Winter began to set into the New England states. Altair pulled the collar up higher on his robes and flexed his fingers, trying to chase the chill from his body. Watching from his perch on top of a burnt out building, he kept his eyes open for Haytham Kenway. No word had been heard of Lee, but Connor was sure that his father would know where he was. The problem was Haytham knew what Connor looked like, along with all of his other assassins, so it fell onto his shoulders to watch the Grandmaster of the Templars.

He did not know how long he knelt there, watching and waiting until he saw him leave the safety of Fort George. Snow began to lightly fall as Haytham headed towards the docks, six soldiers following in his shadow. Jumping from his perch, he grabbed the branch like Connor had showed him, and hit the ground in a roll. Coming to his feet, he took off up a wall, finding handholds on the charred brick, and pulled himself onto the roof. He was glad he had taken the black robes that Ellen had made as well. Climbing through the maze of burned buildings would have ruined the white he preferred.

Taking notice of the guards on the roof, he moved swiftly along the back side of the building's roof to avoid them, and then took a leap into a hay cart. Once he was back on the ground, he followed at a distance, trying to keep him in sight, but it was proving most difficult on the busy streets.

Growling in frustration, Altair pulled his hood down more over his eyes. The snow was beginning to stick to his clothing and the ground around him. He shivered involuntarily from the icy wind that came from the harbor. The robes were thick, and kept him relatively warm, but his face and hands took the brunt of the chill.

His target moved towards the docks and he followed, blending into the crowds and behind crates. Haytham stopped just shy of a large vessel at the harbor, and another man walked over to greet him. Stepping in closer, he listened into their conversation.

"Have you secured safe passage to England yet, sir?" The younger man asked as he looked around nervously.

Haytham shook his head. "With the blasted winter setting in early, it's too dangerous to cross the open seas right now. I must wait until spring." Then he smiled. "That will give me more time to find my son. Convince him the error of his ways."

The man snorted. "You ain't getting through to that savage, sir. You know how those assassins are."

"I know." Rubbing his temple, Altair heard him exhale. "If you hear anything more about what they are planning, inform me at once. I cannot have Connor ruining everything now."

What was he planning? The Syrian wondered as he looked on. He knew he could not get any closer less he wanted to be caught, and for whom he was, that would be bad. So he hid behind the crates, watching and waiting.

As the two men were talking, a young soldier walked over to Haytham and whispered something in his ear. The Templar's head shot up, and a smile crossed his lips. "Really? Here? Oh that is rich." And before Altair could move, a dagger lodged itself into the wooden crate to his left. "Come out assassin! I know you're there."

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of his hiding place. "Haytham."

"Do I know you? You seem to know me." Haytham walked over and stopped a few feet from him. "Of course, my son must have told you horrid things about me."

Altair smirked. "I know what I have seen and heard, and what he has told me."

Haytham pushed his cape to the side, exposing his sword and pistol. "You must be the one assassin my men have no information on. The one that stays out of the cities. Oh I have heard about you, yet I do not know your name."

"Names mean nothing. They are just labels. Actions are what tell you about a person." He crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at the older man.

That got a laugh form Haytham. "Oh I like you. You have fight. Too bad I will have to kill you to make an example for my son that if he wants me, he has to come himself." Pulling his sword, he held it in a fighting stance. "Let's do this as gentlemen."

"I know you will not do this fair." His arms dropped and in one fluid motion, he pulled out the short sword he favored over everything.

Haytham made the first move. Thrusting forward with the saber, Altair parried with his own blade, and moved to the side. The Templar slashed to the side, and narrowly missed the Syrian. "You have great speed. You were not trained by Connor, nor that fool Achilles. You were trained by a real master." He struck again, but was blocked once more by Altair's blade.

