#crookedheartbeat

[thesinpolice]

tumblr sometimes removes spacing between my words when i copy the text over and idk why - i hope it's still readable though

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fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. XIII

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.044

total word count - 36.889

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“Grand Master Starrick warned us about you, Assassin...” The Templar doctor coughed, face contorted in a pained expression. “You are nothing. Surrounded, outnumbered. We are everywhere. Our resources are inexhaustible, our reach limitless... What influence do you imagine that a handful of criminals have compared to the Templar Order?” He was spitting up blood, eyes unwavering. “You are pathetic, obsolete, like the tenets of your Creed.”

The words stung a particularly sensitive part of Jacob, making him push the blade deeper as he felt the anger bubbling inside him.

“You're a child...” He choked. “A child, who believes he can solve all the world's woes with a flick of a blade... Have you ever pondered the consequences of your actions, Jacob Frye? Or did your Father teach you nothing?”

The mere mention of his Father was enough to make Jacob seethe with such unimaginable fury, the doctor’s words striking a particular cord that was enough to make him fully snap. He shoved his Assassin blade further into his neck, turning it and he listened to the man’s pained gurgles as he finally drew his last breath, the spirit in his eyes finally leaving his body.

As he ran to escape the gruesome scene he left behind, his mind flicked back to Ferris’ final words, words that echoed those of Elliotson’s, words that confirmed just how far he still was from everything he held so close to his heart.

How everything suddenly seemed just so cruelly unreachable.

His Father’s approval, his sister, his liberation of London, Jacob felt meek, like everything so hastily escaped right through his fingers, no matter how much he tried, no, he thought to himself, if that Templar resolve was so unmoving even in the face of death itself, so would his.

And that, that blind confidence, that resilience, was something Jacob swore he’d crush, one way or another. The way the Templars had always wanted to take their spirits, their determination away, spewing every insult, every affront they could find, and to think the puny words of a dying man had almost done that.

But no, Jacob felt determined, now more than ever, that he would break every cog in Starrick’s machine, if it was the last thing he ever did.

~

Though when Jacob finally reached the confines of his bedroom, everything swirling in his mind all but dissipated.

“What are you doing in my bed?” He questioned, voice somewhat hoarse, as he dared to trace his hand up her side, jolting her awake. “I couldn’t sleep.” She breathed, mumbled, turned over, as if to make more space in the bed for him.

He scoffed, unsure of what to think as his stomach did flips. “Evie?” He pointedly whispered, but she was fast asleep, asleep in his bed, awaited his familiar touch, as he wrapped himself around her, daring to enjoy the sense of calmness she brought to his mind, daring to bury his face into her hair and let her warmth lull him to sleep.

~

To say this was the best sleep she’d had in a very long time, was a clear understatement. She’d venture to say, it might have even been the best, period.

“Evie.” She groaned her protest, as she felt the absence of his warmth on her skin. His hand on her side, he gently turned her to her back. “Evie.”

“Hmpf.” She grunted, slowly opening her eyes to meet his questioning gaze. He seemed on edge, even more so than usual. “Did everything go okay?”

Sat up, she shot forward to hug him, the worry in his eyes deepening, and she pondered what might have happened in the hours he was gone. “It was fine.”

He mulled over the man’s dying words, his eyes closed, opened as he focused on his breathing. Nothing in his life was guaranteed. He gently pushed her away. Nothing, and that uncertainty gnawed at his nerves.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Yes.” She breathed, brows furrowed, she meant to reach back for him, feeling like a child, like she wanted to throw a fit just for being refused something she so dearly wanted – it was his touch she missed so much and now that she got it, it became apparent that much more, and her heart felt like exploding at his expression, one of pure, almost child-like joy, relief, solace, elation. “Yes, I accept the way you feel, Jacob.”

“Then what… What happens now?” He scoffed seeing her unabashed bewilderment, seeing she hadn’t given much thought to elaborating on her words further. “What do you mean?” He held her at arm’s length, hands on her shoulders, determined, Jacob searched her eyes for even a slight hint of what he had been looking for all this time.

“Evie, you’re playing with me.” Tone sharp, his words still held a hint of sadness. “I’m here, heart on my sleeve and you’re toying with me.” Said through his teeth, he leaned in, eyes fleeting to her lips and back to her confused stare.

“If you try to kiss me again…” She suddenly threatened, pulling away. “Just because I said I believe you, doesn’t mean it’s returned.”

“What’s all this then?” It would be safe to assume she blew his lid right off with her unfeeling words, as he gestured to her general direction, obviously pointing to her sitting in his bed, in nothing but her night gown, questioned the night they had just spent together.

“I’m sick of this.” He choked. “What would that mean then?” She whispered, almost afraid of her own words, of what she was afraid of giving any ounce of attention, perhaps for all her life.

“What?”

“You know we could never be-“

“Yes we can be-“

“No.”

Arms crossed over her chest, she stared at him. “Nothing is as simple as you think, Jacob.”

“It is.”

“Not this.”

“I’m sure as hell not going to pretend like this isn’t real.”

She rolled her eyes, looked away. “We’re not children anymore!” She scoffed, frustrated. “It’s not that easy.”

“I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is you.”

“What of our duty to the Brotherhood then? What of when we grow old, when we have families of our own?”

His hands balled into fists, he glared at her, as words poured out of her mouth like a flood of thoughts brimming in the back of her mind finally released, every thought she hid since they were children, tucked away until she hoped it’d go away, but it only lit with a stronger flame as the years went by, all the doubts, the worries, the words wouldn’t stop, “We could never be normal. The Brotherhood could take our titles.” she choked.

“Fuck the Brotherhood. Fuck everyone else.” He said nonchalantly, grabbing her shoulders. “You’re my only family and you always will be, and-“

“Don’t say that.” Her eyes were wide open, brows furrowed at his words, at what big of a meaning they truly held were they to be real. “We can’t do this. Ever. Regardless of feelings.” She looked away, stumbled with her words, struggled with collecting her thoughts. “We have a duty to the Brotherhood. It would be easier to just forget it.”

“Don’t walk away from this.” He shook his head, hands gripping her, he shook her, barely believing the words coming out of her mouth.

