Thank you to all the people who have reviewed, followed, or favorite! It makes me happy to know I made somebody smile :D

But anywho, thank you to all reviewers! I hope you all had an awesome Valentines Day! Unfortunately, no, I didn't have any 'special' person this Valentines. But guess what? I'm not crying about it. I DON'T NEED NO MAN! I'M A FREE WOMAN! No man can tie me down! Well, you know...except if they have rope...or if it's Connor...

Nevermind, I'm not a free woman. Take me Connor.

TAKE. ME.

"How did the people get trapped in that box?"

Dakota sighed.

"They're not trapped. The people have just been recorded, and the recording has been put onto the television."

"...but that is not what I was asking. How are they trapped?"

Slapping her hand onto her forehead, the frustrated girl held back a snarl. "They're not trapped!" She rubbed her temples. "Okay, let's make this easier for you. The tv is like a painting. A painting that constantly moves. Is that easier to understand?" Dakota didn't listen to his mumbles this time, instead she kept her eyes on the screen. After managing to calm Connor down and make him sit down without jumping every time a person from the tv spoke. Alfie had simmered down as well, and was currently laying down, his gray body curled around her feet. Now they were watching an episode of Friends. Alfie She really didn't know what the episode was about-something with Rachel and Ross and their constant love issues- nor did she care at the moment. Dakota's mind was on the topic of Connor, and why he didn't seem to know what anything was. Perhaps he had come from one of those reserves, and they didn't have any electricity. But Connor seemed like a man, and it was odd to think that someone of his age -or at least what she thought his age was- to not be introduced to technology. Though if it were true, it would explain him being jumpy in the car and calling the fridge a 'cold-box'.

Taking a glance at the dark man, she looked him over for about the hundredth time. He was captivated by the tv, watching Monica with an intense expression. His brows furrowed, and his head twitched at the sound of a bird chirping outside. Connor was no where near relaxed in any sense, legs placed firmly on the ground and knees ready in case he had to spring up. Though totally alert and concentrated, he didn't seem to sense Dakota staring at him curiously. Getting more comfortable in her chair, the girl narrowed her eyes at the man. "How old are you?" The question came out of no where, and Dakota had quickly clapped her hand onto her mouth as Connor turned to look at her.

"Twenty one." He said calmly, and looked back to the screen.

Dakota stared at him for a moment. He was only twenty one? He looked far older than that. Perhaps it was the stern face that gave her the idea of him being older, or the way he acted, maybe a mixture of both. And he was quite big. Nick was twenty two and he wasn't nearly as big as Connor. Cocking her head to the side, Dakota turned her attention back onto the tv. Alfie licked her toes, looking up at his master with those big brown orbs of his. She smiled softly down at the dog, scratching behind his ears. Craning her neck she looked her kitty-clock, and was quite shocked by the time it showed. It was already 5:45! Of course she really didn't do anything about it, as there wasn't much one could do about time. Dakota supposed that Connor would probably be spending the night at her house, and inwardly sighed. That meant she would have to make the guest bed. She hated making beds. That was the main reason why her room was usually a pig-sty. It wasn't like that when she had guests, but since she didn't know yesterday that she would be housing a crazy stranger, she hadn't been exactly prepared and cleaned up. So that was why she blushed slightly at the sight of her kitchen. Two half-eaten bowls of cereal, grimy cups, and dirty plates were stacked in the kitchen, crumbs from Girl-Scout cookies covered the floor, and smudges from Alfie's dinner yesterday stained the floor. She would have to do some major cleaning soon.

Suddenly, a buzzing in her pocket disturbed her cleaning plans. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket, she quickly tapped the screen and answered.

"This is Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?" Dakota said in her usual cheery voice. Connor looked over to her curiously.

"D! I've been texting you like crazy! Why haven't you answered? Is everything okay?" Nicks frantic voice came through the phone, nearly shattering her eardrums in the process.

