Chapter 6:2

1776, June 26th

"We're here. Just lay him down and leave. Take away the other one."

The two guards carrying the slumped shape of Connor hurried to obey Master Kenway's commands and the other duo, restraining the furious Mr. Hickey, nodded and bowed politely. My teacher waited for them to leave the dirty, aged – and very cramped – prison cell until the only remaining people were us: three Templars and the unconscious Assassin. I didn't know what Mr. Kenway was going to do with Connor, if he was going to murder him and put an end to the killings, but he seemed indifferent in front of his sworn enemy. Almost relaxed.

"What are you going to do, sir?" asked Mr. Lee all of a sudden, obviously struck uncomfortable due to the lingering silence since the guards had departed with Mr. Hickey. "He's the enemy; shouldn't we simply kill him?"

His last sentence made me feel oddly frightened and I realized to my own horror that I didn't want Connor to die. Shaking my head in disbelief, trying to get myself to think clearly, I came up with an objection to Mr. Lee's cause. I'm not doing this for him… It's wrong to kill unnecessarily.

"But it would surely look better to let him go unharmed, sir," I protested and looked up at my teacher. His once dark, well-kempt hair was now after a decade of knowing him, graying in an increasingly rapid pace. It was still groomed probably every day and his coiffure had never even once changed during the many years, but age was clearly taking its toll on Mr. Kenway. I didn't even want to imagine how heartbroken I would be when he died, no less if I bore witness to it. "As an act of mercy," I continued and waved my hand in an attempt to gain his attention. "Just send him off with a warning and remind Mr. Davenport what compassion the Templars possess. I'm sure he'll be more than glad to accept our terms."

"Melissa—"started Mr. Lee but Master Kenway cut him off.

"Fair enough," replied the leader of the Templars and my mentor. "But we did show mercifulness when Reginald decided not to eradicate every Assassin here, and see what consequences his choice made: two faithful brothers have already fallen and I'm sure that the rest of us are on his list as well." Our eyes locked and he sighed. "Yes, that also includes you, Melissa," he added quickly.

His words stung as I had grown more than accustomed to having Mr. Pitcairn around, his kind and fatherly way of speaking to his soldiers and subordinates, as well as that he had been a very honorable man. I was proud to have known him, but nonetheless felt a thousandfold more like a traitor for what my mind and body hosted for his murderer. Because that was the truth; I had felt something for Connor ever since we were children, ever since I saw him.

I snorted. Irony is such a bittersweet delicacy and as of late, I've tasted too much of it. It's almost like God wants to punish me for a crime I haven't committed – or at least it feels like such is the case. "But to offer another chance can impossibly be wrong, right, sir?" I wondered and tried to control my voice. "Only a complete blockhead would commit an error again. That man," I said and pointed at the Assassin, "is definitely not an idiot and neither is Achilles. They'll stay away, I promise."

The two men looked at me in surprise and Mr. Kenway recovered the quickest, approaching me with a worried expression. We silently watched each other before he spoke and the admonition in his voice was unmistakable.

"Child, you are so naïve," he answered and put his hand on my shoulder, slowly shaking his head from side to side. "Charles." This was obviously aimed towards Mr. Lee who immediately straightened and made a courteous bow. "I want you to run to the town hall and spread the rumor that someone is seeking to assassinate George Washington. The suspect has been caught but he has yet to be interrogated."

"Yes, sir, anything else to add except that? Any special details of any sort?" asked my teacher's most loyal man and right hand. Mr. Charles Lee was – if anyone – the only person whom Master Kenway could fully rely on and trust with uttermost secrets. Similarities between the black-haired man and I were that we both shared the same mentor and been taught to think, fight and adapt by the same man.

"No," said Mr. Kenway and started walking out of the stone-walled prison cell. I made the movement to follow him when he objected with a gesture of his hand. "You stay. Someone needs to undress him and take away his weapons; I don't trust any of the guards here, one never truly knows if they're rebels or not."

"I-I am to do what, exactly?" I wondered, stuttering the words as I spoke. "Undress him, sir?"

He nodded and threw an observant glance at the Assassin. "I doubt he'll awaken, the guard gave him quite a hit."

I don't care about if he might wake up, I thought irritably. But how will I explain? "Sir, do I really have to?" I asked.

"Yes. Charles is going to talk to some important people and I am going to share a couple of words with the warden operating this place. We cannot let him escape and Thomas must be released."

"Don't worry," said Mr. Lee and gave me a reassuring smile. "I'll hurry back as soon as possible."

