FINAL FOR TIDES OF A REVOLUTION

CHAPTER 10

For a few days, Antoinette came to Connor's cell and fed him. Today was no different, and as Connor heard the door open again he felt hopeful and afraid; hopeful for Antoinette, afraid it'll be a guard.

And Antoinette entered the room.

She untied Connor again, and handed him the water and bread. Usually she would just leave after this, but Connor grabbed her arm with surprising strength for someone who was malnourished.

"Wait." Connor said. "Why are you here? Who are you?" He asked.

"I work here. And I support the Patriots." Antoinette said.

Connor nodded. "Where are we?"

"A prison, near Boston." Antoinette replied

And Connor's heart thudded. He was close to Clara, or at least closer than he was. He knew their next stop would be Boston anyway, but it was within his reach now.

"Who is the girl who was brought here with you?" Antoinette asked.

"She is a friend." Connor replied shortly.

"I heard the guards talking this morning, just as I came in. They were talking about her. Said she's magic." Antoinette laughed.

This raised Connor's suspicion. How could Antoinette overhear that conversation? And why did she include so many details?

"...And what do you think?" Connor asked, deliberately and thoughtfully choosing this question.

Antoinette's expression flashed happy for a fraction of a second. A normal man wouldn't even notice, but Connor did.

"I don't know what to think... Is she?" Antoinette asked. She moved her hand slightly, a minute movement, but so that Connor saw a short glimpse of metal. A worker wouldn't have a weapon these days.

And this information confirmed Connor's suspicions.

"Enough with this act!" He said loudly.

Antoinette looked surprised, and slightly afraid.

"What-What act?" She asked.

Connor strode forwards and grabbed her wrist. He forced it aside and grabbed Antoinette's knife from her, but he was still weak form hunger. This made it easy for Antoinette to disarm him, and she held the knife out in front of her with one hand, while snaking her other hand into her pocket. She drew out a small box, but it was made of a strange material. Like stiff paper.

She opened the box and drew out a small stick with a red tip. She closed the box and struck the red tip of the stick against the side of the box.

And the stick lit on fire.

Connor leaped back, childishly afraid of the fire.

When his village had burned down, Connor hadn't feared the fire. After that, he still wasn't afraid.

But now, after the days of torture with the fire as the main device, Connor was afraid.

"Get on the table." Antoinette demanded.

Connor slowly and reluctantly made his way to the table, and Antoinette blew out the fire-stick before it burned her hand. She put away her knife as Connor laid down on the table, and Connor seized his chance.

He leapt on her and, quick as a flash, slammed her head against the floor. She lay still.

Connor suddenly heard a gunshot, and with his heart drumming he lay on the table, draping the leather straps over him so it would appear that he was still strapped down. After a few minutes, when Connor was sure that no guards would come into his cell, he stood up. He walked over to Antoinette and took her knife from her, before standing up and exiting his cell.

~O~

I sit down on the hard concrete floor. I stand up again.

Connor hasn't yelled for a long time. That can't be good; either they've killed him or he's cracked.

And I can't take this anymore. I have to escape. I let out a blood-curdling scream, and I lie down next to the door. The door opens slightly, and a guard enters. Just as he's about to close the door I spring up and sprint outside.

My heart drumming, I sprint down the hallway, terrified and exhilarated. I hear a gunshot, and then my chest feels strange.

I look down to see a large bloodstain spreading rapidly across my stomach area. And I fall to the ground.

My mind addled, I hear distorted footsteps echoing towards me. The guard picks me up, and I have just enough clarity of mind left to do one thing. I grab his arm tightly, concentrating as hard as I can. The pain slowly leaves my body, and the guard lets out a few grunts and gasps before he drops me and falls to the ground, still half alive. I take his sword from his belt and I slit the man's throat.

Suddenly, I realize my situation.

No one knows I've escaped yet. That means I have to be quiet. If a guard sees me, I'll die. Headshots are hard to transfer.

I have to get to Connor's cell; I have to check if he's alive.

~C~

Connor hurried down the hallway; one good thing that came from Antoinette's deception was that it gave him most of his strength back. He crouched down and ducked into the shadows as he heard footsteps approaching. As they faded down the hallway, Connor's thoughts turned to Olivia. He knew he had to find her, but her location was a mystery, and Connor had no idea how to find out where she was.

