A/N: Well, who's proud of me for posting two chapters so close together? I'm pretty proud, if I do say so myself. Oh, how I wish my muse was more consistent! Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter. It's a little shorter than normal, but I hope that the short update time makes up for it. Reminder: Rated M for a reason!

Chapter Sixteen;

Renewal

"Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean." Maya Angelou

Early August, 1781

It had taken a while for Victoire to figure out where the meeting place was. Where the Lord rests upon the water, the letter had said. She had been almost halfway to Boston when she remembered the little church on the harbor. Though she was anxious and nervous to meet with whoever had sent the letter, she was also angry. The letter had threatened Cora, even if not directly, and for that this person would explain to her satisfaction, or face her sword. A friend, it had been signed. She scoffed even now at the memory of it.

She stood against a building across from the church, her head down as she scrutinized each person who walked past, waiting. Soon enough, she saw him – he made no attempt to be subtle in the way he looked around him, searching for her. Victoire stayed put for a moment, analyzing the threat, which she determined was minimal. He had a sword at his hip, but he had a nervous demeanor, and though he was tall, he was rather lean, and Victoire was almost certain her strength would face no real test against him. Taking her knife out of her belt, she started toward him.

He had his back turned to her when she grabbed his arm, leading him behind a building where there were less people to see the confrontation. Spinning him around, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, pressing the blade against his neck. He grabbed at her arms, trying to struggle free, but her iron grip did not give way.

"Who are you? What do you want with Cora?"

"To help her," he rasped, trying to keep his calm.

"And why should I believe that?"

"Henry was my friend," the man said. "I want to kill Oliver for what he did to him." The venom in his voice seemed genuine enough, but Victoire would not let him off that easily. "I want to atone for what happened to Cora and the others... I cannot live with the guilt forever."

She rolled her eyes at that, digging the blade harder into his skin. "So this is only about you and your guilt, is it?"

"No!" He was silent for a moment, and then his eyes turned serious. "Oliver means to kill her. Soon."

"Tell me everything you know."

No matter how far she had come, riding into Boston still brought the fear of being discovered. This time, her anxiety was less consuming than before, but she still felt it in the pit of her stomach, and the fear was always at the back of her mind. She could feel Connor's eyes drifting to her every now and then, as if checking to make sure she was still there, and though it made her feel like some fragile thing, she let it be, knowing he was only concerned.

The past few days had been more than pleasant. Able to spend uninterrupted time together, they had laughed and talked and shared a few more intimate moments as well. She had taken the first watch of their journey, and as she watched him sleep, she had found herself again reflecting on how much they both had changed since early spring, when they had met. Cora still had not sorted out the balance between who she was now and who she had been then, and which parts of each person she wanted to keep. Sometimes she felt as if she wasn't herself, that she had lost her drive. She wanted to find her brother, to end Oliver's faction of the Templars, yes, but her focus was off, her determination dulled. It seemed as though since she had been injured, she had become so caught up in the goals of the Assassins, and forgotten the purpose that had made her agree to work with them in the first place.

When they arrived at the tavern, Stephane, Duncan and Clipper were waiting for them, but Victoire was nowhere to be seen. Before any of them could speak even a word of greeting, she dismounted and went straight for Stephane.

"Where is Victoire?"

He held up his hands, laughing. "Who knows with my sister," he said, shaking his head. "She is far too... How do you say, wild? In any case, she should be here before we leave tomorrow."

Cora furrowed her brows, trying to figure out if he is holding back. Something was off.

"She told me she was seeing to a family matter," Cora grumbled.

"If she is, it has not to do with me." Stephane seemed genuinely perplexed, but did not seem worried for his sister.

"Victoire will be back tomorrow," Duncan added. "She is fine, I promise." Cora turned to him, surprised at his interjection, and studied his face. How would he know, anyway, if Stephane did not?

When Connor came through the door and began to greet them, Cora sat at one of the tables, arms crossed. Victoire was obviosly keeping something from her, and perhaps the others, too. It angered her, but logically she knew she was overreacting. Perhaps Victoire would have a perfectly rational explanation once she arrived.

