April 24, 2022

They didn't do very much on Sunday. It was a day of rest. Connor enjoyed that. Having a day where nothing was expected of him after his busy life was a nice change of pace. That didn't keep him from finding things to occupy his time, though. He would help Jack clean the guns, sharpen the blades and repair arrows that were not broken beyond repair. He would have helped Faith clean, but experience had taught him it was best to let her do that on her own. He either didn't do things to her standards, got in her way or didn't clean the right way. Faith's way. She was picky about her chores. Even though this was not her house, she still made sure most everything was neat and the contents organized in the most efficient way possible. Connor had never cared about that. He had let her do as she wanted with the house. He was rarely home anyhow.

The bonfire had been Edward's idea. It wasn't a bad one. The night was cool enough be comfortable sitting around the flames, but warm enough to not need the heat. Spending the evening in such a way reminded Connor of his childhoods in his village. It was nice.

The drinking had also been Edward's idea. Jack and Desmond had agreed. Connor had never been much of an alcohol drinker. But Edward insisted he have at least one beer. So, he did. He drank it slowly so that he might not be offered another. Connor was aware he had a low tolerance for such things. He had no intention of becoming inebriated. He knew his limit. Now. It was a hard lesson learned.

Still, he did have at least one good memory of the Christmas Norris had spiked the eggnog. Even though it was cloudy and scattered, he did remember being with Faith in the basement that night. It had been the only time he had been intimate with his wife in a room other than the bedroom they shared at the manor. Their own house had been much different. There, they had christened every room except Abby's nursery.

Connor looked at Faith as she sat beside him staring at the flames. It brought back memories of their trips to Kanatahseton, of their wedding and of Abby. It was difficult not to think about their daughter when Connor was with Faith. He was thankful for the time he had shared with his little girl, but distraught that they had lost her much too soon. Even after all these years, he still missed her every day. Faith did as well. Connor could see the pain deep in her eyes.

"Too bad we don't have the stuff to make S'mors," Desmond stated.

Connor looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. He might have asked, but Faith spoke instead.

"I'd just be happy with chocolate."

That had not changed either, her love of chocolate. Connor grinned.

Edward, who was moving the logs in the fire with a stick, looked across the flames at her. "Did you know the Aztecs used chocolate as an aphrodisiac?"

"I did know that," Faith replied. "Cacao beans were more valuable than gold to the Aztecs. It's said Montezuma horded them and would sometimes give them to his soldiers as a gift. He was a very charitable ruler."

"They were also given to the human sacrifices before being drained of blood," Edward replied. "Such charming people, the Aztecs."

"They did invent the basis for the modern calendar. I guess it doesn't matter how many people you slaughter as long as you contribute something to society."

Connor glanced at his wife. She was more cynical than he remembered her being. Or she expressed her discontent with everything more openly than she used to.

"All empires were built upon war, Faith," Jack stated. "That's how peace was maintained."

She looked at her father. "You realize how hypocritical it is to achieve peace through war?"

"I never said it was right," Jack went on. "I only said it was the way of things. All wars are fought for the notion of peace."

"No," Faith replied. "Wars are fought because politicians think they know what's best for everyone."

"That is not true," Connor told her. "Wars are fought for freedom."

She actually rolled her eyes at that. "That's just political propaganda used to gain the support of the masses."

Not once in all the time Connor had known Faith had they discussed politics, the Revolution or his part in it. He had kept that section of his life separate from his family. Still, he had always been under the impression Faith's beliefs aligned with his. Listening to her now, he wasn't so sure.

"Do you not believe people deserve the right to decide for themselves how best to live their own life?"

"If people could be trusted to make the right choices, there would be no need for democracy."

"What do you mean?"

Faith glanced at him. She was quiet for a long time. As if she didn't want to answer his question. Or, rather, that her answer would cause unrest between them. They had not spoken much since reuniting. Most of their conversations focused on the past, of their happier times together. Neither said anything about the future, about them. Connor avoided saying too much. There were things he wanted to know. Many questions he wanted to ask. But he stayed quiet because he was afraid he would not like the answers. Not knowing was better. As long as he and Faith refrained from discussing any serious topics, they could be happy together. It wasn't a healthy way to live. Connor knew that. He just didn't want to lose Faith again.

"Let's talk about something else," Faith eventually suggested.

"Good idea," Desmond agreed. There was a note of discomfort in his voice. He sensed the tension between Connor and Faith. Everyone did. It was very evident.

