filler and what not, also haytham making a tiny little appearance

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC Charlie Allen

Chapter XIII

"I'm looking for Israel Putnam."

"On who's orders?"

"Samuel Adams."

"Follow me."

"This is not Bunker Hill."

"Aye. It's Breed's. There's been some… Disagreement to where we should encamp."

"Any news from Boston?"

"The Tories aren't moving. And anytime we try to press them, we lose a dozen men. I think Putnam and the others plan to assemble artillery on these hills. A good shelling might make the Redcoats rethink their strategy."

"And what of John Pitcairn."

"That bastard is the cagiest of the bunch. He's appeared, time to time, to taunt us or send regards by way of cannon fire. It's all right, though. He'll have what's coming to him soon enough… Putnam's just up ahead. You can't miss him."

oOoOoOo

Gulliver's Travel? Nah, I have watched enough cartoons and movies about it.

The Sorrow of the Young Wrether? Read it in German, it was boring enough.

Les Liasons Dangereuses? Sure, like I'm going to start a book in French, where I most likely I have to check every third word in a dictionary.

The Beggar's Opera? Watched it in the theatre, didn't like it too much.

Hamlet? Hm, why not? Maybe learn a bit more Shakespearean, just to annoy the hell out of some people.

Happy that I found a good book after almost two hours of endless browsing, I took it out of the shelf. I made sure to check every shelf, every books title, but couldn't anything good at all. I'm pretty sure the shopkeeper was slowly running out of patience, seeing as I'm taking this long to pick one book.

He should be glad that I'm even buying something! Normally I would stay in a bookstore for three hours and go out with empty handed.

Okay, that was a lie. I'd come out with twenty books and comics, while I'm in the process of reading twenty other books. And then I complain about no reading stuff.,

I walked with the book in my hand to the shop owner to pay for it. The slightly elder man looked up from his newspaper and adjusted his glasses he saw me approaching him with only one book. He was a man in his late forties, a face that reminded me of an old rabbit, and a beer belly.

I put the book onto the counter. The man took it, examined it for whatever reason, and then mumbled something about going into the storage room to do something with it.

The shop keeper disappeared behind a door, while I waited at the counter. A bell ran once, signalizing that someone had entered the store. Heavy footsteps and the sound of a sword hanging on a belt strode toward the counter.

I took a quick glance to my left and saw the man standing there tall and proudly, holding a black and thick book in his hand. The book binding was ripped badly, making me wonder what he did with it. I assumed he was here to let it be repaired. My eyes then wandered to the man himself, memorizing his appearance out of old habit. He was heavily armed with pistols and a sword, which somehow reminded me of Connor, and he wore a big dark blue coat and a tricorne hat. I really want that hat of his.

I could tell from his face that he had seen a lot from the world. But somehow I had the feeling I had see him before. I don't know why though. Letting a bored sigh, I started to drum my fingers on the counter and hummed the melody of Bach's Menuett, wondering why that shop keeper was taking so long. It was getting a bit uncomfortable with that man standing next to me, all armed. And I could just feel his gaze on me.

Finally the shop keeper returned, the book wrapped up all nicely with a red ribbon on top. He told me the price and I paid for it, putting it away into my bag.

"Do you even know how to read?" The man asked, or rather sneered.

"Yeah, I ca- wait, what?!" I half screamed, looking at him outrageous "Of course I can read!"

Both men gave me a strange look at my sudden outburst. That stupid excuse of a book store owner took of his glasses, clean it and calmly explained: "Well, I assumed from your clothing you were illiteracy." To prove his point, he leaned over the counter slightly, looking at the clothes I was wearing, which of course consisted of a trouser, my CONVERSE shoes and an oversized chemise. The other man also spared my outfit a quick glance, though he looked rather amused.

"I like the way I dress, thank you." I replied snippily and then stormed out of the shop, back to Paul Revere's silversmith shop, where Sam Adams, Paul Revere and Benjamin Tallmadge were drinking tea and gossiping.

Benjamin was another friend of Sam, who introduced us to each other. Tallmadge has got a friend in Connecticut, who used to teach young ladies few hours daily because that guy thought women's education were also important. I think his name was Nathan hale or something like that. Either way, he already sounded like a cool guy. Shame he stayed behind.

