A/N: Well, after staring at the first few sentences of this chapter for over a month, I somehow was able to write all of this in one day, putting off a ridiculous amount of homework in the process. This chapter was originally supposed to have TONS more content, but a lot of it kind of went into a direction that I hadn't expected and I cut it off much earlier than I had thought I would. Therefore, the quote doesn't exactly match the chapter, but I'll just leave it there for a bit of a cliffhanger of sorts to leave y'all wondering what will happen next chapter. ;) This chapter absolutely went off into some crazy place, and I'm honestly not even going to obsess over re-reading it, so hopefully you all find it enjoyable anyway! This chapter is really going to mark a strong shift in the story, so I hope you are all ready for what's about to happen. I'm not sure I am! ;)

Warning: Triggers for abuse/assault.

Chapter Ten;

The Lingering Past

"One word

Frees us of all the weight and pain of life:

That word is love."

Sophocles, Oedipus at Colonus

June, 1781

The drunken voices were loud, filling the little tavern with their song and laughter. Henry sat alone in the corner, in no mood to join in. As he took another long drink, emptying his mug for the third time, he tried to shake the memory of what had happened earlier that day. As Haytham Kenway and Charles Lee had become increasingly focused on eradicating the Assassins and finding their way into power in the new American government, Oliver had grown ambitious. Unchecked by his superiors, he had began to terrorize the people of Boston, forcing their sons into serving whichever side of the war had his favor at the time, stealing their daughters, emptying their pockets and salting the land of whoever had not complied.

That day, they had been sent to find the family that had aided the Assassin who had raided Lee's office. Though not given the task by Kenway nor Lee, Oliver had taken it up anyway, hoping to raise his favor and with it, his power. Oliver had delegated the job to a small party of men, Henry and his brother included, meant to question the locals. It was a terrified young girl, scarcely of marrying age, who told everything she knew. The information had been more than they were hoping for, with the exact location and even names, and Henry had promised her safety. When he went to leave, though, another man took her arm, laughing as he began to drag her away. He could still hear her screams as he walked away, lacking the authority to prevent anything from happening. Or so he had told himself, just as he had for many years before...

"Why the frown, little brother," a slurred voice called from his right. Henry did not bother turning his head – he knew his brother's voice well. He gave no reply as Thomas fell into the chair next to him, Ezekiel, another of his friends, taking the other seat. Ezekiel was kinder, calmer, and more level headed than Thomas, and Henry sometimes felt as if Ezekiel was more a brother to him than his own kin had ever been.

"You always were a sad, boring drunk," Thomas laughed, punching his younger brother in the arm with a little too much force. "Or is it you missing that whore's cunt that's got you so down?"

Henry stood abruptly, throwing his chair back so hard that it crashed against the wall, making a noise loud enough to distract some of the men for a few moments before they went back to their singing and drinking. Henry felt Ezekiel's hand heavy on shoulder as he tried to steady his temper, but Henry had long had enough of his brother's coarse, careless words.

"Now, now, baby brother," he laughed, holding up his hands. "No need for a fight. She was only one woman." Henry clenched his hands into tight fists as he imagined how satisfying it would feel to knock a tooth or two from his jaw. Not only were Thomas' words cruel, but they were wrong, and hit him in a place that he had thought he had buried in the days after seeing Cora in that house... She had been the woman, to him, and he had wronged her. Too drunk and weary to engage in any sort of fight, he fled the tavern, eventually finding his way to an empty bench by the bay. It was late, and few were out on the streets, yet he could not have felt more trapped.

When Ezekiel came upon him and took the seat next to him, neither of them spoke for a long while, choosing instead to stare out upon the water and to look up to the stars.

"A beautiful night," Henry said.

Ezekiel did not indulge his attempt to sidetrack, instead cutting straight to the point. "Why did you not tell me you were still so affected by this?"

"Because what does it matter," Henry asked, throwing his arm out towards the sea. "She is gone, lost to me, and I am left with nothing but the cruel, unforgiving memories of the wrongs I did against her."

"Find her," Ezekiel said, turning towards his friend. "Tell her! Bring her back."

Henry laughed sadly, looking down as he spoke. "I love her, Ezekiel. I could never bring her back to this. If I truly care for her, I have to let her go. I must let her do as she wishes."

