A/N: So it's been way too long since my last update, but now that the semester has begun I just find myself with less time for writing! Hopefully y'all will enjoy this chapter, and hopefully I can take a shorter amount of time to update next chapter! :) PLEASE review! It really helps me to know what people like/don't understand, etc. And it's great motivation. Hope y'all are doing well!

Chapter Six, Part Two;

Friends of Old and New

"We only part to meet again." John Gay

They had argued all morning, tearing at each others throats every chance they could get. First it was over some comment the Assassin had made about her falling asleep the night before, and Cora had taken offense half for the sake of annoying him. Later, she had accidentally spilled some of their water supply, which had led to a full fledged argument. They had brought up things irrelevant to the original source of the fight; He accused her of being disloyal, switching from side to side like a hound looking for the person with the best treats. She had called him a green fool, a boy attempting to act the part of a man – a child trying to play with the big boys.

The silence between them began as soon as they set off. It was bitter silence, icy and awkward. After a few hours riding, she had begun to let her anger go. They did have something to accomplish, after all, and arguments could be saved for after they had gotten the information they needed.

As they approached the city walls, she began to think of none but Oliver, what he would do if he found her, if he somehow captured her... She had convinced herself that he no longer had any power over her, but so close to him, it had obviously just been an internal facade. As the walls grew closer, the trickles of sweat on her forehead became torrents, and her hands shook.

Connor noticed the way she was trembling, the way she slumped over a little more each time her horse took a step towards the walls. He sighed, irritated. He did not have time for her antics today...

"What is it now," he asked harshly.

She gave him a look of warning, but Connor did not heed it.

"You seem nervous," he said with an almost mocking tone of false concern.

"I'm fine," she said sharply, eyebrows furrowing so much Connor was sure they would touch. After a few moments though, her rigid body language faltered, and she seemed to break. "If you must have the truth," she said quietly, "I am worried I will be recognized."

Connor stayed silent, unsure of what he should say. The woman's eyes stared straight ahead, that stubborn fire flashing in her features for a fleeting moment before she dropped her head.

"Sometimes, I wish I could exchange me face for another... erase the person I was before."

Connor wasn't sure the words had really been for him, but even so, he felt the last bit of anger and annoyance towards her leave his body. It was maddening how she always seemed to be able to do that... Yet interestingly enough, it wasn't pity that drove out his anger, but a sense of understanding. There had been many times he had wished for a similar thing... Or at least wished that things could have turned out differently.

Once they were inside the city, Cora was seriously doubting her ability to think clearly. Everywhere, she saw his face – the merchant selling fruits, the town crier yelling about some wanted robber... Everywhere, he was staring at her, laughing at her, waiting for her.

It was torturous.

Once they entered the center of the city, the Assassin dismounted, and Cora followed suit.

"Wait here," he said quietly. If he was still angry at her, she could not tell. He was all business now, focused on what he had come to do. "I have to deliver a message to someone. I will be back in no more than ten minutes."

It had been at least double that time when she began to worry. What if something had happened? As she wondered if she should go looking for him, she heard her name. The voice had come from directly behind her, and the panic set in instantly. Spinning, she slid a throwing knife from her belt, raising her arm defensively.

Connor took a step back as he looked at the woman, her eyes wild and frantic. He had known she was uncomfortable, but now it was obvious that she was severely paranoid. As she lowered her arm, he wondered what kind of men had kept her captive if she was this terrified of even being recognized.

"What the hell took you so long," she whispered harshly, putting her knife away as she straightened herself, trying to take deep, calming breaths.

"I was getting this," he said. He held a hat out to her, a tricorne.

"What is this for," she asked, reaching out hesitantly.

"To help conceal your face. I need your focus, and otherwise you are too preoccupied with trying to avoid looking at anyone. Besides," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I would hate for you to have to change your face." She thought she saw a hint of a teasing smile flash on his lips, but as soon as she had seen it, it was gone.

"Come on," he said as he took the reins of his horse. Cora looked at him suspiciously, unsure of why he had made such a kind gesture. His face was covered by his hood, though, and his mouth gave her no hints.