He continued along the hallways, looking in each cell through the metal grate at the top of each door. Then Connor arrived at a hallway with a dead body in the middle. He raced towards it and saw a bullet wound through the guard's chest, but his gun remained by his side. Anyone with half a brain would have taken the gun, but Connor knew Olivia. And she had more than half a brain; smart enough to know that a gunshot would draw unwanted attention. Connor looked up and saw a cell door ajar.

So Olivia had escaped. That much was fairly obvious.

She would be looking for him, Connor was sure, and naturally she would check all the cells. She would find his cell empty, with Antoinette's body there, and figure out that Connor had escaped as well; or at least, someone had escaped. But with her child-like hope, Olivia would think it was Connor.

~O~

I run down each hallway, jumping up to look through the cell doors. Most times someone is sleeping, so I guess its night-time. I keep going, along the hallways, and then I reach an open door, an open cell door. My heart skips a beat, and I look inside to find a woman, as if she's just woken up. She sees me and her eyes widen.

"Are you a prisoner here?" I ask her quickly, quietly.

"Yes." She answers after a moment.

"What happened?" I ask.

But then I hear footsteps in the distance.

"We must go!" The woman says urgently. She has a French accent.

I nod, and we duck out of the cell. We hurry along the corridors, sticking to the shadows and treading carefully. I hear footsteps coming from the end of the hallway, and the woman and I melt in to the shadows once again. Around the corner comes-

"Connor!" I exclaim quietly, suddenly filled with glee.

~C~

I see Olivia standing in the middle of the hallway, her face almost split in two upon seeing me. I smile broadly as well, and we hurry towards each other. As I reach the small child, out of instinct, I scoop her up into a tight hug. When we part, I put my hands on her shoulders and look her over.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, concerned.

"No." Olivia assures me. "And I found another prisoner," She says, turning around. "...she was right here." The girl mutters quietly.

"Another prisoner?" I ask, suddenly suspicious.

"Yes, she was French. I found her in an open cell." Olivia says.

It was Antoinette. I'm sure of it. The moment she saw me, she would have run off. She is probably telling the guards now.

"We must go." I say urgently to Olivia.

"Why? What-"

"There is no time! I will explain later!" I exclaim quietly. I turn around and creep down the hallway, my ears straining for any sound of footsteps. My greedy stomach rumbles.

We continue onwards, my heart thudding. I am in no condition to fight, and we won't be able to outrun any pursuers. We must be quiet.

~H~

I watch as Clara pulls up the hood on her Assassins outfit. She looks deadly, with the arsenal of weapons hanging at her belt.

"Be safe. Cause some trouble, get yourself seen, and then hide." I say to her.

Clara rolls her eyes at me, but nods. She leaps out of the window, out into the street below, and I sigh. I wish I could go with her and help inspire the people, but we have an unspoken agreement that I won't wear Connor's uniform.

The way Clara talks about him, it's plain that she loves him. I know she wants him back in Boston, but she knows he did what he had to do to keep her safe. I know I'd do the same thing for my family.

And as I think of my wife and child, rage spawns inside me.

We were separated at the start of the Occupation. I was taken to Boston; they were taken to New York. I have no idea if they're even alive, but if this is what it takes to be able to see them again, then so be it.

My wife, Jane, and my young daughter, Elizabeth, are stuck in New York. From what I've heard, it's better there than it is here, but it still ruins me to be parted from them. That is why I fight.

~O~

I can see a window!

For the first time in two weeks, I can see the outside!

I tug on Connor's sleeve and point to the window, and our pace quickens sharply. We continue along this hallway, and we reach what appears to be the main part of the prison.

Connor leads me down the stairs, and he seems to know where he's going. He leads us to a door, and I can hardly wait to get outside. Connor pulls on the door handle, but it doesn't budge. I can hear the guards shouting in the distance.

I notice that the door has a small glass window. It has metal decorations on it, but if we broke it I should be able to fit through.

"Give me your jacket." I say to Connor.

He looks confused, but complies with my request. I take it from him, and I wrap it around my fist. Then, with as much power as I can, I punch the glass. It shatters.

I hand Connor his jacket back, and I squeeze through the window. I get a small cut on my stomach from a broken piece of glass, but no major injuries. Connor looks at me through the window.

~O~

Connor and I sprint through the wilderness. My heart drums against my ribs frantically. Bullets fly through the air, but none hit us.

For some reason, I have the audacity to question this. Why don't the bullets hit?

