Hello there!
This is my second fanfic. It's Connor\OC and it's a sequel to my first story, Rain. If you haven't read that, you probably should because half the story probably won't make sense. If you have read it, thank you! A big shoutout and thanks to Shadow Katakura, who suggested the title to me! Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter!

The sun is close to setting, and the homestead seems to glow in the light. The forest around me seems to be alive; the birds call and sing, and there is game in there for those who have the patience to find it.

Connor and I raise our fists, and run at each other. The waves crash against the bluff beside us, and we begin to spar. Connor has the advantage of strength and height, but I'm small and agile.

We spar against each other until we're both sore and tired. The sun is low in the sky, and it sends rays of brilliant orange and red across the sky. We walk back to the house, hands brushing, and as we enter Connor suddenly pulls me closer to him.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton!" I exclaim, laughing. "Let me go."

"No." Connor replies, pressing his lips to mine. I try to answer back, but I can't do it. We make it as far as the couch.

"There is a bed upstairs..." I mutter as we fall onto the couch.

Connor smiles, and the sun goes down.

I suddenly hear a knock at the door. I try to get up, but Connor keeps his hold on me.

"I have to get the door!" I say.

"Leave it. How important could it be?" Connor asks.

"Your father could be back from the dead." I reply, smiling.

Connor laughs and lets me go. I try and smooth out my hair. I open the door to see a messenger standing there.

"Can I help you?" I ask politely.

"I have a message from Stephane Chapheau to Connor and Clara Kenway." The messenger says.

"I'm Clara." I say.

"Mr Chapheau wants you to go to his house in Boston as soon as possible." The messenger says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Thank you." I say to the messenger. I flip him a coin and close the door, turning around thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Connor asks as he enters the hallway.

"Stephane wants us in Boston as soon as possible." I reply, thinking hard. What could be so important?

Connor raises his eyebrows. "We leave tomorrow morning." He says.

I nod, and head down into the basement. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, and I'm certain I won't find anything. I just wander around and look around. Connor follows me down after a while.

"What are you looking for?" Connor asks.

"I don't know." I say.

Connor approaches me, and I recognise that look on his face.

"You only think about one thing, don't you?" I ask, giggling as Connor pulls me in again.

"I do not." Connor says indignantly.

~C~

I wake up abruptly. For a moment, I wonder why I've woken up, but then I know the answer.

"No..." Connor says loudly. He moves around in his sleep, restless. I sit up and put a hand on Connor's chest.

"Ratohnhnaké:ton, wake up." I say.

Connor doesn't respond; he is completely inside his head. He continues to mutter and move around.

"Connor!" I say, louder.

He stops moving and muttering, and his eyes slowly open.

"You were having a bad dream again." I say to him.

"Did I wake you?" Connor asks, concerned.

"It doesn't matter." I say.

"I am sorry." Connor replies.

I look over at Connor. I lie down again, using his chest as a pillow. "What did you dream about?" I ask.

"Charles Lee again. And you." Connor replies.

"Me? Am I that horrible?" I ask, faking distress.

Connor laughs quietly. "You died." He says, suddenly sombre.

"Oh." I say quietly. "And that gave you nightmares?"

"Yes. I couldn't get to you in time, and Lee killed you." Connor replies.

I look up at Connor. "Well, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere until I'm an old woman." I say.

Connor kisses my head. "Konnorónhkwa." He says.

"You're having bad dreams less often now, aren't you?" I ask.

"Yes." Connor replies.

I look up at Connor and plant a kiss on his jaw. Connor touches his hand to my cheek and we part. I lie down on Connor's chest again, feeling the large scar he acquired while chasing Charles Lee.

I sigh. "Goodnight." I say quietly.

"Goodnight." Connor replies.

We lie there for a while until we eventually slip into our dreams once again. Connor sleeps peacefully, as do I.

~C~

Connor and I leave our horses outside Boston and walk along the street. It seems more empty than when I was last here, but I'm sure it's just my imagination. We soon reach Stephane's house, and seconds after I knock Stephane opens the door, looking fearful. He pulls us inside quickly.

