A/N: Well here we are, another chapter! I had planned for this one to be much longer, but I'm heading to up north for a week to visit family, and won't have any time or ability to write, so I just figured I'd cut it off here and let y'all have something instead of having to wait. I think this is the chapter I've been most nervous about posting so far, but hopefully y'all will enjoy it! Now that it's summer for me, I'll (hopefully) have a lot more time to write, but we'll see - I need a job, after all. On that note, congrats to all those graduating in the coming weeks, and good luck on finals to all of you still in school!

Chapter Thirteen;

Reunion

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."

J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

Two months later, mid July, 1781

"How is the pain?" Dr. White asked, his fingers prodding her shoulder.

"Much better," she said, her smile too enthusiastic to be convincing. "Almost back to normal!" Cora tried to hide her wince as he put pressure on a sensitive spot, and Dr. White gave a sympathetic smile, pulling her shirt back into place.

"I see," he said, eying her suspiciously. Immediately, Cora tried to think up some excuse for her reaction. She needed to convince him that she was well enough to begin to train again. It was all she had been able to think about since she had decided she would go after her brother. Even in her dreams she trained, which made it even more disappointing to wake up and not have a full range of motion.

"It is not so bad anymore," she said quickly, moving her arm in a way that she knew wouldn't cause pain in her shoulder. Dr. White looked at her skeptically, taking a step back as he watched her flailing her arm about. He wasn't fooled though, and she could see it.

"Put your arm over your head," he said flatly, testing her. Cora felt her cheeks flush, but nevertheless, she tried to do it. As she raised her arm, though, she felt the familiar sharp bolts of pain shooting through her shoulder and down her arm. Sucking in a quick breath, she dropped her arm, cradling it against her body.

"Cora," he said, more gently this time. "I know you are anxious to begin to train again, but these things take time. You will serve your brother no better if you injure yourself further." Cora sighed impatiently. Her shoulder was healing so slowly, which only seemed to further her anxiety. Ever since she had read Henry's letter, the idea that her brother was alive was all that she could think about. It gave her a distraction from Connor's prolonged absence, at least... He had been gone much longer than she thought he would be. The first few weeks she had shamelessly yearned for him to return, but eventually she had come to terms with the knowledge that he would not come. Whether he stayed away purposefully or because his duties kept him, she was not sure. Victoire constantly assured her of the latter, but it was hard to convince herself that she had not played a part in it.

"It is healing nicely," he continued. "I think it would be alright for you to stop wearing the sling, but only if you promise to practice caution." The concession was enough to satisfy a little of the desire for normalcy that Cora had, so she accepted it without any attempt at bartering for a better deal.

On her way back to the manor she saw Myriam, and it was all she could do to avoid the gaze of her narrowed eyes. A few weeks past, she had run into the woman after visiting Prudence, and they had gotten into a fierce argument. Cora could scarcely even recall how it had begun, but after a few insults had been exchanged it had descended into a full fledged argument. Cora had never felt particularly welcomed by Myriam, but she had not known the woman's distaste for her was so strong. It seemed that she thought Cora some pretentious, arrogant temptress with secret motives to harm Connor and the rest of the citizens of the homestead. Cora had given her share of undeserved insults, but Myriam's accusations had come out of nowhere and left her bewildered and more hurt than she wanted to admit. When Cora was sulking about it later, she wondered where in the world Myriam had gotten that idea, but then she remembered. That was exactly what she had been when she had first come here... It seemed like years past, as if that spiteful, angry woman who had first arrived at the manor was some woman she had known long ago. It was strange to realize that it had been only some three and a half months. Somehow, though, she managed to avoid Myriam's scrutinizing gaze, and made her way to the stables where Victoire was mucking out the stalls.

"Need help?" she asked.

"No," Victoire said, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. The summer sun had grown hot, and it had been weeks since rains had come to give relief. Cora found herself covered in sweat almost consistently, and found herself spending most of her time outside to escape the stuffiness of the manor.

"You are not wearing your sling," Victoire said when she realized Cora's arm was dangling free. It was an odd sensation not to wear it after so much time, and Cora almost wanted to put it back on to feel normal.

