(AGH! Okay, I accidentally put up the wrong chapter because it was really late and I was running on fumes. So sorry! This is the right one!)
"I didn't fall in love. I rose in it, I saw you and I made up my mind." –Toni Morrison
-o-
The first stage of their journey was mostly in the frontier, travelling by horseback across the frozen countryside. They were expected in New York in a few days, and so set out early to make it to the city a day ahead of schedule. Due to the unfortunate weather and quick winter days, it took them almost twice as long to traverse the wilderness. Camp for the first night was made under the thick branches of a pine, so that they wouldn't have to clear away any snow. The tree sheltered them from much of the wind and snow, and smelled fresh. The needles were a bit annoying, however.
Jacqueline threw Blanche's saddle blanket down before sitting. Connor sat underneath and crossed his legs. Once they were settled and had a small flame simmering that could barely be called a fire, Jacqueline started the questions. "Who is left after Church?"
"Charles Lee." Connor said determinedly. "And my father." After apparently thinking about it, he asked, "Why do you wish to see him?"
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"Why do you think?" She exhaled into her hands.
"I think you want revenge on him."
"Then you would think wrong." Her fingers rubbed her stiff knee. "I don't want revenge. I want him to feel regret."
"You think him incapable of it?"
"No, I…think he should face the consequences of his actions. I want him to see that things have long-term effects that he can't escape. I don't want revenge. Are you defending him?"
"Of course not." He replied a little too sharply. "I want to see every angle of this debate."
A beat passed, a pause of rustling wind and the smell of sap. "Can I ask you something?" Jacqueline continued at his silence. "A long time ago, I asked you if you would be able to kill your father. You said you had to. If I asked you that now, would that answer be the same?"
Connor looked down to his hands. "I would…prefer not to kill him, if there is any way it can be avoided."
"How do you think it can be avoided?"
"Perhaps I can convince him to resign from his Order." He made a shrugging motion, like there was something on his shoulder he wanted to move without touching. "I will think of something."
Jacqueline watched him. "If you're in danger of him, and you can't do it, know that I will."
"If it comes to that, I must be the one to kill him." His stare left no room for argument.
Jacqueline nodded and pulled her knees up to her chest. She exhaled, leaving a small cloud in front of her face. Some kind of bird chirruped over their heads in the tree they were taking shelter under. She scooted up to Connor and leaned into him. He secured an arm around her shoulders.
"You're very warm." She whispered.
He made a little noise. "Hm. You are very cold."
Jacqueline laughed quietly. Their voices were muffled in the claustrophobic, snowy environment. "You need to work on your wooing."
Connor looked down at her to retort, putting their faces breaths apart. It was like a magnetic pull. Jacqueline stretched up and pressed her lips to his. It was no passionate entanglement—she moved up so she was perched on his leg, and he hesitantly moved the arm from her shoulders to around her waist. There was an almost casual way they held each other, like it was just another part of the day and it would be silly not to.
When they broke apart, Jacqueline breathed, "I think practise makes perfect, don't you?"
He blinked. His pupils were dilated far out to leave a narrow ring of brown iris. "Was…that a compliment?"
"Something like that." She leaned into the warm bubble of air in his hood to feather her lips down his jaw. Connor made a noise she could only describe as endearing, a little surprised intake of breath. "You never answered my question."
He stuttered and cleared his throat, a part of his body she'd already reached. "Which question?"
"Do you really shave with the hidden blade?" Her fingers touched the cheek opposite the side of his neck her lips were on. He didn't respond for a few moments, and she paused. "Ratonhnhaké:ton?"
Connor took a deep breath. "You are being distracting."
"I should think if a woman was ever sent to get information from you, Connor, you would fail miserably." Jacqueline chuckled and drew back. "So answer."
He seemed to consider it, giving his head a little roll. "Yes, sometimes."
"I knew it." She leaned against him, and he awkwardly held her. It was much warmer when they were close. After a while, she felt him relax and fall asleep. Jacqueline's sleeping schedule was confused and erratic. She was afraid to close her eyes, because most of the time when she did, it was a long time before the flashbacks of pain and flickering candles faded.
-o-
Jacqueline never actually slept, but rather entered some kind of hibernation where she half-dozed. When Connor woke, he seemed surprised to see that she was awake.
"Did you sleep?" He asked.
She stood and brushed off her bum, sprinkling pine needles everywhere. "A little. You're very comforting to sleep with."
Connor, who had been saddling his horse, looked up at her with raised eyebrows. Jacqueline realised her phrasing and gave a small giggle, though didn't correct herself. He flushed back at her and ducked behind his horse to strap the saddle together under its belly.
They were behind schedule, and only arrived in New York on the very evening they were supposed to meet Haytham. The night was blue in the city, casting navy shadows from the flickering orange street lamps. It was cold; the kind of freezing cold that made everything seem to be much sharper and more defined than normal.
Their meeting place was to be a market, which at this time of night was abandoned. The stalls were covered, left of their vendors and goods. Tarps fluttered in the arctic breeze. A stray dog sniffed through the empty square, looking for scraps of food left behind. Connor made his way toward a bench at the edge of the stalls and sat, looking around warily. Jacqueline paced, unable to sit. She wandered too close to the dog, and it growled. She pushed it away with her foot and continued pacing.
"Good evening, Connor." Haytham greeted, and they both turned to see him emerge from the shadows of a nearby alley. "You made it here in one piece, then."
"Recovered from your beating, I see?" Connor alluded to some event Jacqueline was not present for, getting a cold reception from his father.
The older man's gaze turned to Jacqueline. "Good evening. You made it out alive, then."
Jacqueline grit her teeth. "Yes, I am sure you are overjoyed."
