A/N:

SO MUCH STUDYING.

GOD AWFUL.

BUT I'M ALIVE.

(Thanks to ice cream and a drama serie 3)

:D

Here's the next chapter! ^^

Chapter 7:3

I had to admit that the adorned, powerful flintlock pistol was not my choice of weapon if I was free to choose. It took too long to reload and was too heavy for me to aim properly. Sure I could hit a person in a critical spot, but if there was to ever be a time when I would have to be extra careful what to hit, I would fail. On the other hand, I never denied the opportunity to arm myself with a couple of extra bullets and a gun if such a skirmish would be necessary.

But never to kill.

Swords and daggers were definitely something I mastered, and it felt natural for me to wield them, even though it looked somewhat odd at times when I walked about in the city. There were many women starting to arm themselves with lesser knives and daggers – most of them second- and third-rate weapons – that would protect them from an assailant or two, but nobody I've encountered had worn a sword. The one I carried was short compared to the soldiers', but sharp and light and easy to swing.

Though I had tried, there was no longer a chance for me to pretend I was a boy any longer. Female features were clearly noticeable – even through thick layers of fabrics – and though I had had my hair cut to the shoulders a while ago, nobody thought I was a boy. My bodily transformation had gotten to me a bit of a surprise, since I never got used to the monthly bleeding nor the experimental brassiere I had made. I could impossibly use a corset, my body rejecting the stiff material as wood does fire, and since my aunt wasn't the best seamstress and it would be too embarrassing to ask Alex's mother for help, I had tried my best to make something work. And it did – for now.

I was rather tall and muscular for a girl supposed to support her aunt with a printing shop and an old man with his general store, but it didn't bother me at all. I was hardly vain or caring too much for my appearance; a simple brush through my hair morning and evening was alright, as well as washing myself when needed.

Some girls actually had the audacity to shamelessly stare at me when passing by with their fancy, grand dresses in colors of peach, seaweed and lilies, their eyes glittering with humor and pity when regarding me. My mind could come up with no logical reason for their giggles and stifled laughs, but humiliation caught me off foot once when one of the girls finally spoke her thoughts out loud.

"So this is what men seek nowadays," she had said, giggling and throwing her large, blonde curls over her shoulder. "How tragic. Isn't it, ladies?"

Her entourage of similarly dressed girls quickly gathered around her, first worriedly watching me as they thought me a wild animal, but then also softly cooing in harmony. "Yes," they responded and I understood that the blonde woman was the leader of the pack.

Ironically, they acted more like animals than myself and I chose to add it in my answer as I recollected myself. "You actually remind me of a girl I used to know," I replied and gave her a polite smile. "Her name was... was it Belinda?" I had overheard an innkeeper on my way there as she screamed the name to one of the pigs cared for at her tavern.

"And what happened to your dear friend Belinda?" asked she immediately. "Maybe lost in alcohol and drugs?"

I didn't answer, exhorting her friends to laugh at me again, then shook my head. "No," I continued. "I fear her father lost all of their money, but she never told me because she was afraid what I would say. She dressed in the most beautiful garments and kept her appearance as handsome as possible in an attempt to forget." I cocked my head to the right. "But that would never happen to you, am I right?"

Her shocked expression said enough and I smiled contently. "Or am I mistaken?" I inquired innocently. "Because my aunt told me that something similar happened to your family."

"That was just awfully rude," she snapped viciously. Her eyes glittered with a sheen I knew to be tears but she was quick to recollect herself and haughtily raised her left eyebrow. "But I didn't expect something else from such a lowborn yourself." A false smile etched onto her lips. "I should have known better than to talk to you. Let's away, ladies."

"She shouldn't talk to you like that," said one of the girls behind her and eyed me from top down. "She needs to know her place."

"I agree," added another, a prettier girl than most. Her perfectly shaped hair flowed freely down her shoulders in large, dark waves, and her eyes shone like well-polished sapphires. "I wouldn't talk like that if I were you," she continued and crossed her arms. "Lonely girls do best to care extra how to behave. Accidents... happen."

She smiled venomously and I was just to reply with something harsher when another person cut in before me.

"Who said she was alone?"

I rolled with my eyes and sighed as Sergeant- William brusquely shoved his way through the lesser crowd of young women surrounding me and held up an innocent looking bag, that in fact contained wooden cases filled with bullets. My secret storage of weapons – a dusty old box behind a loose plank in the bedroom wall – was starting to run out of ammunition and I had therefore asked a certain soldier for help, since I didn't like to be low on stock if an emergency would appear. I wasn't even allowed into the arms deal to browse the goods, but William had not only free access to enter – he had the necessary governmental papers to buy large amounts of it without anyone questioning him.

As William closed in to me, I immediately noticed the shy whisperings and flirtatious smiles that were thrown at him like flowers and bouquets on a grand parade. They glanced at him approvingly and fluttered with their eyelashes, almost desperately wanting him to offer them a single notion of attention. It was ridiculous to witness.

