Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took awhile to get out. Real life got distracting for a while there. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I will admit now, I'm not too happy with it, but that's mostly because it is a filler.(And I have a feeling the next one might be too)

Thank you to all the new followers and the kind reviews! They seriously mean a lot!

Chapter 6: A Night on the Homestead

Connor didn't return to the Homestead for a long time. He stopped by once, explaining he was to ride for Philadelphia to hear George Washington accept his place as Commander-in-Chief, then left again.

When Anita arrived to the manor by herself with a bruised face and hand, Achilles was suspicious. His lack of trust in her added to the hurt she was already feeling, but she knew, deep down it was understandable. She told him what Adams' and Connor had told her and explained of the battle start in Lexington, but explained it was a British solider that had punched her. He seemed to believed her after that. It felt quiet in the manor without Connor. His absence was noticeable, especially to her. She went through her routine in silence, only speaking up to ask Achilles if he wanted her to make anything special for dinner.

About a week or two before Connor came back, a farmer named Warren and his wife Prudence arrived, explaining he had offered them land in exchange for crops after the Redcoats salted their previous farm and killed their livestock. Terry and Godfrey, with the help of Lance, put a roof over their heads, and the husband and wife set out to begin laying their first seeds on the land. Once the exciment of new neighbors had died down, Connor had returned in the middle of the night.

For a reason she was unsure of, Anita couldn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned, but nothing worked. It was well into the night when she finally admitted defeat. Slipping on her jacket and boots, she quietly made her way through the manor, mindful to skip over the one step that always creaked. She sneaked past Achilles' door and out through the back. The cool night breeze played with the tips of her hair on the porch as she took in the night around her. Using the moon as light, she crossed through the path to the edge of the cliff the red manor rested on. She climbed up on a rock and took a seat, overlooking the cove the Aquila rested in. On this clear night, she could hear almost perfectly the ship swaying in the tides. Out here, alone, she concentrated on the scenery, not letting any dark or conflicted thought enter her mind. If only for a minute, she wanted peace in her head.

A rustle from the brush behind startled her, sending her hand flying to her dagger, but grasping air. Panicking, she flattened herself on the rock, hoping the night would be enough to cover her. A large familiar figure came into her sight and she relaxed, her panic being replaced by eagerness. "Connor?" She called out hopefully.

The figure stopped and turned around, trying to find the source of the voice. "Anita?" Connor's voice called back.

"Over here." She pushed herself up and slid down the rock. He met her half way and without thinking she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Welcome back." It dawned on her what she had down and her eyes went wide. She felt him tense under her and before he could return the gesture, she stepped back, fully embarrassed. "Sorry. Are you hurt?" She asked.

"There was nothing to apologize for. And no. Sore and tired, but not hurt." He walked to the rock she had been on. "What are you doing out here?"

"Nights when I can't sleep I like to come out here." She explained, walking past him to climb up on the rock again. "It's peaceful."

"Hm." He pulled himself up after her and sat to overlook the cove. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. "Perhaps I should try this more often."

"Perhaps." It was no secret Connor suffered horrible nightmares more often than most. The creaking of his bed echoed through the manor on many nights. Often followed by a heavy thud, alerting them he had fallen on the floor or the bedpost had hit the wall. She thought back to when she first awakened by such an event.

Anita had jolted awake. It took a moment longer for her breathing to steady. She looked around her dark room, trying to find anything that would've been the source of the violent yank from sleep. Finding nothing, she settled back under the covers. A thud from the room across from her suddenly changed her mind. She moved and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her dagger. On almost silent feet she snuck down the hall, checking every shadow to be sure no one else was there. She checked inside Connors room, finding it empty apart from his form on the bed. She was about to move on down the stairs when he groaned, tossing his body to the side. He mumbled something she didn't catch and rolled over again. The movement caused the bedpost to bang against the wall, creating the thud she had heard from her own bed. Feeling slightly better, she stepped forward and on closer inspection she noticed him covered in a thin sheet of sweat. Concerned, she slowly moved her hand to touch his exposed arm, checking he wasn't catching fever. He winced at her slight touch and rolled over, still mumbling in his sleep.