"Dr. White said it was no longer necessary as long as I was careful," she said, shrugging as she made her way over to Ealga. The horse gave a soft nicker as Cora stroked her neck.

Victoire laughed loudly at that, putting one hand on her hip as she leaned against the shovel. "Careful? He should know better than that," she said. Cora laughed, shrugging as she began to brush Ealga's coat. "You, my friend, are one stubborn woman. By now all of the world should know that once you set your mind to something, no words of warning will stop you."

"One of my many faults, I assure you," Cora said, smiling. It was strange how often she had laughed and smiled in the past few months. The mundane tasks and chores as well as Victoire's companionship had brought it out, she supposed.

"I think it is a strength," Victoire said, more serious. "Some of us are too easily discouraged."

"You? Discouraged easily?" Cora scoffed, laughing at her friend. "I wish I would have known that when you insisted that I make soup. Poor Achilles, I will never forget the look on his face when he tried it."

Victoire laughed, almost dropping the shovel. "He has been suspicious of my soups every time I have made them since."

"I told you I'm a terrible cook."

"Everyone is terrible when they start," she said, going back to her work. "Besides, you will need to learn to cook if you ever aspire to be a good and obedient housewife," she said sarcastically, deepening her voice as she spoke in a man's tone.

"I doubt I will ever be a wife," she said quietly, casting her eyes down. Trying to hide any hint of sadness, she continued their banter. "And if I ever do marry, I pity the poor man's soul."

"I pity any man who marries a woman like us," she agreed with a laugh. "Very few would know what to do with a wife who prefers swordplay to embroidery." The sadness in Cora's voice had not escaped her, but Victoire had learned when to hold her tongue and when to ask if she wanted to talk. Victoire had no plans to say anything about the issue, but when Cora grew quiet, she spoke up.

"Do you wish to talk about something?" she asked gently, propping the shovel against the wall. Cora sighed, drumming her fingers against the brush as she looked off into the distance.

"I just cannot stop thinking about my brother," she admitted, looking down as she set the brush aside and brought her braid to her chest, fiddling with the tie. Victoire put a hand on her friend's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I am sure he is out there safe and thinking of you, just as you think of him. I know this is easy for me to say, but you should focus on healing, mon amie. It will not do if you go looking for him without being as strong as you can."

"But how long will that take?" Cora said, stepping away from Victoire, her voice growing more desperate. "I have spent five years believing him dead, and now that I know he is out there... I cannot bear sitting here idly."

Victoire was quiet for a few moments, unsure how to respond. She wanted to tell Cora that if she had waited five years, a few more months would be nothing. She wanted to say she was foolish for wanting to find her brother when she herself was still in the process of healing from a grievous injury. But then... Do all not become fools when it comes to those they love?

"I cannot tell you what to do," she said finally. "I can only tell you what I think, and that is that you should wait, gather your strength, make a plan... But I will be here to support whatever you decide to do."

Cora smiled, and the woman pulled her into a hug. Cora was rigid at first, not accustomed to such displays of affection and comfort, but soon relaxed and returned the embrace. Perhaps Victoire was right, after all.

Cora was on the balcony of her room, sketching Fionn as he sat napping at her feet, when Victoire ran breathlessly into the room.

"What is it?" Cora asked, quickly rising to her feet, alarmed by the urgency on the woman's face. Victoire put her hands on her knees, shaking her head as she caught her breath before speaking.

"He is back," she said finally. Cora froze, unsure what to do or think, but Victoire continued to speak. "I ran as soon as I saw him riding up. I thought you might want some warning, to..."

"Achilles?"

Both women froze at the sound of Connor's voice, and Victoire looked at her friend, silently asking her if she should stall or show him to Cora's room. Yet though Victoire tried to get a response from her, Cora was frozen in her place, her eyes glued on the doorway as if she had just seen a ghost walk by it. Hearing her name from downstairs was what finally broke her gaze.

