Chapter 6:3

1776, June 26th

Our bodies crushed against each other, eliminating whatever air that might have separated us, and I greedily clung to his shirt, letting my hands travel down his well-defined muscles. His hands tangled into my hair and I mirrored his movement, without even realizing that I was. Pulling away for just a flicker of a second, he smiled slightly and gave me a moment to breathe. I was, to my embarrassment, panting slightly and I could feel that the color of my cheeks were scarlet. But even though I was shy, I pushed myself upwards to meet his lips again. He had initiated the kiss but I wanted to be the one finishing it, and kissed him with fervor.

It feels so strange, kissing him, I mused, feeling how my strength and willpower slipped away inch by inch in the arms of the Assassin. It feels incredible but so unfathomably treasonous; I'm betraying everything I stand for when I listen to my heart. But how can something so wrong be what I desire the most? How can life be so cruel and mankind so vain?

I wanted to push him away, hit him straight across his jaw and scream something utterly inappropriate, maybe even take his sword – the handle was poking me very uncomfortably at my side, almost like it was mocking me to take it – and attack him, but I couldn't;my fingers avariciously clawed at his neck and shoulders, bringing him even closer to me. And even though his touch made my heart flutter in the most incredible way, making me feel like I could do anything, the facts struck me like a hard punch in the stomach. He's the enemy. Why are you kissing him? I felt sick and horrified that I was enjoying the kiss but still not, and my whole mind rioted, screaming at me to stop whatever foolishness I was implementing.

I was awaken from my reverie by his gentle voice. "Melissa," he breathed and caressed my cheek with his fingers. He was so careful, almost like I was made of the world's most expensive porcelain. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

His words should have shocked me but I knew that he was speaking the truth. I nodded but only barely, since our faces were just a hair's breadth from each other. I could smell his blood.

"I know," I whispered and placed my hand over his, intertwining my fingers into his. "You really shouldn't have done that." Our foreheads touched. "It's wrong."

"What is wrong?"

Even though my eyes were closed, I could hear his smile and couldn't resist the pulling; the corners of my mouth curved upwards and I giggled. "You and I. We. Us," I replied teasingly, not knowing where my flirty side came from. "I guess English isn't your strongest side."

Connor huffed but before he was able to come up with a reply, we were interrupted by someone else.

"Stand still; from this distance I can impossibly miss."

It felt like my body froze to ice. That is a voice I am familiar with too well.

"Who are you?" asked the Assassin and backed away from me, sounding like he didn't know who the soldier was, but covered me with his body. "What do you want from me?"

"Who's the girl behind you?" wondered the inturder, his voice suddenly worried. I couldn't see past Connor since he held me down against the wall, rendering me unmovable. "I'm not the blind one."

"I'm not the blind one", I repeated in my mind. Why does that sound familiar?

"Let her go," answered Connor sternly and his grip around my arm tightened. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Well, I actually do," I said and ignored the glare I got. Connor looked at me across his shoulder and his eyes clearly told me to stay quiet but I knew that Sergeant Somerset had recognized my voice already.

"Melissa, is that you?"

Connor's eyes widened in surprise and I took the opportunity to wrestle myself out of his grip. Taking two quick steps forward, I stared into the gun barrel of a flintlock pistol, and my breath caught in my throat.

The sergeant was dressed in clothes normal for a soldier of his rank, but the only missing thing was his hat. A long, ugly cut marked his otherwise handsome features, dividing his left eyebrow into two, and the wound traced itself all the way down to his jawline. Sergeant Somerset seemed slightly out of himself, something was unruly and wrong in his gaze. He frowned as our eyes locked and covered the damaged part of his face with his hand.

"S-sergeant," I stammered and ignored his gun. "What has happened to you?" I had the courage to ask.

"A mistake," he growled and his eyes diverted to the Assassin behind me. "An error. But I was fortunately enough given the chance to reclaim my honor and here I am."

He sounded exhausted but no less angry, and I felt bad for him. "You don't have to kill him," I said slowly and tried to calm him down. "He doesn't even know you; who are you to kill another man?"

"I'm a Judicator," he snapped and then looked at me. "I do what's best for the course of history, something my organization have done since the beginning of time. Damn you Assassins and Templars, fighting all over the world with only one simplistic goal. To 'save' mankind and fight for freedom." Sergeant Somerset chuckled, unamused, and continued. "Who do you think healed the lands from the scars your wars caused? The Judicators. Without us and our righteous guidance, the world would've succumbed to chaos since long. And... I have to."

"What do I have to do with your silly businesses?"

Connor's voice was cold as ice but didn't seem to make much of an effect on the soldier. Sergeant Somerset's emerald-green eyes watched me closely as he raised his pistol towards the Assassin.

"Melissa, are you aware of how much you talk when you're asleep?" he asked me, ignoring what Connor had said, and raised a dark eyebrow.

I shook my head. "No, but thank you for informing me," I answered sarcastically and the sergeant rolled with his eyes. I didn't like what the conversation was leading to, especially not since he seemed so confident with his choice of words. The Judicators, I thought grimly, a confidential association that not even the Templars knew of. Thousands of years in secrecy, sneaking around and putting things to right – why reveal themselves now?

"You mumbled lots of things actually," he said and chuckled. "Lots of fuzzing about my looks of course," now it was my time to roll with my eyes, "but also other things. How hypocritical the Templars behaves, for an example. And your obsession with a certain Assassin."

