Chapter 4: What Happened?

Two can play at that game.

Aveline was fuming. She could not believe the state that things were in. The Manor was a shambles. The Assassins were gone. Connor was living in a cabin, for god's sakes. And when Aveline would ask the simplest question possible, "Why?", she'd get silence. Well, if that was the way Connor wanted it, then that's the way he'd have it. If he wouldn't say a word, she wouldn't share why she traveled North without telling him, or provide any details she knew about the Templar plot that was to occur in his own backyard.

That being said, it was polite of him to allow her to stay nights in his cabin. Tight-lipped as he was, he didn't brand an eviction date on the verbal arrangement, but she knew that it would only be for a limited time; courtesy would demand it. Thus, she would have to make the best of her time on the Homestead as she could.

Aveline studied Connor from her perch on his couch. He sat on a stool in front of the fireplace, poking the burning logs with his sword. He had shed his coat and his boots and, although was visibly more comfortable, did not appear relaxed. His mouth seemed chiseled into a permanent frown, and his shoulders slumped. Defeated. Although she couldn't see his eyes from her angle, she knew that they looked...old. As if in the flames he could see a reflection of the years gone past and all the paths he'd taken...and he couldn't look away. Is this what he does now? When I'm not around? When there's no one else for him to look at?

She had so many questions she wanted to ask. So many mysteries about him, so many good things she remembered that she'd always wanted to talk to him about. She always admired him, so, so much, and although their past correspondence was limited, after they'd worked together in 1777, she'd found herself wishing they'd known each other all their lives. He was a whirlwind of talent and skill, unleashing terror on his enemies with a ferocity unmatched even by the wildest of animals. He was strong, rigid, and poised—and enigmatic. Like a moving statue, everything he did was powerful, and every word he elected to spare was full of mystery.

At the time, she'd found his relative silence endearing. Now, not so much.

She stood, being sure to make a fair amount of noise as she did to get his attention. Connor barely turned.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Do you have a washroom I can use?" she asked. "I need to wash these clothes."

"In the next room," he said. Aveline crossed over to it. The cabin itself was relatively large. It had three rooms—the sitting room with the fireplace, the washroom, and Connor's bedroom. Aveline would be sleeping on the couch. She could tell from the quality of the wood that the cabin was new, and was likely built directly after the Manor collapsed. Either he'd built it, or he'd hired someone to build it. But either way, she wondered, why wouldn't he use those same resources to rebuild the Manor? Why leave it like that?

The washroom was small, complete with a single washboard, a tub full of water, some soap, and a couple of basins. She felt the water in the tub—cold, but not terribly. The room was warm enough that the water could stay at a decent temperature. The tub would have to be used for both laundry and for baths, she figured. She lamented that there was no door to the room, only an opening in the wall. She wouldn't be able to bathe in private...if she did, she'd have to wait until he was out on errands, or if he was in the other room, and even then, she'd have to announce it to make sure he didn't intrude. That'd be...embarrassing. But for now, she resolved, she'd wash her tunic and figure out later what to do.

Aveline drew her tunic over her shoulders and placed it to the side. The cold of the room was much more noticeable through her shift, but not unbearable. She rolled up her sleeves and tied back her hair. She rubbed a bar of soap in the water until the tub was filled with frothy suds. She went over the tunic in the water and with the soap, making sure to get the places most concentrated with dirt and grime. It had been a long journey, and her dirty clothes were quite the indicator. She couldn't wait until she'd have a chance to bathe. She was accustomed to not bathing for more than a month at a time, but after all she'd been through, she felt she was entitled to an early appointment. She wondered if Connor...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knocks on the wall. She turned to see that Connor was standing near the door, being careful not to look inside. Aveline couldn't help but smile a little.

"It's fine, Connor," she said, "I'm perfectly decent." She then turned back to her laundry.

He trepidatiously crossed the threshold into the room. After a moment of respectful hesitation, he regarded her, a bit distracted by the sheerness of her shift, but more so intrigued by how vigorously she was working at the tunic. Her forearms were solid muscle, and he could see the subtle bulge of her shoulders. Years of climbing and wielding machetes, he figured. It was impressive. She had...a lot of strength.

"Well?" she said, reminding him that he'd interrupted her and proceeded to not say anything. Also, he'd forgotten he'd brought clothes. He held out to her a loose linen tunic and a pair of thin trousers.

"I brought you some spare clothes," he said. Aveline smiled. It was as if he'd read her mind.

"Thanks," she responded, "but I think I may be a bit small in stature for your clothes."

