A/N: An update in 10 days? Who would have thought! It seems my writer's block is the worst when I have free time, but when I am swamped with school work my muse just runs away with me.
Chapter Twenty;
The Cost of Failure
"I hate all pain,
Given or received; we have enough within us
The meanest vassal as the loftiest monarch,
Not to add to each other's natural burden
Of mortal misery; But rather lessen,
By mild reciprocal alleviation,
The fatal penalties imposed on life."
Lord Byron, Sardanapalus
There was something about the traveler that unsettled her, but Catherine could not quite put her finger on it. She had been visiting with Corinne and Oliver when he arrived. The man had asked for food and ale and a bed for the night, and though his demeanor gave off nothing but a quiet weariness, there was still a nervous look to him that she was not sure about. Corinne however, ever the bold one, did not hesitate to pry.
"Had plenty to eat?" She asked, clearing his plate once he was done.
"Aye," the man answered, giving a weary smile. "I thank you. It has been a long journey."
"Oh? Where is it yer off to?" She asked, smiling all the while.
He sighed, sitting back and running a hand over his bearded chin. "Not sure now," he said. "I've been searching for someone, but haven't had much luck so far. Clues come and go and lead me into a tangled web of confusion." Shaking his head, he pushed his mug across the table, turning it in his hands as he furrowed his brows, obviously distressed. Catherine felt her suspicion melt away, pity moving in to replace it. By the look on his face, she could tell he was not searching for someone for revenge or because he had been paid to. No, he was searching for someone he loved. That could be seen easily enough. Taking pity on him, she made her way over.
"Couldn't help but overhear," she said gently. "This is a small township, but we see many that pass through on the way in or out of Boston. Perhaps we could keep an eye out for you?"
Hope flashed in his eyes, but melted away just as quickly – no doubt he was used to disappointment. Even so, he gave a description. "She's my sister," he said. "She has brown hair and eyes... I don't know how tall she'd be now. Probably no taller than you," he said.
"Ach, you'll have to give a bit more than that, lad," Corinne laughed. "You've just described at least a third of all the women in Massachusetts!"
Ignoring her, Catherine turned back to the man. "Does she have anything distinctive about her? A birthmark, a distinct feature?"
"A little mole just here," he said, pointing to his cheek.
"A name, by chance?"
"I knew her as Radha," he said, shifting in his seat. "But in my searching I've been told she has gone by many names. Mary Pennington, Charity Lawson, Jane Tolbert, Lydia Jones are some of the most common."
"You'll have to write that down," Corinne said, clucking her tongue as she shared an uneasy look with Catherine. With so many aliases, the woman could hardly be good news.
"I'm told what she's been going by lately is Cora. Cora Anderson."
Catherine ceased to breathe, and Corinne had no witty quip at her lips. They gaped at him, then shared a look, the poor man left to look between them in confusion. Corinne, still stunned, looked to her husband as Catherine snapped out of her shock.
"Come," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the chair.
"What is going on?" Wrenching his arm away, he stood over her, seeming to morph into some kind of fierce animal before her eyes. "Do you know her?"
"Come, you must speak to-"
"Do you know her?" He repeated, loud enough to silence the whole tavern. She gave a curt nod and gripped his arm again, leading him to the door. There was only one thing she could think to do.
"You must speak with Achilles."
September 15, 1781
New York City
Summer was refusing to give way to autumn. Though it certainly had been much cooler of late than the unusually unbearable heat of the past summer, the humidity was hanging stubbornly in the air, sticking to her skin like a woolen shirt you could not remove. When they were at sea, the winds had helped to relieve her of most discomfort, but now there were no breezes to cool the sweat at her brow. Though at first she had been eager to return to shore, there was now a part of her wishing to get back on the boat and sail away.
When she had woken that morning, the reality of what the next days would bring hung over her, consuming her thoughts. To finally be rid of Oliver, for Connor to finish Lee... Months ago, these things had only been dreams, goals far beyond the horizon, yet now they were so close... Cora still had no idea what the freedom would bring her, how it would feel to no longer bear the burden of Oliver's presence in the world. She could only imagine how light she would feel, how free her heart would be. Free to move on, free to love and live without fear or anger, free to reclaim the things in life that had been stolen from her, even the simple things that might seem trivial to others. It had only been recently that she had truly allowed herself to accept her feelings for Connor, or to have hope for what a future with him could bring. Cora had turned to him, sleeping quietly beside her, and curled against his side in a place that was now familiar to her. He had stirred only long enough to settle his arm around her, and they both had drifted back into sleep for a few moments longer, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Slowly, Oliver's grip on her was loosening. Perhaps it had been loose all along, and she was only now shrugging it off.
It was Victoire who welcomed them to New York. She and Duncan had traveled from Boston to aid in their separate missions, as Stephane and Clipper had stayed behind to continue monitoring things in Boston. It had been over a month since Cora had last seen her friend, and when she caught sight of those unmistakable blonde curls, she bolted forward and gave her a crushing embrace. Oh, she had missed her... She had not realized just how much until she was standing before her.
"You seem rather happy," Victoire said, holding her at arm's length as she glanced behind Cora's shoulder at Connor and Duncan. Indeed, Cora seemed to glow with happiness, as well as with confidence, and hope. Even Connor seemed at ease despite the situation, especially compared to his normal stern, withdrawn behavior before any kind of mission. Cora grinned at her words, glancing back at Connor, who in turn smiled broadly at the two women. Victoire raised her eyebrows, sure she had never seen such a smile from him in all the time she had known him.
"I am," Cora said quietly, her cheeks flushing. Victoire only laughed and looped her arm into her friend's, dragging her forward along the dock.
"You must tell me everything," she said, glancing back to be sure they were not leaving Duncan and Connor behind.
"I am sure you do not want to hear everything," Cora said mischievously.
"Careful," Victoire said, trying to keep from laughing as she playfully bumped Cora's hip with her own. "You might cause a scandal."
"Says you," Cora scoffed, returning the gesture and nudging Victoire with her hip and shoulder. "I do recall you and Duncan conveniently disappearing for hours at a time."