"How was the journey," Clipper asked, sliding into the chair next to her once they had all settled in. Cora glanced to Connor, who looked to be listening to some argument between Stephane and Duncan about the best ale, and felt her lips rise into a little smile.

"It was well," she responded, turning her eyes back to Clipper. He looked between them with a surprised look, but said nothing more.

It was late when the door slammed open. A hooded man came through it, obviously restrained, but Cora was still confused until she saw the familiar blonde curls of Victoire as she pushed him into the tavern. Cora stood as she went to pull the hood from his face. Though the others had begun asking what was going on, everything seemed to fade away as soon as his features were visible to her.

Ezekiel.

He had been one of the guards, and though he was not near as cruel as most of them, he was neither innocent nor blameless, and there had been more than one occasion when he had spoken harshly to her, and had even gotten physical with Jane on more than one occasion. Worst of all, he had been among the men who had taken her from her aunt.

"Who is this man," Connor demanded of Victoire, hand settled on his weapon as he stood across the room. Victoire's response was no more than background noise to Cora's ears, the words of her explanation not even registering. Instead, she stared at Ezekiel, and he stared back at her. His face was cold, expressionless, bearing anger and apathy but no regret or apology. She knew that look well – the face of a killer.

"What the fuck is he doing here," she asked in a low, malicious tone. All talking around her ceased as the others gaped at her.

Connor was the only one who dared speak. "You know this man?" He stared at her wide eyed, completely confused as she crossed the room and stopped right in front of him. Anger seemed to radiate from her, filling the room with tension, and Connor was not sure he had ever seen her so full of rage.

"Oh, I know him." When she slapped him, she felt Victoire press a hand against her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Instead, Cora shot her a spiteful glance and pushed her away. "And he knows me. Don't you."

"Cora, I-" She silenced him with a slap to the other cheek, and though she could see him grow angry, he took a deep breath before he looked back at her. "I want to help you."

Cora could hardly believe what she was hearing. Here was a man who had mistreated her, abused her only friend, who had stood content in his indifference as his comrades cheated and stole, murdered and raped, offering her help? His help? She didn't want it, didn't need it, and was offended even at the implication of it. Her face twisted into a grimace, her lip curling downward as she took his jacket in her fists, slamming him against the wall. Writhing beneath her grip, he tried to push her hands away, but let go when Cora did not relent and raised his hands as if in surrender.

"How dare you even show your face in front of me," she said through gritted teeth, rising onto her toes so that she was right in his face. "You, who allowed them to kill Hannah, to do unspeakable things to Jane... You, who yourself dragged me away from my only family," she continued, raising her voice. "I should kill you where you stand," she snarled, tightening her grip on him.

When Victoire saw her reach for a knife, she grabbed her arm, looking her straight in the eye. "At least hear what he has to say."

Cora let go of the man, who fell to the ground loudly, but her anger was not lessened. "Who are you to tell me to listen to him?" Stepping toward Victoire, she threw an accusing finger toward her. "You had no right to do this behind my back. No right!" She was screaming now, and the others stood silently in their discomfort and shock at the outburst of emotion.

Victoire narrowed her eyes, stepping even closer as she spoke in a low voice. "I was trying to protect you."

"I can protect myself. I have done it long enough. I am no child!" For a moment, even the blonde was completely silenced by the intensity of Cora's tone. When Victoire opened her mouth to say more, Duncan rested a hand on her shoulder and gave her a stern, cautioning look. The woman stepped back, crossing her arms as she stared at Cora through narrowed eyes.

Ezekiel, now on his knees and restrained by Clipper and Stephane, used the silence to speak up. "I know what I did was wrong," he began, speaking through Cora's scoff. "And Henry knew it, too. He was killed trying to do the right thing. At least give me that chance. I can help! I know what Oliver means to do, how he means to do it. Henry was my best friend, and he died trying to see that you survived. Oliver means to kill you-"

"Let him try," Cora snarled, taking a threatening step toward him. "I will cut him down where he stands."

"It is my desire to help you do so," he said carefully. "Please accept it. I beg you, let me do this." At first, Connor could see that Cora was unrelenting in her position, but each time he mentioned Henry, her resolve had weakened, and her eyes softened. When everyone turned to him for the final word, though, anger filled her face again, and she looked at him as if she would kill him in his sleep if he agreed.

