Élise had taken a separate way from his after leaving Robespierre's mansion. Arno didn't even have the time to ask her if he could see her one last time before she had disappeared into the crowd. He resigned to his own calm and solitude in his home, without knowledge that Élise had no such plans to leave him around the city cleared her head, but it also led her straight to Arno. She found herself climbing up the stairs of the Café Théâtre with only the moon shining in through the windows.

"This place smells like a pig pen," her voice ringed through his ears, like the most pleasant of alarm bells.

"Merde," Arno's head bumped into the window frame, the impact making the book he had been holding with one hand crash on the floor.

Élise couldn't hold back her laughter, to which a smile appeared on Arno's face, despite him.

She caught up to him and retrieved the book from the floor.

"Le Tragiques," she read the cover, "Good plot, horrible characters."

"I'll judge it myself thank you," Arno said, almost singing the last words and taking his book back.

They both had the grins on their faces; it seemed for a moment that none of them had anything to worry about, no people to follow or to question. It felt like being taken back to their teenage years for a fraction of a second, but the unfamiliar feeling made them turn their gazes away from each other.

"Since you've turned this place into your personal laundry room I'll go wait outside. The air is suffocating me," she said turning her heel.

"That's why I never let anyone up in the attic," Arno walking behind her.

"You need to clean up this filth," Elise said jokingly, throwing him one of his dirty shirts. Arno couldn't catch it before it hit him in the face but when he looked up again she had disappeared already.

Downstairs he found Élise sitting on his bed, with a leg crossed.

"So, ma chérie," Arno taunted, causing her to roll her eyes. She never liked anyone calling her like that, not even her father. Arno learned it when he accidentally called her like that when they were seventeen; he could have sworn he saw the fires of hell burning in her eyes. "What is it that brings you here?"

Élise looked across the room, avoiding his question.

"You were going to bathe yourself I see,"

"I was but... I presume you've come here with some quest,"

"You know we can't carry on with Germain until tomorrow," she left a pause, "But you always assume that I seek you because I need your help," she said taking a bit of a more upbeat tune.

"You usually do… like a damsel in distress," he said, choosing to ignore her first statement.

"Needing cooperation is different from being distressed," she sounded annoyed, but she had a grin on her face. "Isn't wanting your company good enough?" she said, a little quieter than before.

"Not usually no," Arno arched his eyebrow, dubious.

She didn't attempt to continue the conversation that lacked a point. She had just stumbled into his home, perhaps in an attempt to understand what Arno had already figured out: that she loved him. The clearest thought inside her head had always been him, as complex as their world was. Élise replaced her serious expression to mischievous smile.

"Well then, perhaps if that's not good enough, we should set course for—"

"No, we shouldn't," Arno interrupted

"I'm sorry?"

"I don't know what you were planning but now that there's a choice between that and enjoying each others' company, I'd much rather take the latter," he explained.

"Maybe I was going to propose something interesting but you never did let me finish my sentences," Élise smiled crookedly.

"As I recall it, it was the other way around."

"What about the time," her smile widened, "You must remember—that time I was telling that farmer that his chicken hadn't been stolen, but rather been burrowed, and you just barged in! You began spluttering excuses because you thought he would tell on us and accidentally confessed our crime."

She stood up from the bed as she spoke and made her way toward him.

Arno laughed and closed his eyes, remembering. "We had to hide behind the stables for two hours so he would forget about us,"

"All because you never listened before speaking," she laughed, placing her hands in his chest.

Both were laughing now, Arno wrapped his arm around her, and she didn't reproach. It was as if remembering past times had set them both in a trance, where they felt comfortable around one another, like they had been once. Arno didn't want the spell to break. He dared to look into her eyes when their laughter had faded into the air, and the moment was quiet and still. The idea of sharing a kiss crossed Arno's head, but he wasn't quick enough to catch it.

Élise had already taken her eyes away from his, memories appearing everywhere inside her head.

"Do you remember that summer when we were eleven or twelve, when we were playing a game between hide and seek and chasing, and you ran off in a horse? 'You'll never catch me!' You shouted over and over," the grin reappearing again, and she pushed away from Arno. He knew it wasn't unkind, but he wished the moment had lasted longer.

"I do," he laughed. "You were so angry that you locked me out for three hours outside. It was freezing!"

Élise tried to muster a menacing look through her evident grin. "It was summer Arno,"

"Still freezing," he retorted.

"You never could stand anything," she moved across the room and started to look around.

"I stood up to your nonsense far longer than anyone else could,"

"True," she said.

Élise started to walk around his room, as if she was watching some exhibition. She took some of the books lying around, reading the spines. She stopped to gaze at the art Arno had hung on the walls. She had always liked prying into his things, into his intimacy, and he only watched her move across in silence. After all, he had nothing to hide from her, not anymore.

