Chapter 20: Redcoats

"I don't believe for one second that Achilles bought that!" Shay's laughter rang out across the docks, unsettling a few gulls that had settled nearby.

Kira frowned pensively, having just concluded her account of what had happened when she had returned Gabriel to the other Assassins. True enough, the story she had woven for Achilles had hardly been a convincing one- though any story where you return one of Haytham Kenway's prisoners alive is unlikely to be believed, even the genuine version of events. The account she had settled on was simple, dappled with odd fragments of truth she hoped would contribute to its overall validity: she had learnt from a Templar agent where Gabriel was being kept, and had arrived to find Haytham absent, and only a few guards in his place. After a brief skirmish with the guards, she was able to free Gabriel, and flee before any alarm went up.

She disliked lying to Achilles, and Connor, but how could she tell the truth? What would she say, that Haytham Kenway, notorious for his ruthlessness and lack of mercy, simply did not have the heart to kill her? That in itself implied there was more to their relationship than the few brief encounters her fellow Assassins knew of, and once tugged, that cord would unravel to reveal the vast number of lies she had told them already. She shuddered at the thought, taking a deep breath to calm the anxiety building within her.

"It doesn't matter what Achilles believes," she lied, eyes narrowing. "He forced my hand, putting Gabriel at risk as he did. In whatever means I saved the boy, I am thoroughly justified."

"If you say so," Shay smiled, seeming thoroughly amused, and equally unconvinced.

The pair of them stood, both leant against a wall, and watching as Shay's crew loaded crate after crate of cargo onto The Morrigan. It was early morning, and the sun peeked through the clouds to light the water that lapped at the ship's flanks. The peacefulness of the scene was offset however by the ruckus emanating from the vessel and its surroundings. The whole place was alive with movement- people scrabbling for last minute supplies, making final checks and preparations. Kira regarded the chaos with a sigh.

"I cannot believe he is sending you away."

"Who, Haytham?" Shay chuckled dismissively. "No, this is just for show. He doesn't care that I helped you, but the others would protest if abandoning my post didn't land me any punishment."

"I suppose that is true," Kira mused. Shay was headed to New York for a few weeks, on what he had described as 'exceedingly crucial, and exceedingly confidential' Templar business. Translated loosely, it was a simple supply and recruitment run.

"You mustn't always think the worst of him, you know."

The remark attracted her full attention, and she gazed back at her friend disbelievingly, arms folding across her chest. "The last time I saw him I had to keep him from murdering a child in cold blood. You'll forgive me if I do not hold him in the highest regard."

Shay would often come to Haytham's defence, but he could hardly negate that point. Still, as always, he endeavoured to lighten the mood. "I never said he was perfect," he retaliated, eyes moving to scan the horizon. "Everyone has flaws."

The two lapsed into silence for a moment, affording Shay the luxury of finishing his train of thought. "Well, almost everyone," he corrected. "Not me, I am bloody perfect."

Kira tutted, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her serious expression.

"Captain Cormac!" A deep voice echoed from across the docks, its source waving his arms dramatically in order to garner Shay's attention. "We're ready for you now, sir!"

They both regarded the man, though Shay made no conscious effort to move. "Will you be alright?" he asked his companion instead, his tone rich with sincerity.

She pondered it for a moment, before offering him a grateful smile. "It will be dreadfully dull without you, but yes, I shall endure."

"That's my girl." He moved now, pushing himself from the wall and patting her arm with exaggerated pride. Having taken a few steps away, her turned to address her for the last time. "I'll see you in a few weeks, lass. Stay out of trouble."

"At your order, Captain." She mock saluted, to both of their amusement. She smiled to herself as she watched him walk away, already missing the warmth of his presence. Still, she had no time to dwell on the feeling. She had her own exceedingly crucial, exceedingly confidential Assassin business to attend to, and she'd left Connor to tackle it alone long enough.

He was late.

He was never late.

Kira drummed the fingers of her hand impatiently upon the countertop of the general store, the sound like the steady rhythm of a clock, with each new tick emphasising the passing time. She was supposed to have met Connor here a half-hour ago, and yet, the younger Assassin was nowhere to be seen. She had passed the time at first by browsing the shop's wares, wandering idly between aisles of shelves, and then wandering through them again to re-examine the contents when her partner still failed to arrive. Lacking the will to browse a third time, she had come to a stop by the counter, her gaze fixed upon the window- all of which was to the utter dismay of the shopkeeper.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" He stood across from her now, looking extremely unamused.

