A/N: Well I feel like the apology for not having updated in so long is a now consistent precursor to any chapter I post. I really struggled with this chapter for some reason, really had no idea how I was going to get between plot points, but I think I may have gotten past the brunt of the writer's block that has to do with plot, so I'm hoping to update more often. I've always hoped to post more frequently and not once a month, but for some reason it just hasn't been happening. I'm setting a tentative goal of finishing this story before next Spring, but as I'm transferring to a more difficult school this fall, we'll see if that happens. Anyway, hope you all enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Fifteen;
The Way of Change
"The merit of all things lies in their difficulty." Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers
Victoire drummed her fingers against her arm, humming as she waited outside the Doctor's tent. Cora had asked her to wait outside as she spoke with him, and so Victoire stood anxiously against a nearby tree. Time had passed agonizingly slow, though she had heard no screaming or loud protests, which she took to be a good sign. Only God knew what would befall them if Lyle did not agree to let her train again... Soon enough, though, Cora emerged, her face triumphant.
"He said yes?"
Cora nodded, finally breaking into a smile as the two women set to walking back to the manor. "I must take it easy and slowly though, and be realistic about my body's limits."
Victoire scoffed. "Does he truly believe you will do so? We all know you have little restraint when it comes to putting your mind to something." Cora shrugged, laughing softly.
"He is right this time, though," she conceded. "It would only do more harm if I pushed myself too far and injured my shoulder. Then I would have to start all over again."
Victoire stopped in her tracks, resting one hand against her chest and reaching the other towards the sky. "The heavens have opened! Cora has seen the light! Oh, what a marvelous day," she yelled, leaning into Cora as if she would fall to the ground in her shock. Cora pushed her away, laughing as Victoire made a face. When the two had finally calmed down, they began walking again.
"How will you train?"
"Dr. White suggested starting at the basics, as if I was a beginner again. I am sure Connor will have good suggestions as well," she said, obviously excited at the thought of putting a sword back in her hand.
"Oh, Connor, our good friend," Victoire teased, nudging her friend with her elbow. "How is he this morning?"
"I... I don't know," Cora stammered, looking away as her face turned red.
Victoire tried to hide her amusement at her reaction. "Oh, really?" She asked, drawing out her words. "I thought I saw some woman kissing him on the porch this morning. Must have been some other woman. I suppose you were too late! What a shame!"
Cora turned to her, shocked, remembering how she had waited for him outside the front door that morning, and had so boldly kissed him in public. He had not reacted any differently though... Instead, he had placed a hand on her lower back, pulled her against him and returned her kiss rather eagerly. Once they had gone their separate ways in the morning's duties, Cora had looked all around, hoping there was no one who had seen. She had not seen anyone, but evidently she had not looked hard enough.
"You saw?" Her voice was a horrified rasp, and Victoire only laughed again.
"It was hard not to see such a display when it was right in my line of sight."
"But-"
"Oh, calm down," Victoire said, trying to curb her laughter at Cora's embarrassment. "Was it not I who knew this was coming? Besides, there is nothing to be ashamed of."
"You are the worst," Cora said, smiling all the same as she crossed her arms.
"I'm still waiting to hear it," Victoire said after a few moments, looking quite pleased with herself.
"Hear what?"
"That I was right," she said simply. Cora rolled her eyes, smiling again.
"Perhaps you were."
Victoire hummed in response, smirking. "I suppose that will do."
Cora laughed, shaking her head. "There will be no one to help you when I find out about you," she said, hinting at Victoire's secret lover.
"Good luck!"
The nightmares were incessant, cruel, unrelenting... He had not received a restful night's sleep since Henry had been killed. No, it seemed even in death Henry was plaguing him with his constant complaining and worrying, his never ending emotion about that woman. In his dreams, Ezekiel lost his best friend and brother every night. Every morning upon his waking, there would be a moment where he would comfort himself, reassuring that it was only a dream. For a moment, he would forget. But then... Then he would remember.