"They're mine from when I was young," he elaborated, his tone confirming that they'd fit. "You'll have to excuse the length, however...you are a tall woman."

Aveline laughed. His tone was so flat that it betrayed innocence. "I would have liked to meet a young Connor," she said. "He was probably a prodigy of the Assassins."

"If Achilles ever thought so, he wouldn't say," Connor replied, almost ruefully.

"Who is Achilles?"

"He was my Mentor. He lived here alone, until I came."

"And clearly so much has changed," she said, the sarcasm in her voice apparent. He didn't seem to perceive it, however. He went silent and averted his gaze. His mind had gone somewhere else. He turned, about to leave the room. An impulse in Aveline's body forced her to turn around and say something to keep him there.

"Connor," she said. Again, the delay in his response, as if he didn't recognize the name. "You didn't tell me. What happened to the Assassins?"

Connor sighed. He turned back around to face her, and looked her in the eye. Then he looked away again. He couldn't expect another Assassin to understand. And yet, she asked.

"They left," he said. "They've moved on. They're training with a new Mentor. A better one."

Aveline's brow furrowed. She was confused. That combination of sentences just didn't make any sense to her. "There is no better Mentor. You stopped the Templars in the North and put an end to the War. You're the one to learn from. There is no one else."

"There are many who would make suitable Mentors," he responded. "It simply requires the will to be one." And with that, he exited the room. Aveline threw her soapy tunic aside and pursued him. Connor sat down at the stool again and grabbed his sword and a knife. He scraped the knife against the sword to sharpen it, creating scraping noises so loud they drowned out the world around him. Aveline stood behind him, uncertain what to conclude about him. Why would he give up the position of Mentor? Back in New Orleans, she was unable to properly assume the role of Mentor, as she had no Assassins in her sway that were not agents of information. Once Gerald had left, she become so swamped in the work of her family's business that the task of recruiting an entire chapter of the Order would have been gargantuan at least. But she was able to rationalize her inaction through the knowledge that that Connor was taking over the position of Mentor. The recruitment mission he'd sent her on was indicative of that. If she had known that this is what what resulted...

"What happened, Connor?" she asked between scrapes of his blades.

"I already told you," he responded. "They left."

"I'm not asking about them anymore," she continued. "What happened to you?"

He stopped sharpening his sword for a second, as if considering if he should answer. He didn't. He started sharpening again.

"They're training with Patience Gibbs," he changed the subject. "She's allied with an abolitionist faction that trafficks escaped slaves to the North. In secret, she recruits some of them to the Brotherhood. If it's trained Assasins you seek for whatever business you have, you'd be wise to start there."

"Or, I could start with what's right in front of me," Aveline said. Connor turned around, looked her dead in the eyes. His eyes were dark and moody, deep with years of regret. Aveline couldn't help but be humbled by it. In that moment, she couldn't feel sorry for him. She could only wonder what had happened that turned him into this hollow shell of a man.

"I'm not an Assassin," Connor said. "Not anymore."

"I refuse to accept that," Aveline said. Out of her pants pocket, she pulled out a piece of parchment – the letter she'd taken from Rodolpho's desk back in New Orleans. She unrolled it and presented it to Connor, who just stared at it.

"Read it," Aveline commanded. Connor glared at her for a second before taking it and scanning it, not paying much attention. Then, his expression became much more serious and he read the letter a second time, more closely.

"Hamilton?" he asked, referring to a vague name that appeared in Rodolpho's fine cursive. "As in, Alexander Hamilton?"

"New Orleans is not a part of this new America, so forgive my ignorance," she said, "but Alexander Hamilton is your treasurer, non?"

"It's not my—" Connor began, about to protest her implication that this new United States had anything to do with him, but he bit his tongue. "Yes, he's the treasurer. This letter suggests that this Mister Samuel Abstergo intends to meet with the treasurer in one week's time."

"His co-ownership of Rodolpho & Abstergo Enterprises confirms that Abstergo is a Templar as well, and thus any dealings he has in the North are meant to advance a Templar agenda," Aveline said, espousing her conclusions with a sagelike wisdom. "Read that section of the letter closely."

Connor returned his gaze to the letter, squinting to comprehend the words written in John Jackson Rodolpho's fine print. Connor always found English easier to be spoken than to be read, which explained why Achilles' vast library went largely untouched. Nonetheless, he pushed himself to read the passage aloud.

