I think it worthwhile to note that since Jacqueline learned Connor's real name first, she calls him that in private, but calls him by Connor when in company, for simplicity's sake.

Also, thank you to all the wonderful reviewers of the past few chapters! You guys really keep me going.

W'P

"Dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask." -X-Files

-o-

She was standing in the forest, and yet, she was not. There was the campfire, burnt out and cold, and there was Connor's sleeping form a few feet away. It was all the same as when she had fallen asleep, but felt unreal and far away. Everything was dark, as though the stars and moon had been snuffed out. She, however, was the only thing that looked real and colourful. For a few minutes Jacqueline shifted between feet, unsure of what to do. Despite the obvious dream-like atmosphere to it all, her surroundings felt very real.

Reality skipped on its hinges for a moment, a disorienting and disjointed skipping, like the world had briefly been knocked out of orbit. When time got a hold of itself, a woman was standing in the grass with her. She had an ageless quality to her looks; lovely, but with a hooked nose and cold eyes like a judge. Her garments were unlike anything Jacqueline had seen, flowing and white, but oddly futuristic. The clothing and her skin were almost the same colour, so she was like one constantly shifting, pale being.

"Hello." She greeted flatly. Her voice was haunting and echoed in the empty, dark glade.

"Er…hello." Jacqueline greeted back. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered that they were speaking French, and appreciated the gesture. "Where am I?"

"Where you were." The woman drifted closer. "Worry not. This is but a dream."

"Can't I wake myself?"

"It is not that kind of dream." Her cryptic answers were doing nothing to clear the confusion Jacqueline felt, but she didn't speak as the woman continued. "I have watched you, daughter, and I am pleased with your progress."

"Daughter?" Jacqueline said suspiciously. "You are not my mother."

"No. You are Her daughter. And you have found His son. This is good."

She rubbed her temples and sighed. "Please, could you explain who you are? What do you want from me?"

"I will tell you, child. In due time. For now, you must assist him. If you do not, the consequences will be devastating for you, and for the future." She cast a hand out, and a vision appeared in the air, gold and shimmering. In it, she watched a city burn. "You have found him, and for that you are well."

"Who is this "him" you keep speaking of? What disaster?" The images on the shining gold screen changed every few seconds, and now it lingered on the Templar cross.

"The Son." The woman insisted, walking even closer. Jacqueline edged away. Close proximity with the lady gave her an uneasy feeling, like the prickling on the back of one's neck when one is being watched. "His quest will stop the slaughter of many, but only with your assistance. Help him, or he will stray from his task…and fail."

The image of wooden crosses over graves in the snow appeared, and a shiver rattled down the Assassin's spine. "Why me?" She asked. "I am no one special."

"Wait," The woman swept up to Jacqueline before she could move away. "Your time will come." She cast a hand behind her, and the auriferous screen vanished.

Jacqueline wavered where she stood and crumpled to the ground, suddenly cripplingly tired. The hem of the woman's bright, surreal robes drifted an inch or two above the ground. She was barefoot. As she dropped into unconsciousness again, she heard the woman's voice a final time. It was faint now, as though from a long distance away.

"Find your purpose…daughter of Eve."

-o-

Jacqueline gasped awake, sitting upright and instinctively groping around in the damp grass for her knife. The blade sang from its sheathe in the quiet night, reflecting the moon from its clean surface. Her breathing stayed wary and adrenaline-fueled for a few more minutes before she allowed herself to remember that this was real life, and the mysterious woman was gone. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, still tied back. To her shame, her hand was shaking, so she held it still with her other.

Something in the grass shifted, and she flinched, but it was only Connor. He squinted at her tiredly and sat up on one elbow. His hair was tousseled from its normal ponytail, and stuck up at odd angles around his face in a rather endearing fashion. "Jacqueline? Are you all right?"

For a moment she considered telling him about the dream-vision. Perhaps he would know something about the woman. Was this the "spirit" he had spoken of on that stormy night, so long ago when he had arrived at the manor? But she thought it best to keep it to herself for the time being. It was only a dream, after all, and with all the excitement it was entirely possible her mind was running rampant.