Sparks flew as steel clashed with steel. "I was, and I can see you were as well." They were face to face when Haytham tried for his side with a hidden blade, but Altair moved quickly and was out of strike range. "You are well versed in the ways of the assassins. It is a pity you chose the wrong side in this war." He would not kill Haytham here. He had made a promise to Connor that he would not kill him if it came down to it.

"I think you picked the wrong side, Assassin." And he pulled his pistol. "Let us see if you can escape a bullet."

That was the one thing he could not outrun, nor could he live through one at point blank range. Pulling a smoke bomb from his pouch, he threw it to the ground, covering the area in a thick blackish cloud. He would have to thank Connor for showing him those. He heard Haytham cough and gag from the smoke and took the time to get behind the man. With stealth only a master had, he had his hidden blade to the other man's throat.

"I should rid the world of you right here and now, but I was asked by your son to not end your life. That is the reason you take breaths." He growled, pushing the blade into the tender flesh of the man's neck. Far enough to draw a bit of blood, but not enough to kill. "Do not follow me, nor hunt me. If you do, I will not hesitate next time to spill your blood." And before the smoke could clear, he was gone.

Crouched atop a mast, he could hear Haytham yelling at his men to find him. They never would. Looking into the harbor, he saw the Aquila in the distance. Knowing only one way to get there, he did a leap and landed with grace into the water.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Connor watched Altair climb aboard the Aquila. One of the men gave him a blanket to wrap himself in. "They mean to flee the colonies." He shivered under the blanket. "But because winter has begun early, they cannot."

"Is that all you could find out?" Connor joined him on the lower deck.

The amber eyed man nodded. "That and if your father is cornered, he favors a gun."

His eyes widened. "You fought him? You did not kill him, did you?" He did not want his father dead, but if it was necessary, he would do it himself.

"No, he still breathes. He may have a small cut on his neck from my threat." That brought a ghost of a smile to his scarred lips. "He will retreat to Fort George to wait out the winter. I do not believe he will come out again."

"Is Lee there with him?" That was the one man he wanted more than anything in the world.

"I do not know. I would say yes, but I could be lying. I will go back with you to the homestead and wait a few days. Once it calms down in the city, I shall return to see what I can find out again." Altair pushed the wet hood off his head and shivered again.

Connor shook his head. "That would not be wise. He now knows who you are and you have a target the same as us. I will figure something out." He was hoping that would not happen. Altair had been his hidden card and now that had been played. "You have extra clothes in the cabin. Go change before you catch your death."

"I should be dead already." He mumbled, but walked away.

Sighing, he walked back up to the bridge and relieved Faulkner of the helm. "Let us set a course for home. I have much to do."

*/*/*/*/*/*

Altair had been true to his word because a few days following their return, he was gone again. Back to New York to gather more information. He must have slipped out in the middle of the night because he was gone before Connor rose with the sun.

Debating on following him, he decided to go check on his people in Boston. There had to be information on Lee somewhere. Grabbing what he would need for the travel, he went to leave when it opened. Altair walked in with Dobby at his heels.

"I found her on the road." He spoke, shaking the snow from his cloak.

Turning his eyes on onto the petite woman." Dobby, what are you doing here?"

She took off her cloak, which Connor took and hung up. "You told us to inform you when Lee was spotted. He came into town three nights ago. There was no time to get word to you, so I took a horse and rose as fast as I could." She smiled at him. "We all know what it means to find him."

She was right. It meant everything. "Thank you. If you would like, there is a guest room upstairs you can rest in. After you have awakened, we can begin planning."

Nodding, he could see the weariness in her face. "Maybe a small nap. It's been a while since I have ridden a horse that far."

Connor told her which room and the two men watched her walk up the stairs. Once she was upstairs, Connor led the way down to the basement. "I have a way into the Fort."

Altair cocked a brow. "Explain, because I have seen that fort. The walls are high and the guards are well armed. There is no storming it."

Shaking his head, he pointed to a model of Fort George. "I know of a way into there without detection." He rotated the model. "There are tunnels running below the fort. If we can access them, I can slip in unnoticed and light a signal to have the fort bombarded from the harbor."