That day was seared into his mind. He could only remember bits and pieces now, but the parts he did have he knew he would never forget. The sound of the bullet, the soft thump as he fell to the floor... And then, the mad scream that woman gave as she darted from the trees. He could still see the look in her eyes, overflowing with madness and rage. So wild she had looked to him, cutting down so many men so quickly, so easily. Ezekiel was not alone in his awe of her, seeming a vision of some ancient warrior queen, wielding her blade mercilessly. It had been a few seconds after she had taken down those men before the others had been drawn from their stupor by the threat of the other Assassins. Ezekiel could easily remember how her gaze locked with Oliver's, how she had stared at him so coldly, so determined to end his life. There had been a flicker of terror in Oliver's eyes, then. He had been afraid of her, afraid of death at her hand.
Perhaps it was that moment that sprouted the doubts from the seeds Henry had planted. Ezekiel had not been like Henry, joining the Templars out of necessity rather than choice. Instead, he had wanted to. He had agreed with Haytham Kenway's ideals, and had even gone along with Oliver's plans when he was assigned to his command. For too long he had mindlessly obeyed, never questioning, always content in his apathy towards what Oliver did. He could still find some support for Kenway's original thoughts, but now... After what Oliver had done? After what he himself had done at his command? No. He could not bear to be associated with the Templars any longer, not after all he had lost. After all Henry had lost...
Even in the months since that day, Oliver had grown near mad with his obsession over the woman. Word had traveled of what she had done, no doubt spurred on by that family she and her friends had saved. In Oliver's eyes, her defiance was the reason for every bad thing that had happened since. The people they had before kept so easily under control were now becoming restless, no longer burying their anger for fear of retribution. Ezekiel himself knew that the woman's actions only gave them a beacon which to stand behind. Their discontent had been growing for some time now, spurred on by Oliver's escalating cruelty coupled with the escalating tensions with the war. To Oliver, though, Cora was the source of it all, whispering lies to them and coaxing them into rebellion. The only way to stop her was death, he said, over and over. Oliver was slipping, losing his hold on his men, his control of the city, and even his own mind. His obsession with her consumed him, though Ezekiel was fairly certain most of it stemmed from his need to uphold his pride, his so called victory streak. He never had been fond of losing even the smallest of disagreements.
Even Kenway and Lee had expressed their skepticism of his actions of late. Upon their last visit, Ezekiel had even thought he overheard them warning him not to escalate things further, that he would lose his command... Still, though, Ezekiel had no doubts that the man would stop at nothing until he had killed her, so great his fixation had become. Though it had taken weeks of reflection, Ezekiel had come to the conclusion that he could not let that happen. Henry had loved her... If he had been here, he would have done all in his power to stop Oliver. It wasn't just for Henry's sake anymore, either. Cora deserved to live without fear, as did the people of Boston. At first, Ezekiel had thought perhaps he could kill Oliver on his own, but then he realized that Thomas would only take over. No, there had to be a better way, a better plan...
"Thomas requests your presence for a briefing on the next search," a guard said, breaking his thoughts. Oliver had been conducting near constant searches for Cora or for information on her, though he was never going to find her if he kept looking in Boston, of that much he was sure. Ezekiel sat up, nodding as the guard left the doorway. It seemed even in his down time he found no rest... Perhaps it was because he resisted what he knew he must do. He had to find Cora and the others, had to warn her, to tell her what he knew, help her however he could... He owed it to Henry, and to her, though he had never known her beyond their stations. Before anything else, though, he had to figure out as much information as he could before he left.
The sun was low in the sky when Connor finally made his way upstairs. He had been in the basement far too long, pouring over every bit of information he had available, and trying to piece things together. Dealing with Lee was enough, not to mention his father, but the idea that this Oliver was beginning to separate from the main faction of the Templars was concerning to him. According to what Cora had told him, it could be questioned whether he was even answering to Haytham or Lee at all. Though Cora was still determined to take care of him, and Connor did not doubt that she would, it still left him doubly anxious, and even more overwhelmed. A man like Oliver gaining power was not something to be taken lightly, and ending his threat would put him at ease. Once Lee was taken care of, he would help her kill Oliver.
Connor had been so consumed in planning their trip to New York that he had neglected Eksá:'a. It had been far too long since he had ridden her, a fact the horse never allowed him to forget every time he saw her. She never failed to grow irritable and antsy when she was kept in for too long. Sunset was only a few hours away now, but Connor had been planning to go out at least for a little while. It would be good to clear his head, too, but he could never escape thoughts of the Templars for long. Sometimes, he felt as though it was all he could ever think about. It was even hard to imagine a life after Charles Lee and the others. For so long, it had been all he thought about, all he spent his time on, but now... Now it was different. For the first time, he had found himself thinking about the future, and what it would be like when it was all over.