Connor looked at her for a long time, his expression unreadable, and she stared back stubbornly, silently willing him to say no, to banish this man from the tavern, or even kill him. Realistically, though, she knew he would probably agree – the tactical advantage against the Templars was too great. Preparing for him to agree, she crossed her arms, hoping to hold herself together when he spoke the word. Instead, his response left her surprised.

"It is your decision, Cora." He spoke gently, as if the words were only for her, and she gaped at him, her chest still heaving with anger. Hesitantly, she looked towards Ezekiel. He looked genuine enough, and though she was angry she could not deny that his knowledge would bring her closer to ending Oliver, once and for all. She would have to trust him, to work with him to achieve a greater goal, but she was not sure she was capable of it. He had been Henry's friend, though, and she did not doubt he wanted revenge for his death, wanted to carry on with what he had wanted... Letting out a breath, she let her arms drop in defeat.

Looking toward Connor, she gave a curt nod, and Connor motioned for Stephane and Clipper to release him. As he got to his feet, Cora started for the door, but Victoire grabbed for her arm again, trying to keep her there.

"Cora, wait."

"Don't touch me," she yelled, yanking her arm away. Victoire fell back, obviously hurt, but Cora did not care. As Connor gave directions to the newest member of their little group, Cora opened the door to the tavern and slammed it behind her. Alone in the heat of the night, she took a deep breath, pressing herself against the door as she tried to steady her mind.

So Oliver wanted her dead. Of course, it was hardly a surprise after what he had tried to do months earlier, but the fact that he was so actively seeking her out did leave her a little unsettled. The situation suddenly seemed more urgent, and for the first time in many years, she felt vulnerable, felt so tangibly the fragility of her life.

This time, though, she would not fall into despair, would not fall into complacency or submission. She would fight. If he thought breaking her again would be easy, he had another thing coming. If only there was a way to let him know, to strike fear into his heart and tell him that she was coming for him...

Oh, but there was. There was one thing she could do to make him understand that she was no longer his to torment, to rule over and use as a pawn. To destroy the place where so much of her pain had occurred... He would no doubt know what she meant to do once he found out. As she walked toward where they had kept the horses, she felt cold, detached determination return to her.

The house was just as she had last seen it. To a passerby, it would look like nothing more than some tiny, poorly kept family home, but none knew the horrors that had occurred within. The door was locked and the hidden key was missing, but she had expected as much. After all, the last time she had been here she had formally abandoned the Templars. It wasn't too difficult to break in, though, and once she was inside she shut the door behind her, searching for a candle. As soon as the little room was illuminated, she stopped, taking a deep breath as she let the memories of all that had happened here wash over her. The last time she had been here was the last time she had seen Henry. She closed her eyes as she remembered how he had kissed her, how he had told her he loved her, and suddenly she felt the desire to weep for him. As always, though, no tears came to give her a release.

Even before that, she had tried to kill Connor. Despite all she had felt at the time, she smiled at the memory now, at what had come of it. Yet Oliver had kept her captive here, broken her here, made her kill here. For her, it held only bad memories – pain and hurt, loss and fear, all of which he had been responsible for. No longer would he have such power over her. Perhaps he never truly had it, only the illusion of it... Sometimes, though, illusions could be stronger than reality. All the same, by night's end he would know that she meant to kill him. He would see the first cracks in the illusion of his power.

Cora scoured the room for a letter from Henry, but there was nothing, as she had expected despite the content of his last letter. Sighing, she dropped the strained mattress back into place, taking a deep breath before going to retrieve the candle. The fabric of the feather bed lit easily enough, the fire spreading quickly through it. She watched the flame grow until it was licking at the walls, and then turned, not bothering to give the room a last look. To her, Oliver was already dead, and gone were the effects of what had transpired there.

It had taken a while to settle things with Ezekiel and the others. Victoire seemed to have a fair amount of faith in him, and though he trusted her judgment, he wondered from where it came. The man had told Connor all about what Oliver had been up to, and the intensity with which he was searching for Cora was unsettling, to say the least. He would be relieved once they were out of the city.