The situation should have been too awkward for me to be able to blush, but my cheeks reddened and I averted my gaze. "You could have skipped most of what you said." He is right, I do think that the Templars are being irrational in many cases. How can they do one thing but condemn another for doing the same?

He shrugged. "I didn't want to exclude anything that could be of interest," he said nonchalantly and shrugged. "Especially not since your dearest will die."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked angrily, trying to stall as much time as possible for Mr. Kenway and Mr. Lee to return and to change subject. The sergeant had gotten under my skin when he mentioned what I thought about the Templars and I didn't want to know what else my big mouth might have revealed while I was asleep. "You are a good man," I continued, hoping that I could plead him into benevolence. "You saved my life, almost dying yourself, and I owe you a great deal. But I won't let you kill him." I pointed at Connor.

"'Why?' you ask?" He paused and a painful look swept across his face. "My best friend is dead because of him," he said and his voice broke. Tears started running down his face as he sobbed. He's crumbling, finally, I realized and all of my dislike for the black-haired soldier disappeared in an instant. He's in sorrow and confused. "John... he killed John and I saw it all. I saw his remnants. It was abominable."

I didn't know why I moved, but suddenly I took a step closer to the crying man. Something deep inside of me assured that Sergeant Somerset wouldn't pull the trigger. But then again, I seemed to have a thing for pressing my luck to the extreme.

"Hey, what are you doing?" exclaimed Connor but I ignored him and reached out for Sergeant Somerset. The Assassin's finger barely caught onto my cloak as I placed my fingers onto the soldiers.

Time seemed to stop and what felt like an eternity of deadly tension lapsed into just a couple of seconds. My instincts were right, he stiffly let me take the gun away from him and I dropped it to the floor, not even once letting go of his hand. I hurried to his side as his knees buckled beneath him, no longer able to hold his weight, and was caught into falling as well.

"Hey, I know it's hard." To my surprise I could feel something hot running down my cheeks as well. I guess I'm crying for my own losses, I thought bitterly. The family I lost to the fire – and the Assassins. "Life is hard," I continued and hugged the soldier. "But revenge will never solve anything. I, if anybody, knows that, and you should too." It seems like I also am maturing after all.

Sergeant Somerset quietly cried and abstained from answering, but I could soon feel his arms around me as well and his nose dug into my shoulder, hiding his mourning demeanor. "William." It felt strange using his first name but I decided that I would continue to call him by that. He's all alone here. No family, no friends and nothing but his position to rely on. He must be so very lonely. But what does he mean about the "blind one"? He might have something else to share while he's in this fragile state. And does or doesn't Connor know who he is?"We all have suffered losses but look at the people around you, look at everyone in town: does anyone dedicate their lives for vengeance? No. Nobody does. Because no matter how dark your life might be, there will always be a new dawn up ahead. And you have no excuse but to fight to get there."

The words felt oddly familiar and it took me a moment before I realized that I was quoting Alex. This was what he had told me for so many years ago, when I was nothing but a kid seeking for her assailants. I frowned and an unpleasant chill resonated through my body.

Alex.

"So what I'm trying to state," I said, "is that life is too short to fill with hatred. You have to move on, even though you might feel alone for the moment. And... scared."

I hesitated, not knowing how Sergeant- no, William, would react. He intrigued me in a strange way, as he had shown such utter dislike for me and straightforward cockiness that he had outwitted me more than just a couple of times, but now lay in my arms like a child. I did feel bad for him, even though I disagreed with him most of the time. Because even though I had been through the loss of my parents, I had been supported by Alex right away. He... had guided me whenever I fell off from the right way and kept my nightmares at bay by staying up most of the nights with me, keeping me so busy thinking, talking and enjoying while perched upon the rooftops of Boston, that I was too exhausted to dream when I finally fell asleep. It was also with him I had shared my biggest secret; I had told him what scared me the most in the world.

"Melissa? What's happened here? Who's that man?"

I quickly wiped away my tears with the backside of my hand and carefully got out of William's grasp, slowly turning to face the curious expression of Mr. Charles Lee and a large group of soldiers, all of the latter heavily armed and clad in red and white. British, well-trained soldiers. "Nothing, sir," I replied quickly and gave him a polite bow with my head as the sobbing sergeant clung to me again. He was skinnier than I remembered and last time hadn't been an especially good memory to keep, seeing his ribs peek out of his torso as a soldier skilled with bandaging had ripped William's jacket and shirt off to tend to his wounds. He must have been too sad to feel hunger, I thought and pressed my lips together before continuing. "Sir, if you'd take over here I would be pleased."

Mr. Lee seemed to be wanting to ask me more questions but refrained. He nodded and signaled something to the guards. "Round him up; Master Kenway has decided to move his cell to the second floor."

"Yes, sir!"

I just then realized to my dismay that I hadn't unarmed Connor and that the situation would evolve into a massacre – I didn't doubt his skill even if the opponent was superior in number – and turned towards the prison cell, gasping and ready to warn the soldiers to retreat... but what I saw terrified me no less.

My heart galloped wildly as I saw how Connor didn't put up with any resistance at all. Nobody of the guards were holding any guns but he still chose not to fight. The Assassin knelt and placed his hands behind his head as the soldiers circulated him and waited for an officer to approach him. I didn't understand at first, furrowing my brows and swallowing nervously – is he planning to do something? Does he have anything planned? – as his eyes finally regarded mine.

Then I knew why.