Settling the hat on her head, she was glad to see that it fit rather snugly. At least then she would not have to stuff cloth or paper inside to keep it from falling off her head. Indeed, though her face was not as covered as the Assassin's, she felt much better. Unweaving her braid helped too, creating a sort of veil that would help conceal her profile.

She took the gray's reins, leading the horse behind Connor's.

"It is just ahead," he called back to her before disappearing behind the corner of a building.

Once they had tied their horses in a concealed space behind a large building, Connor turned to her.

"I need to speak with the man who sent me the letter," he said. "As well as possibly recruit him and a few others to help us infiltrate the fort. It will be more efficient if there are more of us." Cora nodded and followed him through the door.

The door led into a small room, perhaps an empty storage room. Two men sat talking, and stood as they entered.

"Bonjour, Connor," one said, his accent distinctly French. Connor clasped his arm, nodding, before turning to the other man and shaking his hand.

"I assume you know why I am here," he said to the man with red hair.

"Yes," he affirmed. "Stephane filled me in." This man's accent was familiar to her, and made her heart swell with both fondness and sadness. His voice sounded much like her father's.

"I am glad to see you are already here." Connor turned back towards Cora, gesturing for her to step forward.

"Cora, this is Stephane Chapheau and Duncan Little."

"Pleasure," she said as she shook their hands.

"Enchanté," Stephane said, giving a small smile.

The Irishman said nothing, but his handshake was firm and his blue eyes seemed kindly. He seemed quite a bit older than the other men, but was a handsome man nonetheless, the few lines in his face adding a sort of regality about him. Cora was fond of him instantly.

"She will be helping us take the fort."

"Well we should get to planning then," Stephane said as he directed them to a table. A map of Boston lay atop it, Templar crosses marking the page here and there.

"There are two forts under Templar control," he said, pointing to their locations on the map. "One is much smaller, a threat but not nearly as dangerous as the other. It is the larger fort where they keep their plans."

"I can affirm this," Cora said. Stephane and Duncan's heads both snapped up, their brows furrowing in confusion. "I used to work with the Templars," she said simply.

The two men shared an uneasy glance, but the Assassin was quick to reassure them.

"Do not worry. She is no longer associated with them, and wishes to aid us in taking them down."

Both men eyed her suspiciously, still not confident in her, but it was obvious that they trusted the Assassin's opinion, and therefore they did not speak up. After a few moments of awkward silence, Stephane continued.

"If you have any information on how best to get in, it would be good to hear it now."

"There is one entrance only," she said, leaning in closer to the map. "Only a few men guard it. If we can draw them away and rid of them, it would be best. If we raise an alarm, it will be hopeless. Our best bet is to sneak in, get what we need, and sneak out."

"Cora, we are planning on taking the fort," Connor said. "Keeping it in Templar control only helps the redcoats, and the patriots would benefit from the position."

"I thought you wanted to kill Lee," she said, crossing her arms.

"I think you doubt our abilities. We are Assassins, not clumsy soldiers who have not yet been blooded."

"You wanted my opinion and I gave it to you," she hissed. "Do not come complaining when you raise the alarm and are unable to take the fort. You are three men against dozens, perhaps even a hundred. You do not stand a chance."

The Assassin gritted his teeth, his jaw tensing. His anger was obvious, but he said nothing more.

"We will sneak in, but we will take the fort. It has already been decided."

Cora scowled, heading for the door.

"I do not know why you brought me along if you do not want my opinion. I have been to that fort more times than I can count. I know the way things work, Assassin. And I am telling you that taking the fort is going to gain you nothing but death."

She slammed the door behind her, leaving Connor alone with Stephane and Duncan, who were looking at him with raised eyebrows. Connor sighed, leaning over the table and trying to calm the waves of annoyance and anger that were pulsing hot through his veins. The arrogance of that girl...

"What esprit," Stephane said with a laugh. "I think I will like her. Every man needs a woman to put him in his place, eh, Connor?" He gave his friend a nudge, and soon both he and Duncan were trying to suppress laughs.

Connor sighed, shaking his head. "I promise you, if I ever need a woman to put me in my place, she will not be anything like her."