"You are mistaken, mon amie," Victoire said, sticking her nose in the air rather pretentiously. "I am the absolute picture of propriety." At that, Cora bursted into laughter and Victoire relented, shaking her head. "It is good to see you again."
"You, too. I missed you, and am sure that I have no desire to be without female company for so long ever again. You would not believe some of those sailors," Cora said, laughing at the thought of them. Indeed, despite their rowdy and often crude behavior, she had become fond of them. Luckily Alexander and the other wounded all were beginning to make promising recoveries, and that made Cora glad beyond belief.
"I will have to hear all about it later. First, we are headed to Jacob's house," she explained. "You and Connor will stay there for the night, and the others will join us there to finalize the plans. Lafayette has cleared the tunnels and will be waiting there for Connor tomorrow night, and Dobby has told me all seems to be in order with Fort William. She has monitored the comings and goings, and nothing seems out of order."
Cora nodded, suddenly serious. "I have been anxious about this day for a long time, yet now I find I don't feel anything at all," she admitted quietly.
Victoire squeezed her arm. "You are ready."
"I hope so."
When they arrived at the Zenger home, a woman was waiting there to greet him. She was rather plain of face, her dark hair pulled into a bun. Inviting the four of them inside, she called for Jacob before offering them something to drink.
Jacob arrived before anyone could reply, placing an arm around the woman's shoulder. "I see you have met my wife, Wilhelmina."
"Mina," she said kindly. "No need for so much length," she laughed. Jacob laughed, and when she realized why he was doing so, she swatted at his hand, rolling her eyes. "Ach, you are worse than a young boy." Turning to the others, she waved her hand dismissively at him. "Please do not mind my husband, he is easily distracted." Cora smiled, not having seen Jacob act in such a way, as he was usually much more serious. In the comfort of his home and in the company of one he so obviously adored, it was easy to forget about more burdensome things. "Let me show you to your room," she said, grabbing Cora's hand and pulling her along, gesturing for Connor to follow. She gave him a look, raising her brow. Was it so obvious between them now, that even those she did not know were willing to put them together in a room? Did the woman think them married? Would she be offended to find out they were not? Suddenly, Cora felt uneasy, though truly she had no reason to be.
"It is small," Mina said as she opened the door to a room with a small bed, just barely big enough for two. "But I think it will do for one night."
Cora cleared her throat, exchanging another look with Connor. "Will we both be sharing this room?"
Mina looked between them, confused, and then gave a reassuring smile. "I am not an ignorant woman," she said, raising her brow. "There is no need to put on a show in my home as my guest, especially in times like this. But if Victoire has misinformed me and you wish to sleep separately, it is no trouble to arrange." Connor and Cora shared yet another glance, and Cora could see his bewilderment at the woman's blunt response.
"This will do," Cora said in a small voice, looking away in embarrassment. Mina only smiled, saying nothing more on the subject, as she did not want to make them more uncomfortable than they already were. Cora set her bag down as Mina saw herself out, and stood there silently, her hands on her hips. All she could think about now was the mission...
Connor could see the lively energy she had exhuded over the past few days just melt away as she stood there, almost visibly slumping with the weight of whatever was on her mind. He was almost certain he didn't have to guess, for he was feeling similarly, as well. So much had come to this point, and he guessed it was only natural that they should feel anxious about it. He lay a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, trying to reassure her. "It will be alright," he said softly, for her sake as much as his own.
Cora sighed and dropped her head before turning to face him. She said nothing, but managed a slight smile before leaning into his chest.
"And Oliver is certain to be there?" Connor was pouring over the map of Fort William, which had been much more easily obtained than the one for Fort George – Dobby had made a simple task of pickpocketing a guard.
"I have been watching the fort day and night for weeks," Dobby said, though she had explained this several times. "There is no sign of him leaving, and though there seem to be few men inside, a steady food supply arrives consistently. It sure seems like a hideout to me." Connor nodded, glancing at Cora.
"What is the best way to enter," Cora asked her, studying the map herself. It had been decided that Victoire would accompany her, and though she was insistent on completing the final task alone, she was not objected to a second set of hands during the other aspects of the mission. Though Connor had wanted Duncan or Dobby to go with them as well, Cora had insisted it only be the two of them.
"The front gates should be easy enough," Dobby said. "It does not seem heavily guarded. Usually there are only two guards there at all times. You and Victoire can easily overcome them. Once inside, I believe if you take care in stealth it should be an easy path to where Oliver is likely staying." Cora nodded, looking to Victoire for her approval. The blonde gave a curt nod, folding her arms across her chest.
"Sounds like a plan to me," she said.
"Are all understood and agreed, then?" Connor asked, looking to those involved to make sure they could move on. Once Cora, Victoire, and Dobby had given their approval, he turned the group's attention to his own mission, reiterating the plan he had outlined earlier.
"As for me, I will meet Lafayette at the tunnels tomorrow at dusk. From there, I will enter the Fort, light the signal for the French ships, and kill Lee. Afterwards, we will all meet at the cabin north of the city. There, we will assess the situation and see to any ends that may still need to be tied up. Are all agreed?"
When all had voiced their agreement and the meeting had ended, several conversations broke out between various people. Victoire found her before Cora could even think to do anything else.
"I am staying with Dobby for the night, and I think I should head there now. I want to be sure I am well rested for tomorrow," she said, yawning as if on cue. Resting a hand on Cora's arm, she looked hard at her, trying to decipher the far away look in her eyes. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No," Cora said, unsettled by her own behavior. Earlier in the day, she had felt nothing, and now though she was riddled with emotion, she was not sure what exactly it was. "Get some sleep," she smiled, trying to assure her.
Victoire embraced her, squeezing her arm again. "I will be back not long after noon," she said, giving a warm smile. Once Cora nodded, squeezing her hand in response, Victoire left, leaving Cora alone. Connor was deep in conversation with Dobby and Jacob, while Jamie and Duncan seemed to be discussing something across the room. Quietly, Cora fell into the shadows, sitting alone in her uneasiness.