He regarded her a moment. "I did not like the idea of killing you, but with your lack of cooperation, we couldn't very well—"
"Let me live? No, I suppose disposing of the rubbish was much easier than that." She tried stalking toward him, but was limping and blocked anyway by Connor.
"No revenge." His voice held serious warning. Jacqueline waited until she stopped seeing red and backed down.
"You're certainly on a tight leash." Haytham commented, sounding amused.
"Trust me, if I really wanted to kill you, I could." Jacqueline turned away and folded her arms, content to wait until they finished planning.
There was a pause. Haytham put his arms behind his back and folded his hands. "Benjamin Church is holed up in an abandoned brewery on the waterfront. We should be done with this by sunrise."
"Good." Connor replied strongly. "I would like to have those supplies returned as soon as possible."
"Of course. I wouldn't want to keep you from your lost cause."
The atmosphere was so cold Jacqueline was almost shivering. Haytham jogged off, surprisingly sprightly for his age, and they were forced to follow. He magnetised to the rooftops, the two young Assassins in tow like a train of killers. Jacqueline was the last one, and in a bad state. She was exhausted from trying to keep up with them, her leg hurt and she had not gotten any real sleep in several days.
Leaping down from a rooftop to balance on a pair of ropes bound tight over the street, they ran across and climbed up onto the slanted roof of a church. Haytham stopped there and waited for them to catch up. When Connor ran up to stand beside him, he asked, "Tell me something—you could have killed me when we first met. What stayed your hand?"
"Curiosity." Haytham answered after a pause. "Any other questions?"
Jacqueline dragged herself to the top of the church and nearly collapsed. Connor took her by the arm and let her lean against the curved dome at the cross of the building to rub her sore knee. "What do the Templars truly seek?" He asked.
"Order. Purpose. Direction. It's your lot that means to confound with this nonsense talk of freedom. Time was, the Assassins possessed a far more sensible goal, that of freedom."
"Freedom is peace!" Connor declared, as though outraged his father could think any differently.
Haytham shook his head at the arrogance of youth. "Oh, no. It's an invitation to chaos. Only look at this little revolution your friends have started. I have stood before the Continental Congress and listened to them stamp and shout. All in the name of liberty. But it is just noise."
"And this is why you favour Lee?" Connor asked incredulously.
"He understands the needs of this would-be nation far better than the jobbernowls who profess to represent it."
"It seems your tongue has tasted sour grapes—the people have made their choice, and it was Washington."
Haytham bowed his head, like he was trying not to laugh. "The people chose nothing. It was done by a group of privileged cowards looking to enrich themselves. They convened in private and made a decision that would benefit them. Oh, they might have dressed it up with pretty words, but that does not make it true. The only difference, children, the only difference between myself and those you aid is that I do not feign affection."
The conversation was clearly over. Haytham ran smartly off, the stinging words of his speech still ringing in the air like a swarm of bees. Jacqueline stood up straight as she and Connor watched his retreat for a moment.
"I would like to see you two argue when we're not on a time schedule." She decided.
Connor did not respond, only slid down the other side of the church to follow his father. Jacqueline groaned at the thought of more climbing, but climb they did. Climb, jump and generally pounce their way across the city. There was some fumbling and tripping, and a strong competitive air emanated from the two men in front of her. For Jacqueline, she was just trying to keep from falling. But for them, it was an arms race. It was father and son competing to be the better. It was years of neglected relationship come to fruition.
Finally, Haytham dropped down between two buildings into a narrow alley. He walked forward and peered around the corner. Before them was a long brick wall guarded by a dozen soldiers.
"What is it?" Connor asked at his father's hesitation.
"I was hoping I could wave you past the guards, but he's replaced most of them with men I don't know. Hmm. Well, I should be able to pass without suspicion, but you two…" He shrugged and started off as though to leave him.
Connor grabbed his arm. "No. We do this together or not at all."
"What do you have in mind?" Jacqueline fell against a wall and massaged her middle. "There's certainly no way to sneak in."
"I will find guards who are off duty and take two uniforms." He said.
"Very well." Haytham sat down against the wall opposite, not seeing the obvious flaw in Connor's plan. "I will wait here, then."
"Of course you will." Connor grumbled.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to come along and hold your hand, perhaps? Provide kind words of encouragement?"
Connor waved a hand in irritation and stalked off. Jacqueline sighed and rubbed her leg. She looked up and caught Haytham's proudly inquisitional stare. "What?" She snapped. "It hasn't healed yet, thanks to you."
"As I recall, I wasn't the one who did that."
"Oh, I forgot." Jacqueline made it sound sarcastic, but parts of her bondage had genuinely slipped her memory. "It was your lapdog, Lee. I think when I find him, I'll break his legs before Connor kills him."
Haytham regarded her coldly. "For someone who advocates peace, you're rather violent."
"For someone who advocates order, your methods are rather chaotic." She countered sourly.
He watched her for a moment, clearly judging. Then he exhaled once lightly out his nose, his mouth shifting into a smirk. "You remind me of Connor's mother."
That took her by surprise. Jacqueline frowned. "Don't mention her around Ratonhnhaké:ton." She muttered darkly, and went back to working her fingers against the sides of her stocking-encased calf. The thin fabric bunched and stretched around her fingers.
Haytham's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
Jacqueline paused and let that sink in, realisation dawning slowly. A cruel smile spread over her face. "You don't know."
He bristled. "Explain yourself, woman."
"Never. I want to see the look on your face when he tells you." She knew it was cold, but if there was any kind of God, this was his way of exacting revenge. And Jacqueline wanted to twist this knife in his side for all it was worth.
-o-
-Review for sassiness!