Dakota rolled her eyes. "Everything's fine Nick. I'm fine. I've just been a little busy with my...guest." Glancing over, the Mohawk ended his stare with a snort and looked back to Ross. Did he not know what a phone was? If he didn't, then he most certainly thought she was insane.

A sudden shuffling noise came from the other end. "Wait, that guy's still at your house?! Wha-? Wait...you brought him to your house?!"

The girl winced. "Nick, he had nowhere else to go! I couldn't just leave him on the street! And besides he's been...relatively good." To that Connor only shot her an icy glance.

Dakota could literally imagine Nick rubbing his temples by the way he sighed. "D, you're talking about some random stranger like he's a stray dog or something. I saw this guy. He doesn't look like a guy you want to get involved with D."

"I'm not getting 'involved' with him Nick. I'm just taking care of him. Just for a day."

"D...I only want to look out for you. But, if it's only for a day, fine. I'm going to call you tomorrow and make sure he's gone though."

Dakota nodded her head. "Okay, okay. I get it. He'll be on his way, I promise. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to pee." With a short goodbye, the girl ended the call and got up. Alfie had been rudely awakened and gave Dakota a sniff before going over and laying down in the kitchen. She made her way down the hall and up the stairs, becoming very annoyed with the fact that the only bathroom was on the second floor. Turning round the corner of the staircase, the glimpse of a shadow come into the corner of her eye. Turning around, Dakota sucked in a small breath at the sight of Connor standing behind her. It was quite dark outside, and the fact that his whole form seemed to be consumed by the shadows made her heart jolt. Why did he creep up on her like that?! Gulping down her sudden fear, she spoke in a quiet voice. "Yeah, um, Connor...stop following me. It's a bit...a bit-"

He didn't give her time to properly respond before turning his head sharply towards the door. His muscles tensed. "Someone is at your door." Not even a second later there was a soft knock. "I will take care of it." Dakota tried to grab his arm, drag him back, but he had swiftly bolted down the stairs and landed gracefully in front of the door. Before he grabbed the golden knob he turned up his good, his features disappearing under the dark. Opening the door, Dakota stumbled down the stairs once she saw exactly who had knocked. It was the elderly woman from next door, Joanne. The poor little woman seemed to shrink under Connors stare, though his frame had relaxed at the sight of her. Who had he been expecting? Squeezing herself between Connor and the door frame, she gave a sheepish smile towards Joanne. But the hooded man pushed her back roughly, covering the small space she had used to. "Old woman, what do you want?" Joanne let out a whispery whimper, backing away slightly. After a long argument with her husband Roger, she'd finally decided to take matters into her own wrinkly hands and see what was going on at that house across the street where that nice girl lived. Of course now she was scared out of her wits, ready to have a heart attack, and drop like a leaf at any moment. Dakota tried to pry Connor away from the door, but it was quite useless. Her feeble strength was no match for him it seemed. Growling in frustration, she tried to see over his shoulder. Pretty much useless, as he was so much taller than her. "What do you want?" The man asked again with that husky voice of his.

"It's alright , this is my cousin Connor!" Dakota said as pleasantly as possible through Connors bulk.

He only turned his head to look at her. "What are you going on about now woman? I am not your-"

Dakota finally managed to push through, and shoved Connor back. Well, it wasn't really a shove to Connor. More like a small gust of wind against his abdomen. "I'm so sorry for all the noise, it's just that we were...playing a game! Yeah, just a silly little game." Joanne raised both her brows suspiciously, staring warily at the man who shook his head behind Dakota. The poor girl was giving her one of the biggest smiles she could, nudging the the hooded man back with her elbow. Though doing so only seemed to hurt her, and she winced as her elbow stabbed into the mans torso. He remained unfazed. "So everything's fine. No need to worry! It was so great to see you! Bye!" And with that Dakota quickly shut the door, leaving Joanne to stutter and mumble at her doorstep. She did feel bad about just shutting the door right in front of her face, but she had more important things to deal with now. Connor mostly. Also, she still really had to pee. So, wriggling around in her spot, she glared at Connor. He still had his hood up, his face forever neutral. "Let's establish some rules here, okay? Rule number one: don't answer the door. Rule number two: don't follow me around. Rule number four-wait, no- Rule number three! Just...sit over there until I figure things out." She pointed to a general direction, somewhere between the blue vase and the dining room table. Not really caring about his questioning stare as she stomped up the stairs, Dakota finally made it to the bathroom. After flushing, washing, and drying her hands, Dakota went back down the stairs in a less frustrated mood and an empty bladder. She thanked the Lord that Connor was sitting on the floor where she had instructed him to go, and not messing around with her things again.

