A/N:

I was busy due to helping my brother pack and etc… so now he's gone. No difference really ^^'

I've fixed small edits and added these dates now, I hope it will help a bit in the timeline of the story from now on.

Chapter 6:1

1776, June 26th

My lower lip quivered in suppressed fear when I reached the bedroom door. I slowly etched my fingers onto the old doorknob and took a deep breath.

You can do this. Just explain yourself and he'll forgive you, I thought in an attempt to calm myself down. It was all just a stupid mistake and your foolishness, Melissa.

As I opened the door to Alex's room – with my heart beating so fast that I thought I would pass out – I felt the mechanism work beneath my touch and I stumbled into his sanctuary.

"You came awfully quick today, what's the—"

His green-gray eyes locked with mine and widened in shock. He rose up from his chair so abruptly that it was knocked into the dark, wooden floor with a loud slam. We stood like petrified for several seconds before we both blurted out our excuses.

"Alex, I'm so horribly sorry—"

"Melissa…? Is it really you?"

I nodded several times and his otherwise so very soft eyes hardened with anger. Realizing that I had forgotten why I really was there, I cleared my throat and straightened. He regarded me coldly while I shamefully averted my gaze.

"Did you receive any of my letters during the year that has passed?" I asked as he picked up the chair and checked the floor for any ugly marks, nodding meanwhile. "Why haven't you answered then?" I wondered and tried to restrain my sudden lash of irritation.

"Why should I?" he replied coolly and placed the chair in front of him. Alex sat down on it, resting his chest towards the backrest, and looked at me expressionless. "I'm a dead man to you, ain't I? Give me one good reason to write a single note to you."

His word struck deep and I instinctively took a step back, my face blossoming with a deep, red color. My already fast-paced heart pounded harder and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Alex…" My voice broke and I swallowed. "Did you at least read them?"

He nonchalantly leaned towards his desk and took a pile of gently folded paper into his left hand and put them in his lap. His slender fingers randomly picked up a sheet and held it in front of him, covering his face as he read aloud.

"'19th of June, 1775 – Dear Alex, I can barely look at my reflection. I'm terribly sorry for what I said and you know that anger blinded me; I would've never even spoken such words to anybody, least of all you. You know I care for you the most – as well as Auntie of course – so please hear me out: I was wrong to blame you for stealing the letter. I just arrived at home from the Battle of Bunker Hill and found the letter I had addressed to you in my jacket at home. It seems as though I sent you the envelope containing what Mr. Kenway had written to Mr. Pitcairn, instead of what I wrote myself'."

"'I'm so damned sorry; you can't imagine how miserable I feel presently due to my wrong accusations. I should've listened to you, I really should have'…" he finished and I couldn't take it anymore. My knees buckled beneath me and gravity dragged me to the ground.

"I hope you read the rest as well," I said and clenched my fists. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. "And all the letters I sent after that first one."

"I certainly did. But did it make me feel any less dead?"

I sighed heavily and in my last, desperate attempt to make him accept my apologies, I put my forehead to the floor in a begging motion.

"I have a lot of explaining to do," I continued, my voice muffled by my hair. "First, I must probably tell you that I belong to a secret society, a group of men and women all over the world who are striving for a better tomorrow. We're the Templars and have been in feud with another organization for thousands of years. These others are called Assassin's and are, with the word's whole purport, assassins. Cold-blooded murderers."

"I know."

I dared myself to rise up and met Alex's neutral expression. He didn't even blink as I hesitantly placed my hands on each side of his face and ghosted my fingers along his familiar features.

"I'm sorry for everything," I said, glad that my voice held. "I've lied all these years but I won't continue any longer. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Alex was silent for long. He simply held my gaze with an unreadable expression and I felt colder with every moment passing by. Then it suddenly struck me: he had replied with "I know".

"What did you mean by earlier?" I asked carefully and pulled away from him. "'I know'," I mimicked and held back my suspiciousness. This is not the time for quick conclusions. That's what put me here in the first place.

Now it was his turn to feel uneasy; I immediately saw how he recoiled to my question and worry consumed his countenance. Alex soaked his lips and opened his mouth to answer when we both heard the knocking on the door. He made a movement to rise but stopped halfway as our eyes locked.

"Who is that?" I wondered and stepped aside as he went for the door. I followed him to the hallway and my heart skipped a beat.

A slender creation of femininity stood outside the house, politely greeting Alex with his first name. Her hair was golden, lush and wavy, and reached all the way down to her tiny waist. She was wearing a lovely forest-green dress with intricate details and long, delicate sleeves; I immediately recognized the work to be of Alex's father and the garment was definitely something he had put a lot of effort into.

My eyes traced up to her face and to my embarrassment, I actually felt relieved as I saw the emerald-colored band of fabric – also skillfully embroidered – around her head, covering her eyes and part of her nose. The beautiful stranger was blind.

"Hello? Alex, is that you? You told me I could come over today."

Her voice was light and melodic, sounding so innocent and pure, and she spoke fluent American English. I felt bad once again for my earlier relaxation but shrugged it off as quickly as I could. Who is this girl? She must be Alex's age.

Alex didn't reply and glanced at me. I nodded, feeling apologetic for intruding his appointment with the woman and he nodded back. His voice was normal as he saluted her but I could sense a small strain of anger and irritation creeping into his tone.

"Elizabeth." He reached out for her and helped her inside. I saw that she was holding an elegant, black cane in her right hand and slowly moved it from left to right in front of her. Guessing that it was what she used to "see", I hastily backed away from her and Alex, feeling empathic due to her loss of sight.

"Is there somebody else here? Your friend Harry?" Elizabeth suddenly asked and stiffened. "I thought I heard something."

