Thunder rumbled as lightening illuminated gray sky. She could’ve appreciated the irony if she wasn’t so upset. He wouldn’t look at her. It had begun to rain, and his clothes were drenched. He’d get sick if they stayed out here any longer. His black hair clung to his face, and droplets rolled off his tanned face and hands. He wouldn’t look at her.
“Connor, I’m sorry.” She began, not knowing how to end her sentence. She betrayed him, knowing full well how he trusted her, depended on her,…felt about her.
“I… I had to. Surely you understand what it means to do what needs to be done, especially to protect the Brotherhood.” She said, trying to appeal to his rational side. But this was wrong. She was wrong, and there was no denying it.
How did this mission go so wrong?
She was going to kick his ass when she saw him. It was bad enough Achilles had given her the impossible task of preserving the American Brotherhood, but did Connor have to make it so difficult? She remembered a time when he did what he was told. A time before the madness of revenge turned him into this monster. This angry, cold, monster.
But she would still kick his ass.
Connor emerged from the forest as if on que with her thoughts. He appeared like mist, just evaporating from the treeline. He trudged back to the house, and she could see that he was battle worn. He stumbled with a limp, his eyes were dark telling her he hadn’t slept in a few days, and his clothes were bloodied. His or his target’s, she couldn’t tell.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the post on the porch, waiting for him. He nodded upon seeing her, but groaned at the motion. She growled, she couldn’t kick his ass like this. Why did he always have to be a soft spot for her?
Without a second thought, she walked off the porch, and steadied him. Connor was heavier than she remembered him being, and that was only from his partial weight. He allowed her to help him inside before pulling away and sitting on the dining room table.
“So, how bad was the other guy?” She called from the kitchen where they kept the medical supplies.
“Well, he is dead so…” Connor retorted at her return. One arm wound across his stomach to his bloodied side, and the other looked slashed. (Y/N) swat his hand away when he reached for the rag, and he groaned and looked away as she moved his hand and investigated the wound.
“Coming from a man near dead himself?”
“I completed the mission. That is all that matters. Besides, I have been through worse.” He winced as she pressed the rage against him.
“Take off your shirt, it’s in the way.” Connor huffed, but took his shirt off. She almost smiled, remembering when they were younger and Connor was so scared to undress in front of her. Thankfully, she’d patched him up enough times that he knew the routine. Did he like it? No. But he did as he was told.
“You’re going to have to stay off this for a couple of days at least.” She pulled out the needle, thread, and alcohol. Connor eyed the liquid uneasily, already knowing what she was about to do.
“How am I supposed to rest my abdomin and go on missions? You are a terrible med-” Connor yelped as she cleaned his wound. His eyes were daggers, and his fist tightened on the table.
“I’m sorry.” She said innocently but still maintaining her angry attitude. “I didn’t hear you. What were you saying?” She began stitching him up, and he now eyed the needle. There was no way he’d be a smart ass when she held such a weapon, so he huffed a simple reply.
“Should you not be on your SPECIAL mission Achilles gifted you with?” His tone was sour. Connor hadn’t liked that fact that Achilles and her shared a secret. Both decided it was best to keep Connor safe, but he took it with offense. Eventually, at the death of the old man, Connor went easy on her. She was, afterall, only carrying out orders. Still, he did tease her on it.
“I SHOULD be, but my friend likes to play hero and keep me worried.”
“I…I am not.” Connor’s voice softened, but his still held his upset pout.
“Not my friend? Or a hero?” She asked, trying to sound absent-minded while she cut the thread and bandaged him.
Connor looked almost offended. “Why would you suggest such a thing? Are we not friends?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m no hero, (Y/N), you know that better than anyone. I am just following orders. Defeat the Templars. Cut their influence from the Revolution.”
“And how’s that going for you?” Connor went silent as he pondered this, and she got up from his side. “You’re finished, and I’m serious about the rest. When’s the last time you slept? Or washed your clothes?”