"Hmm?" The drumming stopped. She regarded him for the first time since she had entered, taking in his bewildered expression, but paying it little heed. "Oh, no, thank you."

If she had not turned back to the window, she would have noticed the slight quiver of his moustache as he gritted his teeth, and the way his hands now bunched angrily at his sides. Ignorant, her fingers began to drum rhythmically against the counter again.

It had been an hour, now. Something was wrong.

Kira sighed, moving from her place against the shop's exterior, and throwing the shopkeeper an accusatory glance through the window as she did so. It was safe to presume she would need to find a new rendezvous point going forward. At the present, she scanned the street for Connor one last time, and satisfied he was not coming, began the short trek to Fort Hill. With the leads on Templar activity few and far between, Connor had asked for Kira's assistance in his campaign against the British forces. On hearing that an inspection had brought a high-ranking British officer from New York to Boston, the Assassin had practically leapt at the chance to dispose of the man so close to home. It was set to be a straight-forward task, but now, as Kira made her way along the street, she began to worry.

Connor had been ready to take it on alone. He had assured her of the fact, repeatedly, and dismissed any protests she had made when putting the matter to discussion. Kira had been all too happy to relinquish responsibility, for in the week since she had rescued Gabriel, she had been out to prove something- she wasn't sure what- to Achilles. She had assisted every scout, partaken in every training session. Between the time it took her to travel between the homestead and the city, and the hours she devoted to her missions, she had hardly had a decent sleep all week. She felt it now- the weariness that she had been pushing aside for days, the sum of it beginning to catch up with her.

Perhaps Connor hadn't been ready. Forts were dangerous, after all. What the redcoat soldiers lacked in skill, they made up for in numbers, and Kira could recall several times where her ignorance of that fact had almost cost her her life. She studied a pair of them now, stationed at the corner of the street, keeping careful watch over the citizens. There were more patrols than ever now, more units stationed strategically about the streets. It was a last desperate attempt to gain some semblance of control, and it bore all the futility of the straining lid of a lit powder keg. The British were on edge. The whole damned city was on edge. It felt as though any day now the tension would finally snap, and she dreaded to think of the blood that would spill when it did.

A shout pierced through the air, disrupting the flow of her thoughts. The two men she had been observing had raised their weapons, and they were met by a third soldier, the source of the disturbance. He seemed to double over as he reached them, out-of-breath, and gesturing wildly. She watched as the soldiers immediately took-off down the street, the newcomer lagging a little behind, but following with the same sense of urgency.

Kira's breath caught in her throat at the sight, a feeling of dread taking over her. Without another thought she made after them, the weariness she had felt before pushed far to the back of her mind, and fear spurring her heels. She wove between crowd after crowd, grateful for the bright colour of the men's coats up ahead, as it made for an easy target to follow. Sure enough, soon she was coming up on Fort Hill, and the fateful sound of alarm bells bellowed desperately from within. The streets were alive with redcoats, all scrambling in a mix of search and pursuit, all yelling for citizens to return to their houses. Kira slowed to a stop in the middle of the commotion, observing the few bodies that lay scattered about, all British soldiers, and all clean kills. She was startled when she felt a grasp on her arm.

A young soldier had seized her, eyes alight with worry. "You have to leave, ma'am. Now. There's a killer on the loose."

She vaguely nodded and was released as the man receded back into the chaos. She tried to keep an eye on all directions at once, head spinning, looking for any sign of her companion, the inevitable instigator of this madness. She spied a flash of white in the corner of her eye, and heard several voices cry out in alarm. Turning, she caught sight of Connor barrelling away from her, with half a dozen redcoats on his heels, and several more joining the pursuit. Perhaps the least sensible course of action was to join him in his plight, but Kira couldn't stand aside as he fought impossible odds alone.

"Connor!" she yelled, running after him, desperate to catch his attention. He skidded to a halt, turning to face her, and facing an onslaught of attackers as he did so. He managed to battle past them, and soon she found herself by his side, his breaths heavy as he stood from a kill, the last of the initial wave. He was spattered with blood, and Kira struggled to gauge how much of it was his own.

"Kira-" he began.

"No time!" she panted, muscles weak with adrenaline and exertion. She took his arm, pulling him into a run across an adjoining street, and they sprinted together, steps echoing against the cobbles. The sound barely pierced the cacophony of voices around them. The pair shuddered to a stop as they reached a junction, both evaluating the different leads, both fighting to catch their breath. Kira was about to remark that the best direction to take was the street leading west, but her words fell short as a patrol of redcoats emerged up ahead, bustling through a frenzied mass of citizens. She turned to assess the second street, and then the third, her heart sinking further each time. Each one boasted a similar threat, and looking around, Kira arrived at a chilling thought.

