Hello everyone! This is my first fic in a very long time so I hope you forgive any mistakes/rustiness there may be. I've gone through several times so I hope this flows smoothly. Any critiques are welcome! As a note, I do not own anything from the Assassin's Creed franchise.

Chapter 1

There was something about the wilderness that brought relief, freedom from his training and Achilles' constant criticism. Even assassins needed a day off once in a well in their relentless pursuit of justice for the wronged. The large trees that towered over the path leading from the homestead were lush with leaves. It was not quite fall yet, so most of them retained their green foliage. A gentle breeze carried the scents of the forest along the path and around the young assassin. Finally, there was such a thing as peace. Perhaps not peace for the nation, but he at least had a moment of it.

Or perhaps not for long.

"Connor! I do apologize, but I'm afraid there's a problem!" a feminine voice shrieked.

Inwardly groaning, Conner turned and saw Corrine hurriedly coming towards him. She looked quite flustered, her face flush and her skirts in a bit of a mess. Moving forward at a trot to meet her, the assassin gently grabbed her hands as she reached for his. "What is the matter? Does Oliver fare well?" he asked, mentioning her husband.

"Oh yes, Oliver is fine! The problem is my laundry seems to to go missing, and on more than one occasion! Connor, I think there are thieves in our homestead," the older woman gasped, her complexion becoming a little more fair as she calmed down.

Connor thought about this for a moment. It was probably some wild animal curious about their settlement. Racoons seemed often to blame for things going missing, or crows when the items were shiny. "I will keep an eye out, I promise," he assured her.

"Thank you, Connor. I can't imagine whoever it is has stuck around. I suppose if they need the clothes that bad they must be poor souls. I just wish they would have asked first," the inn keeper said sadly, releasing the assassin. "I must return, for Oliver will be worried."

With that, Connor watched her leave. It had been an unusual and brief conversation, so he tried to put it out of his mind as he resumed walking down the path out of the homestead. With the sun beating down on the back of his neck, illuminating his white robes, he quickly focused on something other than the needs of the homestead and settlers. Deer frolicked, teasing him as he drew near. That part of him that hid beneath his stoic and assassin facade began to surface, begging him to run the forest with them. Smiling to himself, he leaped up into a tree, barely feeling the rough bark underneath his leather gloves.

Achilles would probably scold him when he returned, going on and on about how the Templars were his first priority, but he needed this. Just for a moment.

Crouching, he leaped to another branch, running along it with grace and elegance that his large frame would not suggest otherwise. It was exhilarating to run amongst the treetops like a wild man. It was only a frustrated yelling that brought him to a halt.

Myriam walked below, her fists balled up at her sides as she stomped towards the homestead from her camp. Frowning, the assassin dropped neatly onto his feet behind her. "Is something the matter?"

The young woman about leaped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, "Connor, you nearly scared me out of my skin!" she scolded, tilting her head. "And in answer to your question, some of my nice skins and tools have gone missing! Particularly my favorite hunting knife." Her tone was irritated, her eyes gleaming.

Another person with items missing? Connor frowned as he pondered this. "Corrine the inn keeper has also complained about her items missing. I will investigate this, I promise," he said, knowing it was little consolation to someone who had just had their possessions swiped. However, Myriam seemed to readily accept this answer, her expression softening.

"Thank you, Connor. I cannot properly feed or warm our homestead without my tools and I do not wish to go all the way to Boston to get new ones," she said softly.

The assassin nodded, turning on his heel, "I'll let you know if I find something."

With that he quickly leaped into the trees and wandered back towards the inn. Perhaps he would be able to find some clues regarding this mystery.

ooooo

Her breath came out in pants, sick and frail. Survival had taken over, overloading her wiring with primal urges and instincts that most scientists thought had been thrown out of humans since their evolution into intelligent beings. As she had found, being thrown into a situation that was unfamiliar and lethal overrode any discipline and logical thought one possessed. The young woman crouched in the corner of a natural cave formation. Water dripped from the ceiling, providing her with a fresh stream along the side of the cave.

Nerves shaken from nearly being caught, she neatly placed her new tools on a shelf of rock for safe keeping. Across from it was a wad of blankets and sheets she had also managed to pluck from wealthier hands. Trousers that would normally be several sizes too big hung off of her, along with a white shirt that was stained green and brown from the rooting she had done earlier.

Perhaps she should reveal herself to civilization. The inn keeper seemed like a nice enough woman, humming as she put laundry out to dry, even greeting passerby merrily. Yet, this world was strange, though her own. She couldn't bring herself to openly leave the protection of the woods and open herself to harm. Lurking felt awkward, but it helped her retain her sense of humanity. Of course it was a little creepy, but that thought had long left her.

Instead the memory of that fateful day lingered in its place, haunting and teasing her. A good friend of hers, a scientist with a love for adventure that matched her own, invited her down to the lab to see his latest crazy invention. It was all corporate, of course. The government had no stake in this project, though Shay was a little surprised. The aim was to go back to when the earth was young to continue drilling for oil. The thought made Shay shake her head. After all, if you took the oil out of the past, then there would be none for the future. Of course oil executives did not think this way, and she was left with the urge to bang her head against a brick wall.