“We can’t go back to the way we were and pretend like this is nothing!” He half yelled as she shook herself free, his mouth agape as he felt like his heart was just stepped on all over again, he was so close, close to her, yet at the same time she still held him so far away.

“What then, Evie?” He pressed, watched her as she stood up, her muscles rigid. “Are you going to what, marry somebody else, have your own family-“ The words felt disgusting running out of his mouth. “-and still sleep in my bed?” She dared to look, to take in the slept in state of the bed, the sheets disturbed, messed, one pillow laying discarded on the floor.

Evie’s hand gripped his doorknob so tightly her fingers hurt. “Maybe we don’t feel the same anyway.” She looked at him, lips gently parted, she really had no other comment to the pained expression overtaking his rugged features, as his words gnawed at her heart, she trembled, her own words painfully stung deep inside as she turned around and left without another word.

~

She half listened to Henry as he spoke of newly acquired information on the Shroud of Eden, as after Jacob’s successful takedown of Lambeth, they were laying low, and the time was nigh for more book sifting.

And Evie was bored, bored with all the papers and books, and all the sitting around. And she was distressed too. Empty inside, she felt like little mattered anymore. Like it all turned off by the flick of a switch.

Her mind swayed, her senses like they were suddenly dull, numbed, she nodded to Henry’s words, not truly understanding what he was saying.

“You know, we could just give up on-“ She meant to joke, though her words held an air of painful truth that nagged at her unsuccessfulness – that was until Evie Frye was reminded of who she truly was.

Henry laughed awkwardly, protested lightly, turned around to grab more of his notes as Evie’s mind focused, like a puzzle piece finally stepping into place, what had been right in front of her nose this entire time finally coming to light.

She grabbed the notebook off the table, in disbelief she could miss something so obvious as she sifted through the pages, “These look like directions!” she exclaimed. “Are you coming?”

“Fieldwork is not really my specialty.” Henry protested, though Evie felt like she was just revived, jumping to grab the map laying on the floor, she opened it on the table, finger tracing the cryptic, hidden clues, leading her towards the destination she had almost just given up on chasing.

“What is going on?”

It seemed like their gaze was going on for an eternity and a mere second at the same time before he broke their invisible connection, raised an eyebrow at Henry instead.

“I've found the Piece of Eden.” She mumbled, her attention remaining on her findings. “I’m going to check it out.”

“It’s late…” Henry protested, glancing through the window to the darkness outside. “We've found a clue to a Precursor object – I’m going now, everyone is distracted with the Asylum anyway.”

“I thought we agreed to lay low.” Jacob half snarled when he felt his sister’s body bump into his as she was leaving, nose in her notebook. “You can’t go alone!” He yelled after her, yet she made no point of stopping. Her mind was preoccupied with finally having a lead on her missing Piece of Eden. “Henry doesn’t want to go with me.” She yelled back at her brother, and he threw a glance at the man in question, pointedly rolled his eyes, before he trailed after her into the night.

Jacob waved to one of his Rooks lingering nearby and he graciously lead them to one of their parked carriages. They sat in awkward silence, Jacob listening to his sister and following her directions. He felt distracted, wanting to ask her a million and one questions, though his mind felt empty, like she took all words out of his mouth with her own, Jacob felt like there was nothing else for him to say, but to focus solely on the mission and keeping her out of harm's reach.

“I think this map may be taking us to the Kenway Mansion…” Evie whispered after they’d been riding for a long time, to Jacob seemingly in circles. “Kenway? The pirate?” He questioned, unable to stop the yawn escaping his lips. Evie smacked him with the notebook, waking him up. “Master Assassin and pirate, yes.” She explained, her brow furrowed.

Jacob halted the horse to a stop. Her Pieces of Eden bored him, yes, though he tried his hardest to put his scrambled thoughts aside. “We should return, Evie.”

“Do you really think Edward Kenway could have found the Shroud?” She turned to him, searched his eyes, breath hitched in her throat, she felt awkward. “You didn’t have to come with me.”

“Like hell I’ll let you die chasing a stupid Piece of Eden.”

She meant to protest, but her brother disappeared from their carriage as it halted to a stop in front of the Kenway Mansion, pointedly dismissing her words, Jacob swiftly pulled Evie behind him, pulling her into the shadows. Asylum distraction or no, the City of London was still crawling with Blighters who wouldn’t hesitate to kill them where they stood.

They made quick work of finding a quiet entrance, Evie awaiting more of Jacob’s protests, though she was surprised to find him quietly trailing her steps. Evie tried to focus her mind as best she could, to not think about her brother’s close proximity as they ventured forward, deeper into the mansion’s many rooms. They entered one with a grand piano, standing there eerily silent, and it drew her in, the memorabilia scattered around it like it was some sort of sick museum of stolen Assassin goods Templars kept as a way to inflate their egos.

“I wish Father could have seen this.” She scoffed. “This should belong to the Assassins.”

Jacob kept watch, every so often glancing outside into the night and checking the hallway for any sign they’ve been spotted.

Though he grew bored, as Jacob does, he sat himself behind the piano and touched one of the keys, a deep rumbling of a mechanism shaking the room. “What are you doing-“ Evie hissed, rushing over to her brother, but was silenced by the raise of his hand. “Did you hear that?” Jacob barked back. “They could have heard that!”

She felt panic rise inside her. Jacob ignored her, pointedly focusing his mind and vision. He felt as though he could see notes on the wall, a hidden message left by a trained Assassin that knew only other members of the Brotherhood could find. He sat back at the piano, ready to play the tune displayed, but Evie’s hands stopped him. “You’re going to get us killed! This is no time for playing games!” She reprimanded, fearful of the noise they’d already caused, scared of what her brother was about to do next.

“What are you doing? I’m searching for your stupid Shroud!” He hissed back at her, panic swelling inside him as well. “Not by making so much noise!”

They must have heard the first note he played and there wasn’t much time left for him to play the hidden message, though Evie wouldn’t let him. “I’m not letting you ruin this because of what I said. Is that why you came with me?”

“What? That’s not what this is about-” He bit at her, annoyed, his voice was strained, mind swirling.

“You say you heard music?” Lucy Thorne’s voice sounded from the nearby staircase, accompanied by several footsteps. Their blood ran cold and in a moment of panic, Jacob pushed Evie away from him, hastily playing the notes displayed on the wall seen only to his trained Assassin eye. “Stop!” Evie yelled in a panic, unknowing her voice rung louder than the piano itself.