"Stephane, what is it?" Connor asks.

"We need your help." Stephane says.

"Who?" I ask.

"The Patriots." Stephane replies.

"Why? I thought we'd almost won." I say.

"We had. But the Crown has sent more soldiers. Thousands more. They're sending more troops, more weapons, more supplies. It's not looking good." Stephane says.

My heart goes cold with dread. If the Crown wins the war, I can barely imagine what could happen to America. I dread to think.

"What do you need?" I ask.

"A miracle, mademoiselle." Stephane replies. "Part of the reason I called you here is that you need to get out of here. The Crown will win, I'm sure of it. We cannot fight their armies anymore. With the Crown in control, and the Templars behind them, we will be hunted down."

"We can still fight-" Connor says strongly. He is cut off by Stephane.

"The time for words is over. The Patriots will lose this war, and unless you can summon the Gods to help us, we will die." Stephane says gravely.

Stephane hates the Crown more than most. He is a loyal patriot, and I know he wouldn't say these things unless he was certain they are going to come true.

"Well, what can we do? I refuse to go hide in a hole for the rest of my life." I say.

"Unfortunately, I fear it is exactly that which we must do." Stephane replies.

~C~

Connor and I exit Stephane's house. My mind buzzes with questions, and I feel numb.

"What can we do?" I ask quietly.

"We must fight back." Connor exclaims just as softly.

"Didn't you listen to Stephane? The Crown will win this war, and the two of us won't be able to change that!" I say.

"But we can't allow the Templars to take control!" Connor exclaims.

"No, we can't." I agree.

Connor and I head back to our horses, and we gallop off into the woods. My mind comes up with plans to drive back the crown, each more ridiculous and unachievable as the next.

We cannot allow the Crown to take America, but we can't do anything on our own. For something like this, we'd need a miracle.

~C~

4 MONTHS LATER

Connor and I sit in front of the fire, happy and warm. I hear a knock on the door, so I stand up and open it.

Standing there are 5 guards.

"Connor!" I shout.

He comes running to the door. The leader of the guards begins to speak.

"By order of the British Crown, this house is now the property of the Crown. Either come peacefully or we will be forced to use violence." The guard says loudly.

Connor and I look at each other. We both walk forwards slowly, and as we reach the guards we simultaneously flick out our hidden blades. A fight begins.

I take out one guard before something hard is slammed into my head. I fall to the ground, vision fuzzy, and see the same thing happen to Connor. We are taken out of the house, and then my vision fades.

I wake up with a start, cold and tired despite having just woken up. I look over at Connor, who sleeps on, also looking cold. I sit up and look around the room.

A lot has changed in the past two months. As Stephane predicted, the Crown won the war. Soon after they won, the thousands of British troops were sent to work rounding everyone up from the countryside and taking them back to the closest city. At first, people resisted. They were hanged. Now, anyone who puts a toe out of line is either thrown in prison or for worse offences, killed. Publicly.

Connor's people; all put to work in farms and other physically demanding jobs. I know how awful Connor feels; every day, being forced to wear the result of the slavery of his people. I feel almost as bad as him, but we are incapable of doing anything to help them; to do so would mean death. The only reason Connor isn't with them is because his skin is just light enough. Everyone in the city had to pass a skin inspection; if you were too dark, you were sent to work in the fields.

Connor and I now live in the top floor of what was once someone's house in Boston. We share the floor with two other people, and the floor below us is also occupied with four people. We mostly keep to ourselves. Our uniforms were confiscated by the Crown. I managed to keep my hidden blade, secretly, and Connor kept his tomahawk hidden.

"Clara? What are you doing up?" Connor asks tiredly.

I turn around to see him rub his eyes.

"I just had a dream. That's all. Go back to sleep." I say.

"It's almost time for inspection." Connor replies.

Inspection. That's a nice word.

What they really mean is "If anything is out of order, you're shot dead on the spot."