“I am fine.” Connor tried standing, but swayed. He groaned as she got under one arm and led him upstairs to his room.
“Just one night, friend.” She emphasized the word and he groaned again. “Just do this to make me happy.”
“I have no time. My target could get away, and I did not spend all those nights just to allow him to slip from my grip!” They reached his room, and she used her hip to open the door.
“Change your clothes, and hand them to me. I’ll have them cleaned by tomorrow, and you’ll be on your way.” She said, ignoring his concerns.
“Fine, Ratonhnhaké:ton, if it means that much to you then I will watch the target for you. I’ll ensure that whoever this is stays where they need to.”
“Thank you.” Connor said, “I would like to end this man myself.” He looked down at her and realized his arm was still around her waist. They pulled apart, and chuckled nervously.
“So, what did this man do?” She asked, trying to become professional.
“He is the Templar Grand Master. Along with meddling with the affairs of Washington and the others, he has done a great wrong to me and I will see him dead.”
“Ratonhnhaké:ton, we mustn’t use the Creed for revenge, you know this.”
“He killed my mother.” They were silent for a moment as she took this in.
She nodded, “He will not escape me.”
“Thank you.” Connor smiled, and they stared at one other. He cocked a brow, and smirked.
“Um, I think I should be alone if I am undressing.” (Y/N) thanked the night for hiding his blush.
“Of course!” She ducked out of the room, and closed the door behind her. With her back to the wall, she sighed then chuckled. Why did he somehow always throw her off her game?
This target was hard to find, Connor was right to worry, but she’d found him.
Now she wished she hadn’t.
There she stood, in the middle of an alley standing over the body of a man. Her knives were drawn, aimed at his neck, and his sword was kicked from him. The plan was to lock him away until Connor was rested enough, but then the target had tried to run.
None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t tried to run.
“(Y/N)? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Haytham? I- you-” She got off him and offered her hand in a daze. Haytham took her help, and dusted himself off.
“Of all the childish things.” He went to retrieve his sword, and she remained frozen. “This is no time for games.”
“Haytham, I’m… I’m sorry… I just-”
“I suppose it’s ok.” He sheathed his blade, and adjusted his hat. “I do enjoy the dropping in of an old friend.” She would’ve groaned at his puns, but she didn’t know what to do. Haytham finally looked to her, and saw her uneasiness. His hand went to his blade, and his eyes darted around them. “Are you ok, (Y/N)? Is there someone there?”
She shook herself off. “No! I’m… I’m sorry to bother you, Haytham, but this must have been a mistake.” He cocked a brow, prompting her to farther explain. “An Assassin had me after a target, but I think he must’ve been confused. I’m supposed to be looking for the Templar Grand Master.”
“You’ve found him.” Haytham puffed up with mock pride. “I’ve been promoted since we last ran into each other.” He saw her uneasy expression again, and he tried to lighten the mood. “I apologize. I know you have no love for Templars, neither do I, but I was only kidding.”
“The Assassin Connor wants you dead.” She blurted.
“Aye, Connor wants me dead, does he? I’ve lost respect for him. He shouldn’t have sent someone else to do the job.”
“I was sent to keep you from leaving, but that’s nothing to be proud of. Haytham, he thinks you killed his mother.” Now Haytham froze as she did.
(Y/N) relaxed. “I knew you couldn’t have-”
“I loved his mother. I never lifted a finger against her.” Haytham strode over to her, his eyes intense. ”(Y/N), he must never know about us, agreed? He wouldn’t understand and he’d jeopardize our mission. You must not let him know your real intentions for being here.“
“I understand, Haytham.” She bit the inside of her cheek as she examined her boots.
“Good.” Haytham straightened out, resuming his original air of leadership and control. “I will remain in the city until Connor is well again. Then I will allow him to confront me.”
“Thanks.” She readied to leave, trying to think of the perfect lie for when she got home.