They were trapped.

Behind her, Connor clearly drew the same conclusion, for he unsheathed his sword and adopted a fighting stance. There was nowhere else to run. No escape to be made. Their only option was to face what was coming. Kira drew her daggers, adjusting her own stance, and struggling against the ever-looming notion that for once, she might not make it out of this. She was not allowed the liberty of an anxious mind for long, for only moments later, the soldiers were upon them.

Kira took a breath and whirred into action. She kept Achilles' training at the forefront of her mind, tackling one attacker at a time in a ruthless flow of movement. Though she fought initially with ease, she soon found herself flanked by two soldiers who had the sense to synchronise their attacks. They approached from both sides, swinging their swords in unison as she rolled out from under the weapons, the blades barely missing her. She came up by one attacker, lunging behind him so she could spin him into the path of the other's ensuing move. It worked- the man she held cried out as he was struck, and by throwing him forwards, she was able to unbalance the other, to the extent that she could overpower him.

Basking in the moment of rest her triumph had afforded her, Kira turned to face another solider. She was about to lunge forward when a shot cracked through the air, and she yelled as a burning pain seared sharply through her lower leg. She choked back any further cries of pain, urgently raising her skirts a little to assess where she had been hit. Thankfully, it looked to be a flesh-wound, though she wobbled on her feet as the agony threatened to overwhelm her, and as blood began to spill from the injury. She was running out of time; it did not take long to reload a rifle. The shot had been from above, so her eyes scanned the rooftops on either side of the street as she grappled with yet another assailant. Finally, she located the source of the shot, though her throat went dry as she did. The scout stood on a balcony, only a few houses down, his rifle already levelled with her once more.

She was about to move- to dodge- when she was seized from behind. A strong arm crossed her throat, and with the other hand, a sword was being raised. Ordinarily it would have been an easy enough hold to break, but she didn't have time. She knew the fatal shot would ring out at any second.

And as she grasped the redcoat's arm, preparing to dislodge him, it did.

The shot struck the ground a few feet away from her.

A second passed, and now a mere vessel to adrenaline and instincts, Kira flipped the man behind her, her eyes moving to the scout on the balcony. Except he wasn't on the balcony. He was mid-fall, tumbling lifelessly to the ground below, and landing with a sickening thud. Kira's attention was torn back to the redcoat who was recovering at her feet, and without thought, she plunged a dagger into his chest.

With another spare moment, Kira straightened, her gaze fixed on the figure who had replaced the scout on the balcony.

"Get down!"

Haytham Kenway's unmistakable command echoed from above, and she automatically ducked, a shot soon humming over her head. She turned to face the target, who had been struck directly in the chest and who fell unceremoniously at her feet. Confusion fogged her mind as she turned once more to her new ally, who had discarded the rifle in favour of his flintlock, which he now fired several times into the onslaught.

Kira looked towards the centre of the fighting, where Connor still miraculously stood, albeit in quite possibly the worst state she had ever seen. She moved to aid him, though making a note of Haytham descending the building in the corner of her eye. Soon enough she was back in the worst of the combat, desperately trying to stem the flow of her friend's assailants. Haytham had wordlessly joined her, his presence turning the tide in the Assassin's favour, though not with ease.

Soon they were facing the last of their opponents, and with a grunt of exertion, Kira kicked a particularly skilled soldier backwards, sending him stumbling for balance within Haytham's range. The Templar noticed at once, swiftly moving to meet the man, hidden blade engaging and slicing their throat within a matter of seconds. He gave Kira an appreciative nod as his latest victim crumpled at his feet.

She returned the gesture. Looking around, she could hardly believe the worst of the danger had passed. She examined Connor with a glance. The Assassin had by now acknowledged his father's presence, but was, for the time being, too exhausted to do anything about it. Kira was in the middle of regarding Haytham's few injuries when another cry echoed behind them, and they all looked up to see yet more redcoats, pouring out of a nearby street.

If there was a chance to run, this was it.

"Hurry, this way." It was Haytham who spoke, and he made off at once for the closest alley.