Except.

She carried on with her excursion, reached the balcony doors wanting to peak at the private garden he seemed to have there but something else called her attention. On her way her hand had found a small metal box as she walked by, the engravings on it called her attention. She turned her head from the outside world to that small coffer sitting on a small table next to an armchair. Arno hoped she wouldn't open it; but he couldn't do anything to prevent it otherwise she would suspect. She took the box with both hands, and took it off the table. Arno was already walking towards her, with wide eyes of panic when she turned back to look at him.

"Why is it that I've never seen this peculiar little box?"

"Because," Arno replied, hoping his voice did not bring any suspicion.

"Oh, it seems we've started having secrets," Élise said putting the box back, but trying to open it at the same time.

Arno immediately put his hand heavily on the top. "Says the girl who never told me about Templars and Assassins,"

"It was not my secret to tell,"

"And that box is not your secret to uncover," he pushed it further back in the table, causing other letters to fall, and the ink tray with it.

"Still as clever as ever," Élise mocked him.

"Hhmph," he sighed watching the mess the ink had made. Élise took his face into her hand and gently turned him to her, refusing to take her eyes away.

They were breathing the same air again, their noses were touching, and the air seemed lighter than before. But it was just a game, and their lips did nothing more than brush against each other.

Élise smiled, kissed the corner of his lips and leaned in to his ear, "I'll find out, soon enough."

"I seriously doubt it," he joked, "Just like I doubt that you came to visit with the sole purpose of teasing me,"

"You've successfully guessed that I'm not here with a quest in mind nor to mess with your head. Then why am I here?" Maybe if she didn't have the answer, he did. Many times he had proven that he knew her better than she knew herself.

"I've always hated your guessing games," he said

"Because you never were able to guess,"

"I should have invented more games myself,"

"But you never had the brain,"

"You never let me pose my own rules," he said, pretending to be offended

"They never were good enough,"

"Because you were always a better judge than me,"

"You have that right, at least." she joked.

Their eyes were locked in each other, both twinkling with emotion. Élise didn't know she still had it in her, to feel like that. Happy, careless. She looked into his softened eyes, and she knew how he felt about her. She knew how much he loved her. She knew he would give his life if that would mean it would save hers. Maybe it was time for him to know that she would do just the same. But instead she stepped away awkwardly, as if she was afraid of the words she wanted him to hear her say.

"I'm afraid your bath has gone cold,"

Arno shook his head. "I can bathe later,"

This time he was the one to turn away, but she didn't let him. She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. He turned back, a confused look on his face.

She tried to gather her feelings in a single sentence, but she was only wasting time. There was only silence filling the space between them, confusing Arno more and more. He had never seen her struggle with her words as badly as today. To see her out of control made him somewhat nervous.

In the end the only thing she could muster was his name; the single syllable was enough to make the world stop around him. Her eyes were big, sincere; one of those looks where Élise didn't try to conceal what she was feeling. If they were younger and if life was less complicated, a look like this was reason enough for their lips to encounter. But now, they waited. They waited for something unknown to them. They both held back.

She had never truly said that she loved him, she realized. The note she had left at the balloon had been only the second time she had written it. But it never went farther than that. There had been fleeting moments where her lip would tremble, her words stumble on her tongue and almost fall out in a hurried I love you. But the flood was always controlled, unlike her fiery temper.

But that moment, that single moment, it seemed it would fall down like a downpour.

Arno didn't blink.

Neither did Elise.

They didn't want to hold back anymore.

She got a step closer to him, placed a hand on his chest. She tried to stand tall, but her body betrayed her. Her head hung, and her lips let out a shaky breath.

"Arno," she said again. He moved one of his hands to her waist; the other held her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. She tilted her head at his touch.

Their eyes met, both without any of the walls they had built over these years. Tearing them apart now meant more than any other time in their lives.

"Arno, I…"

Arno got his face closer to hers, hoping to kiss her. She wanted to hear the words coming out of her mouth; she wanted to see his lovely eyes react when she told him. She wanted to, but she couldn't.

Arno moved his hand to the back of her neck, with each passing second their faces closer.

"I know, Élise."

The moment was heavy, every breath they took was noticed by the could hear her breathe, softly and easily. He could smell her perfume, the same she had always worn. She could feel him with all her senses. Her nerves felt like firecrackers, exploding on her skin every time his breath touched her. She pressed her body against him; both their breaths were becoming heavier. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, and she tilted her forehead to touch his. Her arms were wrapped around his head and she opened her lips; but she doubted if he wanted this. They did nothing more than tease their lips with a soft touch; Élise wanted Arno to take this kiss himself.

Arno didn't doubt.

He leaned in the final distance, and took her lips completely. He didn't bother with tenderness, but Élise didn't mind. She played the same game he played, whatever it was. His hands moved down her neck and shoulders while hers traced his jawline. She bit his lower lip and drew her head away, pulling it slightly. She giggled and Arno opened his eyes.

