves to keep up.

"Anything you need in Barcelona, Chloe Frazer can get it," Sully answers. He leads them to a bridge overlooking a magnificent fountain with geysers spraying high into the air. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of the water. "I didn't tell her about you yet, but she's cool."

Tate shivers when the light breeze carries the spray to her arms, which are bare thanks to the black tank top she's wearing. Her beige pants protect her legs from feeling the chill. She hikes them up to cover the bare midriff that her top exposes.

"I should've caught the memo and joined the Dark Jacket Club," she says, referencing Sully's brown leather one and the olive-toned coat that Nathan wears over a grey zip-up hoodie.

"I'm not giving mine to you, if that's what you're suggesting," Sully says. "This cost too much money. And it's not my fault you didn't check the weather."

Tate grumbles that she wasn't about to ask for his coat, leaning more heavily against Nathan to seek out his warmth since he's refused to release her. Probably for good reason, too, since she notices a bird and takes a step forward to get a closer look, only to get yanked back by their connected arms.

"We should've brought one of those child leashes for you," Nathan remarks.

She watches the bird fly away with a frown.

A girl about her own age approaches them, her red mini dress also covered by a gray jacket of her own. One hand is protectively placed over her brown cross-shoulder bag. Her expression turns stormy when she takes in the two extra people standing near Sully. It creases her bronze skin with frown lines, both near her mouth and between her brows. It must be Chloe Frazer. And she looks pissed.

"Hey, Chlo!" Sully greets in a surprisingly enthusiastic manner.

She merely jerks her chin at the others without even looking at them. "Who the hell are they?"

Tate picks up on her Australian accent immediately.

Nathan holds out a hand for her to shake, but she doesn't take the offer. He shoots Sully a confused expression. Tate silently agrees with his earlier comment— Chloe already seems very cool.

"Uh, I'm Nate," Nathan replies. "I'm a friend of Sully's."

"Tate. I'm not Sully's friend."

She just now realizes that their nicknames rhyme. That, in combination with their linked arms, makes them look like two peas in a pod. Tate wiggles herself free from his grasp but still stays close enough so he knows she's not about to bolt, even when the bird lands back on the ground and begins pecking at something. She resorts to attempting to memorize its features from afar.

Chloe raises her eyebrows at Nathan before huffing in amusement. Her grin shows off her perfect teeth, but it seems more icy than friendly, a sardonic huff leaving her lips. "Sully doesn't have friends. I should know, I'm one of them."

"That's not true," Sully argues. "People love me."

Tate mimics the expression Chloe had just given Nathan, silently expressing her disbelief. She feels inclined to agree with Chloe. Sully does not seem like the most popular person around.

"And what's with the spy games?" he continues. "Why couldn't we meet at the house?"

"I was making sure you weren't followed."

"Come on, you don't think I can spot a tail?"

"Mate, I've been on you since the airport."

"Really?" Sully blinks in genuine surprise. "All the way from the airport?"

Tate admits that she likes the idea of him being the one outsmarted for once, though she doesn't feel great about none of them noticing Chloe following them. This isn't a situation where her fascination with history and attention to detail are just weird quirks— they could be the difference between life and death when going up against people like the Moncadas. Not to mention her sister, who's already tried to kill her once.

"Look, it doesn't matter. Why are they here?"

Nate's head rears back in offense. "Why are we—? Why are you here?"

"Clearly, you didn't tell them," Chloe says to Sully.

Tate waves a hand at her. "Hello. We are right here, thanks. You can address us directly."

They're finally given some answers when Sully turns to them and reveals, "Chloe has the other cross."

"What?" Nathan and Tate inquire in sync. Once again, not helping their 'two peas in a pod' situation.

"Did I not mention that?"

Tate violently shakes her head.

"No, you didn't," Nathan replies.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure," she says. "You said that you had the other cross. I think your exact words were, 'I already have the captain's cross.'"

At this information, Chloe dons a mocking smirk and rolls her deep brown eyes, not appearing remotely surprised.

"Well, look, it's mine, basically, all right?" he says. "We're all gonna be partners on this thing..."

So far, it does not feel like they're partners. First, he has consistently lied to Nathan and Tate and left them to fend for themselves in the face of danger. Second, he didn't warn Chloe that he'd brought them on board. It feels like they're on the outside of this operation. And if there's one thing Tate hates, it's not knowing all of the facts.

"...that's the way it's happening, so get used to it."

The smirk drops from Chloe's face as quick as lightning. Her expression becomes agitated once again, like a thundercloud rolling over the heavens to warn of an oncoming storm. "No, we're not." She finally turns to the other two, her kohl-lined eyes burning into their own when she says, "Look, word to the unwise, everything out of this one's mouth is an exaggeration, a half-truth, or an outright lie."

Is that bird a pigeon? Tate can't tell because people keep passing in front of it.

"You know what? That is not true," Sully asserts.

Chloe merely gives him a smile that's a bit too sweet, like the handfuls of cheap candy Tate would eat as a kid and then regret once she got a toothache. "See ya, Sully."

She waves to Nathan and Tate before turning and walking away, leaving them with one cross and no idea where to start.

"That's not— come on, Chlo!" Sully raises his voice to call after her, but she keeps walking, her wavy black hair bouncing with every firm step away from them. He motions toward her and says, "She'll come back. She has to."

"Wow," Tate says blankly. "Your friends really like you."

Chloe disappears further into the crowd. From this first impression, it seems unlikely that she's the kind of person to turn around, say, "Just kidding!", laugh, and hand them the other cross. She's likely more akin to Tate's way of thinking: make a decision and commit to it.

Sully frowns. "Yeah. I don't think she's comin' back."

"So?" Nathan asks.

"Where's the cross?"

"It's in my bag,"

"Check your bag. Do it now."

The abrupt urgency in Sully's voice has Nathan quickly removing his backpack with a curse. He unzips it and rifles through the contents, then looks up at the man with his jaw clenched in worry. If he were a cartoon, he would audibly gulp right now.

"You let her take the cross?" Sully asks. His rage-filled eyes flicker to Tate. "You let her take the cross?"

Tate's mouth open and closes to defend herself, pointing vaguely in another direction. So much for staying vigilant. "I — there was a bird—"

"You better get that cross back!"

"Shit!" Nathan dumps his backpack and takes off running after Chloe.

Tate doesn't think before following one step behind him, cursing herself for wearing platform combat boots. She did not think she was going to be sprinting after a thief today.

______

a/n:

just saying, sophia ali had no right to look as FOINE as she did in this movie. like, her AND tom doing action-packed stunts?? i was fanning myself.

poor tate. she just wanted to look at the birds and instead she has to deal with this nonsense :/

— kristyn

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