As he approached the stable, he saw that he was not alone. Cora stood near the horses, her back turned to him. Since Dr. White had given her permission to train, albeit not too strenuously, she had been out there near every day, practicing. The bow had proved impossible, her shoulder still far too weak, but she fared a bit better with the sword in her good hand, and had seemed to do as well as she ever had with her throwing knives. When he trained with her, he could see the frustration in her face, how discouraged she would become when something would prove too difficult. She hated being held back and unable to utilize all of her strength, and the resentment of the situation had led to irritability and bickering between them. Still, though, despite that they were arguing more than normal, both of them had let things go soon after, and they held no lingering anger towards each other. They had learned to communicate, had learned patience and understanding with each other. It wasn't just that, though. Connor knew things were different between them now. It wasn't only that they had learned to get along. He cared for her, now openly so.
Cora turned when she heard him approach, her face lighting up when she saw him.
"How long have you been out here?" Connor asked before she could say anything. She looked down, grabbing her braid and pulling it over her shoulder so she could fiddle with it as she always did when she was even the slightest bit nervous or uncomfortable.
"All day," she admitted, sighing. "It has not been going as well as I had hoped."
"Things will be better in time," he told her, trying his best to be reassuring. "You seemed to do well with the knives."
Cora waved her hand dismissively, shrugging. "It was alright. Hopefully I will regain enough skill by the time we leave. The last thing I want is to have to rely on you and Victoire for protection."
"You will do fine," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment. At the touch, she looked up at him, her hands dropping from her braid. Though they had seen each other often, it had been days since they had any time alone, both having been so consumed with their training and planning. The arrangements for the mission were coming along well, and if things went to plan, they were set to leave in a week and a half.
Training had not come so easily for her as she had thought, and though she dared not voice it, Cora had some concerns about her abilities. She had thought she would settle back into the familiarity of it, but the stiffness of her shoulder had proved much more debilitating than she had thought.
"I have been so busy," Connor began, drawing her from her thoughts. "I was going to take Eksá:'a out for a while. Would you like to come?" Cora nodded eagerly in return.
"I would love to! It would be good to take a break from all this, anyway."
They saddled their horses and set off in a comfortable silence. Stealing the occasional glance at him out of the corner of her eye as they rode, Cora tried to settle the anxiety that was growing in the pit of her stomach. It had been a few days since their liaison in the basement, and though they had been able to find little time to spend together since, they had settled into a sort of acceptance of what things were between them. Even so, Cora had been wanting to talk to him about it more clearly, to hear from his own mouth that he cared for her and to tell him the same.
They had kept near the river, and when they finally stopped, the evening light was glowing gold through the trees, the light dancing across the water. She dismounted quickly, walking out to the rocky bank. With such beauty around her, she sighed contentedly. "I wish I had my sketch book."
"I thought you brought it everywhere," he teased dryly, coming up behind her. Cora smiled, shrugging.
"Perhaps I should not admit this, but I actually sewed a special pocket into my old skirts... I was too terrified to leave it anywhere."
Connor raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You sew?"
"Not well," she laughed. "It did fall out, after all. Jane taught me – one of the other girls," she clarified. Connor tried to hide his look of contempt at the reminder of what the Templars had done, and if Cora had noticed it, she ignored it. "She was brilliant at everything like that, and learning was a good way to pass the time. When she was gone, though, I had no one to correct my many mistakes."
"You miss her," he said, posing it as a statement rather than a question.
"She was all I had," Cora said quietly. "She was more than my best friend, perhaps more than a sister, even. She was everything to me, she and her son."
"What was she like?"