"Jacqueline." Connor said, more firmly now. She must have been quiet too long. "What's wrong?"

"Um…nothing. I'm fine." She laid back down on her side to face the dead fire and inhaled the scent of the damp grass. "It was only a dream."

-o-

Having gotten no further sleep the previous night, Jacqueline was drawn and exhausted when they continued on the road, and it showed. Connor said nothing but it was clear he was thinking deeply. A man of few words, he was even quieter while travelling. To pass the time, and incidentally keep herself awake, she sang an old song she had learned in Bayonne.

"Au bout de cinq à six semaines, les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer. Ohé, ohé…" She almost whispered the lyrics to herself. "On tira z'à la courte paille, pour savoir qui-qui-qui serait mange. Ohé, ohé…"

"What is it about?" Connor asked finally. "The song you sing?"

Jacqueline sighed. "It is a children's song. It tells the tale of a crew that runs low on rations and draws straws to see who will be eaten. The youngest boy is picked, and he prays to the Virgin Mary for a miracle to save him. Before he can be eaten, fish leap from the sea and into the ship, saving his life."

"That is…dark, for a children's song." He decided. "But at least it has a good ending."

She chuckled and rubbed her eyes, burning with lack of sleep. "Oui, well, that is France for you. I'm sorry, it must be distracting. I can stop if it annoys you."

"I do not mind." He said, with a light smile. His mouth was all she could see, as he had put his hood up. She yawned, but continued singing until the song had finished, with its upbeat end.

By the time she had ended the tune Boston was in view. The people came before the city, walking along the road and moving aside as they passed. Then there were farm animals in the rural outskirts. Roosters clucked and flapped flightlessly from their path. Pigs and cattle were penned in a few metres from the road in ramshackle fences that were often accompanied by little stalls selling fruit or fish. The ocean was a teal strip against the shore that disappeared behind the walls of the city as they continued on.

They carefully guided their horses through the busy city, asking here and there for Samuel Adams' location. It was not by directions but by chance that they found him; standing in a group of other men whom were all speaking in hushed, angry and urgent tones. It was clear the conversation would soon take a turn for the ugly unless stopped.

Connor dismounted, and Jacqueline did as well, but she lingered back and held the horses' reins, and prepared to intervene. The two men had ended on a decent note, but one could never be too sure. Adams looked up as they approached.

"Ah, Connor, hello again. And Jacqueline, of course." He added, nodding to her. "What brings you two to Boston?"

"You." Connor said simply.

Adams glanced back at the other men. "If you would excuse us, gentlemen." He gestured for them to follow. "Thank you. That conversation was about to turn unpleasant. Now, what can I do for you?"

"We were hoping you could help us locate William Johnson." Connor said. Jacqueline led the horses along behind them, but could hear the conversation fine.

"Of course. I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you come along?" They turned down a side street, and there was a lull in conversation. "It's good to see the people finally taking a stand against injustice…"

"Says the man who owns a slave."

Adams chuckled. "Who, Surry? I practise what I preach, my friend. She's not a slave, but a freed woman…at least on paper. Men's minds are not so easily turned. It's a tragedy that for all our progress, still we cling to such barbarism."

"Why not speak out?" Jacqueline spoke for the first time since entering the city. "You hold a position of some influence. Surely people would listen."

"We must focus first on defending our rights. When all this is done we'll have the luxury of addressing these other matters."

"You speak as though your condition is equal to that of the slaves'. It is not." Connor pointed out.

"Tell that to my neighbor, who was compelled to quarter British troops. Or to my friend, whose store was closed because he displeased the Crown. The people here are no freer than Surry."

The three stopped in a more open square, where a commotion was going on. In one of the buildings, a contingent of redcoats was at the door of the house. A man in one of the upper windows was yelling at them furiously about taxes and how it was "his house." He vanished for a moment and came back to dump a chamber pot down at the feet of one of the taxmen. The redcoats started smashing in the windows, and at the same time the door flew open and the man tackled the taxman on his porch.

