"You see, I'd never stopped to wonder why it was that millions of boys all over creation weren't seeing her and instantly falling in love with her, worshipping her body and mind and soul and spirit as I did. It never occurred to me until this precise moment that maybe lots of boys wouldn't have thought she was gorgeous. Maybe she only seemed so gorgeous to me because - and this is the shocker - her face came alive when I walked in front of it." -Author Unknown

-o-

A beam of harsh morning sunlight speared through Jacqueline's eyelids. Her eyes opened slowly, lazily to look at the wall beside her bed. Her hair stuck up around her head in disheveled loops and tangles. Beside her, Connor was still asleep. He looked very peaceful, the frowning creases of the day smoothed away by sleep. His hair, untied and loose, was splayed across his face. Jacqueline gently brushed some away from his freckled cheeks and smiled.

Furie trotted into the room, big paws thumping against the floor. He sat next to the bed and rubbed Jacqueline's shoulder with his cold nose. She batted him away and yawned. The wolf snorted grumpily, shook himself out, and left the room again.

Jacqueline stirred around a little, trying to get comfortable again. Beside her, Connor breathed out in a sigh and blinked awake. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She apologised.

"Good morning." Connor's voice was a little raspy from sleep.

Jacqueline smiled. "Good morning. This certainly makes for an interesting day, doesn't it?"

"It was unexpected," Connor spoke carefully, clearly choosing his words with great prejudice. He cleared his throat. "But my feelings for you have not changed."

"Then I don't see this as being much of a problem. Unless events suddenly take a turn, we can continue like this. Right?"

In response, Connor leaned in and kissed her forehead. He stroked a hand thoughtfully through her short hair. "Why did you cut this?"

"I don't know." Jacqueline touched his hand. "Suddenly…I just couldn't stand it anymore." She trailed her fingers over his cheek, down his neck to rest on his shoulder. "What happened with your father?"

A cloud passed over his face. "I would…prefer to not say here." He didn't elaborate, and didn't need to. Jacqueline didn't pry, instead running her thumb back and forth over his chestnut skin.

He touched one of the many scars on her right arm, the one shaped like a whirl. She shifted away, but he stopped her. "Do not hide. Scars are the mark of a warrior."

"It's not the scar that repulses me; it is the memory. One man I hunted gave me a new memory." She turned to show him the long slice from shoulder to hip where L'Enfant had struck her. "He and I dueled, quite magnificently, I should add."

Connor traced the long scar with his calloused fingers, and she shivered. "Did he suffer?" He mumbled.

"Yes." She lied, and turned back to face him. "We should leave this room at some point."

"Yes, we should." Connor agreed. He sat up and reached for his loose hair. The only part still tied was the braid near the front. When he turned to get out of bed, Jacqueline covered a giggle with her hand over her mouth. Connor looked back and raised an eyebrow.

"Your, ah, your back…oh, damn. I hope that doesn't hurt." She gestured at the long red marks down his back in the pattern of her nails. "Sorry."

"It is nothing." Connor shrugged a shoulder, but she could see even from behind that he was wearing a small, proud smile.

Furie barked from outside the manor, making them both look to the door. "I'll get him," Jacqueline sighed, getting out of bed for the second time that morning, with the exception being that she put on actual clothing the second time. "I knew from the start that beast would be nothing but trouble."

Getting dressed, she faltered when she noticed Connor staring at her. "Something the matter?"

He seemed flustered. "No," Then, a bit more reserved, "You are very beautiful."

Jacqueline unexpectedly flushed. She suspected that she would receive little personal attention in public, knowing Connor, but in private he was charmingly awkward. Almost like he wasn't sure what would flatter her, and was winging it a bit to experiment. Not that she was particularly experienced with the opposite sex, either. She just happened to have the upper hand as a given. It was an odd dynamic, but was working so far.

Smiling, she gestured to the door, pulling her overcoat up her shoulders. "I should go see what Furie's found...I'll be right back."

When she had looked into Furie's ruckus—which was only a hare, dead by the time she reached the garden—Jacqueline returned to the manor's kitchen. Connor was there, drinking something from a cup and looking out the window. They glanced at each other. Jacqueline took an orange from a nearby basket and began plucking at it with her fingernails.

"Where is Lee?" She asked quietly.

Connor's gaze flicked her way but didn't linger as he touched on a more sensitive topic. "I believe he is arranging my father's funeral."

This made Jacqueline hesitate. She knew that Connor and Haytham had not known each other for very long, and for that matter had something of a strained relationship, but were blood nonetheless. Connor was outspoken about his opinions but careful about his feelings for specific people. So Jacqueline trod carefully around her next line of inquiry.

"Will you attend?" She murmured, peeling a string of white vein from her orange.

Connor waited a moment before responding. "No. Not unless I find Lee there."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, I know you weren't on the best terms with Haytham, but…perhaps now would be the time to reconcile with him…"

"We said what we wished to. We made our choices and now he is dead. I do not want to go to a funeral held by Charles Lee." Connor responded, a little sharply.

Jacqueline pressed her lips together and focused on her orange. "Hm."

Connor reached over and covered her hands. "Will you help me kill him?"

She smirked briefly. "Yes. I'll help you, as long as you promise not to do anything stupid." She looked up at him. "I won't let you kill yourself trying to get to Lee."

"We will leave for New York soon, then, so he will not escape again." Connor decided, straightening up.

"Connor," Jacqueline said firmly. "Promise me."

He glanced at her, but didn't meet her gaze. "I promise."

"Thank you." She tossed the orange peels away and brushed her hands off. "If we leave for the city, then let's leave in two days."

"Why? If we leave no we could make it to the city by sundown." Connor frowned.