"Well, unnaturally kind for one thing," Cora laughed softly. "And funny, but in an understated sort of way. She was a great comforter, she was gentle and patient. We were such opposites, really, it was a wonder we ever got along. She was smarter than me in the way she dealt with the situation. I was reckless, she was restrained until moments it was smart to be bold. It's why she was able to get out. I let my anger control me, and she kept it at bay until the time was right." She was quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance, caught in the memory of her, and her son. Oh how good a mother she was, and how well dispositioned the child. Cora could still remember the feel of his soft skin, the tufts of hair, even his weight in her arms. Suddenly, she found herself imagining what it would be to carry Connor's child, to see him hold it... Heat flooded her face, suddenly so aware of her thoughts, and she kept talking, trying to ignore how foolish she felt.
"There were other girls that I played with before my parents died, but I could never grow too close to any of them. I was a rather reserved child when I wasn't among my family. But Jane... She was my best friend," she said. "My sister, in a way. A part of me I will never be able to replace." Leaning against a nearby tree, she folded her arms, a sad smile emerging on her lips. Connor rested his hand against her back and she smiled at him, shaking the thoughts. She had not meant to come here and talk of pain, suffering and loss.
"What about you," she asked, diverting the conversation away from her. "Were you as terribly antisocial as I was as a child?"
"I am afraid so," Connor said, giving a short breath of a laugh. Cora nudged his arm with her elbow, about to tease him for never having changed, but then his smile grew sad and she stood straighter, watching him with interest. "It was only me and Kanen'tó:kon. We were always together. Like brothers," he said, nodding towards Cora to acknowledge what she had said earlier about Jane. He leaned against the tree now, sighing, and Cora remembered his words from that day at the waterfall. I was the one responsible. I killed him. Though he didn't even brought up his death, he seemed far more vulnerable than he had when he first spoke of it. The pain on his face was raw, as if it had only happened yesterday, and he closed his eyes, his brows drawing together as he dropped his head. Cora said nothing. What could she say? She was terrible with words of comfort, and she knew there was nothing she could say that would make Connor absolve himself of guilt. Instead, she took him gently into her arms, smoothing the hair at his neck as he leaned into her embrace, allowing her to give what solace she could.
When he pulled back, she slid her hand to his neck, her fingers absentmindedly turning the beads in his braid. In turn, he swept her long plait to the front, settling it across her shoulder. When she raised her eyes to his, he took her face into his hands and kissed her. The kiss was tender and gentle, nothing like the passion that had taken them in the basement or even the emotion of their first kiss. This was something entirely different, yet almost more intimate. When they broke apart, she kissed his cheek before settling her head on his chest, closing her eyes as his arms closed around her.
"Why do we always speak of such sad things when we are together," Cora asked, laughing and shaking her head as she pulled back to look at him.
Connor shrugged, moving her braid back behind her shoulder this time, then smoothing his fingers against the crook of her neck, his thumb brushing just below her ear. "Perhaps we have kept them in so long that now they come pouring out whenever we get a chance to speak of them." Cora nodded in agreement. She had spoken more of her past and her feelings in the past months than she ever had.
"These past few months have been so strange for me." Grabbing her braid, she slipped the tie from it and wove her fingers through the plaits, letting her hair free to give her fingers something to do as she spoke.
"In what way?
"I don't know," she said, turning towards the river. "When I first got here, when I first met you..." She trailed off, laughing softly and turning back to him. He took a few steps to catch up with her and they began walking along the river.
"You mean when you tried to kill me?"
"I suppose so," she said with a breath of laughter, glancing at him again. He was smiling, his expression lighthearted. She loved when he was like this, when he teased and bantered with her, breaking from his normal reserved disposition. "I just never imagined that this would be... That you and I..." Sighing, she stopped walking, turning to him as heat flushed her cheeks. Words always seemed to elude her when she needed them most...
"That you and I what?" Cora bit her lip, looking up at him as if uncertain what to say. In the soft evening light with her hair down, framing her face, she looked perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen her, and he had a mind to kiss her again right then.
"I never imagined I would come to care for you as I do," she said softly, looking him in the eye. Sometimes she could be so strange, this woman. For all her fire and stubbornness, she could be so timid... "And not only that," she continued. "I feel I am my own person. I feel like I have come to know myself in a way I did not, could not..." She looked away as she spoke, as if searching for her words behind him. "Before, all I felt was anger and contempt for any good things. I did not know that I could be hopeful, or what it was to laugh so easily, to live without constant worry of pain, of suffering... And Oliver? He ruled my life, both in what I did and how I felt. Now I have abandoned my fear of him, the sadness and pain he and the Templars brought upon my life." She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at him. An eerily placid look fell over her features, but her eyes were full of the familiar fires of determination. "But I am still angry, and I still desire revenge." Her features softened as she stepped closer to him. "Now, though... I know there is more. That is not all that life has to be. And I am not sure I would have come to seen that without you."