My eyes widened in shock that she had been able to intercept the sound of my footsteps and stared at Alex. He met my gaze and raised his right eyebrow in a silent question. May I?

Nodding, I took a step towards the pretty, young woman and took her left hand in mine.

"Yes, my friend is here, but not Harry," Alex answered and I shook her fragile hand, saying: "Hello, I'm Melissa, but you can call me Mel."

Elizabeth shone up in a bright smile, showing a perfect set of teeth white as the pearls I saw in the jewelry shop on my way to Alex's home. She answered my handshake with fervor and giggled.

"Yeah, Alex told me everything about you." Elizabeth's smile widened. "And as much as I've told him not to call me Elizabeth, he stubbornly continues. You on the other hand, may please call me Liz."

I awkwardly remained on the place where I stood, too shy to take a step back but too dumbfounded to come up with a quick answer. My eyes nervously flickered to find comfort with Alex but he was smiling widely, his intelligent eyes examining "Liz's" every move. A stab of envy struck my heart and I started feeling uncomfortable. Would he look at someone else with such interest if I hadn't wrongly accused him in the first place? God, what have I done?

"A-Alright." I swallowed and dropped her hand as if she had burned me. "I better move on, Liz—it was nice to meet you."

"No, please stay," she insisted and took my hand in hers again. I stared at her in disbelief again; how did she know where my hand was? "I would love to talk to you. Alex told me how incredible of a person you are and I would really like to—"

I brusquely shoved her away, feeling oddly scared with her ability to see even though she impossibly could, but also what she was claiming: Alex had apparently told her everything about me. What exactly was "everything"?

She's faking, I thought as I walked towards the front door. But how? How does anyone see through that thick fabric? Is she psychic? Or a good listener? Enhanced? … An Assassin?

"I'm sorry but I must go, I have an appointment with…" I ranted and quickly headed out of Mr. Smith's – Alex's father – home and shop. "… My friend. Yes, a friend."

Alex gave me a confused gaze and I bit my lower lip. I'm not done apologizing, but I can't do that when she's here. Elizabeth… that woman frightens me. "Next time, Alex," I said and gleefully bid the two of them goodbye, bouncing out of the store.

That is, when I thought I could leave with some glory. But as I stepped out on the dirty, cobbled street, I was brutally knocked aside by a sprinting man. I recognized him immediately: Thomas Hickey, a Templar and a man loyal to Master Kenway. His panicking eyes lighted up as he identified me as well, but he didn't have the time to say anything before another man passed me by.

I knew who it was even before I saw the back of his white hood. I knew it as soon as I had seen Mr. Hickey.

People around me watched in mixed emotions as Connor aimed a blow towards the Templar's head. Mr. Hickey – it really was with utter disgust that I called him "sir" or "mister" as he hardly was a man of honor – avoided the attack with unexpected grace and sent his own fist flying. As I knew he would, the Assassin parried it with a dancelike move and pushed Mr. Hickey into the exterior of Alex's home. The Templar hit the wall with a loud slam but the white-hooded Iroquoian followed up his movement and gripped the collar of Mr. Hickey's shirt, shoving him into the house again.

"Be still – you will do no more harm."

His dark, almost soothing voice was making my stomach flutter and I tried to focus on something else. Whatever but his voice.

The strength of the Assassin was impressive; he could lift a full-grown man off the ground and render him unmovable. I slowly approached the two combatants and vaguely heard someone calling for guards.

It sounded like Mr. Hickey slurred due to his extremely sloppy dialect and now more, loud voices were heard, distracting my ability to hear. Connor was speaking with a low voice, the duo exchanging what they had to say in bitter tones, and soon a group of guards split them apart.

"You are both under arrest!"

A guard pulled away the Assassin with ease and I realized that the latter didn't want to harm someone doing his regular job. Maybe he finally listened to me, I thought, surprisingly delighted at what I saw.

The guards were three and one of them was holding a heavy, sand-colored sac. Mr. Hickey glanced at it and blurted out his foolish excuses. I had never understood why my teacher kept the stupid, muscle-brained idiot – sorry for my language – around, and watching him explain that he and Connor was having an "old-fashioned fight" almost made me want to laugh. I made a mental note to myself to ask Master Kenway as soon as an opportunity showed itself.

"Quiet!" snapped the Assassin angrily and under his hood, I could see him furiously creasing his dark brows. "What are the charges?"

"Counterfeiting," claimed the guard holding the bag. He opened it up and grinned. "Lots of it, I see."

"I had nothing to do with that," replied Connor immediately and he sounded honest.

"'Course not," said the third guard scornfully, crossing his arms. The bearded man mockingly looked at the Assassin as well as Mr. Hickey. "But these are overwhelming proofs."

"Listen, there are more important things at stake here," answered the Iroquoian quickly and his expression was upset. "This man is planning to—"

The first guard silenced him with a baton, hitting the back of the Assassin's head, and the latter fell to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound was sickening.

"Are you alright, Melissa?" asked a familiar voice.

"Thomas," another sighed.

I didn't realize that I had been staring at the fight – completely dazed – and hastily shook my head, turning to face Mr. Kenway and Mr. Lee as they stood right behind me. My teacher watched the scenery in front of him unfold with an inquisitive look on his noble features. His hazelnut-colored eyes focused intensely on the unconscious Assassin, then nodded at his fellow Templar and dear friend Mr. Lee.

"S-sirs…" I stammered and gave them a polite bow. "I think we got him, finally."

A/E.N:

School started today and seeing that I gotta tend to my education as well as my favorite hobby, I think imma either reduce the speed of which I'm able to post these chapters and make them a lot longer (I'm talking about writing for a whole week then post one uberlong chapter) or update infrequently due to my inability to see the future and check what my teachers are planning ._.

Let me know what you prefer!