"On the evening of February the 23rd, the year of our lord 1792, you must meet with Hamilton to discuss affairs. When the deed is done, I request you to stay your hand until matters resolve themselves." Connor read it again and again in his mind, not understanding what about the sentence struck Aveline as suspicious. Confused, he looked up at Aveline with a blank stare.

"You don't see it?" Aveline asked incredulously. "It's staring you right in the face!" She walked over to him and took the letter out of his hand, pointing directly to the words he'd just read. "It says, 'when the deed is done,'" she indicated. "In the sentence prior, all Rodolpho mentions is a conversation. A conversation or a meeting is not an action, it's an event. You can't 'commit the deed of conversation'. Which means, there's something else. There's an action that's to be taken contemporaneously, some 'deed'. So what is this deed he's expecting to be done during that meeting?"

"I don't know," Connor said.

"Neither do I," Aveline said, smiling. "And that is what I need to investigate."

Connor tried to wrap his mind around this. It'd been a while since he had needed to think on his feet. "Steady yourself one minute," Connor said. "How do you know you're not reading too much into this? Apart from the passage you've highlighted, the letter is vague. What makes you sure that there is evil intent underneath these words?"

Aveline's eyes widened. How could he possibly question the malice of a Templar plot? And how could he question her, given all she'd experienced? "Because the person who wrote those words burned down my home and made me watch." she said, each word dripping with venom. Connor took pause, realizing that this affected her on a level deeper than he previously imagined. He wondered, only for a second, if he would have known the details of her tragedy had he remained in touch with the Brotherhood. But he dispelled such thoughts immediately. Instead, he took another look at the letter.

"February 23rd is in just over a month," he advised. "What do you intend to do?"

"I intend to do nothing," Aveline said, returning into the washroom to tend to her clothing. "We, however, are going to investigate, and soon." She looked him in the eye, making clear that she was serious about that aspect. Connor snorted, wondering if she knew just how stubborn of a person he was. But, respectfully, he humored her.

"And what convinces you that I will be joining you on your investigations?" He asked.

"Simple," she said, scraping her tunic against the washboard with vigor. She knew that what she was about to say would either earn her a verbal lecture or immediate eviction, but she swallowed and said it, donning as much confidence as she could muster: "As soon as I gain the intelligence I require, I will be on my way. But until them, I am a guest in your home, a burden upon you. If you would like to go back to the constant excitement of having only yourself for a talking partner any time soon, it'd be in your best interests to assist me as quickly and efficiently as possible. Otherwise, you'll be stuck with me forever."

Connor's brow furrowed. "Your manners are deplorable if you think it appropriate to demand a man's help in exchange for imposing upon him," he said. "A deal suggests mutual benefit. What is in it for me?"

Aveline stopped scrubbing, and a deadly silence fell upon the two of them. "For the Connor I knew," she said after a few seconds, "the satisfaction of bringing down the Templars would be compensation enough for me to stay here forever." Connor's look softened, and he regarded her, wondering just how skilled she was at reading people. She'd only known him for a short time, and yet she felt so sure that she knew him so well. And he would not lie that, once upon a time, he was a sort of person who would abandon all reservations in order to pursue a lead against the Templars. But, that was a different time.

"And that forever," she said, "is about to start, because this water is warm and I would take a bath, were I given the privacy." Connor's stare was blank. To regain his concentration, Aveline snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Excusez-moi? La vie privée, s'il vous plaît!" She switched to French for emphasis, as she often did, even though she knew he didn't know the language. But he understood her intent just fine. With a grumble, he turned around and left the washroom, lumbering out slowly. For a second, however, he considered scolding her for how rude she'd been to so ungratefully claim ownership of his house because of what she considered a flaw in his character. How dare she be so presumptuous, and what makes her think she can be so righteous?

But when he did turn around, he caught a glimpse of her bare brown skin as she drew her shift over her body. He whipped his head back around, remembering his manners immediately, and returned to his seat in front of the fireplace. The flames were smaller than they'd been a few minutes earlier, but with a few pokes from his sword, the comfort of heat returned. Connor stared into the flames as he considered what Aveline had said, about how he'd only had himself to talk to for a very long time. When he glimpsed her muscular back, he realized, it had been quite a long time since he'd shared space with another human soul. And Aveline had soul to last a lifetime.

He buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly. This was going to be a long month.

AN: I hate this chapter. It feels like filler. But I'm trying to take a step into a more romantic direction because that's what I want to explore with these characters. There'll be plenty of adventure as well, but the two will be tightly interwoven.

Updates will take a while because I've started school and I'm gonna be hella busy this semester. Sorry y'all.