The air was stagnant, thick with humidity, as Cora walked alongside the Assassins. Just before they had departed the house, another had arrived – a handsome man, young, kind and a little too eager. He had introduced himself as Clipper Wilkinson, and he had blushed slightly when she said hello.

Now, the four men were talking and teasing each other, though the Assassin stayed relatively serious. Stephane was going on about how drinks were on him when they were finished, and Clipper was laughing at some joke Duncan had made.

She tried not to roll her eyes at their boyish antics. Really, it was as if she was walking alongside a bunch of ten year old boys, what with their crude jokes and eager blades.

After their argument, Cora had sat raging outside, her anger left to fester within her as they continued to talk without her. She had regretted walking out, as she had no idea of whatever plans they were fine-tuning, but her pride was far too large to allow her to enter again.

She still disagreed with the Assassin's plan, but she had no choice but to go along with it. As they approached the fort, they split up, hiding in the tall grass just beyond the trees, sneaking carefully towards the opening.

At the signal, the Assassin whistled and the guards came forth, the grips on their rifles becoming tighter as they searched the grass.

One by one, they went down silently. The group of them crossed the small open field and entered the fort quietly, weapons drawn, ready for battle.

Cora was surprised to find the fort relatively empty. It had always been overflowing with soldiers and Templars when she had visited, but now there was perhaps only three dozen men – much better odds for their little group of misfits.

Indeed, when she saw the Assassin and his friends begin to fight, she had felt better about the outcome. It had been a while since she had seen the Assassin fight. Though he trained her every day, it wasn't the same as witnessing him in the thick of battle. His skill surprised her still, though she was well aware of his abilities. No matter what his enemies seemed to do, he evaded them, took them down with in a brutal, cringe worthy fashion.

Cora herself was proud of the way she fought – though she hated to admit it, the Assassin's training had helped her immensely. With a dozen and a half men laying dead on the ground, the group began to move into the upper levels of the fort. Just as Cora was about to ascend the steps, she heard a familiar whinny to her right.

She whipped her head around only to see her dark chestnut mare in a stall, throwing her head and pacing excitedly. Cora went to her straight away, completely forgetting about why she had been there in the first place. She had thought the mare was still at the other fort, the only place the horse had ever known. Cora fumbled with the lock, breathing hard, eager to reunite with her mare.

When she finally got into the stall, she wrapped her arms around the horse's neck, whispering words of endearment as the mare nibbled at her jacket.

"No treats today, Ealga, but I promise as soon as I can, you will get all the apples you can eat."

Her heart was soaring. She had been with this mare since she was just a foal, and parting with her was the one thing that had torn her up after leaving the Templars.

The sound of steel on steel rang from above, and suddenly Cora remembered why she was there. Kissing Ealga on the neck, she locked the stall again, running up the stairs as she tried to ignore the mare's protests.

The rest of the battle was nearly over by the time she had gotten there. The Assassin looked at her sharply for a moment, as if annoyed she had just now shown up, but the next second he was consumed in the fighting. A group of redcoats were being quiet aggressive towards Clipper, so Cora headed there first.

The shock in the first man's eyes gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. Yet as she looked down at him, another soldier had grabbed a fistful of her hair, throwing her to the ground. As he prepared to split her with his sword, she kicked her leg out with all her strength, delivering a blow to the back of his ankle that sent him flying backward. Clipper finished the man off as Cora got to her feet, nodding thanks as she made quick work of the others.

The fight was over soon after. When she and Clipper had finished off their group of men, she had seen the Assassin kill the captain of the fort. Damn, he was brutal... Cora was long hardened to blood and killing and battle, but even she turned her face away as he drove his tomahawk into the man's chest.

When it was over, Duncan and Stephane left to look for the intel. Cora had directed them to the room she knew important documents were kept, staying behind to watch the Assassin take down the British flag and hoist the striped one in its place.

As she watched the flag's ascent, watched it catch in the wind and unfurl like wings of a great bird, she wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she wondered what she ever thought she had been fighting for. Honor? Freedom? Righteousness? No... She had fought because she was scared, because she had been manipulated and twisted, oh so easily...

How had she let herself become such a pawn? Always, she had imagined herself a great warrior queen like those in the stories her father told her. Instead she had become clay in the hands of traitors, of selfish, hateful men. How had she let it come to that...