Looking down at the model, he could see the ancient assassin was deep in thought. Finally after a few minutes, he moved his eye back to Connor. "How are you to bombard it? You have but one small ship."

Smiling, he flipped the model over on the rotating table. "There are tunnels underneath the fort. If we can get them cleared out, that is how I am to get in."

"A bold move. Slip in under their noses." He nodded. "Who is to bombard the fort? The Aquila does not have the firepower for something of that size."

"No she does not. That is why I have someone else in mind." The gears in his head were running and the plan was coming together. Now all he had to do was get Lafayette to join with him.

Altair merely nodded once more. "If you have it planned out, then I shall help however you need me."

Connor looked over at him. "I was hoping you would go with me into the fort. That way if something was to go wrong, I will have help."

"It takes courage to ask for help when one is not accustomed to it. I would be honored to accompany you." He bowed his head, turned on his heels and headed up the stairs.

Calling out to him, the older assassin stopped. "Altair, thank you."

"You are welcome." And he left, leaving Connor standing there, looking down at the model and hoping he could get the last piece to fall into place.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Altair sat on the bluffs overlooking the Aquila. A blank piece of parchment sat on his lap, along with a stick of charcoal. He did not know why, but he felt to need to sketch things in this new world. Something that he could take back with him. To remind him this was no dream.

The charcoal glided across the paper easily. It was not something he had worked with before, but Ellen had told him that it worked well for drawing. No one knew he could draw. It was not something widely known. Mostly he did it to stave of boredom or a time killer between missions.

Looking out across the inlet, he drew the lines of the vessel that lay before him. He had never drawn a ship before, but it was no more difficult than a building. He would look up at the Aquila, and then back down at his paper. The sky was just falling into darkness when he put the final touches onto the paper. Looking at it with a critical eye, he was about to crumple it up and throw it into the water when someone walked up behind him.

"That is beautiful, Altair."

He turned his head, and looked at Myriam, who was only a foot from him. He must have been deep into the sketch for her to get so close. "If you say so." He looked back down at the charcoal drawing of the ship. "I have never worked with charcoal before."

She gave him a smile and sat down. "I think it looks great."

Looking down at the drawing, he carefully rolled it up and handed it over to her. "You may have it."

Gently taking it, she looked at it and then to him wide eyed. "You would just give it to me? Why?"

"You like it. It was better than throwing it away." He gathered his things and went to stand, when she spoke again.

"You are too hard on yourself. Since you showed up here, everything you do has to be perfect." He sat back down and eyed her. "You know what I'm saying to you."

He was silent for a few minutes, and then spoke once more. "That was how I was raised. It is what I have always known. To be the best, you must do better than your best. You must be perfect." Altair looked back over the water and the dying light. "It is not something one can change."

Myriam laughed, and held the drawing to her chest. "I understand that. That is why I am good at what I do. People don't think a woman can be good as anything but something to keep the house clean and make babies. I don't want to be that person and so I'm not."

The wind kicked up and blew the scent of the salty sea air across his face. He had actually come to like the fragrance more than he would admit. It would be one of the things he would miss when he went home. "I will think on what you have said, Myriam. Thank you."

She smiled at him. "Thank you for the drawing. I think I might see if Lance can make me a frame for it." She stood and walked away, leaving him there with his thoughts.

Sorry! I have been rewriting this for days and I still don't really like it, but I am tired of messing with it. I wanted a scene that Altair was called out on something. I chose him drawing and not really liking it. He is actually an artist if you looked at the codex pages from AC 2. He is also a stickler for detail and perfection. Connor on the other hand, I wanted him to still be conflicted between his father and doing what is required of him. I am still debating on killing Haytham. I know he dies, but he is such a great character! I could do so much with him.

I'm rambling, I'm sorry! I hope you like it. The fight in Fort George will be coming next. Until then.