"Henry, you cannot live with this guilt forever. At least find her to speak with her, if only to give her your remorse, to beg her forgiveness."

"A few forgiving words from Cora's lips cannot erase the knowledge of all the wrongs I have done."

Though few men were in the room, and all of them Henry knew well, to say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement. It was Charles Lee they were awaiting, but that was not what had Henry so unsettled. He had worked with Oliver for many years, since he had joined the Templars at sixteen under the guidance of his elder brother, yet never before had he seen him scheming so openly. It was obvious to him, now, that Oliver did not, that he had never, intended to let Cora walk away free. At first Henry, had thought maybe Oliver would let her be, would consider her lost after the only failure she had ever committed. Even if he had thought there a chance that Oliver would pursue her, he was sure that Charles Lee or Haytham Kenway would see it as a waste of time and resources, so much trouble for one girl...

Yet Charles Lee was coming, and Henry could see it in Oliver's eyes that he intended to ask permission to begin the pursuit. He would conjure some clever tale, spin her as some threat to their mission, or perhaps as an asset in drawing the Assassins to them. Yet there Henry would stand, powerless to stop anything. He suppressed a sigh, shifting his feet and trying to find something to do with his hands to calm his nerves. Yet his fidgeting did not go unnoticed – soon four pairs of eyes descended on him, some with concern and others contempt, and eventually Henry calmed himself, replacing his carefully constructed mask.

When the door opened and an exhausted Lee stepped through, Henry stood straighter, nodding his head in respect as Oliver welcomed him, exchanging pleasantries and beginning to give his report, as he did every month. In the beginning, he would report to Thomas Hickey or William Johnson, but as the higher rankings of the Templars dwindled down with each passing year, it was Lee or Kenway themselves that Oliver reported to.

Normally attentive and focused, Charles seemed disinterested at Oliver's enthusiastic tellings, and gave only the necessary comments and questions. When Oliver was finished and watching the older man expectantly, Charles finally spoke.

"Find the man that helped the Assassins and question him, see if he can shed some light on where they have gone, or what move they plan to take."

"Of course," he nodded, a satisfied smile curling onto his lips. "Sir, if I may, there was one other item I would like to bring to attention."

"What is it," Lee asked impatiently.

"Our last girl escaped near two months ago, and I fear that she has become a liability. I am told that Connor has taken her into his bed, that he has given her his full trust." Henry's heart sunk as he heard this, though he knew it was selfish of him. It was not his place to covet her for himself, as he had once believed... "Who knows what secrets she whispers to him in the night," Oliver continued. "We can no longer sustain the risk. Even if she has divulged what she knows, it is likely that we could draw the Assassin in if we capture her." As Henry tried not to squirm under the scrutinizing gaze of Oliver, Lee took an agonizingly long time considering the proposal.

"Do what you must. If you capture her, I would have you notify me immediately. If the Assassin will follow her, I expect you to turn the oversight of the situation over to me."

"Of course," Oliver agreed, nodding. When Lee was gone and the men dismissed, Henry shrugged his shoulder away from Ezekiel's hand and ignored his questions. He had to get away, had to think of something...

As he walked through the halls, he found himself stopping in front of Cora's old cell. The door was ajar, and he stepped inside, wondering how he had ever justified what had been done to her. The bed in the corner was little more than a short frame and a thin mat, stained with sweat and blood and other, worse reminders of things that had happened there. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her laying there, that night that she had helped Jane to escape... Oh, how afraid he had been. There had been so much blood...

He clenched his fists, anger rolling through him like a fierce storm in summer. But to whom his anger was directed, he could not say. Oliver was an easy target, perhaps his brother or Lee and Kenway, but if Henry was being truthful, there was a significant portion of his anger that was tinged with guilt.

Relaxing his body, he took one more look before leaving the room, walking straight to his quarters. He shuffled through his desk, taking out paper and a quill, and began to write.

The first day of riding had been tense, wrought with discussion of the Templars and anxious speculation of what was to happen. Cora wished that Clipper and Connor would speak of anything but that, at least while they were traveling. There would be ample time to speak of enemies and battle once they had arrived in Boston.

