We spent the trip back poring over the documents we'd found. Most were in English, though some-like the journal-were in other languages. A couple letters were in Spanish, another couple in French. I covered those, though my limited skill with the languages left considerable gaps, ones that would have to be filled in by others later on. There was little doubt I'd made a mistake here and there, as well, though I did my best.
Some time during the process, late in the evening after we'd eaten supper and had spent hours fully focused on the papers, I started to fall asleep. My eyes grew droopy, my hands more uncoordinated. After some time, I simply let my head rest on top of some of the paper, deciding that the neck ache in the morning would be worth it. Exhaustion had too tight a hold on me for me to argue with the idea of getting even a light nap.
When I woke later, my head was laying on something soft, and I was disoriented. I could have sworn my head was resting on the desk when I'd nodded off. I turned onto my back and squinted my eyes, looking around me. I was on Shay's bed, blanketed in the heavy sheets and covers. It appeared to still be night, and Shay was seated at his desk. He was still looking through the documents.
All signs pointed to the same thing: Shay had tucked me into his bed. He cast a look over at me.
"Didn't think a wooden desk was very comfortable." He explained shortly.
I sat up. "It's your bed. You'll need it at some point, and I can go down to mine." I started to get up, but his voice stopped me.
"You've had a long couple of weeks, and I know those cots are about as comfortable as wooden boards. Go back to sleep." He said, not unkindly. I huffed and laid back down, turning on my side to look out the window.
"Fine. But don't blame me when you're cranky from sleep deprivation." I heard him snort at that. I fell back asleep to the sound of shuffling papers, and fell into a sleep that was both comfortable and restful.
When I woke just hours later, sun was streaming through the windows and we'd docked in the Boston harbor. I finally willed myself to get up, and felt a glimmer of annoyance that Shay was still very much awake, and still very much busy with the paper covering his desk.
I walked over to him. "I'm going to the tavern. Get some shut-eye before you keel over."
He gave me a tired smile. "I'll try not to fall asleep here." He returned to the documents, and I left for the tavern.
The day was bitter cold, flurries blew in the air and ice clung to every surface it could. Few people looked to be out and about, preferring the cozy warmth of their homes, businesses, and inns instead. It would have been difficult to blame them for as much, honestly.
The pier was slick, and I and the few sailors on it were doing our best not to fall on our asses or into the water. I managed to make it to the safety of the streets with some struggling. As I walked, I cast my eyes around to take in the people.
Those that were out were either guards, commonfolk keeping their heads down, or bitter citizens glaring at the men swathed in crimson. The revolution was brewing in front of everyone's eyes, that much I knew. Though how it would end with the things I was making happen, none would be able to say until the end.
As I stepped around a corner, I was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that tomorrow was the day Stephane would kill the tax man. I hurried the rest of the way. When I reached the tavern, I wasted no time in climbing the stairs and joining Haytham and Connor at the table. Haytham looked up at me.
"You're later than I was expecting."
"Some things happened, we can talk about them later." I said dismissively. I glanced between them both. They weren't quite comfortable, but they were enjoying some breakfast together, peacefully sipping on tea in between bites. "So, is tomorrow going the way we planned?"
"Yes. You and I will accompany Stephane to ensure his safety, while my father attends to business here." Connor looked the slightest bit cross as he said the last part. No doubt he suspected Haytham simply wanted to stay out of harm's way. I knew better. It struck me as odd that I knew Haytham better than his own son did, though it was understandable; I'd been around Haytham much more than Connor had. Though, even that felt a bit odd.
"Afterwards, we will meet here again to discuss other matters." Haytham added.
I retrieved some food to eat for breakfast and joined them, sitting by Connor so we could speak in hushed voices about our plans for tomorrow.
"He knows you, so it'd be best for you to be on the ground with him. I'll cover you two from above."
"If you believe that to be best. Where would we meet you after all is done?"
"I'll come to you. It's easier that way, just in case something doesn't go according to plan."
"Do you believe the guards will make themselves an issue after…?"
"Maybe. Hard to say. I guess we'll find out."
We continued to discuss the specifics of the plan. I'd make a joke now and then, and either Connor wouldn't understand it and I would explain it, or he would give me little more than a snort and a dry reply. We had few arguments, most of which circled around my awful jokes and how they were entirely pointless. Haytham watched us from the other side of the table, a thoughtful look on his face, though he said nothing.
That morning was so tranquil, so peaceful, that I'd almost call it domestic-if it weren't for the fact that Connor and I'd been planning about how to help someone kill a man.