"Well, yes, but you should rest a little more before you go running back into danger. Also," She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered quickly in his ear, standing on her tiptoes to reach. His cheeks went a little red, and he put his hands on her waist. "That's why."

Connor cleared his throat and nodded. "Very well. We will leave in two days."

"Don't pull that stoic act with me, Ratonhnhaké:ton, I know you far too well." Jacqueline smiled and pressed their lips together.

Connor responded wholeheartedly, deepening the kiss. Jacqueline backed up to the table for something to lean against, making a kind of humming noise in the back of her throat. She shifted up onto the table and ran her fingers through his hair, wrapped her legs around his hips. They broke apart, and Connor turned his head to plant kisses down her neck.

"Wait, wait," Jacqueline laughed breathlessly, pushing him away slightly. "Save it for tonight, love. I have to do a few things today, and that line of thought is going to keep us indoors." She pecked his cheek, grabbed the remaining crescents of her orange, and strode outside the manor.

It was a fine spring day, filled with the sounds of birds whistling and cicadas buzzing. Lingering dew from the morning added a dash of humidity to the air. Furie stalked out of the house behind her, sullenly shadowing her on her path through the community. She had a goal, and though she was apprehensive, she wanted to see it through. It took her no time at all to find the right building: the whitewashed, kindly attended-to church. The folks on the Homestead were not very strict, but were quaintly religious. She instructed Furie to wait outside, and cautiously entered the hallowed hall.

The air inside was quiet and contained. Though mostly empty, a couple people sat in the pews. It was not as she had last seen it, dilapidated and abandoned. It was plainly furnished and cleaned, simple, to match the living style of the people who attended. At the first pew in the left row, Father Timothy sat and read the Bible. Jacqueline approached him warily, like he was a wilder animal than a rabid dog.

He noticed her and looked up. His smile was kind, and his voice low so others could pray in peace. "Miss Jacqueline. I must say, I am a bit surprised to see you here. I was not aware you were a daughter of our Lord."

"I…was Christian, once, and since I have no better arguments, I believe I still am." She sat beside him and held her hands in her lap. "But I came here to ask you something specific."

"Anything I can answer, my child, I shall." Father Timothy held out his hands, palm out, in acceptance. "What do you need to know?"

"Now, I have not…studied the Holy Book, precisely. But is there perhaps any mention of a mysterious woman anywhere?"

"There are many women in the Bible. Is there any more you could tell me of her?"

"She would be stern, or perhaps slightly malevolent. She wears white robes and a silver…tiara, or diadem." Jacqueline put her hands to her forehead to mimic what she had seen in her dreams. "Perhaps she is a prophetess?"

"Hmm…an interesting query. There are several notable prophetesses. Anna, who prophesied about Jesus in the Temple of Jerusalem. Deborah of Israel, and Hannah, the mother of Samuel. Do any of these sound accurate?"

"I am not sure." Jacqueline knew that none of those women could be whom she had seen, and this inquiry was only making her feel quite mad for even thinking that religious figures were speaking to her.

"Why do you ask?" Father Timothy questioned mildly. "It seems a curious question out of the blue."

She hesitated. "Would I sound mad if I said she had come to me in a dream and called me the daughter of Eve?"

Timothy gave a light shrug. "Many believe that the Lord has chosen them. You would not be so unique for thinking such. I find it intriguing, however, that unlike others who have told me that God had chosen them to do his will, your messenger is a nameless woman."

"It sounds very odd, but she spoke very specifically to me, and seemed to always know what I was feeling though I had never confided to anyone."

"Likely only your mind playing tricks on you. I would pay no heed, but I am no doctor. Perhaps see Dr O'Callaghan if you're very worried. Now, is there anything else you need of me?"

Jacqueline sighed. "No, I suppose not. Thank you, Father."

-o-

Two mornings later, Jacqueline was sitting in a bath she had drawn, idly tracing the scars on her legs. The water sloshed quietly in the room when she moved. She submerged her head, and when she surfaced again, she heard movement in the bedroom through the wall. Connor was up and about. At first she brushed it off, but then she heard the familiar sound of a hidden blade being unsheathed.

"Connor?" She called, frowning. "Is everything well?"

"Yes." Came the quiet response.

Even so, she left the bath and hurried into her room. Connor was sitting in front of a basin of water, back to her, calmly shaving his head. He ran the blade over his scalp, shadowed by his free hand, to trace the path of a strip of hair down the middle of his head.

"And I thought my hair was short." Jacqueline smirked, sitting on the bed next to him. "What are you doing that for?"

Another run across his head with the knife. It made a faint scraping sound when it dragged across the skin. Jacqueline could see that his mood was a brooding one, so she was quiet while he spoke.

"I see now why ours is an eternal war. For each piece taken from the board, another is placed upon it." He picked up a small bowl with crushed berries inside. "Back and forth we go. Across the world. Across the ages. Some days mine feels an impossible task. But I cannot afford to be consumed with doubt. The people need us, now more than ever. I must stop the Templars. I will kill Charles Lee."

Three vertical lines of red on each cheek from the berries. Connor picked up his robes and dressed. Already clothed, Jacqueline observed the bowl of red paint. Connor gently took it from her hands, put two fingers in, and made two horizontal lines on each of her cheeks.

"Now we will go to war."

-o-

-To Alessandra, since I can't PM you anonly—I don't like putting smut into my stories. I think it subtracts emotion rather than adds. You want AC smut you can write your own, don't look for it here. That said, I'm a bit shite at writing it, so it wouldn't be worth it anyway.

-I looked back on some of my earlier chapters, and I realised that (gasp) I've actually made Jacqueline develop as a person! :o

-Well anyway I managed to cram some fluff in there after another bitch of a wait. ._. I hate to say it but this story is coming to its latch batch of chapters. I don't know how many are left but it's probably not gonna be a lot.