Cora fell asleep as soon as they made camp, more exhausted than she had known. When she opened her eyes, the others were still sleeping, and she crept out of the camp to make her way to the stream. After filling their water skins, she returned, but found only Connor sitting before her.

"Where is Clipper," she asked, adrenaline rising as she thought of all the things that could have happened.

"He has gone into the nearby town. His brother lives there, and he said he wished to speak to him. We will meet him there."

Cora nodded, saying nothing more despite her confusion. Both returned to their tasks, but after a few moments, Cora spoke. "Is there a fort near here?"

"There shouldn't be," Connor said, hoping she had just been mistaken. "Why?"

"When I went out to the stream, I saw strange walls in the distance," she said, her hands moving as she spoke. "They looked like walls some sort of fort, but it was not familiar to me."

"In what direction?"

"West," she said.

Suddenly, Connor realized what it was she had seen. "That is not a fort," he said, looking away and busying himself in rolling up his bed roll.

"What is it," she asked, intrigued by his reaction.

Connor stopped, wiping his forehead with his sleeve and sighing. "It is the village I grew up in."

"Can we go," she asked eagerly.

"No."

"Why? I am sure your people would be happy to see you!"

"Cora, no."

"Is it because I'm an outsider?" she asked, unsure why he seemed so stern.

"Cora, please," he said as he got to his feet, holding his bed roll. "Let it be."

Something about the way he spoke made her stay her tongue, even feeling bad that perhaps she had made him uncomfortable.

"I am sorry," she said quietly. "It was not my place." She turned her attention to readying her own things as they prepared to leave. Connor sighed again, looking over at her. He had not meant to seem so cold, to send her back into her shell, but the mention of his village brought a variety of emotions, not all of which were welcome.

When they had finished packing their things and snuffing out the fire they had made, Connor mounted his horse, looking over at Cora as she did the same. Each time they began their travels to Boston, he could almost feel the anxiety rising in her, the fear consuming her. Admittedly, it frightened him to think of what kind of man had taken such a wild, stubborn thing and made her a skittish bird in her cage, stealing the song from her throat. Try as she might to hide it, Connor knew how nervous she was at the thought of returning, a fact made evident by the absence of either a smile or a taunting word, and her endless fidgeting. If only he could find some way to distract her, even if for a moment...

"Cora."

At the sound of her name, she jerked her head up, trying to banish any trace of the dark thoughts she had been having from her face. They were still quite far out from Boston, yet still the thoughts of Oliver and Henry were already creeping in, giving rise to nightmares and paranoia.

"This way," he said, gesturing in the opposite direction that they were supposed to go. Cora furrowed her brow, completely confused.

"Is the town not to the south," she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"It is," he confirmed, a tiny smile flashing on his face, before he turned a little more serious. "I want to show you something."

"But Clipper-"

"Clipper will be fine. I am sure he will not protest more time with his brother. Besides, we will not be gone more than an hour."

Cora nodded, regarding him with a suspicious look as she led Ealga to follow him.

Though he had said the diversion from their path would take little time, they had already been riding at least half an hour.

"Where are we going," she asked. "I thought wherever it is you are taking me was nearby."

"It is," he confirmed. He could hear the rush of the water and knew they were close. "We are almost there."

"But what is it," she asked again, the anticipation getting to her.

He laughed softly at her burning curiosity. "You will see."

She grumbled at him, wondering why he always had to be so mysterious, but then found herself laughing. Connor looked back at her, and her laugh turned into burning blush as he smiled at her. The Assassin had a nice smile, and the fact that he rarely showed it only made the gesture carry more weight. Connor dismounted, waving Cora over as he secured his horse to a nearby tree. Once Cora had followed suit, the two of them walked closer to the sound of rushing water.

"A river," she said as they approached, as if she had expected more.

"No," Connor smiled. "Not just a river. This way."

They had to climb down a set of large rocks to get wherever he was taking them, a feat which terrified her. Strong and fearless as she was, large heights were not something she was overly fond of. Connor could see her apprehension as she shuffled towards the edge, watching him as he began to disappear below the line of rocks.

"It is not far," he reassured. "I will show you where to step."

"Has anyone ever died from falling from this height?"

"A few," he teased with a sly smile. However at the horrified look on her face, he moved to cover his words. "You will be fine," he laughed.