Connor and I look each other over, trying to look presentable. I glance out the window, checking if the guards are coming yet. I can see footprints left in the snow, but they haven't reached us yet.

This is how the Templars like it. Orderly, with everyone under control. They have peace, but only because if you throw a punch they throw you in jail.

I hear the door open downstairs, and my heart quickens. Even though this happens every day, it never fails to make me nervous. I glance up at the roof. Our weapons are stashed behind a wooden panel, and I make sure it's secure. I hear footsteps on the stairs, and my hand brushes Connor's. I miss the days where the only danger was fighting. When we could do what we wanted. Now, we have to do whatever the Crown tells us or we die. It's that simple.

The door in front of us is opened, and in strut two guards. They approach us and look at us, up and down, inspecting us.

"Okay, savage? Is the room to your liking?" One of them mocks.

Connor and I stay completely silent. We don't even move.

"Oi! Don' you speak English? Answer 'im!" The other exclaims.

Connor stays silent. If he responds, the guard will beat him up. If Connor fights back, he'll be hanged. On the other hand, if he doesn't respond, he'll be beaten up as well. Trapped.

The guards make sounds of amusement as they throw Connor on the floor. They hit him with the ends of their guns a few times, and I stay completely still, pretending it isn't happening. When the guards finish with Connor, he stays on the floor. One of them grabs my behind as they leave the room, but I don't react.

When the door closes, I immediately fall to my knees beside Connor.

"I'm so sorry, Ratohnhnaké:ton!" I exclaim.

He sits up, groaning slightly, and I see the full extent of the damage. His nose is bleeding, and there is a large bruise forming on his cheek. I lift up his shirt and jacket to see purple bruises sprouting up from his ribs, and when I poke them Connor winces. I help him up, and we walk outside, Connor leaning on me slightly. We walk to the market that's on every day. The prices are high, all thanks to the Crown, but it's the only way you can get food these days.

I walk up to a stall and buy half a loaf of bread, returning to Connor with it. We walk away from the stalls and into a garden to eat. The snow is thicker here, and it's cold away from the crowds, but there's always a chance someone will try and take your food if you eat in public. Connor and I finish the bread, and then we exit the garden again. I still almost can't believe it's gotten this bad. The Crown made someone called Reginald Birch in charge of running the country. He's a Templar, that much is obvious. The only reason the British still have an interest in this godforsaken place is the farming; we provide a majority of their food.

I remember a speech given at the start of this whole thing, given by Birch himself. He said we should all be equal and have the same amount of food and possessions as each other; most didn't that some would be more equal than others. These days, the rich live in large homes with plenty of food and the rest of us are left to starve, or secretly fight for our food.

As Connor and I walk along, someone bumps into us. I realize after a second it's Sam Adams, but we don't dare stop and talk. It would be too suspicious. He was a known Patriot, so anyone caught talking with him is immediately a suspect in whatever lie the guards tell.

Connor and I keep walking around Boston for a while. I shove my hands in my pockets, trying to warm them up, when I feel a piece of paper in one of them. My eyes widen, and I grab Connor's arm.

"We need to get back home. Now." I say to Connor. He understands my tone and we quickly head back. As soon as the door is closed and the curtains drawn, I pull the note out of my pocket. Connor sees it and his eyes widen.

"What is it?" He asks.

I open the note, and scrawled in untidy handwriting are a few sentences.

Meeting tonight. My house, 1:00. Destroy this after reading. – S

I read the note, over and over again until it's imprinted into my head. I hand the note to Connor, who reads it several times. I turn to him, beaming.

"Do you know what this means?" I ask quietly, paranoid of being overheard.

Connor nods and smiles. He pulls me into a tight hug and we exchange a long, happy kiss.

"1:00. Past curfew." Connor says as we part.

"We'll have to be extra careful, then, won't we?" I ask.

This was a really long chapter! Anyway, I hope you liked it, and if you did, why not follow, favourite and review? Once I get 5 reviews I'll post the next chapter, because I want to know if you guys liked this! So, let me know whether I should keep going with this fanfic or not! From Jenna.