Though Jacob’s attempt proved fruitful as a large hidden passage revealed itself to them, leading to a hidden room which held several of Kenway's belongings. In her petrified state, Evie lost sense of what to do, surprised by the sight before her, fearing for her life, fearing for Jacob’s life, the feeling of guilt over the fact that she might have just royally fucked up, she went rigid, not hearing Jacob’s panicked pleas for her to run into the secret room to escape.

A gunshot rung in her ears just as her brother tackled her to the ground, surely saving her life. He was quick on his feet, Evie still in a guilty haze as he pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the hidden room, narrowly escaping death by bullet several times.

“There was no opening there before.” Miss Thorne herself entered the room, the sight before her a surprise. But Jacob was quick on his feet, stumbling over Evie to close the door from the inside. They could still hear Thorne barking orders to the Blighters from the other side of the door and Jacob was sure they didn’t have much time before they’d be successful.

“What have you done?” Evie hissed, though he pushed her, “Evie there’s no time! Get what you’ve come here to get.”

Evie’s brow furrowed, her hands trembled with adrenaline, she nodded and scrambled to her feet in a clumsy hurry, her brother’s safety suddenly the only thing on her mind. She couldn’t indulge in their bickering if they were dead, no matter how much she might have wanted to.

She rushed to the table inside the secret room and scanned the things laying in front of her. Valuable artefacts she was sad to lose, but there truly was no time as she heard the hidden door’s mechanism start to give in to the Templars’ brute force.

She grabbed the golden disk and some documents, seeing the Assassin Insignia felt like that was the exact thing she was looking for. “A history of the London Assassins... bolt holes... vaults... a hidden key. This is it.” She whispered, studying the hidden writing.

The door’s mechanism gave in.

“Are you done?” Jacob hissed. “Take it and let’s go!” Jacob gestured to the Jackdaw wheel, the wheel of Kenway's ship, seeming like an innocent artefact in the back of the room, though Jacob beckoned to her to help turn it and she listened. Like a charm, the wheel opened a secret passage that led into the sewers, allowing them a quick escape.

They ran and ran and ran, even though the secret door closed behind them, it was better to be safe than sorry. When they finally reached the dark, abandoned and familiar streets of Whitechapel was when they stopped, and Jacob slumped over, hands on his knees.

_

credit: jacob's lambeth asylum fiasco, evie's second london mission

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|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

this takes so long i've become convinced i live in 1860s london at this point

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. XII

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.032

total word count - 33.845

_

“I wish you’d come back to me, Jacob. I wish you’d stop pushing me away.” She whispered into the darkness, brow furrowed as she dreamed him standing in front of her, as she cried, cried for him to return back to her. “I’m here. You just refuse to see me.” His fingers brushed away the tears and she pushed forward, into his embrace, burying her face into the crook of his neck as she let him hold her through the gentle sobs and hiccups…

Evie felt like she was staggering behind, felt like she knew just about every word in that damned Lucy Thorne’s notebook by heart by now, yet her and Henry still haven’t reached a breakthrough in their research, making her more and more averted to the whole ordeal. She pondered of whatever it was that they had left in that chest, of whatever could have made their search that much easier.

‘Every time I look at what few papers I have managed to salvage from the collection Miss Thorne acquired I am angry at Jacob. If it weren't for his interference, I would now be sorting through a wealth of information, the likes of which I had never seen before.’

Evie wrote into her notebook, though her train of thought consistently kept straying away. Away towards her brother and how it seemed that every worry she had seemed to stem from him.

‘At least I have the notebook, and several papers that I found tucked inside. I also take comfort in the fact that Miss Thorne does not have it. Though I was so certain that she would be receiving the Piece of Eden itself! Let this be a lesson to me not to rush to conclusions.’

Him and always him.

Palms pressed against her eyes, she tried to shake the always reoccurring dream out of her mind. She glanced to the notebook laying on the table next to her.

“Evie!” A pounding at her door shook her from her trance. “Evie!”

“Yeah, yes, I’m coming.” A soft mumble, her hand reached through her hair.

The train renovations were now fully complete and with more functional space and many new accommodations, more and more people frequently started to visit their humble abode. There was even a small makeshift bar where Jacob’s closest Rook confidantes liked to hang around.

Evie welcomed Frederick and Alexander whenever they came by their train for a cup of tea. The young urchin Clara O’Dea frequented their train as well, though Evie didn’t speak to her often as she felt like the youngling much preferred to keep her brother’s company over hers. Though she was happy of their allegiance regardless.

‘Mr. Green has moved some of his books from his curio shop to the train so that we have the resources as we analyse the notebook's contents. It is nice to have the company as I work.’

Henry had become a sort of rift between the two siblings – foot on both sides, as he tried to advise Jacob in his pursuit of Lambeth and the Soothing Syrup, while still determined to solve whatever puzzle seemed to have been hidden within the contents of that notebook.

In her painful attempt to avoid her brother, Evie, when she wasn’t sticking her nose in whatever book that Henry put in front of her, had ran errands for whichever visitor needed her help, having made no breakthrough on the Shroud, she spent a lot of her time ceasing stolen cargo from Blighter hands and delivering it back to non-hostile territory.

At that point, she was sure she had walked every street of London at least once, knew every little street and corner, even wrote down every single detail in the new journal she bought on one of her many ventures.

“Fuck’s sake, I’m coming!” She half yelled as she tried to make herself at least somewhat presentable for an audience.

There wasn’t a day that passed that Evie didn’t think of her brother as she replayed their conversations in her head over and over again, replayed his words, his tone, the expressions on his face, she pondered, more and more, of Jacob and his antics, of his always furrowed brow, she pondered about herself and what to do.

Back home, every problem that strayed in her path she talked to Jacob about and he’d help her solve it. No matter what, he was always there. And now, now that he was the one behind her dilemma, she had no one to lean on.

And he didn’t either.

All this time Evie thought he was trying to hurt her, but could it really be that she was the one hurting him? Was truly she the one pushing him away?

“Evie!” His fist hit the door again, impatient.

“What?” Said through her teeth, Evie opened the door still half undressed, buttons half undone. “Is the train on fire?” She mused, one eyebrow raised. “Who is that?”