Mina knocked on the door, cracking it slightly to make sure Cora was not indisposed before opening it all the way. The young woman barely stirred in her chair when Mina entered, her eyes staring at nothing, obviously troubled. The older woman set the basin and jug of water she was carrying on the dresser, folding the towel and setting it neatly beside them.
"I brought some water for washing," she said softly, watching the woman carefully. Her words finally drew her from her stupor, and she sucked in a breath, as if trying to shake whatever had held her in such a trance.
"Thank you," she said, managing a hollow smile before casting her eyes down again. Mina knew she should leave and give the girl some space, but she could not bear to do so. She despised seeing anyone suffering, especially alone.
"Forgive me..." she said gently, wringing her hands together and trying to gauge Cora's reception to her presence and words. "Is there something amiss?"
Cora turned quickly, her eyes wide as if surprised by Mina's words. "I..." Sighing, she lay her hands in her lap, twisting the fabric of her skirt in her hand. "I cannot help but feel unsettled about tomorrow, though I do not know why... Perhaps it is fear that something will go wrong, or fear that I will have lost my purpose once it is done..." She trailed off, her fidgety hands moving to her long braid. "I'm sorry, you don't need to hear about this." Cora turned her face away, sighing again. Mina's heart sank at her despair, and she took a deep breath, moving toward her.
"Did you know it was I who introduced my husband to the Assassins?" She asked, her tone warm but cautious, still unsure of Cora's level of comfort.
Cora turned the corner of her mouth up in the quickest smile. "You?" Mina nodded, grinning as she sat in the chair opposite the woman.
"My father worked with the order, though he was a man of low stature and ambition, and never climbed very high in rank. Still, he had great passion for it for a long while, and instilled the same in me."
"You are an Assassin?"
"I was," she said, smiling gently. "Violence has come to go against my conscience." At this, Cora's brow furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly, as if taking a closer look at the woman.
"Yet you allow us into your home, even as we make plans of violence?"
"It is everyone's choice to make for themselves," Mina said simply. "I cannot and would never wish to dictate another's conscience. I can only know what sets my own spirit to comfort and rest."
Mina had meant for this conversation to go a different way, to life the younger woman's spirit, but now she looked even more unsettled and confused. "I do not mean to try and convince you from your path," Mina said, trying to rid the look from Cora's face. "Sometimes, things must be done... But I have seen the havoc that can be done when the temporary path of violence becomes permanent, when it consumes the mind and corrupts the soul. It is a delicate line to sit astride, and I found I could not do so without turning increasingly to more and more of it. That is why I decided to lay down my weapons. Well, the physical ones at least," she added with an intelligent smile.
"This man that I mean to kill..." Cora stopped for a moment, as if she could not bear to speak the words. "He is a cruel man. I can think of nothing else he deserves more than death. And nothing that the world deserves more than ending the danger he poses to it." Mina nodded solemnly. "Yet... I fear what you have said will come to pass. That perhaps I am too far gone already..."
Mina leaned closer, intent that Cora not leave this room believing such a terrible thing. "There is always a way," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she placed her hand upon Cora's. "I, too, have seen cruelty, and I fear I have known that which you speak of," she said, moving her hand to the neck of her dress. Cora watched as she pulled it aside, revealing a scar above her breast that trailed raggedly across her chest and disappearing beneath the hem. Her eyes widened and she gaped at the woman, words lost to her. "We must stick together," she said, winking as she pulled her clothes back into place. She could see Cora processing everything Mina had told her, and as she waited for her to speak, a thought entered her mind. "I will be right back," she said before disappearing.
When she returned, she held a small leather bound book, cradling it against her belly. Once she was seated again, she held it out to Cora. When she saw what it was, she lifted her hand, shaking her head. It was too much, even as simple of a thing as it was.
"I can't..."
"It is of little sentimental value to me now," she said. "It was mind when I was a young woman. Perhaps it will bring you comfort and peace, and perhaps not. But I would like for you to take it all the same, even if only as a reminder that there are others like you, others who care for you, and who never want you to lose hope for a better life, even after suffering and cruelty."
It was late when Connor finally retired to his room. Exhausted, Cora had already gone upstairs at least an hour prior, but though she had tried to convince him to come with her he had refused, intent on being such every part of the plans were in order. He had worked so hard to get to this point, and there was no way he could let Lee slip through his fingers now. Despite the displeasure evident in her eyes, she had nodded and smiled, insisting she would wait for him and perhaps hoping he would not want her to stay awake too long. Yet just as he thought, when he entered the room she was already asleep, though evidently not for lack of trying. The candles were still lit, and from her position in the bed it seemed she had not intentionally gone to bed. Still dressed, she lay on her side, one hand rested against the pillow, fingers curling into a loose fist. Her other hand was cradled against her breast, and her legs were tangled together, feet shoved under the blankets. He smiled gently as he watched her breathe, her lips just barely open and her face looking completely relaxed. Sometimes he forgot how young she truly was. Evidently, she had also forgotten to braid her hair before bed as she usually did, and it lay tousled about the pillows, somehow making her youth so undeniable. Weariness made one look older, and it was only sleep that wiped the look of it away. For a moment, he wondered if she had ever had similar thoughts about him. Indeed, he rarely felt his age... He had been forty since he was eighteen, Achilles always said, teasing him about his more serious manner. Connor had no doubt that he had seemed far closer to his twenty-five years than ever before to the old man, with the way Cora made him laugh and brought playfulness forth within him. Suddenly, Connor realized he didn't even know Cora's birthday.
A book lay just next to her hand, no doubt a sign of her attempt to wait for him. He picked it up and gently set it on the nightstand, turning back to grab the blanket and pull it up over her hip. It was rather humid out, so he did not pull it to her shoulder, knowing she often liked to sleep with at least one arm exposed during warm nights. Absentmindedly, he brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face and neck, smoothing them back against her scalp. She took a deep breath, and for a moment he thought she might stir, but still she lay quietly. Bending over her, he brushed his lips over her temple as lightly as possible so as not to wake her. Despite his efforts, when he turned to prepare for bed himself, he her hand clasped around his wrist, pulling him back.