"Sergeant," greeted the blonde girl who had spoken to me at first and curtsied gracefully. She sent him a dazzling smile and I bit my lower lip in an attempt to quench my laughter. Please, I thought, tell me this is some kind of a joke.

"Ladies," he acknowledged and seemed oblivious to their reactions. "What's happening here?" William pointed at me. "Is she causing any troubles?"

"Hey-" I started but the leader of the little group interrupted me.

"Yes," she quickly put in and her smile widened. "How fortunate that there's still some respectable men left in the world."

William raised a dark eyebrow. "I wasn't talking to you," he asked coolly and handed me the bag. Surprised gasps followed his movement and he frowned as he met my gaze. "What's the issue, Melissa?"

I glared at him. "I don't need your help. And why did you point at me?" I exclaimed irritably and shook my head. "Nevermind," I continued. "Why took you so long?"

"There was a problem with the verification," answered William and shrugged. "I told a lie, saying that my certificate was the most recent and therefore maybe unfamiliar at some points, but I'm afraid I suspect something... off."

"Ahem." The girl with the golden curls looked at first me then at the sergeant. "Do you," she gestured between the two of us, "perhaps know each other? Acquaintances? Friends?"

William shrugged again. "I don't exactly know her," he replied and I threw another angry glare at him. "And we're not exactly friends. Or foes."

I was just about to open my mouth and insult him, when his emerald-green eyes locked with mine and stunned me with their intensity. As he spoke, I noticed that his otherwise so proud and sarcastic voice was smothered by something different; I could swear that he sounded honest.

"I owe her."

I closed my mouth and swallowed. The atmosphere had suddenly turned awfully genuine, especially in the company of so many strangers. William had unabashedly spoken the words so candidly and that none of the girls even dared to smile. He didn't need me to respond because he already knew what I thought about that. I didn't like to be in dept to anyone and rarely confessed that I needed help, but I did owe the sergeant my life and that was a fact I couldn't neglect for the sake of my own stubborn pride. Unfortunately enough. It wasn't something I was happy for but I admitted it, if somewhat reluctantly. That was why I felt like I had to help, support and advice him to follow a better road than that of Elizabeth's.

Because no matter how many times I wanted to forget it, I couldn't erase my thoughts of her. She felt... familiar. And I was scared of what she had done to Alex and might be continuously doing, but yet again my stupid pride would absorb the worry and convince me that everything was alright, that I was only superstitious, and keep me away from him.

I really wanted to meet him – only, I knew I couldn't.

1777, November 30th

"Enough of that."

I grimaced in disgust as the headless body slumped to the ground with a wet sound. I hadn't been prepared for it to happen, but didn't feel as bothered as one should be when witnessing such a brutal execution. Maybe Mr. Kenway had been right – maybe I was starting to lose my emotions. Or was I simply waiting to catch the recoil? Was my mind to slow to realize that the poor man really was dead?

"You did not have to kill him!"

Mr. Kenway scoffed. "He carried nothing of interest and could barely speak properly," replied my master casually and handed me back the gun. "Let's not waste time with all this pointless banter. Go catch up with the rest of Church's men, infiltrate that camp of theirs and see what you can discover."

Mr. Kenway glanced at me. "You will follow as well."

"But-" I started, but he quickly shook his head.

"Don't let me hear none of that." He cocked his head towards Connor. "It should be a shame to admit, but I don't really trust him. Seek to it that you actually do find their hiding spot."

I sighed heavily and dared lifting my gaze to catch the Assassins. His eyes were grave, angry and disappointed, but the feelings weren't aimed towards me. I could see how much he would like to despise and disobey his father, but as I was bound with loyalty of heart, he was bound with Mr. Kenway through blood. And blood would always be thicker than water.

"Yes, sir," I said resignedly and exhaled. "But," I picked up my pistol he had used, "at least you could be as nice as to take care of this?" I asked. "I wouldn't want to lose it in the chase or the run, neither do I think it practical when I have my sword."

My teacher shrugged. "If it bothers you as I know it does when holding a gun, then hand it over," he replied and I gave the heavy weapon back to him. "You shouldn't really be hindered at all by this."

"I know," I said immediately. "It's just..." I hesitated before continuing, my voice almost a whisper. "I... I can't get the dead boy out of my mind."

Mr. Kenway looked at me in confusion but I turned away from him and started walking with my gaze fixed onto the white ground. I instantly regretted what I had said and hurried into a jog to keep myself warm.

"Are you coming, Assassin?" I called. "I'll see you later, sir!"

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind from the images of that fateful night for so many years ago. It still sickened me. Worse is that six days after the Boston Massacre, I had been sneaking by on the roofs and decided to make a quick visit to the Green Dragon Tavern, the inn housing the headquarters of the Templars. I had overheard my teacher praising Mr. Lee for initiating the slaughter of all those people on the market-place.

Mr. Charles Lee had almost caused my death and so had Mr. Kenway. They had brought death to Boston in a quantity never seen before, with a bone-chilling disregard for human life. Everything had happened with only the power of a gun. Therefore I despised using it and had sworn never to use it to kill, only to learn how to use and to threaten. And that was an oath I intended to keep.

No matter what.