"Cora?" The sound of her name coming from his lips was an odd thing after so long, stirring both her nerves and her heart. Victoire turned to the doorway as she heard footsteps ascending the stairs, and took one last look at Cora before Connor entered the room. He walked quickly towards her, as if to gather her in an embrace, but she made no move to go to him, and he stopped a few feet from her, giving her space. The look that passed between them was restrained and awkward, as if they wanted to embrace but were too afraid to. When Cora gave her a subtle nod, Victoire silently left the room, a secret smile on her face. Connor shook his head as he watched her go, the meaning of her smirk not lost on him. When she was gone, though, he turned his attention back to Cora.

"Are you well?" Connor asked, looking her over once Victoire had disappeared. The woman standing before him was a stark contrast with the woman he had left two months previously, so pale and sick. He had known she would at least by on her feet by now, but she looked remarkably well. With the wound covered with clothing and her arm free from any sling or binding, it would have been easy for him to think there had never been anything wrong, if he did not know better.

"Yes," she said curtly, closing her sketch book and walking past him to set it on the table. He watched as she leaned on it with her good arm, the other hand spreading across her stomach as if she was trying to hold in what she truly wanted to say. Connor had thought about this moment more than he would have liked to admit during his time away, and none of it was going how he had wanted it to. She seemed tense, not at all happy to see him, and he was not sure he quite understood why.

"Are you angry with me?"

Cora sighed, and he could see some of the tension release from her body. "No," she said quietly as she turned back towards him. In the soft evening light, her skin seemed to glow, and he was thankful to see her looking so rosy cheeked and healthy compared with how he had last seen her. He could not tell if she said no because she truly held no anger or because she did not want to argue, and he could not help but plead his case on the chance that it was the latter.

"Cora... I wanted to come back, but things in Boston began to -"

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "Victoire told me. I understand." Her words were sharp but seemed genuine, but still Connor could not help but feel as though she was feigning acceptance of his absence. Yet instead of pressing her, he decided to let it be. If she was angry, he would no doubt hear of it later.

"How is your shoulder?" He asked, trying to change the subject.

"It's alright," she said, her voice lightening a little. "I just only stopped wearing a sling, but it is still quite painful and I do not yet have full range of motion."

Connor nodded, wanting to tell her how worried and frantic he had been, and how often he had thought of her while he was away. Instead, he stood there silently, awkwardly unsure of what to do or say to break whatever wall had built itself between them while he had been gone.

"You must tell me what has happened while you were away," she continued. "I knew only what Duncan originally told Victoire when he came..."

"If you do not mind, perhaps it can wait until tomorrow. It has been a long journey."

"Of course," she said, feeling foolish as she looked away. He was silent but his eyes did not leave her, and Cora suddenly felt very awkward. "I... I need to know something," she said finally, forcing herself to look at him again.

"What is it?" he asked, making no attempt to hide his concern at the tone of the question. It was hard for Cora to ask, though she desperately wanted to know the answer, as asking it meant acknowledging a fact that she didn't want to face.

"That man... who..." she trailed off, swallowing the lump that was building in her throat. Oh, how weak she had grown! She could not even think of Henry without getting upset... Every time she did, all she could remember of him was the sound of the gunshot, and feeling so helpless as he fell to the ground.

"We buried him in the clearing," Connor said gently, remembering the man whose death had made Cora fly from cover and start a battle that almost cost her life. He had seen how she had clung to him and knew that he must have meant much to her. Even if he hadn't, he would not have felt right leaving the man unburied, especially after he had tried to stop Oliver from burning the house. "I did not know if he had family, or..."

"It is fine," she said quickly, a look of grief touching her features before she took a few steps toward him. "Thank you." She took his hand and squeezed it gently, but before Connor could react, she had walked through the door, her dog trailing happily behind.

The next afternoon, Cora and Connor stood on her balcony again. They had tried to talk inside, but the air inside the manor was far too stagnant, and Achilles was asleep in the only room that seemed to catch a breeze. Outside, though just as hot, was made a bit more bearable by the wind, so they had found themselves there. Connor had taken time in explaining all that had happened. He had gone at first to wrap up some business in Boston, but soon he and the other Assassins had stumbled upon leads to Lee's location, and Connor could not put aside the chance to find it. This time though, his efforts were not in vain, and he explained that they had eventually found out that he had taken refuge at Fort George in New York City.