Connor had been staring out the window at the old house next door. He barely even acknowledged that she came into the room. "I never did expect Pennsylvania to be like...this." Dakota raised a brow as she examined the vase, seeing if there was even a crack. She didn't want to take any chances of it being broken while she had gone. "Sam told me much about the different cities, but I never expected to see a sight such as this. With your cold candles, strange carriages, and...and..." Connors brows furrowed as he searched for the word. "What was that black box called again?" He finally looked at her.

Dakota set down the vase. "Television."

"Yes, and that...tela-vision..." The words seemed foreign on his tongue, and he licked his lips as he stared back outside. It was getting quite dark, the sun inching towards the horizon steadily. Only a few birds cheeped, though their calls were faint and rather quiet. It always got dark early in September. Dakota hated when it got dark. Not necessarily because it was dark, but for what the shadows held. Though there weren't many criminals and such around these parts -and she highly doubted that anyone around was secretly a crazy axe-murderer- Dakota couldn't help but be frightened at the thought that there were people, or even things, that stalked around in the night, waiting for their next victim to come. She'd been afraid of monsters in the dark when she was little, the ones with the curled horns, sharp teeth and claws, that hid under the bed. But she wasn't scared of those kinds now, no, she was scared of the real ones. Yes, she was very paranoid, and Nick told her that often, but there was something that was in the dark that just made her feel...uneasy. After watching many Law and Order: Special Victims Unit too many times, Dakota didn't feel like taking a stroll in the dark anytime soon. There were murderers and rapists, and all kinds of killers out there. Dakota did not want to run into one of those people anytime soon.

She wouldn't realize the irony of that until later, of course.

~*~*~XXX~*~*~

Connor looked about the guest room curiously, giving the air a sniff. It smelled musky, and as he breathed in dust caught in his throat. He coughed it out quickly, and looked over to Dakota who was tidying things up. Or at least trying. Tattered carpets, old documents, paper scraps, child's clothing, and a innumerable amount of dust-bunnies were all around the room, not to mention the strange amount of sneakers stuffed into the closet. She had pushed everything off the bed for him to sleep him, making at least one thing in the room to look presentable. Connor didn't mind really, he'd slept in far worse conditions. Though he had to admit, sleeping in a hail storm hadn't been all that bad. The mattress was a bit floppy looking, with bumps and sags all over it. It was obviously very old, but it was large enough. He hated when his feet went over to bedpost. The blanket looked rather nice, with floral designs covering it. There were stitches and patches of different clothes here and there, and a bit of fluff coming out of the corner, and it looked far older than him. The room was a bit small compared to the others in the house, though not to the point of where it was cramped. A small dresser pressed against the wall, and a built in closet near the door, with two windows looking out over to pavement just outside. There were no lamps in the room -well, at least not anymore. After trying to teach the Mohawk how to turn it off and on, she simply gave up and replaced it with candles. But it made the room look dimmer than the rest of the house, and Connor distantly wondered why. Weren't all candles the same? How could ones flame be brighter than the other?