Finger pointed at a man in the next wagon over, excitedly speaking to Agnes, Jacob’s voice was tense. “Who? Nigel?” Evie rolled her eyes, observed her brother looking her up and down, before she crossed her arms over her chest. “Agnes says you allowed him to stay?” His voice was tense, posture rigid. “He’s harmless.”

“Right.”

“I think me and Agnes are perfectly good judges of character.” She protested, seeing as Jacob was ready to reprimand her, “Or he’s secretly a Blighter spy who will murder us in our sleep.” he commented.

Even in her loneliness, Evie’s restlessness never wavered, even if it brought her to the strangest of doings. Though out of everything she’d done, illegal or dangerous, Evie pondered why Agnes asking her to deal with a potential stalker was what stepped on his toes the most.

“You can’t be bringing random people into the train just because they ask. You should’ve killed him.” He leaned forwards, arms resting on the low doorframe. “You’re one to talk.” She rolled her eyes, a step backwards. “What does that mean?”

With a pointed look, she meant to close the door right into his face. “Evie.” His tone was sharp, voice determined. “That was different.”

“Oh, was it?” She scoffed. “Can spies not come in form of beautiful women Jacob meets in the pub half drunk?”

His arm shot downwards, hand pressed flat against the door, her tone was venomous, laced with brooding anger. “Listen-“

“No, I don’t have to listen to any word you say.” Voice croaked at the last word, having been reminded of that particular event spited her in ways Evie could barely describe.

“I didn’t sleep with her, okay?”

Hand still pressed to her door, he strode in, making her recoil further into her bedroom. “I don’t care.” She was stubborn.

“You clearly do.” Jacob let the doors close behind him, crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at her, head cocked to the side.

“We had a deal-“

He rolled his eyes and she choked on her own words at his lukewarm reaction.

“When we were children.” He said through his teeth. “Well, it still stands.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I said so!”

He walked forwards, it was like her teenage self mixed with the image of today, be it mere years ago, their situation seemed much simpler then. “I don’t want you bringing other women home. That was the deal.”

She choked – other? – and she felt tears threatening to fall, couldn’t pinpoint the reason, Evie’s eyes glossed over nonetheless. And he noticed, of course Jacob did, as he stopped, expression confused, angry, concerned, as all his emotions blended into one contorted expression.

“Why? We don’t share a bed anymore.”

“Well, still-“

“Why?” He pressed.

And her body jerked, heart screaming at her to leave this unbearable situation, she grabbed the notebook off her table-

His hand shot up, stopping her mid her attempt to escape. They were standing so close Evie could clearly see the muscles in Jacob's jaw clench at her words. "Let. Me. Go." She ordered, but couldn't quite match the sternness in his voice.

Their ongoing gaze felt like it went on forever, thousand of unspoken words flying between the two siblings who seemed to always be at each other’s throats.

“I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t with anyone. For a very long time.” Jacob wasn’t entirely sure what prompted his words himself, though something in her eyes told him it was what he needed to reassure her at that particular moment in time. He studied her eyes, saw the bob in her throat, as she stared at him, as if unable to breathe, before he slowly let his grip loosen.

Evie remained petrified to the floor, a cacophony of emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach, she didn’t exhale until the door closed after him.

~

Jacob took off, distressed, tired, irritated, but left nonetheless, straight for Lambeth Asylum. Half in a haze he pictured himself running straight into it, sauntering in through the front door, guns a blazing. He pictured himself blowing the building and everyone in it sky high.

Hearing a familiar voice pulled him away from his manic fantasies and he neared the carriage where Charles Darwin himself was bickering with another man, clearly upset and hurt over what the other man did to him. He sauntered over, hands balled into fists.

“That is Richard Owen! A vile, despicable wretch of a man!” He threw out upon seeing the young Assassin, hands thrown into the air. “Really? I could have sworn you were close friends.” Jacob mused, his voice unbothered. Charles, too preoccupied with his own worries, merely pointed towards the carriage that was now getting further and further away from them.

“Mr. Owen works at the asylum. He will know who made the Syrup! Get him!” He urged and Jacob rolled his eyes. This mindless goose chase was beyond him at that point, the never-ending antics going on his nerves. Going into this he thought he’d have a target to kill and relished in the chase at first but now he could have all but killed Charles himself right where he was standing, simply out of annoyance.

He took off running, rolling his eyes, practically shoving the nearest driver out of his seat, stole his carriage and chased the elusive scientist. He felt mad, manic even, at the fact that he was there, that he actually left, that he was doing this mindless thing instead of, well, perhaps being at Evie’s side trying to rectify his mistake.

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone, he thought to himself. Maybe he should have stayed and talked to her, like he perhaps should have done back in Crawley.

The thought toyed with him, heat rising in him as he neared the carriage, letting the horses gallop at full speed as he released the reigns and jumped onto the roof of the carriage, not batting an eye at the hazard he was putting himself in.

He yelled out, threatened, and jumped a gap way too large, over to the carriage Mr. Owen was occupying and pushed the driver off in cold blood, seizing it’s reigns. The man pleaded as he saw the new driver, more so when Jacob urged the horses to speed up, faster and faster, barely escaping fateful collision multiple times.

“I've always wondered how much of a beating this type of vehicle could take. I just have a few questions for you, sir.” Jacob spoke, his voice like he was mad. As he drove, he rammed the carriage into walls, rounded corners and let them hit the vehicle, almost throwing him off in the process.

The man yelled, trembled for his life, but Jacob’s sanity was all but seeping away. He kept prodding, his voice without any emotion, about the Syrup, about who made it about what the man truly knew.

And his mind kept wondering, had he not pushed so intensely, had he complied, tried to reason with her, would their situation prove different than it is now?

The scientist wouldn’t give in, fuelling Jacob’s rage further. This man was wasting his precious time, the time he could be spending with Evie and he was there focused on some useless Syrup he didn’t really care about.

As Jacob neared the bridge, his brain invented a brilliant idea. “Next stop: The River Thames! Better speak now, old man!” He yelled in his manic state, fully wanting to fly full speed into the river below.