"When will you go find him?" she asked, furrowing her brows at the thought of him leaving. His return had been unexpectedly awkward at first, but there were things Cora still wanted to say to him, and she didn't want to have to wait another few months. The idea of being left on the homestead to do chores while he was out finding Charles Lee was less that appealing, as well. Silently, she cursed her body for healing so slowly.

"I do not know," he said, obviously anxious. "Plans must be made to infiltrate the fort. It will not be as easy as the one in Boston." Cora could see how troubled he was by it, and that he had obviously already spent much time thinking about how he would get to Lee. She understood, as she had behaved similarly with Oliver. It was hard not to let something consume you when it had been your goal for so long...

"I am sure you will find a way," she said. "You always do."

Connor said nothing in return, but Cora did not take it as a slight. Holding in a sigh, she leaned on the railing and looked out into the trees that had been her sketching subjects over the past few months. There were only so many angles to draw them from, though, and she yearned to get out and find some place she had never seen before.

"I have something to share, too," she said hesitantly. She could feel him looking over at her, but did not meet his eyes. "When Duncan came, he gave Victoire a letter he had found on Henry's body... It was written to me, and..." She paused for a moment, pushing away from the railing and standing up straighter. "He said he had reason to believe that my brother is alive. I plan to search for him."

When Cora finally looked over to gauge his reaction, she found him staring at her as if she had just grown a third eye.

"Cora," he said, his voice low as if he was about to lecture her.

"I have heard it all from Victoire and Achilles both," she said, holding up a hand as she turned her face away. "There is no need."

Connor stood silently for a few moments, unsure how to proceed. He would have supported her any other time, but she was still in no shape to go out on her own after such an injury, and Connor had a hard time looking past that. Still, though, he could already see the set determination in her eyes as she spoke, and he knew there was little to nothing he could say to make her change her mind.

"You cannot even be sure he is alive, Cora." At the sound of her name coming from his lips, she felt a quick flutter inside of her, but it was quickly squashed by annoyance. Of all people, she had thought Connor would support her, after all they had gone through, and the hardships that he himself had known...

"Henry's letter stated it clearly. I know my brother is alive," she snapped, crossing her arms. "I feel it, I know it with every part of me."

Connor looked away for a moment, trying to hide that he had nearly rolled his eyes, and Cora felt anger stir within her. "That is foolish," he said sternly.

"Foolish!" she sneered, gesturing wildly toward him as if to suggest that he was the foolish one. At that moment, she knew she had lost control of her anger. "Do not call me a fool, Assassin," she said bitterly, narrowing her eyes.

"You think only of yourself," he said, his frustrations with her stubbornness coming to a boiling point. "You are being selfish and impractical. There are other things to focus on, and you are not even close to being fully recovered."

"Oh yes, other things, like those that matter to you? Not all revolves around you and your merry band of Assassins!" Stepping closer to him, she poked him in the chest, and regretted her next words before they even left her tongue. "And just because you do not have any family does not mean you can keep me from finding mine."

Connor's eyes widened for a moment and he stepped back, stung by her words. Instantly, Cora drew back. She had gone too far, and she knew it, but before she could lower her pride and attempt an apology, he spoke.

"I am sorry, Cora, that I am having a difficult time believing the words of a dead man."

Cora's mouth dropped open, and she reeled, as if she had been slapped. How dare he!

The silence between them was long and bitter, and even Fionn whined at her feet, feeling the contempt that was radiating from them.

"Get out," she managed, her voice rough and low. Connor stood motionless, tension and anger evident in every part of his demeanor. When he did not make any effort to leave, she shoved him, and yelled again. "Get out!"