But he discarded the thoughts and looked to Dakota as she wiped her hands against her pants. All of the junk had been moved to one corner of the room, and that seemed good enough for now. Smiling at Connor warmly, she patted the bed. "There you go. Sorry about the mess...I usually don't get surprise guests that often." He said nothing at all, simply went over to the mattress and sat on the edge. It sagged with his weight, and let out a squeak. Wincing a bit, Dakota nodded her head. "So...there you go. Um...if you need anything, my bedrooms just across the hall." And with that, she left the room. The lights suddenly went off outside the doorframe, and the faint sound of a door shutting was heard. Connor eyed the walls for a second more before promptly removing his boots. Wriggling his toes a bit, he placed them next to the bed. His gloves were the next thing to come off, and he placed them on the chestnut table beside him. He took off his coat next, the weight of all his weapons coming off of his shoulders. Though he took his tomahawk and placed it gently under his pillow. He also kept his bracer on, flicking his wrist once more to extend the blade, and then retracting it quickly. For protection, in case it was needed. He still knew nothing of this woman, and though she was kind, he was not going to take any chances. He'd stopped trusting people so easily long ago. Pressing his fingers against the flame, the room instantly became dark. Laying down onto his back, Connor stared up at the ceiling silently. The only sound was his breathing, and that of the soft chirps from the crickets outside.

He was in quite an odd situation it seemed. Connor had only arrived in Boston at sunrise to search the city for the whereabouts of the Templars. There'd been little information coming from his sources, so he had decided to take matters into his own hands and go himself. Achilles' nagging had also influenced his decision. Connor knew the old man cared, just simply did not like to show it. He had just come to Boston, and was going towards one of the taverns, when suddenly he was in the middle of two shelves full of cans and a teenage boy. He tried to remember how it happened exactly, but it hurt his head to try. Had someone knocked him out? It must have been sharp, quick, and painless if someone had done so. But why drop him off at the store? Why not kill him? Why not imprison him? The Assassin did have a large bounty on his head, with all the posters and whatnot. But the time hadn't changed since the time he had arrived -he had learned from the strange ticking device on the wall the time- and the sun seemed the same. Even the day was the same! One could not simply go from Boston to Pennsylvania in barely three seconds. It was simply impossible! The whole thing didn't make the least bit of sense, and made his brain pound painfully. Rubbing his temple softly, he closed his eyes. Yes sleep would do him some good. Perhaps his mind would be clearer tomorrow, or this had all been a dream. Yes, that probably was it. He'd been drugged, eaten an uncooked potato, something! That had to be the answer.

Connor only gotten around four hours of sleep before he awoke again. The wall had creaked slightly due to the wind outside, but the Assassin was on his toes tonight. Clutching his tomahawk tightly under the pillow, he pulled it out and sat straight up, raising the weapon. When he realized what it had truly been, Connor relaxed and placed the tomahawk back under the white fluffy pillow. He had tried falling back asleep, but it was impossible, so he stared at the ceiling some more. After forty five minutes he became fed up with that and turned on his side. The weapon beneath his head shifted into an uncomfortable position for his cheek, and soon Connor was out of the bed and wandering out the door. His eyes still not fully adjusted to the dark, Connor blinked and his vision shifted from the fuzzy black shapes to strange, florescent blue objects. He could see the mutt lying down in the kitchen -he didn't even know why Dakota let that thing into her home- sleeping contently, whining and squirming from time to time from a dream. Blinking once more his normal vision returned, and Connor went down the hall. He couldn't sleep, and the woman had told him to call her if he needed anything...