We keep running. The soldiers must have lost us by now, the trees are so thick, but I remember Connor and I have spent two weeks locked up in that awful place. Our skills will have decreased.

We keep running. And running. And running.

Until, gradually, the bullets stop.

~C~

Olivia and I run through the wilderness. I'm exhausted, as a result of hunger, but I force myself onwards. We keep running.

"Connor, can we stop? Please?" Olivia asks after a time.

I slow the pace until we are still, panting and heaving. The snow around us is half melted.

I brush away the layer of snow, and Olivia lie down. I know we are going in the right direction, the moon has told me that, but I cannot help to wonder how long it will be before I can see Clara.

I drift into a world of sleep. No dreams interrupt me; this is the first night of peaceful sleep I've had in two weeks.

~C~

Olivia and I wake up to a frosty morning. She sleeps on, but I sit up, suddenly feeling the pain my body sends. I grunt.

I look myself over, examining the weeks of torture I endured. Multiple burn scars are forming on my chest, and there are numerous large cuts and bruises all over my body. I look towards the direction of Boston, and nothing matters anymore, nothing except getting back to Clara.

CHAPTER 11

Connor and I walk though Boston. I'm excited to be home again, and also to see Connor get back to Clara. I know he's missed her a lot.

We walk through the streets. Our clothes are slightly more tattered than most, but not so much that we look unusual. I realize how tired I am, and the piles of blankets in the tunnels, my home, suddenly seem so inviting. All I want to do it go there and sleep for a week, but until Connor's found Clara, I have to soldier on.

Just let him find her soon.

~C~

Henry and I walk through Boston. Today I wear my normal clothes, my Assassin uniform hidden deep in the tunnels. The past few weeks have been good; although my face has remained hidden, the Assassin symbol has become known to all. And a symbol is sometimes more powerful than a face.

It's mid afternoon. The sun is high in the sky, finally deciding to make an appearance today, and it almost seems a shame to waste such a nice day. Nevertheless, I am exhausted, so Henry and I part ways when we must, and I continue on to my room. I still miss Connor dearly.

I open the door to my house, and I walk up the stairs tiredly. I open the door to my room, and...

~C~

Olivia and I walk through Boston, searching for Clara. Olivia suddenly lets out a huge yawn, and I turn to see her looking exhausted.

"Olivia, go home. Sleep." I say.

"But, what about you? Clara?" She asks, her brow furrowing.

"I am a grown man, Olivia. I'll survive. You go get some rest, and I'll find you tomorrow." I say.

She nods tiredly, and heads off in the opposite direction of myself. I keep walking around for a while, before I decide to go back to the room Clara and I shared.

The thought that I could be within a hundred feet of Clara makes me happy, though I don't show it. I keep heading back to the room, and as I open the door, nostalgia floods me. I head up the same set of stairs, and open the door. Disappointment.

Clara is not here. I didn't expect her to be, but I cannot help my emotions. I sit down on the bed, noting its recent use. At least she is still alive.

Suddenly the door opens, and my heart starts flying. A huge smile splits my face, and I let out a joyous laugh. I sprint towards the figure that stands in the doorway, shocked.

~C~

He runs towards me, ecstatic, and pulls me into his arms, hugging me close. Connor presses his lips to mine, his smile never breaking.

"You-You're alive!" I exclaim softly. I raise a shaking hand to his cheek, emotion suddenly overwhelming me. Tears of happiness well up in my eyes.

"Konnorónhkwa." He says softly. His voice makes my heart beat unevenly.

I pull back and look into my husband's deep brown eyes. He looks tired but extremely happy, and he has a bruise on his jaw. I lean forwards again, wrapping my arms around Connor's neck and letting out a shaky breath.

"What about Olivia?" I ask, suddenly remembering the girl.

"I sent her home. She was tired." Connor replies before raising a hand to my cheek, almost as if he can't believe I'm here either.

"I missed you." I say to him as we kiss again.

"I missed you, too." Connor replies. He lifts me off my feet with no apparent effort, and presses his lips to mine again. We end up on the bed, almost as if the past few weeks never existed.

~C~

The sun is a bright orange. Connor and I lie in bed, dozing. My head rests against his chest, and I can see all the burn marks, cuts and bruises he acquired. I make a note to ask him what happened on his little adventure, but now I just want to enjoy the time with him.

"...Can you forgive me?" Connor asks.

"Of course. Although I am angry at you." I say.

He looks down at me, amused. "Really?" He asks.

