Hey guys! This is a long chapter, very long. Now I do warn you this chapter does have some adult content in here, it might be pushing a bit to the rated M side of things, but not by much. I really hope you enjoy this chapter it's a bit of a filler, but leading up to the revolution. This chapter is more focus on more on Catherine's and Connor's relationship. Tell me what you think please, PLEASE REVIEW AND FOLLOW :)

Much Love,

Moon

The Davenport homestead had welcomed a light rain which was not unto common. Thankfully, the new year sprung without any further incident. Especially, after the powerplay Haytham, Catherine had this encounter with herself. She did not want to worry James or Connor about it.

Haytham had tracked her down and demanded she leaves for Paris. In his haste, Haytham had already secured a vessel for the four-month journey. The young lass had outright refused, even going as far in throwing the paper back into his smug English face.

Catherine had concocted a lie to explain to James that it was crucial she needed to return. She managed to tell a story about an urgent matter with Connor. James had inquired about tagging along with her, but she declined the offer. She had to spin a tale that it was important that he stay behind to keep an eye on the negotiations. The blacksmith only gave a simple nod, not questioning another second of it.

Catherine had gathered up her belongings and had hired a coach to take her back to the homestead. She was drowned out in her own thoughts about talking to Connor about his father. In the end, when he came out of the house to greet her with a smile of delight and tight embrace, she decided against it. There was no need to bring Connor into Haytham's manipulations, or lies.

Other thoughts lingered about the Templars as well. It has been months since Connor had assassinated John Williams. In the very moments after the assassination, he was able to recover a letter from Johnson's body. In the letter, it held Pitcairn's orders of destroying any supplies the patriots had.

Between the news of the Continental Congress, the trouble with Haytham, and the threat of Pitcairn; it kept most of her time occupied. Though, this one of the days as she had decided to take a break from the turmoil in her life. It has been close to one year since Catherine returned to the colonies. So much has happened in that year's time since returning home.

Catherine licked her finger as she turned to the next page of the novel she was reading by the fireplace. It was a French novel that Master Dorian had sent to her from France as a gift along with an assortment of French poems. He had expressed in his letter to her that he wished for her to maintain her practice of French. Her former master had sent it as a birthday gift.

Catherine sat on the cushion love seat with her legs tucked under her skirts and a thin blanket. Orla's head buried under her wing to cleaned her underwings as part of her hygiene. She sat neatly on the perch on the fireplace in the main room. Achilles was down the hall in his room already turned in for the evening. The old man had made a minor complaint of his joint acting up from the cold weather before going to bed.

Catherine's ear perked at the sound of Connor moving about in the kitchen in the other room. The native was preparing the rabbits he had caught earlier in the day. The Irish lass had offered to make a stew out of the hares if the native had dressed them for her.

The young woman quiet enjoyed the simple peace and quiet that the homestead held on days such as these. It made her life feel a bit more normal. It caused her to forget the duties of being an Assassin and the colonies on the verge of civil.

Catherine's eyes began to feel strained from looking at the printed words for too long. Taking it as a sign that it was time for a break, she snapped the book shut and placed the book on an end table next to her. Feeling the pricking numbness in one of her feet from sitting on it too long. She took a moment to allow the blood flow to come surging back to her foot. Taking a few paces with a slight limb, she had eventually felt all feeling came back to her foot. Walking towards the kitchen to see Connor's progress.

The pink muscle of the skin rabbits gleamed under the lamplight of the kitchen. She glanced over to see Connor taking it upon himself to wipe down his workspace. Achilles always demanded a clean house, so the two younger assassins always make sure they left the kitchen immaculate.

Catherine stretched her arms over her head to relieve any tension she felt from sitting too long.

Catherine could hear the crackle of the fire in the hearth with the kettle hanging over it. In astonishment, Catherine had already seen Connor preparing the stew for her. The red-haired woman smiled and took a knife from the counter. I walked towards the rabbit meat and began to slice the meat from the bone. With her back to Connor, she could hear the chopping of the vegetables. Once the work was finishing between the two, the stew was boiling over the open fire in the hearth.

Using her skirt to wipe any residue off her hands. "We should let that sit for the next hour or so before it will be ready."

Crossing her arms over her chest in satisfaction of dinner being done in time for the setting sun. She turned around to catch a glance of the native staring at her with contentment.