"Do you remember the first time we kissed?" he asked. Élise nodded and smiled.

"Why?"

"Because this is feeling a lot like it,"

"Does it? Because I remember," she took his hand and guided him to one of the walls between the two windows. "Hiding behind the drapes, backs pressed against glass," Arno put his right arm beside her head, as she crept a hand up his chest and pulled his red tie, pulling him closer, "And clumsy hands everywhere."

"I think you mean our first second kiss,"

"Our first second kiss," she agreed. He didn't wait longer and kissed her again, trying to hold a smile that didn't last long.

Their kiss was slow, but not without sentiment. His hand pulled her closer, like moments ago and went lower on her back. Kept pressed against him with their lips tangled, Arno began to unlace her Templar outfit. Her belt with the Templar cross fell with a thud on the wooden floor. Élise smiled in the kiss, and moved her hands to remove his Assassin coat to then remove his red binding, with the symbol of the creed.

There was no place for those designations when they were just being Arno and Élise.

"No clumsy hands this time," he spoke between breaths before he carried on with the previous task. They both undid each other's clothes patiently, knowing that there was no reason to rush. Adrenaline rushed through them and when Arno sat Élise on the bed and they looked at one another, feeling like they didn't need anyone else in the world. They had fooled around a couple of times in the past, but they had never gone too far. They never felt like they needed to—there were always other kind of diversions, but they now felt old. As they took off the last remains of their garments, it grew clear that they didn't want to relive what they did in the past.

The shirt and vest were thrown off the scene, as was Élise's linen shirt. She rolled Arno over to his back and stopped the kiss to look at him. His hair was disheveled, but so must have been hers. She dragged her fingernails across his naked chest without hurting him and leaned back for his it was time to try something new, now that it was clear inside her head that she loved Arno more than she loved anything else.

Her name rolled off his tongue with the moans he let escape his mouth; their kisses had turned sloppy and slow as their bodies tried to adjust to what they were feeling. Arno had always tried his best to keep silent whenever they were with each other, but all his attempts were met in vain, only spurring Élise on. She too, tried to contain herself. But what was the point? They didn't need to be careful of anyone that might open the door by accident.

Arno held her hips with his hands, but she took one to entwine fingers. Through heavy breaths and sweat, their eyes met and Arno took it as his queue to turn her on her back.

They needed a place to get lost, and being lost in each other always seemed like a good choice. For a few moments they succeeded, wandering in the world they created without a map to guide them back.

Even after they just lay next to each other and every lit candle in the room seemed to bring more unnecessary heat, they didn't want to come back to reality.

All the rocky bottoms they had hit on the past three years, all the different paths their lives could have taken...they were still found in each other's arms. All the tears they had shed, all the arguments they had had; they seemed irrelevant now. If fate would allow it, they could have the chance to never worry about those things again. Élise's thoughts were filled with memories of him as he pulled her closer to his chest.

What could I have said? I'm sorry that I cared more about you than I cared about killing Germain?

What I wanted was you!

And Arno's mind was no different than hers.

You'd better come back to me.

He played with his fingers on her back as the memories glided in his mind.

This was the second time they were in the closet. The first time they had been toddlers, pressing their mouths together while keeping them in a tight line. They had sworn not to open their eyes until after they had conducted their experiment. The result was disastrous, but still did not keep them from trying it a couple of years later, with more experience.

Now, older and aware, they locked themselves inside that same closet.

"Arno this is wrong,"

"But there's no one else here to see,"

"This is precisely the reason why my father has been refusing to invite you to private dinners,"

"I never make a fool of myself in front of his important friends,"

"But you make a fool of yourself in front of me,"

"Tell me this is wrong again and I'll stop it,"

But she couldn't. It was wrong, but there was no one to judge them. No one knew Arno was there, no one knew they were inside that broom closet, so tightly pressed against each other that they could feel their hearts beating.

"When did we decide to start doing this?"

"When did you first decide to torture me by kissing all your suitors in front of me?"

"When did you start doing the same?"

"I was only trying to protect my heart from breaking,"

"I could never break your heart, Arno,"

"Does that mean I could break yours?"

"In your dreams."

Arno shifted uncomfortably; there was so little room to breathe. He took the doorknob and started to twist it, perhaps it had been a wrong idea to steal her away from the party.

"You're not going anywhere,"

"When you were younger and you said you wanted to try to do what adults did, I never expected it to become a long lasting tradition,"

"Stop talking and kiss me,"

"I'm surprised they've let you keep this room. Even after you were expelled." She broke the silence first.

Arno remembered those days with a grimace.

"They never paid mind the upper part of the Café. I'm not even sure they know I'm here, I've never been a real burden."