Yet still, she couldn't blame herself. She had been naught but a child, and she had been scared. When faced with death or doing unpleasant, even horrid things, it was a surprisingly easy choice...

"I suppose I will swallow my pride and tell you that you were right," she said, keeping her eyes on the flag as it rose, higher and higher, rippling in the breeze.

"I am surprised you did not choke on it," he muttered, criticizing the amount of pride she had.

"Oh, you think you're clever?"

"I am not in the mood for banter," he said harshly. "What were you doing down there? One of us could have been killed because you decided to take the scenic route. If you are going to work with the Assassins, you follow our rules, and that means not leaving your partners in battle. See that it does not happen again."

He walked away sternly, leaving Cora to roll her eyes and mutter under her breath. Even when she tried to pay him the smallest semblance of respect, he turned around and shamed her. As Clipper followed him, obviously too uncomfortable to be left alone with her, she closed her eyes, forcing the anger out of her body. She needed the Assassins to kill Oliver, and that meant taking control of herself.

True to his word, Chapheau had insisted that the group all come back to his tavern for ale – on the house. The Assassin declined his, not much for drink, but Cora gulped down every drop within her mug.

Exhausted and still bitter from the way he had spoken to her before, she excused herself, slipping out the back door as laughter erupted from the table of Assassins. She needed to get away from that bastard Assassin, needed to calm herself and clear her head. Ealga was waiting for her behind the tavern. Cora took an apple from her pocket, holding it out to her as the mare gently took it from her, tossing her mane happily. They were the red ones, her favorite, and as soon as she had finished, she dug her nose into the pocket of Cora's jacket, searching for more.

"No," Cora laughed. "You have had more than your share since we got back here! Besides, I wouldn't want our other friend to feel left out."

She gave another to the gray, and Ealga let out an annoyed breath. Cora laughed again at the mare's impatience, returning to her and stroking the velvet of her nose as she felt courage from her drink begin to pool within her.

This part of Boston was very familiar to her – the little house where she had first taken the Assassin was only just around the corner, and Cora was certain that her sketch book would be there. It had to be... And even if it wasn't, she was more than happy to get away, even for a moment. The Assassin would not be happy, but the possibility of having her sketch book back was impossible to pass up.

She mounted the mare, not bothering to saddle her. The horse was not used to a saddle, and Cora didn't want to make her uncomfortable. It was so pleasingly familiar to be on her back, to feel her muscles beneath her legs, to feel her breaths...

With a squeeze of the thighs, they were off, trotting through the streets. It had begun to rain, thunder sounding softly in the distance, but it did not discourage her. Her heart quickened with the excitement of having the book back in her hands, but as she approached the house, a familiar terror began to envelop her streak of courage. What if Oliver was there? Surely he at least had people watching the house, certain she would come back... Perhaps they had even found the book and planned to use it against her!

Her lips curled into a smile as she told herself to breathe. Who would have thought a simple book would cause her so much distress?

Cora didn't even try to open the doors of the little house. She knew they would be locked, and instead knelt by the back door, scanning her surroundings quickly. When she was sure she was not being watched, she slid her finger into a notch in one of the bricks, easing it out. A spare key had always been kept there, and Cora was not disappointed.

The room of the small house was just as she remembered it – even her knife lay on the floor where it had fallen out of her hand when the Assassin had slammed her against the wall. She picked it up and slid it into her boot before scanning the floor, praying that she would see the familiar black leather of her sketch book. Her eyes passed over every inch of the floor several times, but she did not see it. Panic began to take hold of her as she ran her eyes over the room yet again. Surely she was just passing over it! It had to be here somewhere! Perhaps it had slid under the bed or dresser while they struggled.

She dropped to her knees, bending to look under the dresser. The room was dim from the rainy evening sky, and she could not see well enough. Just as she started to get up to search for a candle, the creak of the door sounded behind her.

Cora jumped up, hand flying to her sword as she prepared to face the intruder.

Instead, a familiar form stood before her – kind, optimistic blue eyes, a head of blonde curls, a face free from scars and untouched by time or tragedy.

"Cora." His voice was soft, almost a whisper in the air as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the rain that had created a small puddle at the door.