Still not entirely sure of what she was doing, Kira followed, her mind too muddled to try and make sense of the streets herself. Placing blind faith in her guide, she darted from street to street for several minutes, though soon ground to a halt as something struck her as being wrong. She reflected for a moment. There had been no sound of footsteps behind her. Glancing back, she realised Connor was nowhere to be seen.

Glancing forward, she realised that Haytham was nowhere to be seen, either.

Holding back a cry of frustration, she wondered whether she should go back, or whether to trust that Connor had made his own escape. Going back would be risky, and in her current state, perhaps suicide. Despite having put some distance between herself and Fort Hill, the streets of Boston were still on high-alert, and she had already had to evade some odd patrols. Even now, she heard the voices of soldiers resound from an alley nearby. Out of self-preservation, she made her way to a different one.

As she glanced over her shoulder to be sure she was not being followed, Kira felt a strong pair of hands seize her arms, and she was tugged even further into the depths of the shadows. Making an educated guess as to the identity of her captor, she began to protest as her back struck wall.

"What are you-"

"Quiet!"

A hand was clasped over her mouth to emphasise the command, and she glared in outrage at its owner. Haytham had pressed close to her- unnecessarily close- the weight of his body keeping her firmly pinned as she struggled against him. However, she froze as she was struck by the sound of impending footsteps. Having sensed this, Haytham moved his hand from her mouth to the wall by the side of her head. Both looking up, they watched as a patrol came to pause in the nearby street, its leader apparently issuing a new set of orders.

Kira's heart hammered in her chest. For reasons she couldn't explain, she found herself gazing up at the man who held her in place. He was close enough that she could feel the drum of his heart against her own, and sense the growing tension in his body. His eyes were intense as they studied the nearby threat, though they briefly flicked down to meet her own, lingering a little before resuming their guard. Something within her fluttered briefly, and she was quick to push the feeling away.

Outside of the alley, the patrol stirred, and with a sigh of relief, Kira watched as they began to move on. She waited for Haytham to step back, brow creasing further into a frown with each passing moment that he didn't. She tried to shift away from him slightly, to no avail. His gaze remained trained to where the soldiers had stood.

"They have gone," she stated indicatively, recapturing his attention.

If anything, her words had the opposite of her intended effect. He took his time to respond, lips playing into a suggestive smile as he leaned impossibly closer. "We cannot be sure of that."

She groaned, planting a hand to his chest and giving him a firm shove backwards. "I'll take my chances," she snapped, already readjusting her dress and making to move away.

He had chuckled at the retort, but the sound died out as he realised her intentions. "Wait!"

Instinctively his hand shot out to catch her wrist, and she spun on him with a scowl. "What the hell are you even doing here?"

He fought the urge to match her tone, instead staunching his already-rising temper. "I wanted to talk to you. I realise that-"

"No." She tried to tug her wrist from him, with no success.

He scoffed at the bluntness of her answer, though to his own credit, maintained his calm. "Please," he tried, "if you would just-"

"No!"

"For heaven's sake, woman, I am trying to be civil!"

He was bound to snap eventually. It had only been a matter of time, and she was awfully good at trying his patience. She laughed now, voice rich with disbelief. "Civil? You call this civility?" She gestured to where his hand was clamped around her wrist. "Please, even you must appreciate the irony."

He sighed, unwillingly conceding her point. "And if I let you go, you will hear what I have to say?"

"No! That is entirely the point, Mr Kenway. Should you wish to be civil, you should respect what I desire of you, and that is nothing. I care not for anything you have to say."

Exasperated and feeling increasingly as though he were fighting a losing battle, Haytham maintained his hold. He reached for the last and only card he could play. "I saved your life."

The words were quiet. Pleading. Kira disregarded the tone completely. "Why, so that you could extort me for more favours? So that you could place me in your debt?"

"No! That is not…" The Templar trailed off, looking to the ground, temporarily at a loss for words. Eventually he met her gaze once more, eyes glowing beseechingly. "That was never my intention."

She took a breath, the sincerity not lost on her. When she finally spoke, it was gentle. "Then let me go."

He didn't, not at first, and for the simple reason that he didn't want to. He could appreciate the case she was making- it was hard not to. The logic was sound, and when he thought about it, he wondered why he had been fighting so hard to resist it all along. Perhaps it was because it was so unlike reason to keep him from something he wanted. But then again, he was hardly often caught wanting for unreasonable things. This, regrettably, appeared to be one such occasion.

Reluctantly, he released her.