"I trust the mounting evidence is proof enough, my friends." Adams said to them.

"Continue on. I will meet you at our destination." Connor stopped Jacqueline from handing the reins to Adams. "You too."

Her nostrils flared. "Why? I'm just as skilled as you—"

"I know. But you have not slept well and are in no shape to fight. You can barely stand. Go with Samuel for now."

She made a couple unhappy faces, but led the horses on while Connor went to take care of the tax collectors. They walked along the streets without speaking for a while. "So, how have you been?" Adams asked after a while.

"I've been well, merci. And you?"

"As well as I can be." He paused. "I know it's not my place to pry, but you and Connor…"

Jacqueline glanced sidelong at him. "Yes?"

"You seem rather…close." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm jumping to conclusions. It's just an observation, you should know. No offense meant."

"None taken. That is true, but not in the way that you think." She was too tired to be embarrassed.

"I see. Well, I'll just leave it at that. It's not my business."

The rest of the walk to the tavern was short. Adams went inside the little place while she made sure the horses were secured to the posts outside. Inside, she found him speaking with another man behind the bar. He had small, smart features and a receding gray hairline.

"Ah, speak of the devil." Adams said as she walked in. "Jacqueline, allow me to introduce you to William Molyneux, the owner of this pub, and a man equally interested in our cause."

"A pleasure." Jacqueline nodded to him. "I see that the tax collectors are becoming a problem."

"Yes, a problem with which we," Here Adams gestured to himself and Molyneux. "Were hoping you and Connor could help with."

"What do you want us to do? Connor has his own agenda concerning William Johnson."

"Well, luckily for you, Johnson is a concern of ours as well." The door to the tavern opened and Connor walked in and they all looked up. "Connor! I'd like for you to meet some like-minded friends. The owner of this fine establishment, William Molyneux, and the manager and chef of his newest venture, Stephane Chapheu."

A man walked out of the kitchen, who Jacqueline recognised to be the man who had been in the fight with the taxmen. He had a cloth tied around his head and a scruffy beard on his chin. A very large butcher's cleaver hung at his side. "Ah, Connor and I just had a ball with some Redcoats enforcing some taxmen outside my home!"

Jacqueline perked up at the sound of his heavy French accent. "Are you from France, or the north?" She asked in her native tongue.

He seemed equally pleased. "France! It is good to hear someone else from the homeland in this godforsaken city." He scoffed in the same language. "There is no special like for us here, my friend, with the Redcoats especially."

"Well, I hope that will change soon." It felt good to speak conversationally after so long without anyone to speak to.

"The collectors grow bolder and more forceful." Molyneux said, slapping his hand down on the bar, stopping the conversation. "Something we must address, Samuel."

Adams nodded. "Then let us raise a banner. Something to let the people know that they are not alone. The docks are an angry place of late, protestors picketing the latest shipment of British tea. The eyes of the city are upon that stage…"

"A Bostonian without his tea is a dangerous beast!" Chapheu exclaimed, in English now.

Connor was standing to the side, a little behind Jacqueline, and was picking at the edges of his fingerless gloves. She smacked his hand to get him to stop. "William Johnson is smuggling the tea off the ships—one of his men tried to sell me this." Molyneux held up a white cloth bag and tossed it to the bar. "A sample of what I refused, but it's form those ships—no mistaking the stamp. He's charging a King's ransom, must be he's making a mint off those who buy it."

"Where is he now?" Connor asked.

"I've never met the man."

"May I ask why you seek him, Connor?" Adams asked, head inclined and eye narrowed.

"He intends to purchase the land upon which my village stands without the consent of my people." He was picking the seams of his gloves again, and Jacqueline again stopped him.

"No doubt the revenue from his little smuggling endeavor is financing the acquisition." Adams paused, thinking. "A tax enforced on tea grants a boon to smugglers. I'll wager the same men who levy the taxes are selling the tea. A stage requires a spectacle and I may know the play." He turned to the Assassins. "Both of you go to the docks, and see to the destruction of the tea. If you should need us, return here."