June 2014

Six Months later

-/-

It's been a very long time since Connor has flown as much as he has over the past few months. Coast to coast, Canada to America to Mexico, until finally something like homesickness leads him back to the place he'd grown up. That had been a very long time ago, of course, and the land is different. There are very few places that Connor can point to as being the same in this century as his own. The buildings, the people, even the ground under his feet, they've all changed in unbelievably huge ways.

But there's still something that's exactly the same, and when Connor takes to the sky it feels like coming home. This is where he first spread his wings, where he learned to fly, where he came to know what freedom really means. He'll never forget what it feels like to fly here, not if he lives forever.

He spends months there, staying in the spare bedroom of an old woman that swears her family has lived in the area for hundreds of years. More than once, Connor wants to tell her that he's actually been alive that long (in a manner of speaking), but he doesn't. It's enough that she's nearly blind and goes to bed when the sun goes down- she has no idea that Connor spends his nights in the air, and that's all Connor can ask for in a landlord.

Most days, he tries to avoid thinking too much about the future. Or the past. He's spent years worrying about what's happened to his family in the past, and what might possibly go wrong in the future. It's not easy, because he's a worrier by nature, the kind of person that wants- needs- to protect the people closest to him. But that's not easy, anymore. The threats facing them used to be things he could see and understand, but the more the precursors get entangled in their affairs, the harder it gets for Connor to keep up with what's happening. He doesn't even know what they're facing anymore, much less how to fight back.

And that bothers him. A lot.

So Connor flies. On the ground, his thoughts are mixed up and unhappy, and it makes Connor feel sick with his own lack of power. In the air, his mind is occupied with thoughts of winds and air speed and the feel of his feathers shifting with every movement. He wants this to be his whole life from here on out, simple and free of responsibilities. And as long as he keeps moving, keeps flying, keeps his mind off everything else, he can pretend that it will be.

But as soon as he comes back down, the worries come crowding back into his brain, reminding him that someday he'll have to go back and face problems that he's certain will be even more complicated than they had been when he left. And he will go back. Someday. When he can force himself away from the skies here. Every night, when he climbs in through his own window to avoid waking up his landlord, he swears that he'll leave in the morning. And every morning, when the cold, hard light of dawn reminds him what's waiting for him at home, he reluctantly decides to wait another day. Just one more day, always one more day. Every morning for six months, he wakes up and tells himself just one more day.

When something finally happens to disrupt his regular routine, it doesn't come from Connor. Sometime in the early afternoon, Connor's landlord knocks on his door to inform him that there's someone there to visit him.

"Really?" he asks, skeptically. "Someone came to visit me? It's not just someone trying to sell something, or a politician looking for votes?"

The old woman shakes her head, eyes wide behind a pair of enormous glasses. "He specifically asked for you, dear."

Connor reflexively inventories the half dozen weapons he has on him, and runs through a mental list of enemies that might have been able to track him down before pressing the old woman farther. "Did he give a name?"

"No," the woman says. "Sorry, I didn't think to ask him. He seemed very friendly, though. Tall. Blonde." She winks at him, a truly disturbing expression on a woman as old as her. "Sexy."

"Edward," Connor says, and curses the mental image of his landlord trying to flirt with his grandfather. There's no way he's ever getting that out of his head. Not without serious counseling. "You- he-" he swallows hard. "I'm going down to talk to him."

-/-

It is in fact Edward waiting in the old lady's kitchen, looking serenely unbothered by the eight decades of clutter surrounding him, a testament to the extreme hoarding power of old women. Some flowery scent drifts through an open window on a spring breeze, accompanied by the quiet droning of bees. Connor stops in the kitchen doorway, trying to look like everything's under control, eyes darting around the kitchen as he struggles to make sense of the unexpected calm of the room. "So," he says. "Did you just come here to flirt with my octogenarian landlord, or is there something else going on?"

Edward doesn't answer, just gives him a wry grin and gestures for Connor to sit at the other side of the table. "If you really wanted to hide, you shouldn't have come running straight here," he says. "You're just lucky everyone else thinks you're too smart to hide somewhere so obvious."

"I'm not hiding," Connor says. "I just didn't tell anyone where I was going."

"Fine," Edward says. "Then you're running away."

"Flying," Connor protests, softly. "Not running."

Edward nods. "Things are worse," he says.

"Of course they are," Connor says. "Nothing ever gets easier, does it?"

"Life wouldn't be fun if they did," Edward says, perfectly cheerfully. "So do you want to know what happened, or not?"

Connor hesitates, mentally weighing the advantages of returning against the simple joys of the last few months.

"Come on, Con," Edward urges, ignoring the way Connor scowls at the nickname. No one else calls him that, and he's fairly sure Edward only does so because he knows how much it annoys him. "I think you're the sanest out of all of us, and we could really use some sanity at the moment."

This is an opinion Connor has always privately held, so he doesn't argue the point, just nods. "Fine," he says. "What's been going on while I've been here?"

It's a long story, and it takes Edward a while to tell it. About halfway through, the old landlord comes in with a plate of cookies and- to Connor's eternal embarrassment- a bottle of wine, delivered with a wink and a pick up line that sounds like it might have been relevant about sixty years ago. Edward flirts back with apparent enjoyment, until finally the woman leaves the kitchen, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"You're shameless," Connor says flatly.