"Do you promise?"

"By my word as an Assassin."

Cora scoffed, laughing. "As if that means much to me!" All the same, though, she turned, feeling for the places to put her foot. Her stomach felt as thought it would drop through to the floor, but she tried to keep her focus on where she was putting her hands.

"You are doing fine," the Assassin called up to her. She looked down to see if he had made it safely to the bottom, but as soon as her eyes caught sight of how far she still had to go, she groaned, cursing her decision to look down.

"Just keep going," he coaxed, coaching her where to climb. She had only a third of the way to go when she froze, panicking.

"I'm stuck," she yelled down to him, her voice sounding frail and nervous. It was strange for Connor to see her so vulnerable, when normally she kept her guard high and maintained a mask of fearlessness.

"You are almost there," he said, moving closer to her in case she was to fall.

As he guided her path with his words, she finally found the right foothold and continued her way down, wishing nothing more than two feet on solid ground. She knew she was close when she felt a hand on the small of her back, steadying her as she reached for the ground. Looking down, she searched for the next foothold, but when she moved, she suddenly found herself slipping, her hands sliding off of the rock. Managing a scream was impossible she was so terrified, yet instead of her head cracking against the rock as she expected, she felt strong arms wrap around her before hitting the ground.

They fell together with a thud, and Cora quickly jolted back up, brushing her clothes off ant trying to hide her embarrassment. "Sorry," she muttered, reaching her hands down to the Assassin to help him to his feet. He took them, giving her a small smile as she pulled him up.

"This place better be damn well worth it," she muttered, trying to shake of the shame of her fall.

Connor only laughed softly, turning as he led her through a few more rocks, which Cora had no problem in climbing. When she finally jumped from the last rock and looked out, she felt her mouth drop. Before her was a waterfall, emptying into a pool of water perhaps ten feet below where they stood. She had not ever seen anything like this, left only to imagine such sights in the memories she had of her father's stories.

"This..." She felt breathless as she took it all in. "This is beautiful." When she looked over at Connor, he found him watching her. He gave her a half smile before glancing back to the water.

"I used to come here as a child, with my friend Kanen'tó:kon," he said softly. It was odd for Cora, to imagine him as a child, laughing and climbing with his friend. She wondered when he had turned so hard and serious, what it was for him that had turned his innocence into anger, that had broken the trance of a beautiful, just world.

"Where is he now?"

Connor's expression turned quite somber, and Cora wondered if perhaps she had overstepped her boundaries.

"Dead," he said simply, moving to sit down.

Cora bit her lip, sitting next to him as she tried to think of something to say. "I'm sorry," she managed, touching his arm lightly, but drawing her hand back quickly when he turned to look at her.

"Don't be," he muttered. "It was by my hand. I am the one responsible." Cora's eyes widened, and Connor looked away from her. He had not spoken of this since he told Oiá:ner, and even then he had not told her the whole story. Yet all the same, he found himself speaking again. "Things became complicated," he said, pulling a flowered weed that grew from the rock next to him and turning it in his hands. "They became confused. I was naïve. Those I thought I trusted turned out to be working against what I wanted for my people, and..." He sighed, unsure how to transfer it all into words. "My people had sided with the British, and I went to stop them, but Kanen'tó:kon..."

"You don't have to continue," she said gently, aware of how obviously hard it was for him to talk about it. The broken look on his face seemed so out of place to Cora, and she had no idea how to respond. He had killed his own friend? Part of her wanted to leave him, to go back to the horses and ride away, but she knew it was probably not as simple of a situation as one might think. So instead she sat quietly for a few moments, trying to figure out if there was anything she could say that would not make him feel worse.

"Life is not straightforward," she said slowly, her words sounding unsure as she tried to conjure up something that would reassure him. "It is complicated and messy, and too easy to make mistakes..." She sighed, unsure if she was only making him feel worse.

She opened her hand, running a finger along the thin scar that crossed her palm. Sighing again, she looked up at him, feeling the need to share something in response to what he had said.

"Do you remember when you asked about this scar?"

Connor furrowed his brows, remembering that night they had spent exchanging stories of battle. He nodded, turning his body toward her. "Yes."

"Do you want to know how I got it?"