She raised an eyebrow with a puzzlement stare. "Connor?" Her Irish brogue broke his thoughts. He only blinked realizing he was staring at the red hair lass. "Is everything okay?" Catherine inquired.

The native assassin shook his head, "I was just watching you."

"Why?"

"I was intrigued watching you work." Catherine could swear she saw his bronzed skin flushed with pink.

Catherine chuckled and walked up to him, he was acting bashful for watching her. A bear of a man who can take down a dozen men in one blow was shy when it came to a blooming romance.

She gently touched his cheek with a blissful smile and pressed her soft lips against his cheek. His cheek pluses with warmth against her winter chapped lips.

"Your such a bashful man, Connor." Catherine giggled, she went to step away to the other room, but Connor reached over to grab her wrist. Before she could get a word in, he pressed his lips onto hers causing her to giggle.

They waited for the food to finish cooking, Catherine and Connor spent the time talking. He mostly allowed her to speak about the novel she was reading, a lighter topic then the thought of war. When supper was ready, Catherine served both her and Connor. They ate the meal with a continuous conversation with muffled laughter once, or twice. The native was explaining his tale from his childhood with friends.

Catherine could only watch as he spoke of such fond memories from his time in the village. She rested her hands underneath her chin as she spoke. "I really would like to come back to visit your village when it's not under business." She replied after he finished his tale.

"Why don't we make a planned trip then." He suggested, "You are more than welcome in my village."

"I'd love that." She reached out to take his callous hands into hers. His dark eyes mirrored into her glazed brown ones, they froze that moment. Until a loud thunderclap almost shook the house.

"Dear Mary Mother of Joseph, where did this storm come from?" Catherine took a glance out of the window to see the violent dark skies.

Just under an hour ago the skies were a dull grey that looked like normal snow clouds. The way the wind was blowing looked as the storm was coming from the sea.

"At least we weren't planning on going anywhere," Connor replied.

"What about the horses?" Catherine replied, "Remember the last storm? Peg escaped because the thunder spooked her." She went into the other room to pull on her boots and coat by the door.

Connor followed suit with a coat to keep him warm. They stepped into the freezing air, a mixture of hail and water fell down upon them. Catherine and Connor as they hurried towards the stables. They checked to make sure the stalls were locked and secured. Catherine petted the snout of the horse as she whiny after another thunderclap.

Catherine took a step back to start back towards the house when she slipped on a sheet of ice.

A woman with the training of an assassin slipped on the ice causing her to fall into a puddle of freezing rain, soaking her skirt and legs.

"Co-Connor!" Catherine cried out in shock of the cold.

Connor ran in a slight jog over the young woman, she didn't need to plead for him to help. Instead of helping her onto her feet, he scooped her up in a bridal fashion.

"Connor put me down. I just needed help." She began to shiver as the fabric of her skirts clung to her legs.

He took no time in marching back to the house where Catherine's teeth began to chatter from the cold. Connor' s warmth helped little due to his shirt being soaked through from the rainfall. Taking no time, he took her to her room upstairs. With her still begrudging about him not putting her down.

He sat her on the chair near the fireplace, he helped her remove the cloak that clung about her shoulders. Catherine slowly removed her boots, she felt a blanket drop across her shoulders. Another sound of a thunderclap.

"Are you okay?"

"Aye, the fall just surprised me."She frowned a little at him. Catherine paid no mind to the sound as she looked upon Connor's soaked shirt. "You're about as wet as me!"

Connor glanced down at himself before peeling the wet shirt off. His toned colored chest was in clear view. The firelight glowed onto his dark skin, defining his features. A shadow cast over half of Catherine's face, causing her to feel the warmth on her skin. There was nothing but silence beside the crackling from the hearth. Catherine warmed her hands by the fire as she cast her gaze away. She could feel his warm mahogany eyes staring down onto her.

She reached down behind her head to let her hair down. She felt her hair breaking loose from the confines of its binding. Her fiery red hair cascaded down to her shoulders. Using her wooden comb from the night side table, she brushed it with the teeth of the comb.

Connor laid his shirt near the fireplace to allow his shirt to dry next to Catherine's boots. Connor kneeled next to the chair as he poked the fire. The house grew quiet again with the only sound of the thunderstorm. His hand rested softly against the arm of the chair. The way Catherine slouched in her chair she could stare at the back of his head. His lovely dark brown locks in fingers reach. Like her hand had a mind of its own. Her fingers lightly touched his hair, feeling the strands, it was nothing like her own hair. It was rough and coarse.