But, of course, she graciously accepted his invite. The two had entered the device so he could show her the knobs and bits that decorated the massive and ridiculous machine. It had not been economical in the least. Of course, Murphy's law stepped in and they had been catapulted into the past, leaving them stranded. None of her technology worked, of course, rendering her cell phone useless. All they had on them were their clothes and her Leatherman.

The multi-tool did wonders for her, but it had not been enough. Several days into their expedition, and endless fighting about appearing to the settlers, her friend had lost his life to the redcoats. Escaping with barely her life, she had managed to stumble into this cave, where at least there was the illusion of safety. Holding her face in her hands, the young woman forced herself to keep from weeping. No weakness, no pity, she forced her mind to focus. There could be no breaking.

Shay's head shot up at a noise outside of the entrance of the cave. The cave itself was not very deep, but she was far enough back to be hidden. Someone, she was sure from the footsteps, bent down and touched the dirt at the entrance. Panicked, she quickly scampered onto the shelf, clutching a hunting knife in her fist.

She pressed herself down, watching as a man entered. Though there was little light, she could make out his attire. Tall, much taller than herself, with white robes, heavy boots. The hood was pulled over his head, obscuring his face. He paused for a moment, cocking his head as if he heard something, but his face remained hidden. Taking a deep breath, she crept to the edge of the shelf, readying herself. She had never killed a man, only animals that she could get a hold of for food, and doubt began to taint her mind.

What if she missed? If she did, this man would kill her. He had enough to take four of her on and come out on top. Surprise was all she had.

Forcing herself to exhale quietly, she rose slightly, knife in hand. Three...two...one... She leaped with a growl that terrified even herself. Of course, malnutrition and illness slowed her movements, giving the man time to turn, grab her wrists, and slam her onto the ground. Breath left her lungs, leaving her chest aching as her dazed mind struggled back to focus. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she struggled, but the grip was too tight. Eventually, her hand became numb and dropped the knife with a clatter to the cavern floor.

Yet, she could not bring herself to plead.

Instead the man snarled in return, pinning her to the ground. "What are you doing here?" he growled, never loosening his grip.

Shay whimpered softly, but held onto to her stubbornness. "I was not aware you owned these caves," she tried to growl, though it came out more like the mewl of a cub.

Dragging her to her feet, the man pushed her towards the entrance, kicking the knife out of the way. Shay squinted as she was forced out into the light, her disheveled appearance even more obvious. The clothes hung off her awkwardly thin frame, her brown hair knotted and a general rat's nest, and the pale pallor of her skin, indicating illness.

"It is not the caves I want, it is the items you stole," the man's gruff voice made her cringe. Stole was such an ugly word. She would have preferred "borrowed".

Connor observed her for a moment, deciding she was not a redcoat or Templar by the unhealthy appearance she had. Surely no one in that situation would be out here withering away under the pretense of a helpless wanderer. Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head again as he looked her over from the shroud of his hood.

"Is it help you need? All you had to do was ask," he quipped.

Shay did her best to straighten, her wrists still aching from the iron grip he had had them in. Though she was normally prideful, it was not her ego that refused help. It was the fact she wasn't from this century, or even this area in her own time. Grimacing, she sat down on a large rock, noting he made no attempt to stop her.

"My reasons are my own, sir. I doubt many, if anyone, would understand my situation," she answered slowly, picking her words carefully. To change the past was to change the future, and she did not want any part of that ball of wax. If anything, she worried about her mother, and how she was faring in knowing her daughter was missing.

The assassin sneered slightly. "You are not in a position to negotiate," he pointed out, regarding her with his dark brown eyes. If she could see those eyes she'd probably melt.

"No, I suppose not. I apologize, but I am hungry, sick, and cold. I'm sure you understand why I am not in the mood to be interrogated."

Connor snorted softly and took this statement with a grain of salt. "What is your name, then?"

Shay paused, thinking carefully of her answer. Lying could lead to disaster, but so could the truth. Hesitantly, she spoke, "Shay." No more than that. "And yours?"

The assassin was slightly taken aback by her forwardness, though he had to admit it almost amused him. This woman was behaving like a wounded predator. Fiesty, and unwilling to go down even in the face of defeat. "Connor," he said simply. "Let me take you back to the homestead. You can apologize to the people you stole from, perhaps work off your debt. Then we will make sure you are well and equipped before you go on your way."

That had been almost too easy. Shay had been afraid that he was going to kill her, but mercy was still part of this predator's vocabulary. Though the thought of working off what he considered debt was slightly terrifying. Then again, the thought of a warm bed and food was also enticing. Perhaps it would not hurt to get stocked up and healthy again. Then she could try to find a way back to her time.

"I appreciate your generosity, Connor. Lead the way," she said softly, struggling to rise from the rock.

The fight-or-flight reflex was strong, but she forced it down and held onto what humanity she had left. This man could possibly lead her to her death...yet, he also held the promise of life.

Okay, that's it for this one! Please let me know what you think and if I should continue. As I said, I'm a little rusty. Thanks!