Connor could see the reluctance in his eyes, the emotions that stirred as she let the memories consume her. He should tread carefully, he knew, but if she wished to open up to him, he would not turn her away.

"Only if you wish to tell me," he said softly, bringing forth a sad smile from her lips. Sighing, she drew her knees to her chest, hoping that he would take it well, that he would not shower her in sympathy.

"Before I tell you, you must know the context. After my father was killed, I ran to my aunt's house. Looking back now, I should have gone to find my brother and sister, but I was so afraid, and I had my younger sister with me... They took us in, but after a while, my uncle sold me to the Templars to pay a debt he had with one of their leaders. Oliver," she said, practically snarling as she spoke the name. "There were other girls, too," she said, fiddling with her braid to give her hands something to do. Connor could feel the anger rising in him. How anyone could do such a thing?

"They had to train us if we were to be of use to them... Hannah and Jane had been there already, had warned me to follow their orders, but I was a stubborn child and refused. They broke me all the same. I was thirteen," she said, anger flashing in her face.

"Cora," Connor said, shaking his head. He could see how much it pained her to speak of this, and he did not want her to feel obligated to do so. She held up her hand, refusing anything he had to say, determined to finish this story, if not for him, then for herself.

After a few moments, she continued. "Hannah died within the first year, because of me. It was my fault. I had a streak of stubbornness, and was to be punished. You must understand, such a planned punishment meant suffering of the worst kind. Hannah was ten years elder, and I suppose she saw me as someone she had to protect, to mother, if you will. So she volunteered in my place." Now, Cora's face grew dark, and Connor sat across from her trying to keep his face from revealing the horror he felt, the disgust, the anger at those men.

"They made me watch, and they killed her." Cora closed her eyes, trying to banish the image that came to mind, of what they had done to her... She was quiet for a few long moments, and Connor thought she might cry, but then she continued. "After that, it was just Jane and I. I became fiercely protective of her despite being a year younger, determined not to let anything happen to her. Yet though I could do my best to take what punishment she might receive, I could not protect her from Oliver. She bore a son not long after. Once she was ready, she was sent out again to woo many men, to buy their secrets with her body as we were taught." She winced, and Connor found himself too shocked to say or do anything. Had his father known about this? The man was calculated and determined to get what he wanted at all costs, but he was not sure he could see the man approving that...

"But one day," she continued, a smile finally appearing. "Jane came back with some wild tale of a man she had met, and though I was skeptical, she began to fall in love with him. We devised a plan to get her and her son away, where she would meet up with George and they would marry. I was hesitant to believe the man's sincerity, but Jane had put all of her trust in him, and so I trusted her judgment. When the night came, he asked me to come with him, but... I declined. I thought maybe, if they had me to torment they would let Jane be, would decide not to go after her. And so I said goodbye to her," she said sadly. Jane was more than a friend to her, more than a sister, even... She had been the sole thing that had gotten her through in those early years. The only thing she had survived for.

"I did not even make it back to my room before they found me," she said, the tone of her voice giving Connor chills. "They brought me straight to Oliver, but instead of being furious like normal, he was calm. 'You want freedom,' he asked me." Cora laughed curtly. "'Go be free.' I still remember every word he told me. He said none would take me in. Men would haunt my steps without his protection, women would reject me. But he told me to be free, and so I ran. He did not follow." Cora sighed, looking down.

"I lasted six days. No food, scarcely any water, and nights spent sleepless, shivering in the snow. I was beaten for stealing a peach, and then I came crawling back to them in the dead of night, in a blizzard. I remember waiting in the cold for the time that I knew Henry's watch was." She caught herself, realizing Connor had no idea who Henry was.

"Henry?"

"A guard. He... He was kind to me," she managed. "Well, kinder than the others. We were friends." She cleared her throat, uncomfortable at speaking of him. "Lovers." Though Cora couldn't meet the Assassin's eyes, she could feel the way he shifted, and she was not sure in what way he took it.

"Anyway, I had waited in hopes that Henry would be standing guard, that he would sneak me in, give me food, hide me... Anything but taking me to him. But he wasn't there," she sighed forlornly. Connor did not have to think too hard on what must have happened.