Connor was caught off guard by this single touch only for him to reach out to grab her hand gently. Both of his hands clutched them, kissing her hand.

Catherine smiled as he kissed her knuckle. she ducked her head to kiss his lips again. He smiled against the kiss touching her cheek. She pressed her forehead against his taking a break from the kiss. Her head felt dizzy from the kiss and smiled. A funny feeling ran up from her stomach that made her wobble. She stood from her spot, keeping a tight grip on him.

A passionate kiss was shared between them. Connor pressed Catherine close to her chest and her arms wrapped about his neck.

A fire filled their passion that they have experienced a small handful of times. Never following through with it. The echo of her mother's voice was growing quieter of the importance of virtue before marriage.

The kiss broke and they only locked eye contact for a moment before making the decision to act on their desires. Taking no time, Connor stepped away from the blushing woman as he slowly shut the door. She acted quickly to pull the strings of her bodice. Her fingers quivered as she worked at the strings, feeling as nervousness overcame her. She watched Connor come back over and planted a kiss back on her lips.

The storm died down as hours passed, Catherine curled under the heavy brown quilt with Connor. Her legs entangled around his, Catherine felt content. She had been told how it would be a painful experience at first. They were right of course but failed to mention that it would be blissful.

The young lass can still remember some of the high noblewomen of Versaille were so open about the discussion of such topics. It surprised the young Irish lass so much that she backslashes her wine in surprise. They began to tease her on how the English were prudes, ignoring the fact she was Irish.

Connor ran his hand down her back, feeling her light fabric chemis. It was made of fine material, he could only assume that she may have bought it while in France.

She sleepy closed her eyes as she breathed in and out. The fire had gone out in the room, but neither cared. The warmth between the both of them was overwhelming. Connor was first to fall asleep from exhaustion. Catherine fell behind not too far away. She didn't dream, it was just darkness.

Something awakes her from her light sleep. It was a feeling. Something was wrong.

Catherine sat up slowly from bed to see the fire had completely gone out. It had clearly been hours since she had fallen asleep.

A feeling overtook her, it was the same as she felt when she had first experienced the touch of the precursor box. Her senses were high, as a loud high pitch whistle. The whispers heighten like there was a sign of trouble, but it was something different. She didn't understand why. Pulling away from Connor's warm body.

Why was it always the dead of night when something happened? She could count more then on her hand about something happening.

Grabbing a pair of pants drabbed over her desk, she slipped them on. She only took a moment glance at Connor who was sleeping so peaceful that she decided not to wake him. The young assassin stepped out of the room careful not to wake Connor. Hearing the whispers in her ear, overcoming her sense. She grabbed her pistol from her desk.

She didn't want to wake anyone in case it was nothing. Her bare feet on the wooden floors shivered, the floors felt like they were made of ice. She tipped toe through the house with her weapon at the ready until she got into the hall. There was a sound coming from Connor's room. In a dream-like state, she pushed the door open with a soft pressure to see nothing. Catherine scanned around the room to take a second look when something made her blood run cold. Her blood ran cold as ice from the aberration that was in front of her.

She could not breathe at the sight of the lucent figure. floating images of her father appeared in front of her, a much younger version of him. He was rummaging through the nightstand. He stopped what he was doing and turned around to face her. Gripping a book tight to his chest.

"Catherine."

Catherine awoke with a deepened gasp, sweat dripped down the side of her neck. Taking a moment to catch her breath only to happen to notice it was early morning with the light shining through the window. She looked over to see Connor's side to meet his warm kind eyes. He was using his elbow as support to watch her.

"Are you okay?" He addressed her seeing her expression from awaking in such a state.

"It was another dream." Catherine pushed her hair back not thinking too much of it. "I don't want to talk about it." It was another dream of her father, it was something simple, but it shook her to the very core.

Catherine laid there for a moment her eyes shut tight. She opened one eye open as she saw Connor sliding out of bed, she turned away for a moment to give him some privacy. Neither of them spoke as she listened to Connor get dress.

"Do you think Achilles expects anything?" Catherine asked as she lightly brushed her hair away from her eyes. Wanting to avoid the subject of her dream.

Connor paused for a moment while he was lacing his breeches. "I don't think so."

"You better get to your room than before the old man realizes what we were up to last night." Catherine grinned. Connor ducked across the bed to give her a quick peck. She watched him scattered out of the room with his shirt and shoes in hand back to his room.