Kira took a step back from him, uncertain of what more she could say. She wanted to leave. She wanted to find Connor and go home, to see to her wounds and rest. Every part of her ached, protested against every movement she made, and begged to be allowed to recover. She was free to go. But for some reason, it felt wrong. Cursing her inner conscience, she stepped forward again. "Say what you wished to say."

He frowned, clearly confused. "Are you certain you-"

"Yes, just please, quickly. I must go and find Connor," she prompted, similarly frowning, though it was more out of weariness than anything else. Weak with the feeling, she moved to lean against the wall behind her, arms folding across her chest as she waited for the man to continue.

"I want to apologise," he began, before adding: "For what occurred a week ago."

"You should apologise to Gabriel, it is he you beat half-to-death."

He winced. "I would..." The expression morphed into a slight smile. "Though correct me if I am wrong in thinking that I am, at present, the last person the boy wishes to see."

She shrugged in concession.

"However," he continued, "I find myself- more than anything, Miss Lawrence- most regretful of-"

.

"Kira!"

The shout startled them both.

Connor had appeared in the entrance of the alley, breath heaving, hands clutching his stomach, where blood bloomed across his robes. It seeped through his fingers- the copper of his skin buried deep behind crimson stains- and spattered on the ground beneath him.

"Good God, Connor!" Kira's own injuries were the last thing on her mind as she instinctively rushed over to her friend, hands also meeting his at the wound, frantically trying to stem the worst of the flow. To her surprise, she found herself pushed firmly to the side, and she frowned as she watched Connor unsheathe his sword and level it with the Templar who had been observing them.

"You!" the Assassin growled, fighting stance weak but astonishingly determined.

Kira had always been stubborn, but she liked to think she had never quite reached the level of reckless obstinacy she was witnessing now.

"Oh, you cannot be serious," Haytham laughed, echoing her disbelief, as though the challenge were completely and utterly beneath him.

"What, afraid to fight me?"

The laughter stopped, but the older man maintained a grin as he reached for his sword. "On the contrary."

"Prove it."

"Seems rather unsporting," Haytham retorted, raising his weapon. "But since you insist…"

"Enough." Kira's voice broke the tension, and she moved to stand between them, a hand raised in warning to each. "You," she addressed Connor, "need to calm down. And you," she spun to Haytham, cutting off his smirk, "need to stop being so bloody condescending! Enough blood has been spilt today without you both engaging in this childish confrontation."

The two men fell silent, both sheepishly sheathing their swords.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss Lawrence," Haytham began, not entirely sincere, "I believe my son-"

"Stop," she commanded. "Whatever you are about to say? Stop."

The man obeyed, albeit with a somewhat triumphant smirk plastered upon his face.

Kira turned to Connor once more, reaching to move the hand that grasped his stomach, examining the wound. She grimaced. A long laceration stretched across the expanse of the area. It looked deep, and she could only pray it was shallow enough to be a survivable injury. Connor's ability to recover was ebbing away with each passing second, much like the blood that seeped from the gash.

"He needs help." It was Haytham's voice, devoid of the playful edge it had adopted before.

The woman could only nod, the sight of the injury still preying on her nerves.

"We will get help back at the manor," Connor spat, moving away from Kira's inspection.

"You won't make it." Both Haytham and Kira spoke at the same time, to each other's surprise. They exchanged a glance, whilst Connor huffed at the statement.

The Templar stood, straightening a little, as if assuming command. "You will return to The Green Dragon, with me. Benjamin is a physician. He should be able to tend to your wounds."

Connor erupted into protest, whilst his fellow Assassin fell silent, deliberating the idea. The manor was certainly out of the question, and with Connor a wanted man, she struggled to think of any place they could go without risk of being reported. The Green Dragon wasn't far, and the Templars were prominent enough that they could defend them against any officials, if necessary. In almost all senses, it was a perfect plan. The flaw lied in it having been proposed by their sworn enemy. Though wasn't he facing his fair share of risks in doing so?

"You would really do that for us?" Kira ignored the bursting swell of complaints from her young friend, looking inquisitively across to his father instead.

"Of course," he nodded, equally ignorant of his son's objections, and offering a warm smile.

Kira found herself matching the expression.

"This…. is a trap."

Connor's words were slurring, the blood loss starting to take effect. Evening was settling on Boston, and the light had begun to fade as the streets grew quieter with each passing moment. The further the three walked, the less redcoat patrols they encountered, the less they found themselves having to consciously evade detection. Kira had slung Connor's arm over her shoulder, helping to support his weight as much as she could in her condition, but it was hard work. The two moved slowly- too slowly- but it was as fast as either could manage.