Cora's hand released the hilt of her sword as she stood before him, eyes softening and heart swelling. Only then did she realize how much she had missed him. Yet though she was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to embrace him, she stayed frozen where she was, unsure of what to do. Despite how much she cared for him, he was her enemy now...

"Cora, I was so worried for you!" Henry crossed the floor in few steps, taking her face in his hands as he inspected every inch of her. "I was sure the Assassin had hurt you, or worse..."

"I am fine," she whispered back, voice hoarse, still surprised that Henry was here before her. Surely it had been a possibility to see him here, but she had been so focused on avoiding Oliver that she had completely forgotten the possibility of seeing Henry.

"You don't look it," he commented, holding her at arm's length. "You seem upset. What has happened? Why didn't you return that day? I was sure if you were alive, you would find a way back. I assumed you dead, there was no way you wouldn't have returned otherwise." He was blabbering on, as he always did when he was overwhelmed with any kind of emotion.

"Henry, I..."

"If he hurt you," he said, jaw tensing as he imagined things the damn Assassin could have done to hurt her, and ways to end him if he had so much as attempted anything.

"He did not," she said, a little too forcefully. "And besides, I am a big girl. I can take care of myself. I have been doing it long enough."

Henry was completely confused. This woman before him, though like his Cora in looks and manner, seemed so different, as if someone had taken a part of her and changed it completely. The bitterness in her voice, the harshness with which she had just spoken was foreign to him. He knew her to be stubborn and fiery, but she was usually so gentle and caring with him...

As he remembered the book, he hoped returning it to her would bring her back to him. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, producing the book as he watched Cora's face turn from withdrawn and uncertain to exuberant.

"Henry! Where did you..." She took the book from his hands gently, opening it as if to prove it was really it.

"I came looking for you when you didn't return, and I found this near the wall. I was concerned, since I have never seen you without it."

"It must have fallen when..." She trailed off, looking up at him as if in apology.

"What?"

Cora shook her head, instead glancing down at the book. She had flipped open to a drawing of Henry, asleep and unclothed. A secret smile grew on her heart, but she fought to keep it from her face. Things were different now... No matter how much she longed to feel his touch... She couldn't. Not anymore.

Henry, on the other hand, laughed out loud, amused by her secret drawing of him.

"How many of those do you have in there," he teased, winking at her.

"More than you care to know," she said softly, smiling up at him with an odd mixture of mischief and sadness.

As their eyes joined together, her smile faded into something more thoughtful.

"I missed you," she muttered, regretting the words before her tongue had even formed them. Henry gathered her into his arms, laying a hand on her neck as she sighed into his chest.

The relief he felt was liberating. He had spent every moment since her disappearance worrying and fretting over what had happened to her. Every spare moment he had spent searching for her, begging Oliver to send a search party. It had been as if part of him was missing, and holding her in his arms now shattered the chains that had been binding his heart.

"I love you."

Cora did her best not to jerk away from him. How could he say that? How could he? She couldn't love him back... Perhaps once, she could have loved him, but now... Now he was her enemy. Yet his eyes were so sure, so full of warmth and tenderness that she couldn't help but return his embrace.

Though so much had changed for her, though her life and her goals were completely reversed, Henry's life had gone on undisturbed. How could he understand? How could she tell him that she was now dedicated to ending every Templar she could find?

"Henry..."

"Cora, what's wrong? You seem so unsure. What has happened that you aren't telling me?"

"Everything," she whispered. Her voice was filled with a masked terror, and seeing her like that only filled his heart with a chill. Something terrible had happened to her, of that he was sure. His Cora had always been steadfast, hard in her opinions and sure of her future. Yet now, she seemed to be crumbling under his gaze.

He took her face in his hands, searching her features as she tried to find the words to say goodbye. Looking at him, she tried to memorize the face that had done so much for her. He had healed her, helped her, been her friend, her lover, her confidant... How was she supposed to find the words to say goodbye?

When she kissed him, she had meant it to be a chaste one, simply a farewell. But as soon as his tongue ran across her lips and she opened her mouth to him, she knew she was going to have to fight. Her hand slid along the smooth skin of his neck, bringing him closer as her fingers released the book. It fell with a loud thud to the floor, but neither could be bothered to pick it up.