“Stop! For pity's sake! Stop! You’re mad!” The man cried out in desperation, seeing he was headed to his doom. Hitting the water at such speed would surely be fatal, or at the very least majorly unpleasant, but he did not intend to find out, perhaps not like Jacob was. “Dr. Elliotson! Dr. John Elliotson! He formulated the elixir! He is the man you want! Not me! I beg you, good sir, stop this madness!”

Jacob shook his head, scoffed, pulled the reigns with every muscle in his body, the horses protested, but he was determined, able to stop the carriage before it plummeted into the coldness below.

“You’re insane!” The man yelped as the distressed horses brought the carriage to a screeching stop. He jumped out, his legs shaking, and scurried away.

And Jacob sat, sat at the stupid carriage, eyes fleeting between the reigns he held in his trembling hands, to the distressed horses before him, to the Thames streaming leisurely, stretched underneath him, he blinked, trying to clear his thoughts, all scrambled, disjointed, confused.

~

“What the hell happened here?” His voice was strained, panicked, body rigid, as he entered the train on his way back. “The breaks didn’t work.” Evie raked a hand through her hair, adrenaline pumping through her veins, “I really must tell Bob not to make anymore improvements on the train.”, she laughed to herself, leaning downwards to pick up whatever books had fallen off in the process.

“No shit. It almost derailed.” Jacob pressed, voice shaky, he thought of just how close they had just come to losing everything they had built up, how close Evie had just come to dying, as the train kept speeding up, as it threatened to go up in flames and take everyone in it to their early demise.

“It’s fine now, I fixed it, I-“

He stepped forwards, enveloped her in a tight hug, a warm embrace, buried his face into the crook of her neck and Evie could feel the gentle trembles in his muscles as he held her.

Though she couldn’t hold out for much longer, he was crumbling that wall inside her, day by day, and she was giving up, so close to giving it all up, for him-

She pressed at him, exhaled heavily, let his closeness consume her, let the adrenaline ride out of her veins as she breathed, as if for the first time in a long time.

“Evie, listen-“ And Jacob was on the verge of giving up as well, were it not for her words rooting him in place, right among the mess of papers where he was standing.

“I accept it, okay? I believe you.” His heart did flips as his eyes fleeted open, staring blankly into the wooden wall behind them. “Just come back to me, please.”

“What does that mean?” He croaked.

“Evie, are you okay?” Bob, the train’s apprentice, ran inside, rambling a scrambled apology, he dipped his head in appreciation, bless his heart, he promised to never try installing something to the train without supervision ever again.

Evie laughed awkwardly, jumped away from her brother and shivered in the coldness that overtook her, she assured the young man there was no harm done.

“Fuck if there wasn’t.” Jacob scoffed. “We should fire you, you-“

“Jacob, it’s okay.” Evie pressed a hand to his shoulder, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, her touch like it was burning on the spot of contact.

She offered Bob another smile, another reassurance, as Jacob merely stared him down in the background.

“Evie, we-“

“Jacob! There’s something important-“

“It can fucking wait.” He turned to her. “We need to talk.” He pressed, voice tense, jaw clenched, the interruptions seeming almost comical.

“I’m afraid it can’t. It’s urgent, and-“ Henry’s eyes fleeted across the wagon, floor to ceiling, “What happened here?” he pondered, extending a hand, “Are you okay?” he asked Evie, voice gentle, worried, but Jacob didn’t hesitate to step in, to grab her arm and yank her away, out of his touch.

“We’ll discuss later, Greenie.”

“It’s about Lambeth Asylum, Jacob.” Henry pressed, eyes fixated on Evie, he finally turned to look at Jacob’s scowl, unable to determine what was pressing on his nerves so much he looked like his lid would blow at any second.

“There’s whispers about your morning debacle.” His voice held a tinge of urgency. “If we don’t act now, we might not get another chance at overtaking it.”

“Then you go now.” Evie’s eyes fleeted between Jacob and Henry, observed Jacob’s apprehension. “It can wait another day-“

“It can’t!” It was rare for Henry to raise his voice. “The Lambeth Asylum is already heavily guarded.” He composed himself. “If word gets to whoever is in charge, or worse, even to Starrick, they might make it impossible to infiltrate.”

Jacob plastered his eyes onto the man in front of him, fists balled, he knew exactly what Henry was getting at, though his heart played tug of war with reason. “It’s time to send Starrick a message.” Evie half-whispered and Henry nodded profusely, “We’ve never been this close.” he affirmed.

“Fine. Fine. Fuck.” He gave in, gaze fleeted to his sister, he caved. “Been waiting for a visit to the doctor all this time…” He said through his teeth. “I’ll take care of it.” Jacob added, not fully present, his mind was stuck elsewhere.

A nod to Henry, he turned to leave, though at the last moment, Evie grabbed his arm, “Come back to me in one piece.” she mumbled, holding his gaze a moment too long, before she watched him march out of that door.

_

credit: evie's notebook entry, agnes' stalker, jacob's chase scene, train almost derailed yikes

_

read pt. XIII here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

was in an angsty mood today~

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. VIII

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.918

total word count - 21.361

_

"Did you find it?" His voice was but a strained whisper, tone panicked, fearful as he stood near the end of the cart, hands gripping the wood beneath his fingers. Jacob did an outstanding work, no doubt, the Templar numbers in the surrounding area greatly thinned out as promised.

She murmured. "Actually-" Voice half excited, half worried at the sight of her findings, Evie was distracted as she sifted through the contents of the Templar chest.

"There he is!" A sound from behind, more Templars rounded the corner into the alley and Jacob cursed at himself, mentally reminding himself he should, perhaps, have done a better job. "I think it's best we leave." He spat out in a haste, sounding more irritated than intended as he rounded the crate, it was clear, he slipped, in a moment of distraction, however brief, but now Templars were hot on their heels.

"What did you do?" She judged as he leapt in front of the crate and grabbed the reigns of the carriage. "This is hardly the time for questions." Jacob let the reigns loose, whipping the horses, prompting them to start galloping with such speed it knocked his sister off her feet.

“We need to get this crate back to a safe place!” She commented, pulling herself to her feet as they sped through the streets, their pursuers entering carriages of their own.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Irritation marked his tone as he led the carriage, trying to avoid their newly acquired pursuers at all costs.

“At a guess, I’d say 'kill us both'!” She hissed, in panic matching his bad temper, and he merely scoffed, similar scowls gracing both their features.