Laying in bed to allow her mind to sink in what had transpired from the previous night. She could only think about how she had acted on such instinct. The red hair lass wondered why the church had cast out an act that was natural to be sinful. She could probably hear her mother in the back of her head thinking of her as a god-fearing woman. Good on her part, she would never have to tell anybody their little secret.

Pinning her hair up and away from her face, she pulled it back into a long braid. The braided hair swung across her back as she walked out of the room, dressed in a pair of trousers. Her top was a button-up white shirt with her dark blue waistcoat. Her leather boots tapped against the wooden floor as she walked. The laces tighten her boots right below the knee. The young assassin had decided to go for a ride later on in the day to check on the other Homestead residents. She wanted to see if any needed a helping hand.

Catherine walked down to breakfast to the kitchen to see Achilles already sipping his morning tea. Connor was at the table eating a bowl of porridge with what looked like a small layer of maple syrup. Connor had always had a sweet tooth with his breakfast every once and awhile. Norris had introduced a simple recipe for them to make it.

Catherine had taken a place across from Connor to eat her breakfast. The morning kitchen was quiet besides the scraping against wooden bowls and the light tick of the Grandfather clock from the other room. it seemed everyone was having a quiet morning until Achilles spoke up.

"I hope you two have had a pleasant night last night, did you have any nightly activities?"

Connor stopped midway as he was bringing the spoon to his mouth while Catherine froze. She dead-eyed stared into her bowl of oat porridge.

Achilles could only give a quiet expression as he saw the two young assassins' faces were priceless. "Don't think because I am an old that I don't know what goes on in my own house, children." He picked up his cane. "I do ask that you'd be cautious because I am getting too old to be dealing with more Cormac's and Kenway's. No matter how small they are."

He left the room just Catherine dropped her spoon feeling mortified. Her face was pulsing with blood causing her face to turn very pink. She cupped her face in embarrassment with both hands trying to shield her bashful expression. Connor covered his mouth, trying to ponder on what to say about what the old man had said to the two assassins. Catherine cleared her throat as she quickly stood up.

"I think I am going to head outside for some fresh air." Catherine pushed back her bowl of breakfast, losing her appetite due to sheer embarrassment.

Connor agreed too taking a step back from his breakfast, "I will be downstairs." He cleared his throat as he stood from his spot.

Both of their faces glowing red as they stepped from the kitchen into opposite ends of the house. Catherine could hear Connor head downstairs to the cellar as she stepped out the front door.

Orla starred down with her needy eyes passing judgment onto her mistress. She cried out before spreading her wings to lift into the air.

A frown pressed across her lips,"shoo off you wicked bird." Catherine stated as she walked towards the stables. She walked towards a brown mare, the one that she had secured last night. she reached out her hand to stroke Peg's long snout giving light snort in agreement. She grabbed the gear to ready to tack the horse after giving the mare a quick brush.

"The storm last night gave ya scare, didn't it?" The horse stamped its foot as an answer, "I know, but it's all better now."

Once the mare was ready, Catherine took the reins she swung her leg over the horse's backside into the saddle. She lightly tapped the side of the mare who started in a light trot.

From inside the manor, Connor could see outside the double pane windows. He had watched the woman he had cared about. He watched how her red braid bounced against her back. He placed his hand on the window seal as he watched her ride off down the path.

The native had a small smile as he watched her go. He stepped away from the window and walked towards the cellar where they stored their plans and sparred. When the native came to the base of the stairs he looked at the paintings hanging on the wall. He stared at the paintings upon the wall. He saw the painting of William Johnson's painting crossed off with white paint. Connor's neat handwriting had made a note regarding Johnson's plan. The writing had said, "For own good". It was starting that it was for the Native's own good that the Templar's would buy the land only to protect the natives.

In fear of miss-use, Catherine had spent her last year in France in raising funds into buying his people's land to protect them. His people's land was safe, but he couldn't help to feel guilty about killing Johnson was the right path. He had shared his thoughts with Catherine, who shared his own thoughts.

No matter what the regret was, what was done was done. The next thing to do is to stop Pitcairn. Should he succeed in his plot, the colonists will be unable to maintain their resistance and the Templars would control the land. It was Catherine and Connor's duty to find him, he needed to die to prevent such an action.

He could hear Achilles steps walk up beside him. "I thought it might bring clarity killing him, but all I feel is regret. Catherine shares the same sentiment."