"Connor?" Confusion lay plain in her sleepy eyes, and she let go, propping herself up on one arm. "How late is it?"
"Late enough," he said quietly, sitting beside her on the bed. "I did not mean to wake you."
"It's alright," she said, giving him a tired smile. "I did break my promise, after all." Then, as if remembering something, she felt around her, running her fingers over the sheets in search of something.
"If you are looking for your book, I put it right there," he said, motioning to the side table. As he glanced at it, he noticed the writing that adorned the spine. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced over at her.
"You are religious?"
She blushed as if a secret had been exposed, but spoke steadily. "Why do you ask?"
"I had no idea, is all."
At that, she shrugged, picking up the small book in her hands. It was simple, no bigger than her sketchbook, bound in dark brown leather. The cover was plain except for the gold lettered words that lay upon the book's spine. "It was a gift from Mina," she said, smiling. "We spoke for a long time while you were talking about Fort George with the others... It was hers when she was a young woman, she thought it might bring me comfort..." Laughing, as if at some secret joke, she set it back on the table. "She is Lutheran, I have no doubt my mother would have been pleased."
"Was she a religious woman, then?"
"Spiritual," she said with an intentional emphasis, tucking her arm behind her head and laying back against the pillows. Her eyes gazed upon the ceiling with a far away look, but she glanced at him every now and then as she spoke. "She had little love for priests and the ceremony of things, so to speak. Apparently when my parents first came to America, she became close with one of the women who lived nearby, who apparently was a staunch Reformer. My father, on the other hand, was a devout man. Religion was one of the few things they consistently disagreed upon, my father a Catholic and my mother loosely Protestant." Laughing again, she closed her eyes. "Once, when I was young, my aunt told me my mother's family came from the Druids, and if I misbehaved she would call upon them to punish me... My father thought it hilarious, but my mother was not so pleased." Smiling broadly, she looked back to him again. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I did not mean to get so off track."
"It's alright," he said, smiling as he moved to lay down next to her. "I like hearing you speak of your family." Clasping his hands across his abdomen, he sighed, closing his eyes as his body relaxed.
"What about your family?" Connor was quiet for a while, analyzing his own thoughts. For the first time he could remember, he felt open about speaking of them. Cora's hand brushed his side gently, and he felt her move beside him, turning onto her side again. "I hope I have not made you uncomfortable," she said gently.
Connor opened his eyes, turning onto his side as well. "No."
Smiling sweetly, she ran her fingers against his cheek for a moment, then drew her hand back again. "Tell me of your mother. What was she like?" Connor smiled at the thought of her. It had been so long since he had spoken more than a few words about her to others, especially those other than Achilles or Kanen'tó:kon.
"In honesty, I remember little," he said sadly, though he smiled still. "I was so young when she died. I remember she was gentle yet stern, and that I could never get any mischief past her. She sang to me often, though I can hardly recall her voice anymore. As I grew older, what I remembered of her were supplemented with stories that others told, but I suppose in some way it made me begin to look at her through the eyes of others instead of through my own memories. They all said she was fiercely independent, outspoken, with unmatched determination. Once she set her mind to something, she would not let it go until it was finished. She was stubborn, too, set in her opinions, to both her detriment as well as her benefit. Even so, she listened to others anyway, and was bold and loved to laugh."
"She sounds like a remarkable woman," Cora said gently.
Connor nodded, remembering Achilles' words to him so long ago. The girl reminds me of her in many ways. The old man's words had unsettled him then, but now the thought of it made him smile. It was as if it was some proof that perhaps his mother would have liked Cora, if things had gone differently. "It is strange sometimes, to reconcile how I remember her with what I have always been told about her."
"What was her name?"
"Kaniehtí:io." He said her name slowly, closing his eyes as if it were something sacred. Cora said nothing in return, suddenly wondering if she had made him say more than he was comfortable with. "She was a good mother," Connor said, opening his eyes but keeping his gaze upon the ceiling. "That much I do remember. I loved her." Sadness crept into his features and he sighed, resting a hand behind his head. "I miss her. Often I wonder what my life would look like now, had she lived." The despair in his voice was obvious, and Cora found that she had no words of comfort, perhaps because she, too, often wondered what would have been if her parents had lived, had found her again... When he squeezed his eyes shut, it was as if Cora could see him losing control of the pain of his loss. It was a delicate thing, the process of mourning. Even when you believe yourself to have completed every stage of mourning and grief, there were moments that reminded you that you never really had.
Cora reached across the space between them, pulling herself toward him. Laying against him, she placed her head upon his shoulder and rested a hand against the side of his neck, running her thumb against the warmth of his skin as his arm pulled her closer. They lay like that for a while, the silent embrace expressing what words failed to. His fingers circled across her arm, and Cora closed her eyes, willing herself to let the uneasiness and anxiety melt away.
The time had finally come.
Despite her ruthless anxiety the day before, Cora was now focused and confident once again, intent on finally accomplishing what she had been dedicating herself to for so long. When Victoire, Duncan, and Dobby arrived, she had already packed her things and was more than ready to set off after waiting restlessly for so long. While readying their horses, Jacob appeared at the doorway, his own bag slug across his shoulder. Mina leaned against the door, folding her arms together as she watched them prepare to leave. When Cora was finished, she made her way over to the woman, who greeted her with a warm smile.
"I just wanted to thank you for opening your home to us." Cora paused, but Mina did not interject. "And for all you said." Indeed, Mina's words had deeply affected her. To know that she had suffered similarly, yet knew peace in her life and was able to love and be happy was a greater encouragement than Cora could ever hope for. Though her hope had grown since she had left the Templars and met Connor and Victoire, doubts had still run rampant within her mind. Yet her conversation with Mina, even if brief, had managed to renew the strength of her hope once more. It was one thing to create it within yourself, and another to see someone else having been successful in it.