The men had taken bets on how long I would last outside the walls. The man who won got to take me first. He is the one who gave me this," she said, opening her palm to him. She turned her face away, closing her eyes and remembering the other scars she had gained that night. Most of the others were faint, a thin one along her jaw, a few on her lower back. There was a darker one above her eye, another faint one above her lip, and a thick, jagged one that ran along her inner thigh. The emotional scars, the fear and paranoia she had gotten, though... Those were less easily healed.

Her eyes flew open as she felt Connor take her hand, running a thumb over the scar on her palm with the lightest of touches. She shivered, and when he let go, she drew her hand back, cradling it in her lap. Both had fallen silent, and though Cora had just spoken of such a dark part of her past, she felt remarkably light, unburdened... "Have I made you uncomfortable, Assassin?"

"No," he said. He would not deny he was severely burdened after hearing of the horrors she had endured, but he did not understand her. After all she had just told him, she was asking after his feelings? A strange woman, indeed. "I feel many things, but not discomfort," he said gently. "I merely had to listen to it. You are the one who had to live it. My discomfort, if there was any, should be the least of your concern."

Cora gave him a halfhearted smile, drawing her knees to her chest again as she kept his gaze. It was almost funny to her, how a month ago she would have cut the Assassin's throat, and how harshly he had dealt with her in return. Yet now... Now, he was... tender, and gentle. Cora had no idea how to respond to that.

"Why did you not run when you were on a job, or with Henry? Why did you stay when you had the chance to go with Jane? I know you said you wished to protect her but..." He trailed off, unsure if she would be comfortable with his question. Her face did not change, though, and she answered him pensively.

"At first, it was out of fear. Fear that no matter where I went, they would find me and punish me, fear that they would hurt someone I loved. Though eventually, I became numb to that fear, and I stayed because I had become convinced that it was my only way to survive. I became angry, though I knew not at what, and they directed that anger towards you and the Assassins. They fueled it with lies, somehow convinced me that you were responsible for all that had happened. They took my need for revenge and twisted it, used it to their advantage. It was out desperation that I stayed... For though they kept me captive and did terrible things to me, made me do terrible things, I had nowhere else to go. Through all the fear and pain, I was fed and clothed and had a place to put my head, which was more than many could say. It became a comfort, knowing what to expect and how to deal with people. No matter how much the idea of staying frightened me, the idea of being alone in the world and not knowing what to expect was a terror much more powerful."

Connor did not know what to say. He had been so wrong about her, and the realization of it left him unable to find any words of consolation to give to her. Instead, he laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping she would understand the regret his words could not convey.

"He promised me he would always be haunting my steps, that he would always hold power over me. He told me often that I was a worthless, foolish whore, and he was right," she said, laughing bitterly.

"No," Connor said, moving so that she had to look at him. "He was wrong, Cora." She sighed, standing. Though his sincere words made her blush, they did little to convince her otherwise. It was hard for her, having chained all these feelings up long ago and refused to let them touch her. In doing so, however, she had also refused to deal with them.

"All my life I've been defined by men. Who my father was, by Oliver and what he did to me, by my relationship with Henry... I want to be defined by my own actions. I want to craft my own life, my own definition." As she spoke, her hands moving, her voice rose and fell, emotion seeping through the cracks she had sealed long ago.

"You can," Connor said, standing as well. "You do not have to let your past, or another person, define your future."

"Neither do you," she said, turning his words against him. Though he knew deep down that she was right, he looked away, somehow refusing to believe her.

"You have a gentle heart, Cora," he said after a long moment of silence. "Even if you try to prove otherwise," he teased. Cora gave a soft laugh, bringing her hand to rest on the Assassin's arm.

"And you are a remarkable man, even if you fervently deny it."

Cora sighed, managing to find a smile. "Enough of these sad words," she said, patting Connor's arm. "I don't think you brought me here so that we could sit and remember painful memories." She laughed, leaving Connor quite confused. Cora looked down at the water, and he could see her knees quake as she got too close to the edge. "Have you swam here before," she asked, a mischievous smile crossing her face.

"Long ago," he said, not quite believing she really intended to jump. "The current is strong, but I always managed fine."

As he spoke, Cora began to remove her weapons.