She sighed, crossing the room to set her dagger on his desk and take a seat. On numerous occasions she had walked in on Andrew having his own nightmares. She grew into habit of sitting on the edge of the younger boys bed, waiting for him to wake himself up. When he did, she would comfort him, whether it be just the knowledge of knowing he wasn't alone or crying in her lap, until he fell back asleep. On the odd days the little boy woke up alone and scared, he would tip toe into her room and crawl in bed with her. If hard-working parents did anything to the two, it brought them closer than most siblings she knew.

However she wasn't about to do that to Connor. She liked the man, truly, but she also knew he liked his space and privacy. So instead she had lit the candle on his desk, making a mental note that it needed replacing soon. She was back warm under her covers when the creaking stopped.

She let the memory fade into the back of her mind once more, remembering what Connor was returning from. "What of that man-Pitcairn?" She asked.

"Dead," he stated. Over the time she spent alone, she had convinced herself the words she spoke to her brother were true. She was on no ones side. The only thing she wanted to concern herself with was keeping her family a secret to Connor and Achilles. And vice versa the more she thought of it, especially with Andrew out running around. She let the news not show any effect on her face. Luckily for her, he was too caught up in his own thoughts to see.

"You seem troubled still."

He sighed, glancing down at his gloved hands. "There was a...letter on him. I have to speak with Achilles about it tomorrow." He looked up at the sky. "Or rather later today."

"It mustn't be good."

He shook his head. "It's not."

She had another question, but hesitated a moment before asking. "Have you come across another? A Templar, I mean. Or anyone else within the Order?"

She saw his head shake no and released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, letting herself relax. If Andrew heeded her advice, the teen should be fine. Well, key word being should. She looked back over at him and noticed the edges of his features etched in disappointment. His dark eyes scanned over the cove as the breeze pulled at the loose strands of hair. In the moonlight, she could faintly make out the gleam of the scar on his cheek. The relief she felt was washed over by a strong guilt for taking pride in how he was now at a lost of what to do next.

"If-" She began, then stopped and tried again, pushing her overgrown bangs out of her face., knowing full well she's about to dig the hole deeper for herself. "If you need help, with anything, know I am here for you."

His lips twitched into that half-smile of his. "I am grateful for it, Anita. You're one of the only solid foundations I have in my life. It's...pleasant coming back to you and Achilles." He was referring to the times he would come back from weeks out at sea or the other random missions Achilles had found for him.

She smiled and tilted her head, ignoring the heavy weight that just dropped in her stomach. "Are you...telling me I'm a good friend?"

"That, too." He waited a moment before adding, "Although, you never did tell me why you ran that day."

"When we first met?" He nodded, watching her.

"I don't mean to pry. Just curious."

"...In all honesty, I was afraid. The reason for it doesn't matter now, " she added quickly, the words coming out as a whisper.

"Are you still?" Connor asked, his voice matching hers.

"Sometimes," she admitted and let out a sigh. He was silent for a while, but she didn't dare face him to see his own expression. She could feel him trying to decipher hers and she wasn't willing to let him. At least not yet. "You should go on inside. It's late and you deserve a proper rest." He said not a word as he slipped off the rock, landing silently on his boots.

"Are you coming?"

"In a bit." She continued to look over the cove, watching a thick fog rolling in, threatening to swallow the Aquila. However she could still feel his gaze on her back.

"Anita." His voice was soft and it gave her a strange fluttery feeling in her stomach. He waited until she turned at her waist to face him, falling back on one hand to make eye contact. "Know I am here for you as well"

She felt a genuine smile creep up on her face, feeling her cheeks flush. "I appreciate it. Sleep well, Connor."

He bowed his head once in a deep nod before turning to walk into the manor. She listened for the door to shut to face back at the cove, bringing her knees up and resting her chin between them. The ship below had been engulfed by the thick fog.