He watched her for a few more moments, anger seeming to seep out of his skin and through his gaze, before turning and leaving the room. When he was gone, she slammed the door behind him and pressed herself against it, letting herself sink to the floor as she tried to breathe through the hot waves of anger that coursed through her body. When she was calm again, she found the remaining annoyance redirected at herself. He had only been trying to look out for her... She knew deep down that he and Victoire were right, that her body needed more time to heal, but it was so hard to accept when she knew her brother was out there somewhere... Oh, she would have given up the hope of ever regaining full strength in her arm if she could only see him here and now. It was hard to make people understand how difficult it was to have patience. She had spent years dreaming of a situation such as this, and then finally had to convince herself that such thoughts were foolish, just naïve dreams of a child. Now though, to have such hope returned to her again... It was impossible to bear idly.

Cora lay curled up in her cot, Fionn curled up by her stomach sleeping soundly, unlike his master, who found herself quite restless. She had excused herself from a dinner early, unable to sit through the tense atmosphere and forced conversation. Victoire had tried her best to speak cheerily and draw Connor and Cora out of their sullen moods, but she had been unsuccessful. Cora had sat silently at the table as the others spoke, picking at her meal mindlessly as she tried to pretend that all was fine. In the past months, though, she had began to find it more and more difficult to conceal her emotions, especially around Victoire, who was so open about everything. The other woman's eyes had hardly been able to keep away from her all night, and the knowledge that Victoire would no doubt prod her, or worse, Connor, to find out what happened made Cora nervous. It was then that she had excused herself, claiming to be tired. She was in fact quite exhausted, at least emotionally, and she had re-braided her hair and lain down, hoping for sleep. Instead, she had found her mind far too active.

It was the hushed voices outside that had her awake now – a familiar accented female voice, commanding attention with a scolding tone, and another voice, deeper and obviously defensive. Cora could not make out what they were saying, but just as she craned her neck to listen, the door opened, and she snapped back into a sleeping position, not in the mood for any kind of conversation, or the inevitable questioning that Victoire would subject her to if she knew she was awake.

"You two will be the death of me," she muttered as she closed the door, murmuring to herself in French as she crossed the room to where Cora was laying, as if she knew she was awake. The other woman crouched by her head and smoothed her hair back and Cora opened her eyes.

"How do you feel?" she asked gently.

"Alright," Cora muttered. "My shoulder was giving me pain earlier but now it's fine."

"No, no," Victoire said, shaking her head and poking Cora dead center in the chest. "How do you feel?" For a few moments, Cora was silent, unsure what to say. If she could hardly answer that question for herself, how could she even begin to explain anything to Victoire?

"Tired," Cora said eventually. "Very tired." Victoire scoffed at her and stood, shaking her head but still smiling.

"You are impossible."

"I try," Cora said, sighing as she lay back, putting a hand behind her head. Victoire laughed softly, but her smile soon turned serious.

"Connor told me what you said," she said softly, her voice stern but lacking judgment. Cora sighed and looked away, closing her eyes for a moment. The guilt had been eating at her all day, especially because she knew she would never forgive anyone who had spoken those words to her. It still escaped her how she had managed to be so insensitive, especially pertaining to the loss of family, something she understood well. When Cora did not respond, Victoire continued.

"I do not understand why you two always manage to find something to argue about," she sighed, crossing her arms. With two such stubborn people who brought out the prideful side of the other, it was inevitable, but it still disappointed her. They were so obviously well made for each other, yet the two were perhaps the only ones who did not – or refused to – see it. "Why do you insist on doing so? I know he is nowhere near faultless, but I know you. You take offense at things only when you want to."

Coming from anyone else, Cora would have been offended at her words, but after spending so much time with Victoire, they had developed a unique bond, and Cora knew the woman only brought it up because she was concerned for her. Besides, Victoire did not know how to be subtle, and Cora had grown used to her constant boldness.

"I don't know," she said, sitting up so they could speak eye to eye. "Maybe... Maybe it's because I am afraid," she admitted, her voice small. Victoire's brows wrinkled at her words, and she pressed her for elaboration.

"Of what?"

"I don't know anything else, Victoire," she said finally, putting her head in her hands. "I don't know how to love and care for someone else so selflessly. All I know is fighting and arguing and mistrust. It was how I stayed alive, all those years..." At that, Victoire's face softened, and she rested a hand on her friend's shoulder, giving her a gentle, reassuring smile.