Connor smiled at her, but he doubted this. Cora was intelligent and driven, he had no doubt that she could have come to the same place in another way, and he told her as much.
"All the same," she shrugged, not denying his words. "I am glad it was this way." She took his hand, squeezing his fingers gently. "With you."
"As am I."
The map was spread out before them as they huddled around it, studying their path.
"The manor of James Talley is just here," Cora said, pointing to a spot outside the city of New York. The fact that she was going to be going to the home of Henry's uncle was rather disquieting. She had been before, yes, but this time was different.
"What do you know of this man," Achilles asked from where he stood in the corner of the room.
"He is a proud man, yet a bit empty headed. His sister Anne is the mind behind their operation, but her only living son is already Oliver's closest companion, so she has taken James' younger son, Benjamin, to mentor." It was strange to think of the woman who had raised Henry, and to know that she may well come across her. The woman would not know her face, yet the thought of it still made Cora grow anxious. "He is not near as smart as his aunt, though, and is easily... led astray," she said, swallowing as she felt eyes drift to her. "The daughter is dangerous, and the elder son, but if I am correct, neither should be there. They both have their own families now, and have left the home. They rarely come to these gatherings as they are so plentiful, but it is not out of the question."
"If they are there?" Victoire asked, looking up at Cora.
"I do not think it would be fatal to the mission. They do not know my face, nor would they know any of yours. I will just have to approach it a bit differently, but I do not see their presence to mean that we would not be able to retrieve the map."
"Very well," Connor said. "Do you think it best that only you and I go, or should Victoire and one of the others come as well?"
"The fewer the better," Cora said. "Less conspicuous."
"I would like to discuss all of this again once we make it to Boston so the others can be aware of what is going on, and again when we get to New York. I do not want to overlook the chance of things going wrong, so we should make an alternate plan once we arrive there."
"There will be no need," Cora insisted. "This is a simple-"
"I know you are used to planning and making decisions on your own, but things are different now," Achilles said, speaking up again. "Connor speaks wisely." Though she wanted to say more, she kept quiet, sighing as she nodded in agreement. In her experience, the more complex the plan was, the more there was a chance for things to go wrong, but perhaps she would just speak of her concerns to Connor at a later time.
"Very well," Cora conceded.
Connor stepped away from the map, nodding. "We will leave in two days."
Achilles stepped forward then, holding out what seemed to be a few letters. "I almost forgot," he said, handing one to Connor and two to Victoire. For a moment, Cora felt a hand close around her heart, and she wondered if there would be another from Henry, but there was none. "Two are from Stephane. The other bore no name," he commented, looking to Victoire who disregarded her brother's letter, instead opening the mysterious one. As her eyes skimmed the page, she turned pale and excused herself. The three of them watched her go with worried expressions, and Cora stood frozen in her place, exchanging a look with Connor before going after her.
"What is it," Cora asked as soon as she opened the door.
"Oh, it is nothing," she said with an easy smile. "A letter from a friend," she said, looking away for a moment, as if she could not keep eye contact. "I just was not expecting it."
Cora was quiet, staring at her friend to try and decipher her words. "Are you sure?"
Victoire nodded a little too vigorously. "I am tired," she said, sighing. "I think I will go to bed," she said, turning away from Cora.
Though she desperately wanted to demand to see the letter and know what was going on, Cora said nothing more.
The next morning, she was practicing with her knives – the only thing she had come close to mastering again – when Victoire approached. Her hair was pulled into a bun, and she had set aside her skirts and replaced them with breeches. A sword hung at her hip, a gun at her lower back, and a grim look was settled upon her face.
"Cora, we must talk."
"What are you doing," Cora asked, lowering the knife she had been about to throw at the target, setting it with the others on the nearby stool. "Are you leaving?"
"Yes," Victoire confirmed.
"Why? Is everything alright? Does it have something to do with the letter?" Victoire held up a hand at the urgency of Cora's questions and gave her a small smile.