Coming to the door, Connor opened it slowly and peeked inside. This room was larger than the guest room, with a fairly large dresser in the corner, a mirror just beside it, a soft, velvet rug on the floor. Numerous paintings hung on the walls, some of Dakota, others with other people Connor did not know. They were excellent paintings, almost lifelike. He would have to ask her the artist she went to for such pieces. There was a shelf near the window, which overlooked the pavement much like the others, that had all kinds of apples on it. Marble apples, plush apples, strange apples with hands and feet, small pillow-like apples, colorful apples, of all different shapes and sizes. The blankets also had an apple design, first red, then yellow, then green, then...was that an orange? Yes, her blankets had a pattern of apples, then an orange. Strange, he'd never seen one such as that before. Though he quickly tore his attention away from the blankets, to the person who was cocooned within them. Dakota pressed her head hard against the pillow, her dark hair frayed and all over the place. A bit of drool dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and made a puddle on the pillow, and she mumbled silently in her sleep. Connor wrinkled his nose. He had thought woman were supposed to be beautiful when they were asleep, perfect even. But, the Native didn't know much about woman after all. Hopefully Myriam did not look like this in the morning for Norris. Walking over to the side of the bed, Connor leaned over to sleeping form of the girl. "Miss." She kicked her foot a bit. "Miss!" Connor hissed a bit louder. Her finger tapped. He huffed. "Miss!"

Snorting, she groggily opened her eyes and looked around. Letting out a groan once her eyes met Connors, she covered her head with the blankets. "Go away! It's too early!" Dakota had tried to sound threatening, angry, but the words came out slurred and annoyed. Connor didn't move from his spot, and narrowed his eyes at the bunched up blankets. His stare seemed to burn through the covers and into her skin, because she suddenly popped her head back out and glared at him. "It's four o'clock in the freakin' morning! Go away and sleep or something!" The man remained, and suddenly his hand grabbed the covers, ripping them off the girls body. Letting out a startled cry, Dakota snarled at Connor and threw a pillow at him. Since she was tired, it missed him completely and landed near the door. Growling, Dakota curled up onto her bed, shivering slightly from the lack of blankets. Connor simply watched her, standing rooted in the same spot for five minutes until he turned his head away and sniffed. What was that smell? It was awful, and made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. But, it was familiar, and he looked out the doorway.

"Miss-"

"Shut up and go away already!"

Connor took no notice to her attitude, along with a few mumbled curses that left her lips.

"It seems something has desecrated in your home."

"...What?"

Immediately Dakota was on her feet, and shot past the Native. He watched as she tumbled down the stairs, smacking into the creamy walls next to her three times, and nearly slipping down each step as she went. Following down calmly, he looked over and inhaled. He nearly choked on his own breath at the horrid stench. On the kitchen floor, was a pile of poop. Horrible, brown, awfully new-looking poop. Connor had tracked animals by their dung, yes, but it had never smelt so bad before. Perhaps this was why the city always smelled. Of course, when one added in sweat, dirt, disease, and death into the concoction, the city could be a bit unbearable at times. But this...the Assassins didn't know anything could smell so foul. And next to the brown pile was the grey dog, who wagged its tail slowly at the sight of its master. Dakota simply balked at the dung, and let out a groan. "Alfie...really?" Grumbling and hissing, she grabbed some paper towels and turned away as she scooped the poop up. "Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" Slamming it down into the bin, Dakota picked out the garbage bag, tied it, and hurried into the garage. Connor watched from the laundry room as she tossed it out into the driveway, letting it land somewhere near a large trashcan. She hurried back inside, her skin freezing from the sudden cold of the outside. Alfie came up to Dakota cautiously as she re-entered the house, but the cold, tired, and annoyed girl simply pushed his face away and ran up the stairs. There was a loud slam, a large flop, and Connor knew that she had gone back to her bed. Looking down at the dog, it snarled at him, hackles raised. The Native snarled back, and Alfie retreated towards the dining room. Looking around, Connor paused.

What was he supposed to do now? He never did get much sleep most of the time, and four hours of rest had already gotten him energized for the day. He couldn't go anywhere, and he was quite sure Dakota wouldn't get up again. So, Connor pointed his gaze towards the woods outside. Thinking for a moment, he nodded his head silently and went back up the stairs. He put back on his boots, slipped on his jacket, rearmed himself, pulled up his hood, and quickly grabbed his tomahawk from under the pillow. He then soundlessly went back down the stairs and opened the back door. Kicking dog toys out of his way, the Assassin jumped over the fence, and bolted into the dark woods. The moon was the only one to witness his departure.