"Our home will always welcome you," she said, taking Cora's hands in hers and squeezing them gently. Cora smiled, embracing Mina and giving her one last smile before turning to mount her horse. She watched as Jacob stepped forward and took her into his arms, his hand tender against the back of her head. When he bent to kiss her, she turned away, her gaze unintentionally seeking Connor. His dark eyes were already upon her, but she was not quite sure what he was thinking until he sighed, the hard features of his face turning more tender. Cora nodded toward him, then smiled slightly.
As the six of them set off, Cora turned to wave goodbye. Mina waved back, smiling broadly until Cora finally turned in her saddle, riding towards the end of her struggles. None in the small party spoke, and the air around them seemed to hang heavy with the burden of impending battle. Even Ealga seemed to sense that things were serious, acting much more restless than normal. Soon, they came to the point where they were to split up. Cora dismounted, working to move her bags from her horse to Duncan's. Jacob and Duncan were to head to the cabin while Cora, Victoire and Dobby set out for Fort William, and Connor alone to Fort George. Dobby would escort them close to the fort and then take watch over their horses as she waited for them to return, and lend her sword if need be. Once all her things were transferred and each party was ready to depart, Cora turned, her eyes seeking Connor. He was just handing Jacob his last bag when he noticed her, making his way toward her as soon as he did. Cora moved behind Ealga, hoping the mare would give them even the slightest bit of privacy while they said their goodbyes. She was sure she would see him later that night, confident they would both be victorious, yet her heart still ached with unfounded worry. Connor pulled her close, his arms strong and sure around her, and she tightened the embrace, clinging to him a bit too emphatically.
"Be safe," he muttered, his fingers running along her long braid and pushing it behind her shoulder as he pulled away. It seemed those were the only words he could manage, though his voice was thick with emotion. All day Connor had been rather short with others, his focus solely on the mission, but she had understood and did not judge him for it.
"And you," she said quietly, raising on her toes to kiss him before they departed. When she pulled away, he kissed the corner of her mouth and pulled her close once more. The embrace was too short, though, and she hardly had the time to breathe him in before he pulled back again. Swiftly, she raised a hand to his cheek and gave him a curt nod. "I will see you tonight." Though both of them knew that there was always danger in any mission, and had been reminded of as much when Cora was injured, she spoke as though it was an fact not up for dispute. Smiling at her confidence, he ran his finger against her cheek, and then before Cora could even process it he was gone, heading towards his horse. The others took this as a sign it was time to depart, and as they all mounted once again, Cora took a deep breath, preparing herself to take a life.
It was dusk when they arrived at Fort William, the sun just having dipped below the horizon. Sure enough, only two guards stood at the entrance just as Dobby had reported. Victoire and Cora had already left her, and had approached the fort as far as they could before risking being seen. Neither said a word, but Cora could hear Victoire's steady breathing beside her. The plan was to approach in the dark, taking them both out at the same time before they were able to raise the alarm. The way the fort was built only seemed to serve them, as the actual entrance was built so that it protruded from the rest of the wall, giving ample room for them to hide against the wall. The two guards stood just within the arch of the large stone wall, and would never see them coming.
Victoire looked to Cora, inclining her head as if asking if she was ready. Cora nodded, motioning for her to be sure she took a wide angle to prevent being noticed. As the two women set off, Cora felt the adrenaline begin to seep into her blood, her heart beating more wildly with each step she took. Still, her mind remained steady, her focus unperturbed. When she reached the wall, she took care to ensure her step was light, and once she reached the spot they would attack from, she stared at the other side, waiting for Victoire to show up. When she did, Cora slid a knife from her belt, holding up her hand as she looked the other woman in the eye. Silently, she lifted her fingers.
One. One of the guards coughed.
Two. The other sighed.
Three.
Cora did not even breathe as she pushed herself from the wall. Surprise served them well, for neither guard even had the chance to unsheathe their swords before they lay still upon the ground. Once she was sure they were both dead, she slid against the wall and checked to be sure the coast was clear. Indeed, though she saw several guards in the distance, only one seemed to be patrolling the perimeter. Motioning to Victoire, she pointed at the patrolman, then to her eyes and the guards. They would have to be swift, for if the bodies were found, the alarm would no doubt be raised. Nodding, Victoire looked to Cora's lead. Dobby had told her that from the map, it seemed there were living quarters at the north of the garrison, and a central building that may be used for private offices or a meeting place for officers. However, Cora had no idea where exactly Oliver would be, and she came to the realization she would have to be creative in her means of finding out. Quickly.
The two women made their way along the perimeter of the fort. Cora had figured that from what she knew of Oliver, the center building would probably be her best bet. She paused, trying to decide if she should head there immediately or try to be more certain before making any moves. Her brow furrowed as she searched for the patrolman, only to see him round the corner. Panicking, she grabbed Victoire's arm and pulled her behind a wall, holding a finger to her mouth. Yet instead of passing them, they must have stopped to converse.
"Summer just ain't budgin', eh?"
The other huffed in agreement. "Seems not. I'll be more than glad when I get moved to another post. I hear Boston has milder weather already, and Oliver is always wanting for more guards to keep him safe, the paranoid fool." Cora hardly stifled her gasp, but no one else besides Victoire seemed to hear it.
"I dunno why he don't just give up, ya know? What's lost is lost in some times."
"You've never met him, have you? He's obsessive over this girl, won't give up till he has her, that's for sure. Seems I've lost sight of the reason I joined the Templars in the first place, suppose I'm just in it now for the pay."
Victoire gave her friend a hard look, as if to say they should leave. Yet despite the obvious proof that Oliver was gone, Cora still seemed conflicted, her eyes darting around as if she was trying to decide what to do. Urgently, Victoire grabbed her forearm. "He is gone," she mouthed, motioning back to the entrance. Anger clouded Cora's face, but she nodded anyway, ripping herself from Victoire's grip and making her way towards it a little too carelessly. Annoyed, Victoire tried to keep her focus. She understood that Cora was upset about this, but there was no need to act so foolishly that they might be seen, captured, or killed! Still, she said nothing, even when they were far from the fort. Cora walked quickly toward where they had left Dobby, and though she did not speak, Victoire could feel the anger radiating from her.