Connor had also made other arrangements for the night, knowing that there was no way Cora would be content with the idea of sleeping under the same roof as Ezekiel or Victoire – at least not this night. Duncan had offered his home to her, but Connor had hesitated letting her stay there alone with Oliver hunting so vigorously for her. Duncan had assured him that it was safe and tucked away, that no one would ever know she was there. His neighbors were trustworthy people, and could keep an eye on the house if need be. It was only upon hearing that it was only a street from the tavern that Connor finally agreed.

When Cora had stormed out, he had wanted nothing more than to go after her, to console her, to listen to her, but he had needed to stay, and he hoped she was not angry with him for it. He felt she understood, but he still braced for her reaction as he followed the path she had taken. Once outside, though, he did not find her. Even when he called her name, there was no response. Worry overcame him then, especially after what Ezekiel had told him, but he tried to keep a level head, thinking logically where she would have gone.

He checked the horses first, and sure enough Ealga was nowhere to be seen. Cursing her impulse, he saddled Eksá:'a, leading her quickly through the alley and toward the more open parts of the city. At first, he had thought she would go to the clearing where she had been shot and Henry had died, but on his way there, the telltale glow of fire in the distance caught his attention. He stared at it for a few moments, wondering if perhaps he should change course. As soon as he remembered the house she had brought him to all those months ago, he urged Eksá:'a into a gallop. Sure enough, when the house came into sight he could just make out Cora standing a ways away, her arms crossed as she watched it burn.

Cora heard him come up behind her and turned in alarm, relaxing only when she caught sight of his face. She did not acknowledge him further, and he stood a few feet behind her, trying to piece together what had happened. No emotion showed on her face as she observed the flames, her features showing pure indifference though he knew that she doubtlessly was not feeling the same way.

Finally, he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, standing silently behind her as he watched the flames. Neither of them spoke for a long time, both weighing the gravity of what she had just done. When Cora finally did say something, her voice was cold and detached, so dissimilar to how warm and lively she had been in the past month.

"I will kill him. I will." Connor said nothing in response, only squeezing her shoulder as if to lend his support. Cora was oddly thankful for his lack of words. Now was hardly the time she wanted someone to try and talk her out of something or tell her she was being foolish or impulsive. All she needed was his acceptance and solidarity, and to receive it meant more to her than she could say.

When the fire was at its height, Connor leaned down to her. "We should go," he suggested gently. "It is only a matter of time before someone comes to investigate." Though she turned toward him, he could feel her hesitation to return to the tavern. "Duncan has offered for you to sleep in his home tonight. I figured you would not want to be near him," he said, knowing she would know who he meant.

She almost managed a smile at the thought and care he had taken in the situation, and squeezed his hand in thanks before swinging onto her horse. As they rode away, she felt clean, as if burning the house had affected her physically and emotionally, burning away any part of Oliver that still remained buried within her and leaving room for those of her own choosing.

Duncan's home was well hidden, only a few small rooms tucked to the back of a larger building. She felt she would be safe enough, but she would have rather slept under the moon than returned to that tavern with Ezekiel and Victoire. After she had taken care of Ealga, she paused by her head, stroking her neck as the emotions of the night finally hit her all at once. When she dropped her head, she felt Connor's hands on her shoulders and turned to face him. His hands moved to her neck, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and she grabbed his forearm, closing her eyes.

"If you ever wish to speak of anything, you know I am always here to listen, dont you?" he asked, gently raising her chin to look at him.

"I know," she said, managing a smile. Moving her own hand to his neck, she tucked a strand of loose hair behind his hair, smoothing her fingers at the nape of his neck. "Sometimes it is as if you know my thoughts and reactions before I have them," she smiled. "Have we grown to know each other so well?" Connor smiled, drawing her closer and dropping his hands from her neck to her waist.

"I suppose we have." Turning her face up to him, she felt her heart swell and her stomach flutter as he looked down at her, his expression so tender yet also lighthearted. Never before had she felt so honored, respected and cared for by someone else in this way. He had put her wishes above the best interest of the Assassins in letting her decide Ezekiel's fate, he had paid special care toward her feelings and taken measures to avoid her discomfort. Finally, she believed that he trusted her, even if he had not yet voiced it. When he leaned down to kiss her, she knew she would never feel this way towards any other. Oh, how had she come to love him so quickly?