Achilles only patted his shoulder, "I imagine so, I hope for the both of you hold fast onto that feeling. Such sacrifices do not come so easily. From the outside, it had seemed Johnson was doing the right thing."

"I had to do it." Connor cut cold. He could remember back to that day.

When he was looking over Johnson's Hall, he had watched Catherine pled with the natives and Johnson regarding the matter. She was fierce and had not to back down from the matter. He had actually believed she could handle this by herself. It was until he had heard the order to fire upon the natives and to shoot Catherine on sight. Watching her being surrounded by Johnsons' soldiers, he leaped from the rooftops and killed the Templar Knight on the spot.

"Not just for my people, but for all the people who Johnson could have harmed." Connor continued his thought.

Achilles nodded in agreement, "I have to say it is a start. Though to truly be rid of all of the Templar's influence, they must all be dealt with in turn." He landed his eyes on Haytham Kenway's portrait. He paused for a moment before looking upon his pupil. "I do have to ask Connor, do you think it is wise to carry on with Catherine?"

Connor raised his thick eyebrow in question. "What?"

"As I stated before, I don't think it's wise that you two are so... close. Aren't you worried that this might distract you both from your goals?"

Connor frowned, but he ignored Achilles. "My only concern is ending the templars."

"Don't let such emotions cloud your judgment, it can affect your judgment. Don't forget, you will need to kill your father."

"I know," Connor snapped as he turned away from Achilles.

"You speak the words, but are they true? Do you believe them?"

They were silent for a moment before they heard the front door open. Connor looked confused.

"Catherine wasn't supposed to be back until later, I thought." Achilles said

"I thought so too."

"Connor?" Catherine called out as she stepped towards the top of the stairs. "We have a visitor, come up!" Connor glanced at Achilles before walking upstairs with Achilles. Catherine was standing near the door waiting for the two.

A man at the door with a letter in hand looked to be a messenger. He held out an envelope. "I was supposed to deliver this to Master Connor and Mistress Cormac." Achilles took the letter from the man and opened it.

He was glancing over it, Connor raised an eyebrow. " What is it?"

Catherine took the letter from Achilles to read it over herself. "It says that we have been requested by Samuel Adams and Paul Revere. It seems the RedCoats in Boston are up to something."

"It looks like it's not just for Catherine, but you as well, Connor. You have made a real impression on the Sons of Liberty."

"They mistake me as one of their own," Connor said as he glanced at Catherine. "You should go by yourself, Catherine." He then turned to the messenger, "Please tell them that they have my sympathies, but I cannot help at this present."

Catherine's eyes widened at the letter and grabbed Connor's assassin coat. "Connor, you may want to come with me in regards to this. Pitcairn is mentioned in this letter by name."

Connor threw a glance at the messenger man who looked relieved. "Mister's Revere house in Boston, if you like I can take you both-" Connor stormed passed him quickly in rush towards the stables.

"Thank you, but please ride ahead to inform Master Revere we will be on our way shortly. I know where his house is." Catherine said as she stirred past the man towards Connor. Her stomach was in knots from the news of John Pitcairn after months of waiting. She could tell Connor was anxious as Catherine felt.

She ran up to Connor and grabbed his hand as he was about to tack and ready Sock to take to Boston. Peg was already in her tack and saddle. "We will get him, I promise." She squeezed his hand tightly.

She can sense the change in the air, there was going to be heavy repercussions in the next few days. Catherine just did not know what it would be.

Connor pulled his hand away from her in a hurry. A flash of determination passed through his eyes.

Years ago, Catherine had set her sight on revenge when she was part of the Boston Massacre. She wanted to bring an end to the Templar Order after she had thought that her mother had died in the massacre. Her anger had lessened from when she learned that her mother was still alive, but it didn't change her mind regarding the Templars. Especially when it was Charles Lee, he had tried to have her murder by locking her in the warehouse that was caught ablaze.

Connor had lost more than she did though, they threatened the peace of his village and killed his mother. Her mind was not swayed about the revelation from Haytham, trying to claim that Lee did not burn the native's village. She understood the anger he felt as he watched his mother die within the flames. Catherine had thought her own mother had died.

"Let's go find this bastard," Catherine said.

Connor climbed onto his horse after he finished tacking his horse. "Agreed." They raced off towards Boston in hopes to stop the Templars. This day was the last day of peace for a long time for both of them.