"Everything is fine," she reassured. "It is a family matter, and I need to take care of it before we go to New York."
"Are you sure everything is alright?" Cora furrowed her brows, not content with Victoire's explanation.
"Yes. It is nothing you need concern yourself with, and it isn't as if I am going away for months! I'll see you again in a few days."
"Have you told Connor?"
She nodded. "We spoke this morning." Cora sighed, and then Victoire grabbed her hand, giving it a pat. "Don't look so upset, mon amie. It is nothing serious." Cora wanted to believe her, but it was something in the twitch of her lips, something that flashed in her eyes, that made her concerned. Yet if Victoire did not want to tell her what it was, there was no way she could draw it from her. She did not want her to go, but she had no right to ask her to stay. Victoire had been her constant companion, confidant and friend for months, and it was odd to think that she would be sleeping alone in an empty room, even if it was only for two nights.
Sighing again, Cora put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I'll miss you."
"And I you," Victoire said, drawing her into a tight hug. They remained in the embrace for a while, and just before drawing back, Victoire whispered into Cora's ear. "Be careful." Victoire smiled and gave one last squeeze of her hand before turning to saddle her horse. As Cora watched her ride away, those words rang in her ears, and Cora knew that Victoire was keeping something from her.
Connor had slept unnaturally late, perhaps due to how late he had stayed awake finalizing every detail of their trip to New York. The house was oddly quiet without Victoire's laughter and constant banter, and though she said little of it, Connor knew that Cora missed her already. Something had been on her mind since Victoire had left, but every time he had tried to bring it up, she had changed the subject. He imagined it was anxiety about the trip, or frustration with her training, but he wished she would tell him. Though he had learned not to press her, he still hoped they had come to a place where they could habitually discuss such things instead of having them all pour out at once.
Cora was training alone when he saw her. Hanging back, he watched her curiously, interested to see how she had progressed. With her shoulder still too weak for the bow, she had to rely on the sword and her knives, but even the sword had been giving her enough trouble to make her frustrated, so she had focused her attention on the throwing knives. She hit her target perfectly over and over, but then paused, shifting the knife to her left hand. She eyed her target carefully, and he could almost see the rise and fall of her chest as she took a deep breath. The knife fell short and to the side of the target hanging from a branch, bouncing off the tree and falling to the ground. Cora was still for a moment, but then seemed to explode, groaning as she kicked over the stool and sending the pile of knives to the ground. Taking the last knife in her right hand, she threw it at the target with all her strength, missing in her anger. Connor started toward her slowly, then picked up the pace as she righted the stool and dropped onto it, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands.
He fell to his knees in front of her, resting a hand on her thigh as he tried to get her to look at him. "What is it?"
She threw her hands from her face, almost hitting him in the face before she dropped them into her lap and turned her face to the side, closing her eyes. "I am nothing like I was before. How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to go with you when I can hardly defend myself?"
"You were doing well," he said, resting his hand on her arm. "You hit the target every time and-"
"I hate that I have to rely on others to protect me in a way I didn't before."
"There is no shame in having help when you need it," he said gently.
"I hate that I need it," she shouted, snapping her head toward him. "I hate all of this!" She stood, tipping the stool over as she stepped away from him. "I'm just so frustrated. How am I supposed to find my brother, to kill Oliver, when I can't even shoot an arrow three feet, or even draw the damn bow!" Connor stood by quietly, letting her release her emotions before he said anything more. "It is just too much to handle sometimes, so much change, and then being unable to even accomplish what I want."
He was quiet for a while, making sure she was finished before he said anything. "I know this may not be what you want to hear, but you will be able to regain your skill and strength in time. Patience and diligence -"
"You sound like Achilles," Cora said, laughing softly. At that, Connor chuckled and drew her to him, pressing his hand gently to the back of her neck and letting a finger trace the start of her spine. "I'm sorry," she muttered, giving into his embrace and wrapping her arms around him. "I suppose I'm a bit more irritable than normal today... I did not sleep well." She had hardly gotten a moment of restful sleep, waking often throughout the night to the terror of a nightmare. Such fear had not gripped her since before Victoire had come to stay with her, and it had been too much to bear, especially without the other woman for comfort.
