The Aquila reached the harbour of Davenport around 11 o'clock a few days later. It had been having the wind in the back the whole journey back, almost causing it to fly.

Altaïr was happy to feel solid ground underneath his feet again. He had been feeling sick for almost the whole journey, causing him to stay in his bed in his cabin. He was happy with that, though. That way he wouldn't have to face Connor. Because, truth been told, he did feel ashamed of his actions aboard the Randolph.

It was true what Connor had said. He was in it for the fights, for the kills, for the bloodshed. He loved what he did, he loved to be an assassin. But maybe he loved it a bit too much, too much to think about the honour of his targets. As long as he came out of the fight stronger and without a scratch, right?

Connor's actions and words had left him confused every minute he was awake. Was he really so narrow-minded? Did he really lack personality? The creed told him to hide in plain sight, to disappear in the crowd. But had he disappeared too much? Enough to lack individuality? Connor had shown mercy, something he had never done in his entire life. But that was logic, right? If you become too soft, people will walk over you.

Showing mercy, caring about someone, loving someone, being friendly in any way… Life had only learned him not to do those things, because in the end he would only hurt himself. How was it possible Connor cared about the lives of the sailors, to bring them back home safely, if they could attempt mutiny? How could he care about the villagers of Davenport, to give them back their lives, if they could start to profit more than himself from what they sell? How could he care so much about Achilles, if he's an old man, who could die in every moment, leaving Connor behind with sadness and pain?

Altaïr realized he was jealous of Connor, how life had given him happiness, while he had lost faith in humans. Abbas, his parents… He had cared about them and in the end they had left him, in sadness and pain. It was the reason he had grown cold, showing no emotion because it could destroy his soul.

Now they were walking back to Achilles' house in silence. They walked side by side, with above them a dark sky.

When they came to the backdoor, Altaïr stopped. His thoughts had been eating him from the inside out and he needed to say something, anything, to Connor.

Connor had realized Altaïr didn't walked next to him anymore, so he stopped as well and turned around.

"Connor… I am so sorry." Altaïr said with a hoarse voice. When there came no answer, Altaïr dropped his head and looked at the ground. He heard Connor taking a few steps towards him.

"It's okay, Altaïr." Connor said, placing a hand on Altaïr's shoulder.

Altaïr looked up at Connor's face that he could barely see if it wasn't for the light that came from inside, and sighed.

Then they walked in.

When Altaïr woke up the next morning, the room was already being lit by the sun. He guessed it was pretty late in the morning already. Apparently I was tired from the journey… Altaïr thought as he quickly put on his clothes.

He found everyone in the kitchen downstairs.

"Did you really destroy that ship!?" Kadar asked amazed the minute he saw him standing in the doorway.

Altaïr was taken aback from Kadar's sudden interest in him. Since they had moved in this house, Kadar had only been asking Connor about his stories and had grown to like him over Altaïr.

Then Altaïr nodded in affirmation.

"Connor has already told us everything. Good that the mission was a success." Achilles said with a smile. Altaïr looked confused, but took his seat at the wooden table next to Kadar and in front of Connor.

"Kadar, I think you better be going." Achilles said to Kadar. The novice quickly stood up, said goodbye and ran out of the kitchen, and not long after they heard the front door being opened and closed.

"Where's he going?" Altaïr asked.

"He's been helping around in the village the past week. Today he promised to help Myriam hunting. He was so excited."

Altaïr nodded and continued eating.

"What will we be doing today, mentor?" Connor asked.

Achilles sighed. "Well, seeing as you just had a mission, and it's pretty quiet now on the Templar's side, you may do whatever you like today. If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to take a walk." Achilles said, leaving Altaïr and Connor at the table.

"So, what are we going to do? Or what are you going to do, you don't have to feel obligated to do something with me, of course." Connor asked.

"Would you… Show me around? Maybe to your former home, the tribe?"

"Sure." Connor said with a smile.

They rode the same way they had taken on their first mission. The grey clouds of yesterday had given room to a blue sky, with here and there a few white clouds. The sun warmed up the earth and on their way they saw rabbits, beavers and raccoons enjoying the beautiful day as well.

"Why didn't you tell Achilles I disobeyed you?" Altaïr asked as they had to make way for a carriage that tried to pass on the narrow road next to the lake.

"Because you have learned from it, and I have faith it will never happen again."

The carriage had passed and they rode on. They came to the small town where they had bought supplies a week ago.

"How can you be so sure?" Altaïr asked.

"Because I trust you." Altaïr looked at his right side to see Connor looking at him. There it was, that was exactly the problem. Connor didn't know him for long, but he already trusted Altaïr would heal from his behaviour, just like Malik and Al Mualim believed in him. But they knew him, and Connor was so different from them.

In silence they rode on.

They passed yet another town, and turned right. After a few minutes they came to a large open place, with a few trees standing in a shallow lake. Once the road disappeared under the water, but the horses carried on without complaining. They took a small path to their right and riding behind each other, they let the horses go in a full gallop.

The path led uphill, and then went straight downhill again.

"That must have been quite a long journey for you as a kid." They had been riding for hours now.

"It was. Though there's a shortcut through the woods." Connor answered.

When they had come to the end of the road, there was a large wooden fence. Connor rode his horse through a gap in the fence and Altaïr followed, grabbing the reins shorter to steer his horse better.

Within the fence stood some large wooden houses and there were people in clothes that looked strange to Altaïr. Skins of animals hung in front of the houses and every now and then people sat around a campfire.

Connor had brought his horse to a stop and someone told him something. He stopped his horse next to Connor's, but couldn't understand what they said because they were speaking in a different language.

"He wanted to know if you weren't dangerous. It doesn't happen very often that a stranger comes into the village." Connor said with a smile when the man next to him had walked away.