"I do not like it either," Kira groaned, the effort with each step becoming greater. "But what choice do we have? The homestead is too far, and where else can we go? Half of Boston is out looking for you."

The man offered a disgruntled mumble in response, managing a distrustful glance at Haytham, who walked ahead of them.

"Ah!" Kira stumbled a little as her ankle rolled on a cobble, and she was forced to hop out from under Connor's weight to maintain her balance.

"Are you alright?" The surprise had given her friend some new energy, and he stood shakily, watching as she bent to clutch at her now-raised ankle.

"Yes, thank you." She rotated her foot a little, testing the joint. "Go on without me, Connor, I will catch up in a moment."

He hadn't the strength to argue, and as he ambled on, she lowered her foot to the ground, shifting her weight carefully onto it. She hissed as pain surged through the limb, and it was only now she remembered where she had been shot. She raised her skirt to her knee, looking down to inspect the injury, and stifling a gasp at the sight. Blood was caked around her leg, thick and dark, whist a brighter stream continued to trickle from the wound. Having noticed this, all the agony that had coursed through her when the bullet had hit seemed to strike her again, causing her head to swim in sudden distress. The adrenaline that had previously drowned out the pain was gone, and now, coupled with her exhaustion, the ache was almost too much to bear. She blinked, hard, fighting the wave of dizziness that now threatened to overwhelm her, feeling herself swaying on her feet.

"Father!" The call came from a little ahead, where Connor had turned to see his friend's state.

Kira struggled to keep control of herself. Her limbs felt heavy- far too heavy- and her vision blurred as she became vaguely conscious of the fact that she was falling. Her eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the inevitable impact with the ground, already anticipating the cold, hard stone biting into her skin.

Haytham caught her, reaching her in the nick of time. He breathed a sigh of relief, having been uncertain of whether his agility would fail in him this respect. Carefully, he lowered her to the ground, crouching himself so he would be able to better support her. Here, he gave her a gentle shake, attempting to rouse her consciousness.

"Miss Lawrence?" His voice was low. Calm.

Nothing. He shook her again, a little harder. "Miss Lawrence?" he pressed, worry edging into his voice.

She stirred, face scrunching with pain, eyes opening weakly. She groaned, trying to move a little, her attention moving to the man holding her still. She squinted up at him, confusion painting her features. "Mr Kenway?"

He offered a weak smile. Turning, he addressed Connor, who had only now reached them. "She has lost a lot of blood. Can you move any faster?"

The Assassin nodded, not entirely certain that was within his capabilities, but determined to try.

"Good. Quick then, let us go."

"We are almost there, hold on."

Kira's eyes peeled open, the voice drawing her back into the consciousness from which she kept slipping. She frowned, a little more awake than before, and taking a moment to assess her position. She was crumpled against Haytham's chest, his eyes trained forward, and the pace of his walk brisk. It took another moment for her to acknowledge that he had spoken at all, and another to recall what exactly he had said. The emotion behind it had stuck with her though.

"Are you worried about me, Mr Kenway?" She summoned the strength to smirk playfully, though the expression soon melted into a yawn.

He looked down at her, a little startled by her voice, though his features soon creased with warmth. "Naturally. I didn't hold-off on killing you all this time for some redcoat to beat me to it."

"Such a gentleman," she cooed, voice rich with sarcasm.

He raised an eyebrow, though a smile still graced his lips. "I will drop you," he threatened.

She chuckled, already feeling her consciousness starting to slip once more, and head slumping against his shoulder as she lost her grip on it entirely.

It would be the last time she would wake that night. Still, she was in unexpectedly safe hands.


Author's Note:

Heyyyyyy guys! What's it been, like a year? And what a year. Hope you're all staying safe and doing ok!

You'd think that I'd have chosen quarantine to get back into this fic, but no, I've chosen now, when I'm back at uni and with plenty of other work to do. :D Still, I've written this in just under three days, so if I can keep productive, who knows? Maybe I'll have a new chapter ready next week, in what would be quite possibly the biggest plot twist of the century. Then again, maybe it will be another year! That's the fun with me and this fic, you just never know. B)

Have also gone back and edited the earlier chapters. Nothing too serious, just tried to make them more consistent with my recent writing.

In all seriousness, thanks so much to anyone who's stuck around. You're the best! Hope this is a nice little surprise for you all! And thank you to everyone who's left comments- reading them always spurs me into writing more. :)

Stay safe out there, I'll try to be back soon!

Kittycat312