Dobby rose to her feet as they approached, her brows furrowing in confusion.
"What happened?"
"He wasn't there," Cora snapped, moving towards the horses. "Goddamn it!" She yelled, raising a hand to her temple. Dobby and Victoire shared a look, but neither of them spoke. After a few moments, Cora shifted, putting her hands on her hips and hanging her head.
"That's impossible," Dobby started, continuing despite the look she received from Victoire. "I know what I saw, I even heard them speak of him!"
"They talked about him being in Boston," she snarled, throwing her hand out. "He was long gone when we arrived!"
Offended by her tone, Dobby took a step forward. "Are you blaming me?"
"Yes!" Cora yelled before taking a deep breath, visibly reigning herself in. "No. You did all you could." No one spoke, and she leaned her arm against a nearby tree, trying to calm herself down. "I'm sorry. I just... I thought he would be here. I thought this would be over!"
"It will be," Victoire said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "There is still time. Now we know he is in Boston. He will get what he deserves. And I will not rest until I help you do it."
Cora tried to manage a smile, but she could not. Instead she only nodded, pushing back from the tree. "Let's go," she said, patting Ealga's neck before pulling herself into the saddle. Victoire could tell Cora was still seething with disappointment, and though she wanted to say more in an attempt to comfort her, she knew her words would do nothing. The only thing Cora could do was work it out on her own.
When the three women arrived at the cabin, Duncan came out to meet them. As Cora and Dobby saw to their horses, Victoire embraced him, sighing. "I did not think you would be back so soon," Duncan said, his eyes behind her shoulder, no doubt on Cora.
"He was not there. Better not make any mention of it to Cora." Duncan nodded, squeezing Victoire's shoulder before stepping aside to allow her to tie up her horse. Victoire watched him as he went inside, no doubt to tell the others what had happened. All that was left to do now was wait for Connor to return, hopefully more successful than they had been.
"Is Connor back yet?" Cora asked as soon as they were inside.
When no one answered, as if afraid their answers would upset her, Jacob spoke up. "No."
Cora nodded, taking a seat and sighing, burying her face in her hands. "I figured as much."
The atmosphere in the cabin was rather strained as they settled in to wait for Connor's return. As the minutes dragged on, Victoire began to do some embroidery. When she was young, her mother had forced her to learn, despite the fact that she utterly despised it. Each stitch had been crooked and she had been too stubborn to right them, to her poor mother's chagrin. As she grew older, though, Victoire had found it much more pleasing, especially when one needed to pass time. It was a mindless task and always seemed to do well with distracting her. Cora, on the other hand, was seemingly incapable of settling down. At first, she tried reading and then sketching, but as another hour came and went, she grew even more anxious. Huffing with frustration and impatience, she rose from her chair and went outside, no doubt to pace and further enable her worrying. Duncan gave Victoire an uneasy glance.
"Should someone go after her?"
"No," Victoire sighed, setting her embroidery aside for a moment. "Let her be. If she wishes for companionship, she will tell us." Perhaps a half hour later, Cora came back in, now even more flustered than she had been before.
"He should be here by now," she said in a hushed voice, taking the empty seat next to Victoire. Trying to reassure her, Victoire placed her hand upon Cora's. For a moment, she almost tried to reason with her and tell her he would come. Those words would not comfort her, though, and Victoire knew as well as the rest of the Assassins that the hour was certainly growing late enough to begin to worry. Instead, she tried to change the subject. "Have you eaten anything?"
Cora shook her head. "I believe there is some soup left, if you-"
"I am not hungry," Cora grumbled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in the chair. As much as Victoire was trying to be sympathetic to her, she could hardly keep from rolling her eyes at her childlike protests.
"At least have some bread," she said, handing her the bread she herself had not touched. Cora took it and muttered a halfhearted thanks, tearing off small pieces and chewing them slowly.
"So," Duncan started, trying to fill the awkward silence. "Victoire tells me you like to sketch?" Cora glared at him for a moment, then set her bread aside and made for the door again. Duncan raised his hand questioningly, looking to Victoire for answers. "What did I say?"
"Just let her be," Victoire sighed, turning back to her embroidery.
"I don't know why she has to act like this, I was only trying to get our minds off things..."
"She is disappointed and worried, give her a break." Duncan grumbled but said nothing more, muttering something about finding his violin. In all honesty, Victoire did not know why she had defended Cora, as she was every bit annoyed with her behavior herself. Yet she knew that Cora was riddled with anxiety, and she could not blame her too harshly for it. Sometimes, one had to have patience with their friends.
The night was cooler than normal, the breeze comforting against her skin. It was a beautiful night by all standards, the stars shining brightly in the cloudless sky. Even so, it brought Cora no comfort or peace. They had been waiting for hours, and everyone knew that Connor should have returned already. She sighed yet again, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked slowly in front of the cabin. How had everything gone so wrong? She had been so ready! So ready to be rid of the shadow Oliver cast over her life, so ready to take revenge for her family, for Jane and Hannah, for the life that way stolen from her... In the past months, she had come so far, had in some ways begun to become the person she had always wanted to be. Strength, resilience, love, hope... Those things were returned to her in their purest forms, yet now she felt as though she had hit a brick wall. How was she supposed to continue moving forward when she knew he was out there still? It infuriated her that he still lived while so many were in the grave because of his actions. Realistically, she knew they would find another way, but the disappointment had dealt a heavy blow nonetheless.
Suddenly, the horses grew restless, and Cora's hand slid to her side, where her knives were still fastened in her belt. Ealga was especially affected, pulling against her reins as if trying to look around. Slowly, Cora backed towards the house, wondering if she should go get one of the others to stand watch with her. Yet just as she was about to turn, she saw a familiar figure in the distance. Squinting in the dark, she could just make out that unmistakable streak of white across Eksá:'a's nose. Her heart leapt within her chest, but then the horse began to trot forward, and she caught sight of the slumped figure swaying in the saddle.