Love... Did she truly love him? Was she capable of it? She pulled away, looking him in the eye and trying to find her answer. Reflected back at her was tenderness, patience, respect, and even a little mischief, lust... Smiling up at him, she pulled him back to her lips and knew she had found what she was looking for.

Once they were inside the house, Connor lit a candle for her, walking about the room as if he was inspecting it to his standard of safety and security. Cora laughed, then covered her mouth to try and stifle the evidence of her amusement. He looked toward her, a confused look on his face, then raised an eyebrow at her. "What is so funny?"

"I'll be fine," she insisted, her voice exaggerated. "This is Duncan's home, not some Templar prison. No monster is going to snatch me away in the night," she laughed, patting his arm teasingly.

He blushed, furrowing his eyebrows. "I was just-"

"Don't worry about me," she said, more gently this time.

"I will always worry about you," he said, taking her hand and patting it as she had. "You are too determined for your own good."

"Me? You are the one who eats, sleeps and breathes all of your missions," she teased, pointing a finger at him. Connor shook his head, laughing softly before claiming her lips, easily silencing her jests.

"I should go," he said once they finally managed to pull apart. He did not dare kiss her goodbye, worried he may never leave if he did. "I will see you in the morning." Kissing her on the cheek, he slid from her grasp.

"Goodnight," Cora muttered, a gentle smile on her face as she watched him go. When he opened the door, she blurted out his name and he turned back, eyes widening with intrigue at what she meant to say.

"Wait," she managed, as her feet seemed to move her toward him of their own volition. She ran her hands down the front of his coat, grabbing the fabric at his abdomen and pulling him closer. "Stay," she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Connor glanced at the door, which he still held open, and then back at her, obviously unsure what to do.

"You know as well as I what will happen if I stay," he said finally.

A little harder than she had intended, she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him roughly. It was only a second before his arms were around her, one hand at her neck and the other on her back as he deepened their kiss and opened his lips to her. The flames of desire licked through her, sending waves of sensation throughout her entire body. Never before had she kissed him like this, so desperately and aggressively. When they finally pulled apart, desperate for air, he took her face in his hands and looked at her, trying to be sure this was what she wanted. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips already red from their kisses and her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving – never before had he thought her so beautiful. The soft light of the candle flickered across her face, illuminating half of her features and making her skin seem almost to glow.

"Do you want this?" He asked, running his fingers down her spine. She gave the slightest nod, then gestured to him.

"Do you?" She asked quietly, tipping her head back to look at him. Wordlessly he stared at her, as if debating what to do, and then turned toward the door. For a moment, Cora was afraid he was leaving, but relief rushed through her as he pulled the door closed, sliding off his bow and quiver before searching for the key to lock them inside. As he fumbled with the door, she wrapped her arms around him from behind and dropped a kiss onto his back, wishing she could feel his skin under her lips instead of his jacket. The lock clicked and he turned in her arms, pushing the hair away from her face before kissing her again, this time more gently. Soon though, their kisses again grew wild, and Cora found herself pressed against the door, hooking her leg around his hip like she had before. Connor dropped his hand from her face and ran it down her waist, over her hip, until he gripped her behind, pulling her hips into his. A soft guttural sound escaped her throat as his erection pressed against her. As he dragged his fingers roughly down her thigh, she hoisted her other leg around him and tangled her fingers in his hair. A shiver went through him as her fingernails scraped gently across his scalp and Cora smiled under his lips, enjoying every reaction he gave her.

Grabbing her at the waist, Connor pushed away from the wall, then knelt and lay her on the floor, giving her a long kiss before rising back to his knees. As he unbuckled the straps that held his weapons in place, discarding them carelessly on the floor where they fell with a loud thunk, Cora rose to her knees before him, her fingers working at the buttons of his jacket. Once he was free of his weapons, he pushed Cora's own jacket away, pulling it from her just as she unfastened his last button. When he went to pull it off, Cora stopped him, flinging her jacket across the room before pulling his off.