"There is no need for fear now, mon amie," she said quietly. "And you sell yourself short, anyway. I have been by your side every hour of every day for months, and I have seen you love and care and hope, even if you tried to conceal it."

"You think too well of me, Victoire," Cora said with a sad smile. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?"

"Well," Victoire said sarcastically, looking off into the distance as if she was going to agree. Cora laughed and hit her arm, shaking her head at the teasing. When the women's laughter had died down, Victoire looked at Cora and smiled. "Apologize to him, talk to him..."

"I know, I know," Cora said, waving her hand. "I will."

"Will you?" Victoire asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. Cora laughed and lay back again, pulling the blankets around her and closing her eyes, a little sigh escaping as she feigned exhaustion.

"Tomorrow." Victoire scoffed and walked off to prepare for bed, muttering softly in French as Cora tried not to laugh.

Once Cora was sure that Victoire was asleep, she slowly got up, her eyes glued to her to be sure she wasn't noticed as she slipped out the door and closed it behind her. Victoire was a heavy sleeper, but Cora did not want to be caught sneaking off to Connor's room in the dead of night, no matter her intentions.

In the dark, she made her way over to Connor's door, hoping he was still awake. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and knocked. For a few moments, she stood there silently, wondering if she should go back to her room. She heard nothing but could see the candlelight flickering through the bottom of his door, and she was fairly sure that he was still awake.

The door opened slowly, revealing Connor's confused look. He wore only a thin cotton shirt and trousers, and his hair looked almost disheveled, as if he had been asleep. From his appearance and the confusion on his face, she realized that she had woken him, and backed away, holding a hand up.

"I'm sorry, I did not know you were asleep," she whispered in the dark. When she spoke, Connor finally seemed to snap out of his confusion, and he opened the door wider, stepping to the side.

"No, it is alright," he said, his brows furrowed as he watched her. He had indeed been asleep, but he did not think she would have come to him so late if it was not important. "Is something wrong?" he asked, looking her over in the dim light. She seemed alright, albeit nervous, and he looked back up at her, waiting for a response.

"I just wanted to talk," she said quietly, looking around as if she was worried someone would find her there. Connor had no desire to talk to her, especially after their argument earlier, but he knew she must have something important to say if she was coming to him at so late an hour. He stepped aside, allowing her to come through the door, but Cora could sense how closed off he was from her. He was almost acting as if she was not there! Cora felt herself grow annoyed at his spurn, but she stopped herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she closed the door behind her. He had every right to be upset with her, and letting her anger take hold wouldn't right any wrongs, anyway. She had not come here to fight or let out her anger on him, when it wasn't even him she was truly angry at.

Connor stood before her quietly, waiting, and she took another deep breath, trying to steady her mind and come up with the right words to make her apology. The candlelight lit up half of his face and left the other side in shadow, and suddenly she could see how tired he was, how old and weary his face seemed despite his youth...

"About earlier," she began, looking down as she twisted the hem of her blouse in her hands. She stopped for a moment, hoping Connor would speak up and tell her it was alright, but instead he only watched her with a blank stare. Oh, he was going to make her say it. Sighing, she put her hands on her hips and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Connor," she said, trying hard not to let her voice seem insincere. His expression softened slightly at her words, but he still said nothing, and Cora continued, made nervous by his silence.

"I don't know why I let my temper get the best of me... What I said was terrible, and I'm so sorry. Truly, I am... I don't understand why I am so angry all the time," she said, waving her hands as she spoke, her eyes jumping around the room, resting for a moment on anything but his face. He watched her curiously, taking in how anxiously she spoke, how she fiddled with her braid as she always did when she was uncomfortable in a situation, and how she paced slightly, raising a hand to her forehead as she sighed yet again. "It isn't even you that I'm angry at," she continued, gesturing at him but still too afraid to look in his direction. "It's... It's him, and all of this, and how I am just stuck here playing the roll of maid, unable to train or do anything productive."