I stepped inside the silversmithery, expecting to see all three gentlemen inside, but instead only met one: Benjamin Tallmadge.

Sensing what I was about to ask, he explained: "Sam and Paul already headed over the Green Dragon tavern, meeting up with some others."

I nodded. "And you stayed behind because…?"

Benjamin chuckled at my weariness, setting his tea cup down. "Observant, just as expected from someone who lives with Achilles."

My eyes widened as I heard what he just revealed. "How do yo-"

He hold up one hand, telling me to stop talking. "My father knew Achilles; they were both in the Brotherhood."

It took me a few seconds to understand what he meant with Brotherhood, because the first things that popped up in my head was 'Brotherhood of the Hoodie Brother' for whatever reasons, but then understood what he meant.

"Are you an…?" I asked, trailing off because I didn't dare to say that word out loud, in case I was wrong.

"Oh no, I'm not an assassin. I prefer to live in one world. But I still try to help as much as I can."

Sounds like something I'd like to do. Not being an assassin, carrying around lots of weapons and fighting, instead doing more stuff like research, looking for information et cetera. Though I lack the motivation to do that. Sometimes I feel like doing what people tell me to do, and sometimes I simply don't give a single shit about it.

"You're not an assassin either." Tallmadge stated to which I shook my head. He looked a bit disappointment. "Then I guess Achilles' student is all alone in the battle field.

The last sentence somehow hit me like tons of red bricks. No, I am not an assassin, and I'll never be one. I don't even have to strength and courage to be one. But I also wonder what exactly made a person an assassin. Was Connor truly alone? Maybe he's the only assassin, but that doesn't make him alone, does it? As far as I know, he recruits people to build up his own Brotherhood or something like that. And at the Homestead, he's got Achilles and the people living there.

We walked out of the silversmith shop. Benjamin had the key to it and locked the door, and then we made our way to the tavern.

Redcoats were patrolling everywhere, more than usual, so we had to be very careful. Some of them were doing their duty, some were harassing the habitants, and others were gossiping and exchanging rumors. I caught some words like 'battles' and 'Bunker Hill' and the name 'John Pitcairn', which made me wonder how Connor was doing right now.

Was I worried?

I guess I was. There was a part of me that I constantly scared Connor will not return anymore. And that thought made my heart clench. Even though that blockhead didn't understand sarcasm or most jokes, and I didn't know a lot about him, he had grown on me a lot.

I just hope he thought the same thing of me.

"How do you like America so far?" Benjamin started a conversation casually.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's different from Europe, I guess." That's all I can say for now.

I mean, it's probably not wise to say the people in America are lot more open and it's nice how a complete stranger says hello to you but sometimes it was also creepy. I remember my very first trip to America few years ago. I needed some time to get used to their lifestyle, though my biggest problem was probably buying things in stores. In almost every store in Europe the taxes were included in the prices, while I learned in America every state had a different tax rate, thus they usually add the taxes at the cashier. And it happened to me eight times that I thought I had just enough money to buy something, but then at the cashier it turns out there were those taxes I had to pay along. One of the most embarrassing things in my life.

A familiar blue coat and tricorn hat came into our view. I recognized the man from before in the bookstore. I noted that he looked rather annoyed this time.

We walked pass each other, him sending a quick glance to me and Tallmadge before continuing marching into the opposite direction.

A shudder went through me, and again, I felt like I knew him already. It was an unpleasant feeling and I didn't like it a bit. Something in my mind tells me I'm going to see that man again.

oOoOoOo

"General Putnam?"

"What?"

"I'm looking for John Pitcairn. I was told you'd be able to help me find him."

"He's tucked away inside the city with no reason to leave. So long as that ship continues its assault, we'll never flush him out."

"But if the ship was silenced…"

"Then poor John might be forced to get off his arse and come forward!"

"I shall fly this flag to signal my success."

"And I shall speak fondly of you at your funeral."

oOoOoOo

There was the holocaust, there was the black plague, there was locus infestation and there was an ice age. Heck, according to the bible there was even a giant flood once.

But today God decided to sent something even worse: Fillan McCarthy.

What have I done to deserve this punishment?