Templars closed in on them, horses neighing as they unbuckled their pistols, preparing to aim. Fear crossed Evie's face, though she refused to falter, hand mirroring their actions. "Drive more carefully! We need to get these documents to a safe place!" She reminded again, narrowly dodging a bulled aimed straight in her head. Her heart skipped a beat, but she got barely any time to recover as her body got slammed into the side of the cart when Jacob took a sharp turn.

With the Blighters' knowledge of London their chance of outsmarting them was slim to none. "I'm trying not to get us killed, you idiot! Would you rather we just stop right here?" Jacob hissed, clearly showing zero concern over a few fleeting pieces of paper. She cursed and cursed, trying to keep steady, trying not to think of the countless pistols aimed at her form with intent to kill.

A bullet flew in her direction, missing her by just an inch yet again. Fear for her life overtook her as she feared she might actually end up dead. That her brother might actually end up dead.

She dared to send a few bullets of her own, but the Templars were too many.

"We're going to have to jump!" He yelled, seeing the passing train below the nearby bridge, she hastily shook her head in disagreement, meeting his manic eyes as he halted the carriage to a stop and turned to face her. “What about the chest?”

“Leave it! Jump! Now!” He yelled, seeing her apprehension, mixed with the view of her bleeding to death, an image of the near certain future if they remained standing still.

He huffed his annoyance, in a rush grabbed a book from the crate and left the other documents in there. There was no time. She couldn’t solve the puzzles that were the Pieces of Eden if she was dead. What she got would have to suffice for now, no matter if she wasn’t seeing it at that particular moment in time.

As the enemy carriages rounded the corner, Jacob's mind went blank, all he saw was red as another gunshot ricocheted nearby, panicked, he roughly grabbed his sister and forced her off the carriage, her futile screams of protest falling on deaf ears as he pulled her behind, his grip painful on her arm.

Evie huffed and puffed, cheeks flushed, eyes daring to glance at the lost documents, she had been so close, they weren’t the Piece of Eden per se, but the documents were something, at least. He pulled and pulled, knuckles white as they jumped, down onto the passing train that broke their uncoordinated fall, as they awkwardly rolled, Evie almost fell off the speeding train in the process.

"You... you fucking imbecile!” She coughed, angry, unsure at what at that point as the carriages still in pursuit started losing their speed against the train. Carriages whose drivers would have killed her ten times over by now had Jacob not intervened. “Those were important documents!"

"Well, excuse me for saving our fucking lives!" He fought back, hand still gripping hers, holding her close. "Excuse me, for not wanting to see you dead... to..."

"You said you would stick to the plan!" When unnamed frustration manifested itself as aggressive anger, it was hard for her to stop. Her mind was blank, body defensive as he stared her down, face close, she felt the need to protest, however uncalled for, like she needed to stand against him no matter what he spoke of. She couldn’t shake that feeling ever since they were reunited again.

“Fuck all, Evie. Fuck you.” Head shaking in disbelief, hand dismissing her, Jacob was tired, tired of the annoyed grimace she always reserved especially for him. It ached, gnawed at his heart, bit by bit with every day.

He shoved the book he recovered at her, pressing it against her chest with shaky hands, as his words pierced her like a knife, the expression in his face so purely, unabashedly apathetic, so devoid of any emotion, it took any remark she had prepared out of her mouth, lips gently parted with unvoiced words.

~

He punched a wall, again and again, blood staining his knuckles a familiar crimson colour. He didn't care, didn't bat an eye. He welcomed the pain, relished in its familiar embrace, because physical pain took his mind off of what he felt deep inside if only for a brief moment, because in truth, what he felt was rage. Anger at… everything. At that point, Jacob was sure he was just angry at everything. Like a pubescent teenager in the middle of a mood swing, unable to point his finger at one discernible perpetrator anymore.

He shook his head. With another grunt he landed a few new solid punches to the unforgiving wall. “Fuck this. Fuck everything-“

"Mr. Frye? Excuse me?" An all too familiar Indian accent broke through Jacob's mental barrier in an instant. "Go away, Greenie." He half threatened, but Henry remained unfazed.

He punched again, the concrete beneath his fist finally crumbled, the pieces stained with his blood falling to the floor the only sound in the empty alleyway this late at night.

"She sent me to get you." He said, trying to remain calm, before running a corner and disappearing, perhaps unwilling, perhaps to some degree afraid, of dealing with Jacob’s, at times, seemingly scrambled mind.

Jacob scoffed, not giving the man another glance. His continuous gentle touches and warm words he directed at his sister utterly pissed him off. It didn't help that Evie was returning Mr. Green's advancements ever so slightly. He was convinced that was what was happening. With every fleeting day, every barked conversation, every step they took forward also brought them ten steps backward.

And Henry Green was there to fill in the goddamn gaps.

~

"So what am I then, some errand boy you can send your lap dog to get when you need him?" Jacob’s voice croaked involuntarily when he saw her, though he tried to keep his aggressive tone. “Where were you last night?”

They held off their risky mission until the night promised a safer approach – it was then he never returned to his bedroom, the sheets she prepared for him herself never slept in, never used. The book he recovered laid on her table untouched, brushed aside, discarded, as she wanted nothing but to speak with him, afraid he wouldn’t return back to her.

“Why didn’t you come yourself? Oh, let me guess, the damned Brotherhood needs me again, huh? I don’t need you chaperoning me every fucking minute. I’ve been doing more than you.”

Lips parted, she stared, unable to find the words. “That’s… uncalled for.” He saw, saw everything, took her in, it was back, everything that had disappeared in the days she found comfort with Henry was back, her slacked shoulders, the unkept state of her hair, clothes, all distressed, messy, hurried, panicked, clearly unslept.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand you being so rude.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He scoffed, hand raking through his equally as mess of a hair as hers.

“Just-“ She inhaled, swallowed the tears that prickled at her eyes at his choice of words, tried to at least, her mind foggy, exhausted. “Tell me what you want Jacob. You won, okay? You won your little game. Whatever it was you were trying to prove-“

She choked, swallowed. Looked away. He knew exactly what to say to hit her where it hurt. Yes, his establishing of a new gang might have proven more fruitful than whatever she occupied her time with, but they had been in London a mere week.

“There is no fucking game.”