The cold grip of panic grasped at her heart, but she did not let it overtake her. Sprinting to the cabin, she threw the door open and yelled for someone to get Jamie, not even bothering to wait for a response before running back toward Eksá:'a. Reaching up toward him, Cora attempted to steady him in the saddle. His hood was pulled low against his face and she could not make out his features. When his hand closed around her forearm, she breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm fine," he rasped, though she could tell he was lying through his teeth. Connor tried to dismount, but she pressed her hand against his thigh, knowing she could not help him off by herself.
"Wait for Jamie," she urged, grabbing his hand when he stopped moving. "What happened?"
" Explosion," he muttered, his words slurred. "I tried to find him, but he knew I was coming. Gone."
Despite her urgings, he attempted to swing his leg over the saddle anyway. Sure enough, he stumbled on his way down, nearly tumbling to the ground. She shoved her arms under his shoulders, trying to support his weight as he untangled his ankle from the stirrup. When he was finally free he leaned heavily against her, hissing when she tried to wrap her arm around his abdomen. Cora glanced at the cabin and saw Jamie running toward them, but when she looked back toward Connor, she finally caught sight of him. Blood was everywhere, covering the whole front of his jacket.
"Oh, my God," she muttered as Jamie came up on the other side of him. He cried out as Jamie bore half of his weight, his grip turning to iron against her shoulder. When they finally reached the cabin, she heard Jamie call out for water and rags, and even noticed Victoire's hand fly to her mouth when she caught sight of Connor, her eyes widening in shock. Cora herself felt dazed, wanting to cry but feeling absolutely nothing all at the same time. When they reached the small bedroom they lowered him onto the bed, and Jamie pulled his hood back, revealing his face. Connor's eyes were glazed, looking at her but not quite seeing, and she took a step back as Jamie moved in to examine him. Blood had left thick trails from his nose, across his lips and even onto his neck. His right eye was slightly swollen, and cuts around it had produced even more blood that was now dried against his skin. Suddenly, Cora could not breathe, could not think or even move. Jamie was giving her directions, but she did not really hear him. She continued to back away until she hit the wall, her hands brushing against it in an attempt to steady herself. All she could see was her father, blood pooling around him on the floor of their house, Jane, her eye swollen and nose bloody. She imagined Hannah's still body, pictured her sisters and brother in the throes of death. Then, she even pictured herself, laying against the cold stone floor, sporting similar wounds as Oliver stood over her, watching. Always watching.
Jamie cursed and left the room, bringing Victoire and Duncan along with him. Victoire set to removing his jacket, and Duncan's hands gripped her shoulders gently. "Come on," he urged, his voice soft and sympathetic. Leading her from the room, he spoke words meant to comfort her, but they fell on deaf ears. Cora sank into the first chair she saw, burying her face in her hands and letting out a harsh, shuddering breath. Things like this had never affected her in such a way, and she had no idea why this had to be the thing that had triggered so many flashbacks. Attempting to reason herself back into a stable state, she tried to think rationally, but nothing banished the images that raced before her mind, threatening to undo her. She wanted to cry, wanted to let the sobs rip through her body and give her relief from so much heartache. But she could not remember the last time she had been able to do so, and surely her body would not let her start now.
A while later, Victoire emerged from the room, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up, and the bottom of her shirt smeared with water and blood. Cora turned toward her, eyes hollow, and Victoire knelt before her, placing her hands gently on her friend's knees.
"He will be fine," she said gently. "Some cuts and bruises to the face, a superficial wound to his side, possibly a bruised rib. Jamie thinks he has a slight concussion due to his dazed state, but with rest he will be alright."
"I'm sorry," Cora said. "I don't know what came over me, I..." Her hands were shaking, and Victoire closed her own hands around them.
"There is nothing to apologize for." Victoire got to her feet and extended her hand, which Cora took, allowing the woman to help her to her feet. As Cora faced the room, she felt a soothing hand against her shoulder, and slowly began to make her way forward, leaving Victoire behind.
When she opened the door, Jamie was just gathering his things. Connor lay still in the bed, his eyes closed. Without his bloody Assassin's robes and with his skin mostly rid of the dried blood, he looked much better. Even so, her stomach was still in knots.
"About before," she began, talking quietly so as not to disturb Connor's rest. Jamie cut her off as he picked up his bag.
"No need to explain yourself," he said, half of his lips turning up into what she was sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile. As her eyes moved back to Connor's still form, Jamie began again. "Rest is all he needs now. Do not be alarmed if he is a bit confused or dazed when he wakes, or cannot remember all that happened. It is normal with these kinds of injuries." Cora nodded and thanked him, moving to Connor's side. When Jamie was gone, she knelt beside the bed, not even bothering to drag the chair over. Though most of the blood had been cleaned away, she could see it still in his hairline, in the crease of his nose. A split lip and the cuts around his eye only made him look worse up close, and she sighed, wondering if this was anything like what Connor had felt when he had sat at her bedside months earlier.
To her surprise he stirred, his eyes opening as she took his hand. Compared with the glaziness of his stare when he had first arrived, he now looked much more alert, so at least in that she could draw some comfort. She knew now was no time to prod him with questions, but the words came flowing out before she could stop them.
"Who did this to you?"
"I ran into my father," he said, his fingers twitching in her hands.
"Where is he now?"
Connor closed his eyes. "Dead," he muttered. Realization washed over her like a drowning ocean wave, tumbling her over and over, deeper and deeper into the dark abyss.
Oh.
To that, she had no response. All she could do was run her fingers over his skin, trying to bring him what small bit of comfort that she could. Soon he was asleep again, and Cora got up, rummaging around the cabin for her bag. When she finally found it, she changed her shirt and curled up in the chair with her sketchbook, hoping to pass the time. She dared not even attempt to sleep, for fear that nightmares would come. She was not quite sure what it was about Connor's injuries that affected her so. In her centers of reason, she knew that he was not in grave danger. Still, there was something about the shock of seeing him, half his face covered in blood, that had brought forth the terrible memories once more, even once that she had long since tucked away. Yet no matter how affected she was, she knew she had to hide it away, to feign strength when she was needed most.