Fillan McCarthy was a young man with blond hair. When I stalked into the tavern and saw a blond guy I thought it was Theo, so the first thing I wanted to do was to turn around and just walk away. It was such a huge relief when I found out it wasn't him thought.

Fillan talked a lot. Probably just as much as he eats. During the first thirty minutes he had already eaten six plates of food. From what I understood between his munching and rambling, he was a robber and lived by thieving on the streets, his loyalty laid 'next to his food and the Brotherhood'.

Other than having to endure his long senseless rumbles, Fillan was a nice dude. We both were sitting at the bar, watching how William Molineux cleaned some dishes and/or made beer. From time to time curses in French could be heard coming out of the kitchen.

Sam, Paul and Benjamin went upstairs to talk in private. Whatever they were talking about, it mostly didn't concern me at all. I prefer to sit outside the circle and listen to what others were saying.

"So how did you meet Connor?" came the next question from Fillan.

I knitted my eyebrows at that question, first wondering how the hell he knew Connor, but then remembered that it was him who invited the Robber to join the Brotherhood. Well, what am I supposed to say? 'Oh, you know, he found me asleep in a forest, no idea how I get there though'. Yeah sure, might as well tell him I'm the tooth fairy.

"He saved me from… a bear." I lied instead, not being able to come up with anything better.

Fillan chucked down the mug of beer in one giant sip, put the mug back onto the table, whipped his mouth with his sleeve and then let out a content sigh, patting his tummy for a few times. "Sounds like Connor. You must be really close to him. I bet he's really protective over you, like brother and sister." To prove his point, he poked my shoulder.

I slapped his hand away. "Connor is generally protective. Also, I already have a brother, one is more than enough." Especially since Austin is already overprotective enough.

"You have an older brother?"

"Sadly." That of course was a lie, but it was a habit of mine to always say I never wanted to have Austin as a brother, just to annoy him. Mostly he reacts in a fake-offended way.

"I have an older sister." Fillan revealed to me and ordered another beer.

"Really?" I faked my interest.

"Mhm." He confirmed before taking a sup from his beer "I haven't seen her for a long time though."

I haven't seen Austin for a long time either. Now that I think about it, was it really wise from me just to sit here in a tavern and do nothing? I should start looking for a way to get back. If there's even one.

At least I hope so.

"Is she still alive?" I blurted out, but then quickly clamped a hand over my mouth, mentally cursing myself for asking such a question randomly.

Fillan laughed at my action, and reached out a hand to ruffle my hair. "She's alive. She may make a lot of wrong decisions, but she's a smart woman."

Sitting there on the chair I pondered a long time about this one question before actually asking it oud loud: "Do you miss her?"

"Always." Was his prompt reply.

"And where is she now?"

The Robber shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows. Maybe she's still in Boston, maybe somewhere else. Fact is, I broke off all ties with her when she decided to join the Templars."

I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. So he misses her, but it was also his own decision to break off all ties he had with her. Okay, she did joint the Templars, but was that why Fillan decided to join the Creed? Just to piss her off or something like that? It made me think of me and Austin. If he had join the Templars, would I have joint he Brotherhood?

Letting out a tired and frustrated sigh I dropped my head onto the table, closing my eyes. Seeing my current rather pathetic state right now Fillan decided to babble William Molineux' ear off.

I breathed through my nose, concentrating on hearing out what was happening around me while not being able to see anything. Basically, I was bored.

The chiming of the bell told me that someone opened the door and new guests arrived. Judging by the different voices talking it were two or three people. They were probably sitting not very far away from the bar, thus I could hear most of the things they were conversing about.

It was rather interesting conversation they had. Something about that the British ships got blown up in some harbor couple of miles away from here. Apparently that provoked some British soldiers and John Pitcairn 'finally moved his cowardly arse out of his pithole'.

Sounds to me like Connor was involved in it. Well, I gotta say, that guy was full of surprises.

I inwardly smiled to myself hearing that. It made me relieved to know what whatever that native was planning to do, everything was going his way.

oOoOoOo

"Well I'll be damned you did it."

"That was quite a speech."

"Lies, all of it, I'm afraid. Still, such words have carried us thus far…"

"And what of Pitcairn?"