I raise my eyebrows. "Really." I reply.

Connor pulls me on top of him and kisses my neck. "What about now?" He asks.

"Still angry." I say, half laughing.

He kisses my jaw. "Now?"

"S...Still angry."

His lips press on mine.

"Relatively annoyed." I say.

His arms wrap around my waist and Connor kisses my nose, making me giggle.

"I love you." I say to him, closing my eyes.

We both lie there in silence for a while more, but I have to know.

"What happened to you?" I ask.

I can feel Connor turn from happy to glum.

"Did you know there are people out there?" He asks.

"People? What do you mean?" I ask.

"Bandits. People who have escaped from the cities and lived in the forest. We have been lied to, Clara." Connor says. "We went to New York, and met up with your brother. He's alive." Connor adds.
He tells me about going to the Patriot's headquarters, and how they were captured. He was beaten, cut, burned and starved. My stomach twists uncomfortably as he tells me this.

"Oh, Connor..." I whisper as he finishes. A mixture of rage, sadness and relief well up inside me, and I plant a kiss on his jaw, wanting to be closer to him after hearing what happened to him.

"I am here now. That is all that matters." Connor says comfortingly.

"I will make them pay. Every last guard, Templar. They will pay for what they did to you." I say softly, rage deep inside my chest.

Connor smiles softly. "I am glad to see you have not changed." He says.

"Not one bit." I reply.

~C~

I wake up to the sound of drunken laughter. I get out of bed to see a group of men stumbling down the street, and apparently something hilarious has just occurred, because these men are almost crying with laughter. I smile. It's good to see people enjoying themselves; especially if it's after curfew.

People don't really obey curfew anymore. There have been no more hangings since Sam's death, because the guards know that if they kill anyone these days, it will just make the people angrier. Now, anyone that dies is a martyr.

"Clara? Why are you up?" Connor asks, making me jump slightly.

"I'm sorry. A few men in the streets woke me." I say to Connor.

"What?" He asks, standing up and crossing the room in two long strides.

He sees the men stumbling down the street. "They're out." He says incredulously.

"It's not uncommon now." I say. "The people are fighting back. The Assassin symbol inspires them."

"Did you-"

"Yes. And your uniform waits down in the tunnels, when you are ready." I say.

Connor turns to me, his broad smile looking milky white in the moonlight. He has a great smile, when he shows it.

"Then we leave now." Connor says.

I beam at him, and we dress quickly. We exit our building casually and make our way down to the tunnels in secret. I lead Connor to where I've hidden the uniforms, and we put them on. I suddenly feel nostalgic of when we had a single mission; to get Charles Lee.

At least then, it was clear of what we had to do.

But now, we are faced with freeing an entire country. Boston is fighting back, but we can never be truly rid of the Templars. There will always be one, hiding away. I want to be back at the homestead, free. I want Connor's people to be free. But that cannot happen while the Templars are in power.

I turn to Connor. I've missed seeing him in his Assassin uniform, and I stand up on my toes to kiss him. Connor wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up, so that I don't have to stand up to reach him. I smile.

"Shall we go?" I ask.

"Not just yet." Connor mutters back.

I let out a small laugh before I hear a soft giggling. My eyes widen; it's definitely not Connor making that noise. I stop kissing, and Connor pulls back, wondering why I've stopped. He hears the giggling too.

"Olivia!" He calls, sounding annoyed. "Come out!"

"No, I'm comfortable here." A little girl replies, half laughing.

Connor puts me down, and I blush slightly. He walks around the wall, and comes back holding Olivia's wrist. She looks as if she's about to burst out laughing. Connor crouches down to her height.

"Olivia, you cannot watch people when they..." Connor trails off awkwardly.

"When they what?" She asks innocently.

Connor gives her a glare, and she looks over his shoulder at me.

"Hello, Clara." She says.

"Hi." I greet.

She gives me a broad smile, before tugging her hand out of Connor's wrist. She steps backwards slowly. "I'll leave you two alone, then." She says playfully. Connor looks as if he's going to chase her, but she darts off through the tunnels.

Connor turns to me. "I apologise." He says, abashed.

"Don't worry." I say. I can't help but think about the way Connor acts to Olivia. "You really care about her, don't you?" I ask him.

Connor looks at me, obviously not wanting to talk about his emotions. I understand, and I can tell anyway. He thinks of her as a little sister.

"We should go." I say to him.