"Cora," he said softly, cutting her off. She was so caught up in her apology and subsequent rant, though, that she had not even heard him. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about the way the words came flooding from her tongue made him gain an understanding of her that he had not felt before. As she paced and spoke somewhat frantically, he stepped toward her and took hold of her shoulders gently. Her sentence ended abruptly at the contact, and she looked at him, the shadow of the candlelight falling across her features, leaving half of her face in darkness. Slowly, she settled under his hands and turned her face up to him, her hands falling onto his waist.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, embarrassed at having gotten so far off track. She had meant to give a clear apology, but somehow she felt as though she had not said enough. "What I said earlier... Connor, I am sorry. I was wrong for it."

"It is alright." She smiled softly at his words, glancing down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "It is easy to lose yourself when it comes to those you care about."

The way he looked at her made her heart swell, made her feel both weak and bold at the same time. She drew closer to him as his arms slid from her shoulders, one hand finding her waist as the other picked up her braid and moved it behind her shoulder, his fingers brushing her neck as he drew his hand back. She felt her face flush at the touch, and her knees grew weak as she stood before him, testing the boundaries that remained between them.

When his fingers spread against her neck, his palm warm against her skin, she stepped closer to him and raised her own hand to mirror his. The skin of his neck was surprisingly smooth, and she could faintly feel his pulse as she let her thumb move across his cheek, stopping just shy of his lips as she paused to listen to a deep roll of thunder in the distance.

"I think a storm is coming," she whispered, the matter of fact words so very out of place in the way they held each other.

"Perhaps," he responded, his fingers brushing over her jaw as she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

Even later when she recalled the moment, she could not remember who had kissed who, only that she froze, oddly caught off guard as she felt every nerve awaken, pulsing with some sweet feeling that she wasn't sure she had ever felt before. His kiss was sweet and rather chaste, but somehow managed to send her heart racing so quickly she was sure she would faint like some weak maid. Before she could even revel in the smell of him, the feel of him, he pulled away, looking down at her again as if to gauge her reaction.

Cora kept her eyes straight ahead, staring at his chest, and Connor wondered wondered what thoughts were behind those eyes, and if perhaps he had made a mistake in kissing her. Maybe she had not wished for it, or had not felt the same stirring that he had. But then, in the smallest moment, she raised her eyes to his and smiled before reaching up to his face and bringing her lips to his.

Her hands were gentle on his face, and he was consumed by the natural smell of her, all mint and rosemary. His hands found her waist as she opened her lips, deepening their kiss. A tremor ran down her spine as his hand spread out against the small of her back, and she clutched at his shirt, shivering despite the warmth of the night. She shifted her hands, letting one fall to his neck as the other weaved into his hair, lightly running across the sensitive skin of his scalp. She smiled beneath his lips when he, too, shuddered under her touch, and Connor wondered if he had ever felt so many things all at once. When they finally pulled away, Cora leaned into him, taking comfort in the way his arms wound around her, holding her securely. She was unsure of the last time she had felt such contentment, and she smiled into his shirt as his fingers dragged gently across her scalp at the nape of her neck, hers repeating the same motion along his spine.

She couldn't be sure how long they stood there enjoying the closeness, their minds free of worries even if only for a moment, but later when she lay in bed again, the rain pounding against the windows, she could not shake the feeling of his arms around her, his hands in her hair, the feel of his lips on hers... And though she had no idea what this would mean for them, something which almost frightened her, she fell into an unburdened sleep, secure in his trust and affection, the fact that she had finally cut her heart free from its bindings.

A/N: Thanks for all the support, y'all, and feel free to review!

themadgears - So glad it was one of your favorites! I have to say it may have been one of mine, too! It was fun to write! And yes... I'm quite the LOTR fan, and as you can see I put in another quote... So many good ones to choose from!

SarahXXluvingsaintsrow - Well, I hope I didn't disappoint! I actually wasn't planning on any of that happening yet, but it just sort of wrote itself, I suppose! We'll have to see what develops from here!

khacuff - Thank you so much, that is such a huge compliment! It's definitely something I aim and aspire for, so that really means a lot!