They left their horses and walked through the camp while Connor told Altaïr about the ways of his people and their history. After a little while they returned to their horses and Altaïr pulled himself on his black gelding and Connor seated himself on his brown Paint horse again.

Before they were able to steer the horses around towards the exit, a woman - dressed as strangely as the others, in Altaïr's eyes – came running towards them. The horses lifted their heads and rolled their eyes at the rush of the woman, but the assassins managed to calm them down.

The woman talked in fear to Connor.

"What's wrong?" Altaïr asked when she was done freaking out.

"She said there will be a heavy storm, and that it will be dangerous to ride back."

"What? The sky is clear! What nonsense!"

"Altaïr, she has had a vision. If we will ride all the way back to Davenport, we will get hurt. We better find ourselves a tavern in the next town." Connor said looking at the sky.

"A vision? You believe in that? Come on Connor, it's all just superstition."

"No Altaïr, it's dangerous. I will not be risking our lives."

Altaïr sighed. "Fine." He said annoyed.

They exited the small village and rode up and down the hill again. When they came to the village they had rode through a few hours ago, the sky was already a threatening shade of grey, and the branches of the trees looked like they would break with every blow of the hard wind. Connor lead Altaïr to a large, red building. Outside it stood a long flagpole which bore the American flag; it waved in the wind.

Just as they had entered the building, outside the rain came pouring down like someone emptied a large bucket of water on the land.

Inside were a lot of people hiding from the rain as well and a small band played cheerful music. It was warm, because of the people and the fire in the fireplace. Altaïr and Connor made their way through the wooden tables at which people said drinking to the bar. Behind it stood a man with a long brown coat cleaning up a mug.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you have any free rooms?" Connor tried to make himself audible over the talking of the already drunk people and the music.

"Only one, I'm afraid. It does have a king size bed." The man said.

"No way. We will look somewhere else." Altaïr said to Connor.

"I would take it, if I were you. Just step one foot outside the door and you will be flooded away. It's too dangerous to be outside now."

"When will this bad weather stop?" Altaïr asked the man.

"I heard from some travellers that the sun would break through the clouds tomorrow morning."

"We will take the room, thank you." Connor said giving the man enough money. "Come one Altaïr, we've got no other option."

Altaïr sighed.

"Another round here!"

The wife of the owner of the inn came carrying two large mugs of beer over to the table at which Connor and Altaïr sat. They weren't drunk, but they had had enough alcohol to not care anymore.

They downed the whole mug in one time.

"So there I stood, in front of at least thirty men and, I shit you not, I took them all down with one swing of my sword each." Altaïr said when he had finished his beer.

"No way! Really?" Connor said in full amazement. He must be the drunkest of the two; his alcohol tolerance is very low. Altaïr thought.

"Would I lie? They weren't even able to touch me, too."

They laughed, and the woman came with two more mugs of beer. The assassins emptied them in less than 5 minutes.

They stared at their empty mugs for some time, when Connor spoke up.

"Do you have a family, Altaïr?"

"Nah. Don't need some woman bothering me and complaining all the time. How 'bout you?"

"Me neither. I've never been interested in women. They're only a burden to someone like us."

"That's true!" Altaïr laughed and patted Connor on his shoulder.

"Got the party going here? Or do we need some more beer!" Three random men joined at their table, bringing five mugs of beer.

"Beer!" Connor yelled and they laughed and drank together, playing cards. Who would've thought cards games were fun? Altaïr thought.

It was long past midnight when Connor and Altaïr finally reached their room. It had been quite an adventure to get up the stairs, because Connor had been walking in front, occasionally falling a few steps back again and then laughing hard as if he had just been told the funniest joke in the world. Altaïr wasn't as drunk as Connor, but tipsy enough to laugh just as hard along with him.

"Ladies first." Altaïr said when he had opened their room with the key.

"Why thank you." Connor joked back and walked in. Altaïr stepped in behind him and had barely closed the door before he was being pushed against it by a body.

"Connor damn it, turn on the light." Altaïr tried to push Connor off him, but found his arm muscles had put their power off.

"I'm tired." Connor stated bluntly, hanging on Altaïr with his full weight.

Altaïr could smell Connor's breath full of alcohol from where he stood.

"Then get off me and go to bed."

Connor stood up a bit and positioned himself to a more standing pose, in front of Altaïr. He placed his hands next to Altaïr's head, against the door to keep himself up.

"Do you hate me?"

"I hate everyone, Connor. Now get out of my face."

Connor was silent for a moment.

"We don't seem to get along very well, eh?"

Altaïr didn't know what to say and just shrugged.

"Do you have any friends at all? People you care about?"

"I do not need anybody. But I do have a good friend, back in Masyaf."

"Everybody needs somebody, Altaïr." Connor said. He began to lose his balance, or so Altaïr thought, until he felt Connor's warm lips on his.

Altaïr's eyes widened in surprise at the strange feeling. A feeling he hadn't had in a long time, and by that time it had been a woman's lips. Connor's felt so strange it left Altaïr nailed to the floor.

It didn't last long, though, and soon Connor dropped his head and let it rest on Altaïr's shoulder. He still used his hands on the door to keep himself up.

"C- Connor, you're drunk. Go to bed now." Altaïr finally managed to get out.

Connor groaned, and to make the scene even more awkward for Altaïr, he had to help the American assassin to the bed.

When they both finally laid down, Connor had already drifted off to sleep.

Altaïr lied awake, listening to the pouring rain that came down on the roof and against the window.

What the hell had that been? Altaïr thought as he rubbed his tired face with his hand. He's just been wasted. I doubt if he'll remember anything this morning. He turned with his back to Connor in the king size bed, feeling weirdly sad at his last thought before he too fell asleep.