"He's left Boston as I said he would, and set up camp in Moulton Hill. There's o good way to get at him- not with that maelstrom brewing down below. I suppose you could circle around a bit, or wait for us to thin their ranks."

"There's no time. I will have to chance direct approach."

"That's twice today you've proposed the impossible!"

"I see no other choice."

"That's cos you're mad as a march hare, son."

"I expect an apology on my return."

oOoOoOo

More and more people were entering the tavern, gathering around the tables and taking seats, ordering their meal and beer, chatting, conversing and laughing merrily, like the could care less that a war was raging outside not far from Boston.

"Hey William, where does those beers go?!" I shouted, successfully balancing three beer mugs in my hands, while looking around.

"For the people sitting at the fenêtre!" Molineux replied as he started to prepare the next beer.

It took me few seconds to remember that fenêtre meant window in French. Spotting three people sitting there, I quickly strode toward the table, handed them their beer and left.

Fillan had already left, mumbling something about 'gotta earn my meals'. I can only imagine the things he meant with that. Sam and the others were still upstairs.

Since I had nothing to do, I offered to help out in the tavern. I have finished reading Hamlet a long time ago (skipping lots of passages due not being able to understand what they were trying to say) and needed some distraction. I could badly go out and explore Boston on my own without recalling what happened the last two times.

Besides, I kind of promised Connor not to left Sam Adams side.

But I think both William Molineux and Stephane Chapheu are glad about all the help they could et, even though it's from someone who's got barely any experience in waitressing.

Ah well, there's always a first time for everything.

I returned to the bar, waiting for the next meal/beer to be delivered.

"This bierre goes to that young man in the corner." William explained to me and pointed to said corner.

I nodded in understanding, took the beer and squeezed my eyes together to get a better look at the man looming in that corner. He was cut out from the rest of the crows, face covered by a tricorn hat, thought his clothes made me think that I might have seen him somewhere before.

Instantly my stomach started to feel like a raging roller coaster. Basically, I have a bad feeling about him.

Taking a deep breath I strode toward the table with the beer mug in my hand. "Your beer, sir." I announced and set the mug down in front of him.

Then I made a 360 degree turn in my own heels, ready to walk away, when suddenly that guy spoke up. "How was Lexington?"

Hearing Theo's voice made me want to smash the beer into his face. I turned back again and true enough, that bastard was sitting on the chair, smirking smugly.

Right, the last time I talked to him shit happened. So it would be wise to simply pretend I didn't know him and just walk away.

And that's what I did. I ignored him and walked back to William. Though I swore I heard the sound of the chair being pushed back and someone standing up, following me.

"Now now, is this how you greet and old friend?" came the amused question from Theo.

I bit my lip, chocking down the reply I wanted to fire at him, because I had the feeling that it was his intention to provoke me. Well, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction by talki-

"Go to hell and fuck yourself." I spat out.

That got me a surprised and slightly shocked face expression from William. I pointed over my shoulder at Theo, to which the French guy nodded in slight understanding. At least that's what I hope.

Theo stepped forward and put a coin onto the bar, holding up the beer to show that he paying for it, and then took a sip from it. He then reached it out for me, indicating that I could take a sip too. Instead of declining it I simply crossed my arms and glared daggers at him.

I like the smell of beer, but not the taste of it.

William, sensing that there were some sort of tension between me and Theo, suggested: "Charlie, why don't you take a break now? You have worked a lot, and I am grateful for that."

I opened my mouth to protest against that idea, because I'd rather keep working than talking to that douche again, but said douche was faster than I. "This is a wonderful idea, thank you sir!" and then he turned to me and said: "I'd like to go back into that small corner, so we can talk without being disturbed."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you again?"

"Because you have lots questions and well, you need me."

I raised an eyebrow at that somewhat arrogant reply from him. The first part was correct, but the latter one? I think I'm better off if I didn't even know him at all. That would have spared me a lot of trouble.

Letting out a defeated sigh, I gave in. "Fine. But make it quick."

We made our way back to the small table for two people in the corner far away from the rest and sat down, face to face.