"Perhaps you should take a break," Connor suggested. "I could use some help with some last minute things to prepare for tomorrow."
Though in truth she wished to sulk and wallow in her self pity, she agreed, knowing it would do nothing but sustain her frustration. As they walked towards the manor, she laced her fingers through his, leaning into him and meeting his eyes. It was strange to think how they had come to this point. There had been no one moment when things had changed between them, or a single thought when she had decided she cared for him, yet here she was... It was more like a thousand moments, a thousand looks and a thousand words between them that had led to this, and Cora found herself hoping for an innumerable amount more.
Cora woke suddenly, ripped from her nightmare and thrown back into reality. Her heart hammered within her chest, and the fear was raging in her belly. Fionn cocked his head at her as she sat up, trying to steady her breathing. She had dreamt of the day she had been shot – had been forced by her own mind to relive it over and over, to watch Henry fall, to hear Connor scream her name, to hear Oliver laugh as he pulled the trigger. Again. Again. Again. It was as if her dream had cycled, and each time she would try to do things differently, to prevent Henry from dying, to keep herself safe, but no matter what she had tried, she failed. The last time, it had not only been Henry, but also her father, her mother, her sisters and brother and even Connor and Victoire who had fallen before Oliver had come to her and pressed the gun against her skin. Even now, sitting awake and safe in her own room, the terror gripped her.
There had been nightmares at first, but Victoire had been there to hold her, to comfort her. Though Fionn was now snuggled against her as if in an attempt to calm her, it did not make up for the comfort of another person's presence. Without another thought, she rose from the tangled mess of blankets, not even bothering to put anything on over the shift that she had cut to the thigh to deal with the summer heat. Making no attempt to move quietly, she stumbled across the room and opened the door, not even knocking before turning the door handle to Connor's room. To her surprise, he already sat up in his bed, his face turned toward her.
The moon was bright and light spilled into the room from the window, allowing her to see at least the outline of his frame. Despite the heat of the night, she was shaking almost violently, fear still gripping her heart. Stumbling forward, she tried to bring words of excuse to her lips, but nothing came, leaving her to feel like a fool as she stood there in the dark.
She heard Connor call her name, but her senses were dulled and confused, as if she was still in the dream. Feeling as if she was about to fall forward, she threw a hand out, searching for something to grab onto. Then, Connor was there before she even could process him standing and moving towards her. It was only then that she realized he was not wearing a shirt, but in that moment she found herself caring little for propriety. "I'm sorry," she found herself muttering. "I had a nightmare and... I couldn't be alone."
Connor said nothing, only pulling her gently to the bed. "You're shaking," he whispered to her once she was lying down. "Are you still afraid?"
Cora wanted to say no, that she was not afraid of a dream, that she was not still dazed with terror, but instead she found herself nodding. She felt the bed move with his weight as he climbed in beside her, pulling her into his arms. Pressing her face to him, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. His bare skin was warm against her, and his heartbeat was calming beneath her cheek. As they settled themselves, he kissed the top of her head and tangled his legs with hers, smoothing her hair.
"You are safe," he muttered in her ear, kissing her cheek before closing his eyes. He knew her fear well, for he had seen her die a dozen times in his own dreams, had tried to reach her yet seen her killed before him, just as he had with his mother. No matter how much the mind knew it was only a dream, the terror never dulled. Soon, he felt her breathing still, and tried to get some sleep, knowing he would need it in the coming days.
A/N: Thanks so much for all the comments, follows, favorites, etc! It means so much and is really encouraging for me to keep writing even when I'm frustrated, haha! I can't believe there are 50 followers for this story, it's definitely more than I had thought there would be!
themadgears - Your comment was specifically appreciated, because I myself know how excited I get when people post updates, especially when I'm in the midst of something like finals, and to be that for someone else is a very special feeling! I hope you did well, and I'm glad you're enjoying Cora's character arc!
GuestThing - It's funny with the writer's block, I had such a struggle with this chapter and then managed to write almost all of it on one day. If only I could have the cycle of writer's block once a week instead of once a month, this story would have been done long ago! Haha!
Thanks so much to WolfAssassin1927, FoAteAZombie and SarahXXluvingsaintsrow for your reviews, and sorry for not specifically responding to them, just running short on time. Hope you'll forgive me!