"What are you doing," he asked, looking around as if to make sure no one else was there. She almost laughed at how nervous he looked in the presence of an undressing woman. Surely, though, it would not be the first time he had seen a woman in an improper state of dress. She was not so delusional as to believe that a man such as him had never been with a woman.

"Going swimming," she said as if he was the biggest idiot in the colony. She removed her jacket, overskirt and leggings, pulled off her boots, and unfastened her braid. Connor was watching her, and she knew it, but she did not care. The emotional vulnerability she had just shown him was far more difficult than and physical vulnerability she could ever give. Once she was in only her chemise and her things were neatly stacked in a pile, she made her way to the edge, looking down. It was not a particularly long jump, and with the water eliminating the chance of her cracking her head open, she was less frightened than she had been earlier. Still, though, she felt her knees shaking as she curled her toes around the edge of the rock.

Connor watched as she tested herself, feeling slightly confused at all that had just transpired. Less than a minute ago, she had been vulnerable and quiet, yet now she seemed so strong and sure, about to jump many feet into a pool of water when she had just been frightened to climb down a rock. Cora turned back towards him, her hair flying all about her face as she gave him a soft smile.

"I misjudged you, Assassin. Connor," she corrected herself, giving him the respect of using his name. "And for that, I am sorry."

She dropped off of the rock more than she jumped, seeming just to float through the air gracefully. He shook his head as he moved to remove his own jacket. She had endured so much pain, horror... It was no wonder she had turned out how she had, all wild and detached. And yet, for all that Oliver had done to her, she was not a bad person. Stubborn, absolutely. Brash and sometimes cold, certainly. But he had seen glimpses of a gentle soul, of kindness and a carefree spirit. It gave him hope that perhaps, somewhere within him, he had the same chance to redeem his spirit, to save it from becoming hard and cruel.

Once he was stripped to his breeches, he jumped in after her. The water was cool as it enveloped him, a welcome respite from the brutality of the summer heat. When he surfaced, he hardly had a chance to breathe before he was bombarded with water. Menacing laughter filled his ears, and he splashed back aggressively. The two kept on for a while, their laughter and screams echoing through the formation of rock. Connor disappeared beneath the surface, leaving Cora to whip her head around in all directions, searching. For a moment, she was afraid he had been caught by the current, but just as she was about to search for him, he came up behind her, slapping her with a wall of water. She screamed, determined to get him back, but when she turned she found him laughing heartily, and Cora smiled, shaking her head.

"That was clever, I'll give you that," she said, joining him in laughter. As she caught her breath, she finally felt the effect of the current and made her way to the side of the pool to rest for a moment. Connor followed her, his dark eyes seeming unusually playful. It was the first time Cora had ever heard him truly laugh, and the fact of it had made her giddy.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," he said to her.

"What?"

" Ratonhnhaké:ton," he said louder, trying to be heard above the roar of the waterfall. Cora looked completely confused. "That is my name." When the words registered in Cora's ears, she gave him a broad smile, repeating it a few times until he nodded in approval.

"Radha," she said in return, sticking a hand out as if to shake his in greeting. "That is my name," she laughed. Connor tried to hold back the look of surprise. He had not ever expected to think that she, too, had gone by another name.

"Raw-ah," he repeated, his tongue made clumsy by his surprise. Her laugh seemed as magic to him, here in this place, and he smiled at the sound of it.

"Row-ah," she corrected. He took her hand, smiling as he shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Radha."

"The pleasure is all mine, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

A/N: Well! There we are... What will Henry do? Who is he writing to? What will Connor, Cora, and the others find in Boston? Will this sudden intimate encounter turn into something more between them? Ah, you will have to way to find out! *cue maniacal laughter* I'm sorry that chapter was so dark, I tried to put a little laughter in it but hopefully it wasn't too overbearingly depressing.

themadgears - Oh no, I absolutely have not abandoned this story! I've just found myself easily frustrated with my writing, which probably has something to do with the writing class I'm taking this semester. Even though it isn't any kind of creative writing, I've found myself not wanting to write anything because of my negative experience there so far... Hopefully I'll make myself get over it. I am completely determined to write this story until it is finished! I will never be able to think of anything else otherwise, haha! I'm so glad to see that you were happy to see an update, your words mean a lot!