"You want to do it?" he teased as she pulled his shirt over her head. Cora chuckled, shrugging as she made to remove her blouse. He caught her wrists, though, and leaned close, kissing her neck before sliding his hands to the hem of her blouse. "Two can play at that."

They continued like this, each removing the other's clothes, until they knelt before each other, he clad only in his breeches and she in her shift. Cora had grown impatient with the slow pace of their game, though, and before they could continue, she kissed him again, reveling in the feel of his bare skin against her. As she moved her tongue against his, she felt his hands grabbing the fabric at her waist, bunching it up at her hips until the hem was at his hands. When she realized his intent, she broke from his kiss, her fingers pulling at the ties of his breeches.

Realizing he would have to get up to fully remove them, he stood, taking a few steps back but never breaking eye contact. As he finished his untying, Cora suddenly felt bold, and before he could step out of his breeches, she took hold of the hem of her shift, pulling it over her head. Though she expected his eyes to fall to her body before she had even finished the task, she was pleasantly surprised to see that he had kept her gaze, staring at her as if to ask permission. It was only when her lips twitched into a smile that he dropped his eyes, taking her in.

Never before had she lain herself so vulnerably before a man, and at the same time felt so safe in his care. When he dropped his breeches and kicked them away with his foot, she smiled, and then suddenly she was in his arms again, her skin against his as he lowered her to the floor. As he kissed her, he ran his hand down her side, brushing his thumb against her breast. Cora could feel him pressed against her leg, but unsure of his experience, she took his hand and guided it between her legs, never breaking their kiss as she showed him how to please her. It was not long before she was writhing beneath him, throwing her head back as waves of pleasure pounded through her. Connor's lips fell to her neck as she gasped, clutching at his shoulders. When she had caught her breath, she pulled his face to hers, looking at him before moving her lips to his ear and whispering his name, almost a plea for him to give himself to her, and her to him.

He pushed himself inside her and kissed her again, this time gently, and she ran her fingers against the smooth skin of his back, meeting his kiss. There were no words to describe how she felt, but she was certain she never wanted it to end. Easing out of her, he gave her one more kiss, and Cora clutched his arms when he thrusted back into her, pressing his face against her neck as he continued. She moved her hips in turn with his, meeting his every move, and soon that same fire began to build up within her again. A sound of pleasure escaped his lips as she altered the position of her hips, changing the angle enough to take him over the edge. They gripped each other as they rode out the waves of their pleasure, both breathing raggedly, and Cora was relieved to realize that he had spilled his seed across her belly. It was a while before either of them moved, out of both exhaustion and bliss.

Cora was the one who pulled his face to hers, kissing him tenderly before drawing back to look at him. Smiling, he ran his fingers across her cheek. "Cora..." Both of them were quite speechless it seemed, but Cora felt no need to fill the silence with forced words, and so she silenced him with another kiss. After a while, Connor rose to his knees, searching for something to clean themselves with.

"My petticoat," Cora offered, pointing to where it lay discarded a few feet away. "I don't really need it, and packed another besides." As he went to get it, it struck her how casual they were speaking to each other in light of what had just happened between them. As she wiped away any evidence of their lovemaking, he rustled around behind her, coming back with pillows and a blanket from the bed in the other room. Cora was glad for it, for she would have felt rather awkward climbing into Duncan's bed now... Once they were finished setting up their makeshift bed, Cora wrapped her arms around his waist as they settled together, Connor smoothing the hair from her face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, ever attentive.

Cora smiled, moving her hand to mirror his and stroking his cheek with her thumb. "I have never felt more at peace," she said, kissing him gently. "Never more treasured, never more happy, than right here and now." He gave her another chaste kiss, and she asked the same of him. "How do you feel?"

He considered his answer for a few moments. "I would not wish to be anywhere but here, with you." Cora's heart swelled as she settled into his arms. Bodies spent and hearts full, they both soon drifted into sleep.

A/N: Well, I was quite nervous to post this for reasons you probably can figure out, but I hope I did it in a tasteful and less than awkward way. :)

FoAteAZombie - I hope this was most satisfactory for you. ;)

SarahXXluvingsaintsrow - Thanks for your review, so glad you liked it! I'm glad that "soon" was actually soon this time! Haha!