At the very least, she thought he wouldn’t stoop so low, but alas, he had been doing anything but what she had predicted the last couple of months.

“Just stop!” She yelled. “Why can’t we just go back to normal?” She choked, hands pressing to her eyes.

“And what is ‘normal’?” He half spat, arms crossing over his chest, he challenged. “Stop pushing me away.”

“What is ‘normal’, Evie?” Eyes snapped back to his, he pushed, wanted to hear her say it, because her brother knew that’s exactly what she had been avoiding. What she had been denying.

Her head shook side to side as she studied him, his defensive stance, narrowed eyes, brows furrowed.

He scoffed, looking away, breaking their gaze. Body swivelled halfway, and she feared, feared he’d up and leave her, again. “I can’t sleep knowing you’re not in your bed.” Voice hitched in her throat, like he was sucking all air out of her room, and she choked, awaiting his answer. “I stayed inside when you asked me. But you’re never here even though I asked you.”

Eyes glued to hers, he swayed on his feet. He bantered with her, picked fights with her. He stayed with her at the hotel, didn’t stay with her in the train. There wasn’t a night he spent in their newly acquired hideout, as his heart battled with his head, his actions constantly contradicted themselves.

“I can’t be close to you when you look at me like you do, sister dear.” He whispered, looking away. Always returning to the same crossroads, unable to decide on where to go. Stay or leave, push or pull, speak or remain silent, listen or ignore, endure or protest.

She threw her hands in the air, frustrated. “I’m tired of having to walk on eggshells around you.”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“Then what? Do I leave too? Go back to Crawley? Is that what you want? You don’t want me?” Turned back to her, his eyes met hers. The time he had been with her felt so short, so fleeting, yet every conversation dragged out to reach her same stubborn conclusion.

“You’re all I want.” He choked, unravelling his hands, his words pulled at her heartstrings in ways she couldn’t explain. “Then what, Jacob?”

“Do you have anything to say about what happened?”

Lips pursed, she remained silent, unable to break his stare, afraid of speaking her unchanging mind. He was giving her that expression again, that emotionless, stoic, unfamiliar expression that told nothing, the one he gave her when she looked at him with that annoyance, that tiredness, that apprehension.

She took half a step towards him. “I needed you too.” She swallowed, hand gently grabbing his, blurting the words before she could give it a second thought, his words, that sat in the back of her mind, gnawing at her since he voiced them. She did and she was just as terrified of losing him as he was her. Didn’t know what else to say, how to respond, how to proceed, couldn’t discern the meaning behind his actions or what exactly was he expected of her.

She was standing close, way too close, his heart thundered in his chest, rapid short beats, his breath hitched in his throat. Eyes fleeted, from her half teary eyes to her lips, how much he hated making her cry, how much he hated being the centre of her pain, it was like he was yelling at her from underwater and she refused to hear him, always refused to listen.

Heart pulled him towards her, yet by her side he was unhappy, never feeling so distant from her than in these past few days, not even when he was alone that entire month, the closer she was, the more her words pushed them apart, the more his heart ached, he too wanted to be like they were before, to continue, she was stubborn, oh so stubborn, and she refused, refused to see.

Perhaps he could never make her see, but he couldn’t pretend anymore either.

He was torn, ruptured inside himself, lost, afraid, alone.

He dared, dared to leap into the cold abyss, solidifying the point of no return, as he pressed his lips to hers-

I needed you, I needed you, I needed you.

Warmth, it was warmth, bliss, that overtook him, as he moved against her, hand gently cupping her cold cheek, he felt her hand gripping his with such volition his fingers hurt.

Softness, sweetness, familiarity, all blended, bonded, mixed, his eyes fluttered close as he felt her, focused on her presence, the feel of her skin underneath his fingertips, like he was afraid she’d disappear and he was dreaming.

His eyes didn’t snap open then, not in an instant, not until he grabbed his cheek, feeling the warmth, the pain, the agony.

“What-?”

She clutched her hand to her chest, delivered her painful slap, left a red mark on his skin. His lips were losing her warmth, no matter how desperately he clung to it.

“Leave. Please, go.”

“A minute ago you didn’t want me to leave.” His delivery was bitter, cold, unforgiving, changed.

“Leave.” She whispered, unable to meet his eyes, somehow so taken aback she was unable to yell, feeling as though all the warmth was sucked from her room in an instant. “You’re disgusting.”

The way he slammed the door was sure to alert the entire train, though Jacob didn’t care, not anymore. The final nail in his coffin, what ripped his heart out of his damn chest, her words, and he let it, let her hold his heart in her hands because that’s where it belonged anyway.

~

For the first time since they'd arrived to London, Jacob actually got a good night's sleep and the change felt exhilarating. He stretched and took a deep breath, sitting up on his surprisingly comfortable bed inside one of the train's many wagons.

With passing days he came to accept to call their hideout Bertha, a peculiar name given to the train by its even more peculiar owner, Agnes MacBean. He came to like her, too. As her habit to leave people be and not ask many questions quickly grew on him, her unknowing of his personal issues and line of work a somewhat blissful ignorance. To the nice old lady, he was merely Jacob. Not Jacob, the Assassin or Jacob, the reckless, irresponsible twin or even Jacob, the disgusting family disgrace-

No, Agnes didn't pry or judge. And Jacob liked that, recently preferring her company over that of Mr. Green's or even Evie's. Aside from walking past them in the train when he'd returned from his daily wanderings, he hadn't spoken to either of them in a few days. Even that, he liked. No judging eyes or resentful looks. No witnessing the continually intensifying flirting between Evie and Henry either.

It pained him, being away from her. But he concluded that it was for the better.

Decided he was not about to wallow in his misery or sulk in bars, drinking days on end to forget the intense desire burning deep within for at least a moment, well, not anymore for now at the very least. Tucking his emotions in the back of his mind as best as he could, Jacob finally got up from his bed with a loud sigh.

His eyes fleeted to his table, the strange pistol-shaped object Evie retrieved from Kaylock after he brutally murdered him, still residing there, slowly started to collect dust. He searched here and there, asked in this shop or the other, if anyone knew how to repair it, who made it or what it was even used for. He had no idea and was frankly starting to lose interest as his attempts to fix the strange object remained infertile.