For a while no one say anything. Theo sipped from his beer, and I pretended that watching the people at the table next to us were far more interesting than the conversation that was ahead of me. Well, it was at least fun to see how that one man was telling a story and making wild arm gestures to it. Then I glanced back to the blonde guy sitting in front of me, and saw that he still hadn't finished his beer.

Man, was he taking his time.

Finally Theo sat down the empty mug and stared at me with criticizing eyes, making me feel like I have done something wrong.

"What?" I asked rather rudely.

"You've cut your hair." Theo stated.

I rolled my eyes at that. "And?"

"I liked them better when they were longer."

Yeah me too, but I'm not going to say that out loud.

I breathed loudly through my nose and rubbed my forehead, trying to calm myself down. "Myriam." I suddenly rememberd.

"Yes, what about the huntress?" he inquired, but judging from his smirk he knew what I was about to ask.

"It was you who told her what happened to me and Adams."

"Indeed it was me." He confirmed.

"Why?"

"Because Connor needed to be informed of it so he could take actions, otherwise things wouldn't be how they are now in the other world."

I knitted my eyebrows in confusion. What the hell has got Connor to do with that now and what actions needed to be taken exactly? This all was just making me more and more confused.

"What's 'the other world'?" I demanded, remembering the last time Theo also said something about another world, when I asked him about my unwanted beauty sleep.

"Questions and more questions." Theo mocked and shook his hair "But isn't it better if some things are left unsaid, hidden in the dark?"

I opened my mouth to retort back, but then closed it again. At this point I had to agree with him, because most of the time I think it really is better if a person doesn't know everything in details. But then again, I was just dying from curiosity…

"Can you at least give me a small hint?" I inquired.

He thought about it, and then agreed to it. "Someone was trying to wake you up."

Someone was trying to wake me up? What's that supposed to mean? Obviously, if I was asleep for a year, I think it was naturally that Achilles or Connor would have tried to wake me up. That wasn't a great hint at all. Still I thought hard about it, trying to add this information to my unfinished puzzle picture, but couldn't find the correct spot for it.

Theo stood up with a satisfied smile, took off his tricorn hat and put it onto my head. It was a little bit too big for me, so it slipped off slightly, blocking my view. When I pushed the hat back to see again, that guy was gone again.

Well, I should have known something like this was going to happen. On the positive side, I have a tricorn hat now, like Captain Jack Sparrow.

Taking the empty beer mug I sulked back to the bar, were William was polishing other glasses and mugs.

"Ah bonne, you're back Charlie. Can you please take this beer to the monsieur sitting over there?" William said nodded at a table for two people next to the stairs.

An all too familiar man with a hat and big blue coat was sitting there, writing something into a black journal.

Well, shit.

oOoOoOo

"Why… Why did you do this?"

"To protect Adams and Hancock- and those they serve. You meant to kill them-"

"Kill them? Are you mad? I wanted only to parlay. There was so much to discuss. To explain… But you've put an end to that now."

"If you speak true then I will carry your last words to them."

"They must lay down their arms. They must stop this war!"

"Why them and not the Redcoats?"

"Do you not think we asked the same questions of the British? These things take time. And it would have succeeded, had you let my play my part."

"The part of the puppeteer."

"Better we hold the string than another."

"No. The strings should be severed. All should be free."

"And we should live forever on castles in the sky. You wield your blade like a man, but your mouth like a child. And more will die now because of that…"

"It is better to have faith in something, than none at all…"

oOo

"General Putnam."

"You live!"

"The same cannot be said for Pitcairn."

"Well done, I suppose. But it matters little now. I'm ordering a full retreat. We have lost too many in exchange for too little. If the Tories want this hill so badly, let them have it. Boston is the true prize."

"We have a bigger problem."

"What do you mean? … This can't be right. It says they plan to murder Washington!"

oOo

Day 550

I'm sure that man recognized me from in the bookstore before; he didn't let it show though. When I took another glimpse at his face, I could swore that I have seen this face somewhere before. Furthermore, I even have the feeling that I've… Met him before too. He sat at the table next to the stairs the whole time, writing something into that journal of his. Few hours later some people stormed into the tavern, announcing that John Pitcairn was dead. News surely travels fast, I thought to myself. That man though stood up and stormed out of the tavern after he heard that.