So many nights spent together meant that the two knew each others bodies as if they were their own, and they wasted no time waiting to use the advantage to their favor. Henry backed her slowly into the wall, releasing her mouth to move to the sensitive spot just above her collarbone. Cora gasped as she brought her knee up, winding her leg around his waist.

She shouldn't be doing this, and she knew it. All it would do is hurt him more, make it harder for her to leave... Yet she no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't pry herself away from him. She wanted him, waned this... Yet just as she felt herself surrendering, she remembered her father's letters... Remembered his body, lying still in his own blood...

"Henry," she mumbled, eliciting nothing but a short grunt from his throat as his fingers began to push her shirt away.

"Henry, stop." She pushed him back as he simultaneously drew away, eyes glossy with both lust and genuine concern.

Why did he have to make this so hard?

"Cora, please tell me what's going on!" Cora could see the genuine worry in his face, and she felt so terrible for what she was about to do.

"Henry, I-"

The door flew open, slamming against the wall and making them jump away from each other.

"You found the bitch," a harsh voice quipped, laughing as he crossed his arms. Thomas was Henry's elder brother, though Henry had always been the better man, more mature, honorable, compassionate. Thomas was almost as cruel as Oliver, and was his closest confidant. Cora's flushed skin turned cold under his gaze. If Thomas was here, then Oliver...

"Enough, Thomas. Leave us be. We need to talk."

"You need to fuck is more like it," he laughed. "You two never could resist the chance."

"Thomas." Henry balled his hands into fists, obviously furious. "You aren't making things any better by being an ass."

"My apologizes," he mocked, bowing. "But now that we've found this hussy, it's time to go. Besides," he said, turning his attention to Cora. "Oliver will be so pleased to have you back." His laugh was vicious, dripping with cruelty. He had always known how to hit her where it hurt most...

Ignoring his brother, Henry turned back to Cora, picking the book up from where it had fallen and placing it back in her hands. She looked at him, watched the tenderness in his face as he leaned close to her. For a moment, she felt like she would give in.

"Cora, come back with me. I'll take you back and everything will be forgotten. I won't let anyone do anything to you."

It was a lie, and she knew it. Well intentioned, perhaps unintentional, but a lie nonetheless. No matter what Henry had ever done or not done, Oliver and his thugs had always found their way to her cell...

"I can't," she said finally, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

"Why?"

"I no longer serve the Templars."

Henry stepped back, unsure how to take it in, while his brother howled with laughter.

"Oh, don't tell me you've let that Assassin scum take you, too? You dirty slut."

Cora stood there stonefaced, unsure of what to say.

Thomas took her lack of response as an affirmation of his words.

He was across the room in an instant, slamming her against a wall and bringing a blade against her throat. Henry was yelling, drawing his sword, but all Cora was aware of was the hot, clammy breath against her face.

"Tell me what you know of the Assassin, and I might spare you. Maybe for a few favors," he smiled. He knew she would know what he meant.

"Enough," Henry yelled, irate as he ripped his brother away from her. "Leave her the hell alone."

Thomas stumbled back after a shove from his brother, but as soon as he regained his footing, his cruel eyes descended on Cora again.

"Cora." Henry was looking at her, begging her, and Thomas was threatening her with his glare. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, straightening her clothes, standing straighter and lifting her chin.

"I no longer serve the Templars. I will not be used by anyone again."

"Oh, and you think that Assassin bastard isn't using you? He wants you for your knowledge of the Templars, maybe your ass. That's all. You're a woman. The only value you have is to serve men."

She was going to be sick. In her weeks away, Thomas had only gotten crueler... If he was this bad, she shuddered to think of how bad Oliver had become.

"You are wrong."

Turning, she laid a hand on the doorknob, but Thomas' voice rang out once again.

"One step out of this house, and you are an enemy of the Templars, Cora."

She turned for a moment, looking only at Henry. He stood there wordlessly, blue eyes pleading with her, begging her to stay. She looked at him for a moment longer, hoping he understood how sorry she was, how she wished it could have been different between them.

But she had made her decision, and she was staying with it. She had to.

"So be it."