He nods, and we both flip up our hoods, running out of the tunnels, onto the streets. The sun is rising, and stallkeepers are just setting up their stalls. As we run through the marketplace, the guards start shouting and the stallkeepers begin clapping as they see us. The guards begin the chase, but we evade them easily.

How good it feels, to be running with Connor again!

I let out a joyful laugh, and Connor looks at me. Our hands brush as we leap onto another rooftop, and we keep running until the guards have lost us. We sit down on a rooftop and watch the sun rise, our hands joined.

I can feel it in my bones; this will be a revolution. A good one. We will win, and drive the Crown out. They can go back to England, the bastards. I smile broadly at Connor, and he smiles back.

"You said the Patriots needed a new headquarters?" I ask him.

"Yes. What are you thinking?" Connor asks.

"I'd bet the homestead has a few cobwebs. Maybe we should... fix it up. Move back in." I say to him, smiling playfully.

Connor grins understandingly. "Maybe we should."

I lean my head against his shoulder, amusement tickling me. All of a sudden, I'm eager for the fighting to start. I haven't killed any Redcoats for a while, and I'm betting a lot of the people in Boston would want to fight as well.

CHAPTER 12

Spring.

Oh, how I've missed you.

The warm air, the flowers that have gone missing for the long, cold months of winter, are back. They greet the change in weather with their bright colours. The snow has melted completely, and the grass looks greener than ever.

Connor and I dress in our normal clothes; our Assassin uniforms are still in the tunnels. We head to the marketplace, where we agreed to meet up with Henry and Olivia. We've been staying in Boston for the past few days, but tomorrow we return to the homestead.

People come and go between cities, now; as long as they're willing to get past the bandits and raiders stationed along the roads. It's almost like it was before the Occupation.

Connor and I arrive at the marketplace, but it's not what we expected.

The crowd is furious about something. They are screaming and shouting angrily, their attention directed towards the gallows. As I look towards them, I see a small figure being led up to them.

"Olivia!" Connor shouts.

We begin pushing through the crowd as they tie Olivia up to the whipping post. Connor fights through the crowd. She looks up and, shockingly, displays a broad, vicious smile.

"I am a child!" She roars. "And yet I fight!"

And with that the guard brings down a whip on her back. She lets out a gasp of pain, but doesn't yell out.

Connor roars in anger and leaps up onto the stage, spreading himself in front of Olivia just before the next whip is brought down. It cracks down into his back with a painful snapping sound. I follow him up into the stage, and I pull the whip from the guard's hand. I wrap it around his neck and twist strongly. He falls to the ground.

The crowd lets out a loud roar of fierce joy. Connor and Olivia stand up, and we all raise our hands. Then, I see a whole platoon of guards run around the corner, and I draw the guard's sword. Connor pulls out his tomahawk, and Olivia takes her knife out.

"Fight!" I scream out to the crowd, hoping to incense them. No one runs away. The guards see half of Boston standing there, all ready to fight, and they slow down. The Redcoats and the people clash.

One by one, people fall. Redcoats, too. The people take the guard's swords, and they fight. Connor, Olivia and I all fight too, taking down a majority of the guards, until most of the people are left and the guards are dead.

I can see some of Connor's people mixed in with the crowd; the fields were burned down weeks ago. I turn to Connor, and we both run out of the crowd, Olivia staying behind.

~!~

The Patriots had won the war.

With all the people at their side, it was a sure win.

The British had retreated, and with them, the Templars.

They would never truly be gone, but the Assassins would always fight.

Always.

Heyy guys!
Okay, so I know the ending was shitty but I couldn't think of another way to end it and I'm just SO lazy tonight! Anyway, please don't kill me and I also wanted you to know that I'm going to be doing one-shots of Connor and Clara as if Tides of a Revolution never happened. I'm also going to be writing an Assassin's Creed 2 fanfic (Ezio/OC), so be sure to follow me if you want to read it!
A HUGE thanks to all the people who have reviewed, followed, and favourited this disappointing story. I'm sorry I stopped halfway through, but I just lost passion for the story. And my motto in life is to do what makes me happy. Writing makes me happy, but this fanfic didn't. If I had decided to keep going with it, it probably wouldn't have been very good anyway because I didn't want to be writing it.
Again, thank you so much to everyone who has read, followed, favorited, reviewed, blah blah blah. I really hope you enjoy reading my one-shots and my AC2 fanfic!
Love from Jenna ;)