"That's an understatement," she jested, "But it is certainly better than the prison you had built in Versailles, surrounded by alcohol,"

Arno sighed loudly, and Elise turned to him with a smile on her face.

"I was thrown out of the Creed, and you seemed like a fading light. It's quite understandable why I did what I did,"

"Yes, but, stealing a wine barrel? Really?"

Arno sighed again, and covered his face with his hand temporarily. "Oh, you saw that," Élise laughed once more. But then he hugged her tighter.

"I'm glad you found me when you did," he kissed the top of her head. "Although," he said drawing away a bit "I never knew how you found out where I was. Nor how you found my father's watch when I thought it lost."

"Now now," Élise said placing her index finger at his lips "some of us have started keeping secrets," she said mimicking him.

Arno chuckled and laid her flat on the bed again.

"It would be ludicrous to think you were following me but—"

"You under estimate chance,"

"But, it wouldn't be the first time a Templar follows an Assassin."

He didn't let her retort. He kissed her and she let herself be kissed; diversions didn't seem like a bad idea now.

The night was growing older, and he finally felt her falling asleep beside him. In the stillness of the dead of night, he could hear his father's watch ticking in the table besides.

He remembered the first time Élise had seen how concerned he was about it.

They were playing in the De La Serre mansion, and as their games usually ended when they were of such young age, they began pushing one another.

Arno fell sideways, and landed on his left side, pressing the watch hardly against his thigh. He didn't cry out in pain; he could care less about his leg. He carefully retrieved the watch, wishing for no additional damage than its shattered glass and no longer functioning hands.

Seeing it still as ragged as he had seen it that morning, he let out a breath of relief.

"What is it?" A curious Élise had said behind him.

"Nothing," Arno replied trying to hide it inside his pocket again, but she had already seen it.

"What it is about that old watch?"

Arno felt his young heart sink.

Old, She had said.

It may have been old, but it was all he had.

"You wouldn't understand."

After that day and watching Arno's eyes droop, Élise said nothing more about it.

It was for his 13th birthday, after he had fallen sick and too ill to get out of bed that the subject of the watch was revisited. Élise had silently retrieved it from a drawer in his valet. She opened it and saw the name of Arno's father engraved on the inside. She closed it and kept it in one of the pockets of her dress. She returned it a couple of hours later, as silently as she had taken it.

When Arno regained his health and was able to leave his sickbed, he found it inside a velvet box with a ribbon and a note.

"Happy birthday, Arno.

I hope you didn't mind I took the liberty of taking it.

With love, Élise."

He opened the box, curious and impatient as he was. It was the watch that would explain why I couldn't find it this morning, he thought. But it looked as if it was brand new.

The glass was replaced, the silver was polished, the engines were of new gear and fully functional again, and the name of his father engraved once more. Arno was never sure that Elise knew how much that gift meant to him. He never really thanked her, but she never really gave him the opportunity.

Arno took it and saw the hour it marked. He watched it mark another minute before putting it back. He dreaded the moment the watch marked it was dawn and time to leave that fantasy they were in.

Élise was never one to stay in his arms for too long, but that night was different. He let him curl up around her. She kissed their entwined hands, he kissed the top of her head. He didn't want time to slip away from him.

All would be well, he hoped.

Élise gut told her it wouldn't. But she needed this moment. She needed this illusion to feel safe.

Because it was wrong, not being able to stay like that forever.

The next day came earlier for her than it did to him. The sun was gently touching his face; it was such a view she had to delay herself to admire it. She always liked how peaceful he looked when he slept, as if he was free in his dreams.

She gathered her clothes and couldn't help taking a peak at the box that had sparked her curiosity yesterday. She opened it carefully, careful not to disturb Arno in his sleep. Inside were all the letters she had ever sent him, ever since they were barely beginning how to spell. Other tokens from their lives were also kept in there as well— the hair ribbon she had tied around his wrist one day, or the pendant she had given him to remember her the first time they were separated for more than six months. Élise smiled and looked back to him. She picked up what had fallen off the table last night. She took the pen and tried to recover whatever ink was left in the jar and put her words to a clear sheet of paper.

As she finished writing and deposited the letter in the box, she hoped it wouldn't be the last. She prayed that what she had said in it was true, and that both would miraculously return and she'd have to burn it.

She hoped, but she wasn't sure all would be well after whatever that dawn would bring.

Élise closed the box and left looking at him one last time. She took a last breath in his home and left to confront her reality.

It was wrong, so wrong to know this was their last night together.

Hey! :) There's a short amount of ArnoXÉlise stories, so I thought about writing this one. The ending completely broke me, but I hope this fixes it a little bit, even if I don't change it here.

Anyway, drop by a review if you liked it ^^ they are very much appreciated

p.s I apologize for any mistakes that I might have missed while proof reading