Desmond looked at Jack. "Have you figured out what's wrong with the Mustang?"

"Carburetor," Jack murmured. "I need to rebuild it."

Edward looked between the two men with interest. "What are you talking about?"

"A car," Faith told him. "It's the standard mode of transportation these days. Apparently, Jack has a sports car."

Jack laughed at her. "You don't know anything about cars, do you?"

"Not really."

"I know what a car is," Edward stated. "I watch television. What I'm wondering is what's so great about Jack's car?"

"That's the same as me asking what's so great about your Jackdaw, Mr. Kenway," the man returned.

Edward nodded in understanding. Connor had no idea what a car was but knew if it was anything like a ship, it was special. Especially to the person who owned it. To him the Aquila represented belonging. A place he could be himself without fear of being judged or ridiculed. That was what he loved so much about his ship, the liberty she offered.

"Is she pretty?" Edward ask. "Your Mustang?"

Jack smiled. "She's gorgeous."

Connor saw Faith roll her eyes again. "It's just a vehicle. They all look the same."

"That's not true," Desmond told her. "I prefer motorcycles but even I can appreciate the beauty of a classic Detroit muscle car. Especially one as rare as Jack's."

Faith made a face that said how unimpressed she was. Connor was actually curious. "Can I see your Mustang?" he ask Jack.

"Absolutely, Connor."

Jack stood up. Connor did as well, noticing Edward and Desmond do the same. Faith reluctantly got to her feet, as if she were following only because she had nothing better to do. They walked to the building. The bottom floor was divided into two sections. One was the entrance with a closet and bathroom and door to the basement. The other half was the garage. It was a locked door that only Jack had the key to. Connor had never been in that room before. That was the door Jack led them to. He unlocked it, switched on the light and let everyone inside. This room was the same size as the other one, but far more cluttered. There were tools on every surface and the corners were all stacked with items whose function Connor could only guess at. He supposed it all related to cars, as there were two of those parked in the room. One was large and white, the other – which Connor guessed was the Mustang – was small, sleek and light blue. The smaller vehicle was well taken care of and showed no imperfections. Unlike the large white one, which had dents, scratches and dirt all over it.

"It's not red," Faith murmured, as if the color somehow mattered.

"Red's too flashy and overdone," Jack told her. "She's pastel blue. Original color for the 1970 Boss 429."

Again, Faith looked unimpressed at what her father said.

Edward was circling the car, studying it with intent. "How long have you had it?"

"Since I was seventeen," Jack related. "So, more than a few years."

"She still looks new," Connor said. And it did. He was impressed by the state of the car. He could understand why Jack liked it so much.

Faith paced the room, glancing around with disinterest. There was a tensity in her posture. Connor wasn't sure if she was upset because she was in the same room as Jack, or because of their earlier conversation. She spent much of her time these days in a foul mood. It was a drastic difference from the happy young lady he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

The silence was broken by a loud roar. Jack had started the car, per Edward's insistence. Though Connor knew nothing about engines, he detected a slight discrepancy in the way it idled. It almost sounded like it would shut off of its own accord. Connor guessed that was what Jack had said needed to be fixed.

When Jack turned the car off, Edward looked at him. "Awe inspiring," he said. "Not that I know anything about cars. But, let me ask you this; do the ladies like it?"

Jack smiled at him. "Some do. There's a good chance both of my children were conceived in this car."

Faith made a noise of disgust at that.

Jack looked over at her. "You know, I met your mother at a drag race."

Faith leaned against the front of the Mustang and crossed her arms nonchalantly. "Was she the entertainment?"

"No," Jack answered softly. "That was before Laura started turning tricks. Before she got hooked on drugs. She was different then. When she was clean, she was a good person. Witty. Intelligent. Fiery. Sort of like you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel closer to her?" Faith's tone was still tight, but there was emotion beneath the ire. Hearing about her mother affected her, whether she wanted it to or not. Connor could sense that about her. He wished she had gotten a chance to get to know the woman who had given her life. Even if she hated her, at least she would have known her briefly.

"Just thought you'd want to know what she was like."

Faith shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I'm going to take a bath."

She left the room quickly. Connor didn't follow her. Her specification about a bath instead of a shower let him know that she wanted to be alone. So, he stayed in the garage, listening to the other men discus cars and women. Connor had nothing to offer on either subject. He knew as little about one as the other.