"Yep," Edward says, and goes on with the story. By this point, they've covered the move back to the states, Haytham's secret marriage to Rebecca (and the subsequent loud and dramatic outing at Christmas), and Minerva's dream about Juno.

"So she had a nightmare," Connor says. "Is that really important? I mean, I know she doesn't remember what happened before she became human, but it's not completely impossible that it might come out in a dream, is it?"

"No," Edward says. "That's what we thought at first, except she kept having the dreams."

"Kept," Connor repeats. "Past tense. That means she's not having them anymore. What changed?"

"She's gone," Edward says. "Two days ago, she just vanished. It was the middle of the night, she was in the house with Shaun and Ezio, and then she was suddenly gone. There's no way they would have missed anyone going into the house."

"Nobody human," Connor says.

"Exactly. And Juno's already kidnapped her once."

"But she's dead," Connor protests.

"Nobody ever saw the body," Edward says, and Connor feels a chill go crawling up his spine. He doesn't scare easily, but the thought of Juno still being alive when all of them had thought- had been sure- she was dead is the stuff of nightmares. He doesn't even want to think about what she could have done in six months.

Connor sighs and gets to his feet. Minerva still gives him the creeps, if he's completely honest with himself. But it doesn't matter that he doesn't particularly like her, because no one else seems to have a problem with the girl. They'd taken her in the same way they'd taken him when he'd been younger, and so of course he's going to help. And anyway, she doesn't deserve to be left in Juno's power. "Alright," he says. "I'll come back. I'll help look for her."

"Thank you," Edward says, voice surprisingly serious. "That means a lot to me."

"Please, no," Connor says, wincing. "We're not having a moment here."

Edward laughs. "Fine," he says. "Ready to go?"

The old woman comes back in at this point, face bright and- Connor very nearly groans out loud- painted with makeup that would have looked much better on her thirty or forty years ago. When she sees the two of them standing to leave, her expression droops a little. "Leaving so soon?" she asks.

"Yes," Connor says bluntly, before Edward can open his mouth. "And I… probably won't be back."

"Oh," the old woman says. "So suddenly?"

"Yes," Connor says. "Sorry." And he really does feel bad- the woman has been nothing but kind to him during his stay, albeit in a distracted, clueless sort of way.

"Well, your rent's paid up through the end of the month," the old woman says. "So I suppose you can leave if you need to. But maybe your friend..?" she casts a hopeful glance at Edward.

"Sorry," Edward says, grinning. "I'm just here to take him away."

"But thank you for your hospitality," Connor adds, with the politeness his mother had ingrained in him when he was a child. "You've been a very good landlady."

"Ah well," the woman says, sighing. "Look me up if you're ever in the neighborhood, dears."

"Sure thing," Edward says, pulling on his jacket and turning toward the door

"Thanks again, Mrs. Cormac," he says. "Really."

Edward grabs him by the upper arm, completely ignoring Connor's involuntary flinch. "Come on already," he hisses, and Connor sighs before following.

"So," Connor says, when they're on the street outside. Connor has accumulated few possessions during his six months on his own, and he doesn't much mind losing any of them. This is the second time in less than a year that he's just gotten up and walked away from his life, and this time he feels a lot better about it than he had the first time. "Where do we go first?"

Edward has always been a very good talker. It's not that he has anything particularly clever or insightful to say, it's just that he really enjoys it. If skill can be measured in sheer quantity, then Edward is the most talented speaker Connor has ever met. He launches into a longwinded explanation of what they've already tried and what they need to do and where they need to go next.

Connor lets it all wash over him, knowing from experience that Edward will get to the point eventually, and any attempts to hurry him along will only slow him down further while he pouts. Instead, he focuses on the feeling of drawing into himself, and remembering (as best he can) what it means to be a normal person. He imagines himself sliding locks over the part of his mind that wants to fly again. His wings feel like they're aching inside him, but he forces the feeling down and ignores it. There will be more chances to fly in the future, just not as regularly as he's gotten used to over the past few months.

"…and that's why we're headed north," Edward finishes. "Our last known location for Juno was Montreal, and Haytham says her boyfriend hasn't left Abstergo, so she's probably nearby too."

"Boyfriend?" Connor makes a face at the absurd image of Juno in a committed relationship of any kind. "Oh. John."

"Yep," Edward says. Then, just as Connor's train of thought has started to drift onto methods of finding Juno and getting Minerva's location out of her, Edward glances sideways at Connor and speaks again. "Are you alright, by the way?"

"Fine," Connor says. "Why?"

"I mean, you did just run away for half a year," Edward goes on. "Most people would interpret that as a cry for help."

"I'm not-"

"I mean, if you wanted to talk about your feelings, or something-" Connor scoffs and Edward laughs out loud, unable as ever to stay serious.

"You're terrible."

"Yep," Edward agrees. "But you should see your face."

-/-

So I named Connor's landlord Cormac because I just recently finished playing Rogue and Shay keeps trying to sneak his way into every chapter. He's just awesome and I want to write all the fanfics about him but I already said Rogue doesn't count in this fic and I refuse to break my own continuity. So I compromised with myself and just named with a character after him. With added secondhand embarrassment for Connor because why not.