Mr. Kenway waved the other Templar to his side and they exited in silence, leaving me alone with Connor. The guards from earlier had simply thrown him onto the cold ground, face down, and I shuddered in disgust as my eyes locked onto unidentifiable discoloration, here and there. I could vaguely smell something rotten from one of the corners of the room and traced the source of the stench to an old, rusty bucket lying overturned. An empty mattress was seemingly the only other furniture every prisoner got and I looked about in utter disrelish; I had never before visited a prison but these were horrible conditions. Not a wonder why so many people died waiting for their judgment.

As I quickly peeked out of the prison cell to check if I was alone there, I found a pail of water right outside the small room, next to a wobbly chair. On the mentioned wooden seat, rested some relatively clean clothes and I took all of it under my right arm and carried in the water as well.

Okay, you can do this.

I crouched next to him and – after a certain moment of hesitation – turned him over. It was a heavy work but I soon managed to drag him upright, with his back towards the muddy wall.

Doesn't seem like they clean here even once a month, I thought and sniffed suspiciously. Or well, not even once a year judging by this smell. This is horrid.

"Ugh…"

I jumped in surprise as the Assassin regained consciousness and grunted something that sounded like a curse. He pushed back the white hood covering his countenance and revealed his face. Dark, hazelnut-colored eyes squinted in pain as he grimaced and touched the back of his head. Blood and filth were smeared into his exotic clothes and soiled his Iroquoian features. Without thinking, I searched my pockets for something I could use to wet and clean his face with, and luckily enough found a handkerchief.

"Take it easy," I mumbled and soaked the piece of cloth. "You are – for the moment – safe."

He seemed to have recognized my voice immediately as his eyes widened in shock.

"Melissa…" Connor furrowed his brows and then exhaled. "Ah yes, you're one of them."

I tried not to flinch as he finished his sentence and carefully placed the wet handkerchief on his cheek. "Don't blame it on that. Nobody of them would even think about hurting a girl," I said in defense. "They're good people."

"They are murderers."

"They are doing what they have to do," I corrected irritably with a loud voice and cleared my throat. "Excuse me, that was rude to claim. You do, after all, not care about a single word I say, so why waste my breath?"

It was cruel of me to imply an insult like that and I tried to soften my words by gently wiping away all of the dirt from his left cheek. He made no protests even as I unintentionally rubbed the cloth into an open wound and made it bleed again. During the whole process of me patching him up, he remained silent and easily manageable, and it wasn't until when I made the motion to confiscate his weapons, he reacted with lightning speed. I didn't even have the time to react before he had me pushed up against the wall, breathless and slightly dizzy due to the incredibly quick movement.

"Don't."

His face was just a couple of inches away from mine and his voice was cold as steel, warning me once again. My body was locked to the stone-wall and I couldn't move. Rough, callused hands straightened my arms by my wrists and stretched them as far as my body allowed, locking them in a cross above my head.

"Don't touch my weapons."

How did he… "Let me go," I snarled and tried to get out of his grip. The situation was as familiar as two years ago but I felt more helpless than ever. So close to me, I could feel the warmth of his muscular body and the faintest smell of the ocean. "Don't take me so lightly. I'll scream if you try to do something," I continued and aimed a kick towards his leg. He easily evaded the attack and effortlessly pinned me down. Our eyes locked and every breath quieted.

Even though Connor had promised to never bestow any harm upon me, I was more than certain that he would kill me right there. On one of my many conversations with Mr. Lee, he had revealed that Mr. Kenway always wore a pair of hidden blades, which of course was one of the attributes of an Assassin. Though I never heard of how they fell into my master's possession the facts were clear: Haytham Kenway knew the ways of the Assassins and it wouldn't surprise me if he was familiar with the Creed as well. Thinking about the old memory made me painfully aware of that I might die to just those weapons. I would never be able to ask my teacher how exactly he became the man he is today; a question I had mused during all these years knowing him.

To my surprise, Connor chuckled amusedly and shook his head. "Do I scare you?" he asked softly and held my gaze.

"No," I answered honestly. "I'm not frightened by you."

He raised his right eyebrow in a silent question. Are you sure? I nodded and he gave me the crooked smile I had seen ever since we both were children. "An open invitation, I see."

Before my mind could even process what he had said, the Assassin lowered his head towards mine and kissed me, gently.

It felt like I was struck by lightning, an emotion so fierce in intensity and power that I felt paralyzed, almost numb. The feeling of his soft lips caressing mine was breathtaking, beautiful and utterly stunning. I shattered beneath his grip of me and fell into a dark abyss of nothingness; his kiss made me experience everything and nothing at the same time. It was… magical.