Attempts at sketching to take her mind off things had long since failed, and instead she had found herself flipping through the book, studying each drawing as if she was seeing it for the first time. Oddly, she even found herself smiling as she passed over countless attempts at making portraits of her family, of Jane, Hannah, and Henry. Consumed in memories and heartache, she hardly noticed as the hours passed and the night gave way to the early hours of morning. It was only hours from dawn when she heard a rustling noise and closed the book she had begun reading. Furrowing her brows, she watched Connor carefully, her heart twisting with uncertainty as he breathed heavily, moving every now and then as if in the throes of some dream. Setting her book on the side table, she approached him, wondering if she should wake him.
As if on cue, his eyes flew open and he gasped, rasping words she did not understand. Trying to still her worry, she went to his side and grabbed his shoulders, trying to steady him. "Ista," he murmured, his voice ragged and thick with despair.
"It's alright," Cora soothed, swinging one knee onto the bed so she could have better leverage. Just as she did so, Connor grabbed her arms and she gasped, startled by his sudden movement.
"I tried to save her," he said, his voice breaking as he leaned back against the pillows. "I tried..." As he closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in distress, she placed her hands on his cheeks, her touch light as possible to keep from brushing over any of his cuts. She could only imagine that he was talking about his mother. There was wetness under her thumbs as she ran them across his cheek, and she climbed over him, drawing him close once she was settled beside him.
"It was a dream," she whispered. "A nightmare."
As she closed her own eyes, she cursed the nightmares that haunted him as well as the ones that still danced before her own eyes.
Connor had hardly spoken all morning. When he woke he had pulled her close and tried to apologize for the night before, but of course Cora would not have it, insisting there was nothing to be sorry for. After she had risen and dressed, she had sent for Jamie to examine Connor again. He was anxious to go home, but Jamie insisted he spend at least a day or two resting, especially after possibly suffering a concussion. Though he was unhappy about it, he had not protested. Cora supposed that he was well on his way to recovery if he was already being so stubborn. Even so, he had gone back to bed and slept most of the morning away, though from physical pain or emotional despair, she could not be sure.
He had spoken little of his father to her. Even before she had met, she had known that Haytham had a son, but she had never thought anything of it until she realized that son was Connor. From what little she knew from both Connor's own accounts as well as secondhand conversations, things had never been simple between them. No matter the situation, she knew dealing with what had happened could be no easy task. Cora still remembered Connor's words to Achilles before they had gone to sea, how he had been so hopeful of reconciliation between them. Doubtlessly Haytham's death had hurt him despite any anger or resentment that had been between them. How could it not?
When she came back into the room to check on him, he was sitting on the side of the bed, his head low and his elbows leaning upon his knees. Quietly, she shut the door and went to his side. Though she wanted to say something to draw the pained look from his face, wanted to bring him comfort with her words, she again found herself with nothing to say. Instead, she lay a hand against his shoulder, spreading her fingers across the thin fabric of his shirt. Connor leaned into her chest, resting his forehead against her chest as she threaded her fingers through his hair.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, battling her own tears. Why was it that when she wanted to cry she could not, but when she needed to be strong, she had to fight not to fall apart? After a long while, he pulled away, looking up at her as his hand settled against her forearm.
"Me, too," he said wearily. "And I have not even asked how you are..."
"I am fine," she said quickly, not wanting to talk about it. Focusing on him was what they both needed right now, both to support him and to distract from her own feelings. There would be time for anger later, but not now.
"I take it he was not there?"
"No," she sighed, sitting next to him. His hand settled on her knee, and she leaned against his shoulder as she spoke. "He was gone when we arrived." He nodded solemnly, but neither of them said anything more.
"You should rest," she said as she got up. Connor could tell she was making for the door, intent on following Jamie's orders, but he grabbed her arm and she turned back, her eyes showing concern.
"Please stay," he managed, unable to tell her that her presence was all that seemed to bring him comfort and peace. "Please."
She watched him for a few moments, part of her taken aback by his vulnerability. After a quick nod of agreement, she climbed onto the bed, pulling the thin linen sheet over her body as Connor did the same. Dusk was still hours away and Cora felt slightly foolish getting into bed when the sun still shone, but she didn't care. Suddenly she was so tired, and if Connor needed for her to stay, she would not refuse him.
As she settled beside him, taking care not to rest her hand on the injuries to his other side, she caught sight of several bruises blooming at the base of his neck. Anger grew within the pit of her belly as she imagined the violence she knew caused those marks, and suddenly she felt any remorse for Haytham's death fade away.
"I was a boy the first time I saw Charles Lee," Connor said, his voice slow and deliberate. Cora's chest tightened, but she was determined not to let him see it. He needed to speak these words, and she wanted to listen, to support him and let him know that she was always beside him when he needed her, just as he had been for her. "I was playing in the woods, and they caught me. Held a gun to my head. I tried to run, but..." Connor had never spoken of this to anyone, and the pent up emotion of it was hard to bear. He watched as Cora's jaw clenched, anger flashing in her eyes. Pressing on, he took her hand in hopes to calm her. "They tried to ask me questions. Tried to get me to tell them where my village was. I refused. When I woke up, my village was burning, and my mother..." He broke off again, closing his eyes for a moment before resuming. "I swore to him that I would find him." Contempt was thick in his voice. Any small flicker of doubt Cora held about his resolve was quickly put out. "And I did. And I will again. And this time... this time, he will die."
A/N: I can't believe how far I've gotten in this story. Me, who has started a million stories but never finished even one! The end is coming into sight now, I'm thinking there will probably be about ten more chapters, but I will have to see how it all plays out. And I'm working on my outline for a sequel... It seems Cora won't leave me be.
Bones McCoy - Thank you SO much for your review, I can't put into words how much of a compliment it was to hear your opinion of Cora! Your kind words helped motivate me to update faster, so thanks again! :)