He heard the bustling noise of the city outside and felt the moving of the train, concluding it was late morning already and way past the time he meant to wake up. Lack of sleep from the past few days, hell, weeks, left a toll on him and his body strained to replenish the many hours of sleep lost to drinking and fighting.

Lazily, Jacob picked up the pistol-shaped object and shoved it behind his belt, underneath his dark coat, thinking that perhaps if he had the time he'd go try and see if anyone knows about this abnormal device. He felt somewhat replenished at least and with that newfound determination and a new goal in mind, he stepped outside his wagon. Running a hand through his hair, he chose not to grab his flat cap as he usually would, before hastily making his way off the moving vehicle.

He couldn't quite pinpoint if him not seeing his sister on the way out hurt him or relieved him more and it left an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach as he made his way from the train tracks, their hideout now far away in the distance.

Pulling the hood over his head, he made his way across one of the many bridges over the Thames, gladly letting the noise around him cloud his mind.

Weirded glances came his way from all sorts of directions, some worried, some afraid, some, from women mostly, even intrigued. And it flattered him, the last part the most, he admitted to himself, as the gentle giggles and gasps were sent his way by a group of young women in lavish dresses, seemingly from a higher class. With a smirk playing on his lips, he walked by, not giving them a single glance, but gladly basked in the female attention which, no doubt, boosted his rejection-stricken and bruised ego.

Rounding a corner, Jacob disappeared from the main street into a smaller alley and making sure no one was following, he then stepped through the tight space between two houses, onto a large open backyard, full of figures in familiar green coats running about.

He removed his hood, running a hand through his hair, which on that particular day just didn't want to stand the way he wanted it to. "Morning, boss!" He was greeted multiple times by his comrades and he offered a nod in response, passing by multiple people, some chatting excitedly, some running about with important matters in mind and some even sparring and practising, honing their fighting skills.

He smirked, a bitter-sweet taste on his tongue, more to himself than to those around him as his thoughts jumped to his sister yet again. It somehow always rounded back to that in his mind. He shook his head. Whether she approved or not, it was now not any of her concern. His gang, the people he single-handedly united under a common goal was growing strong, its numbers increasing with each passing day.

Those past few days that he finally hadn't spent sleeping in a ditch somewhere, passed out drunk with a new bruise, he rather spent helping the Rooks, which in truth made him feel empowered. He'd been making progress. He'd been making a change. And he was sure Father would be proud. He only wished, she would've been proud too. Or at least acknowledged his work.

This was easier. Mindless killings, threats and beatings - that was easy. To Jacob, nothing felt as good as driving his hidden blade through a Templar's heart and watching their life fade away. And he yearned for the day he'd get to do that very thing to Starrick himself and take London for the Brotherhood.

Dealing with a broken heart? Dealing with jealousy? That was far from easy. So Jacob did what Jacob knew how to do best. He stuck to his mission as best he could and hoped it would take his mind off of his sister whilst, with completion of his goal, still getting him the title of Master Assassin.

"Boss?" He blinked once, twice, regaining his composure as his thoughts flew elsewhere. "Hm?" His eyes met with ones of an adolescent boy in a green coat and a black hat atop his head. "I said, I may have found some information about that pistol thing that you told me to investigate."

"You... did?" The boy seemed happy, almost smug with the reaction he got from his boss, knowing that he did a remarkable job by finding what even Jacob himself hadn't managed to. He nodded proudly and offered a piece of paper to the Assassin in front of him, who swiftly snatched it from his hand and read intently.

"How did you find this?" He inquired after putting the paper in one of his pockets. "Urchins." The boy answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"Urchins?" The meaning of the word was unfamiliar to Jacob, yet he felt like he heard it once before.

"Urchins. ‘Children make for excellent spies.’" She quoted, an all-too familiar voice ringing from behind him, making his body tense up. He quickly waved the boy to leave with the flick of his wrist, not even managing to mutter a sign of gratitude for his discovery before his departure.

Running his hand through his hair, the younger twin slowly turned on his heels and nonchalantly shrugged. Perhaps he did, faintly so, remember one Henry Green using such verbiage once before.

Their gazes finally met, hers unwavering as she kept her never ceasing defensive stance, swaying on her feet with arms crossed over her chest. His voice hitched in his throat when he saw her, took her in, every detail, every inch, as if interacting with him so humanely was the strangest thing she could possibly do.

Perhaps, after their last interaction, it actually was.

"What are you doing here?" He composed himself.

"I came to visit my dearest brother, of course." She perked on her feet and stood tall, challenging him with her eyes.

"I'll choose to believe that, just because." Was his only apathetic response as he simply smirked to himself and leaned back onto a wall, pointedly breaking her gaze.

_

this mission happens a bit later in the canon but it kinda fit better here in my mind

_

credit: evie's first london mission & the urchin quote

_

read pt. IX here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

we're finally in london, b

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.VI

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.304

total word count - 13.419

_

‘I arrived at Sir David's laboratory too late to recover the Piece of Eden. I did not get a good look at it, but he had it hooked up to some sort of machine, which exploded under duress.’

Evie wrote into her notebook absent-mindedly, never failing to document any and all information on anything Assassin-related she deemed important.

‘For his part, Jacob believes I found some ancient pottery that cracked when exposed to an electrical charge. Ancient pottery! Unfortunately for me, the subsequent explosion of the laboratory means that I cannot disprove the hypothesis.’

He carefully studied her expression as the candlelight gently bounced around the soft features of her face, the way she scrunched her nose as she concentrated, the way her brows pulled together, lips pursed, every detail, every inch of her, he tried to burn into his memory as if in fear that any moment spent with her could be his last.

‘If we had timed our mission even a few hours sooner, I would be holding the proof in my hands even now! But I know what I saw.’

“We didn’t pack.” He stated plainly, standing up from one of the beds brandishing their modest hotel room.

His gaze travelled from her lips as he approached her, along the arch of her jawline, down her neck, as he observed the tenseness in her muscles all the way down to her hands, he couldn’t miss the slight pause of her fingers before she hastily resumed her writing, pointedly ignoring his words.

‘I also had the opportunity to observe the famed Miss Lucy Thorne. She was more interested in speedy results than the actual object they'd found. I suppose it is to be expected of a Templar that she would focus more on gaining power than gaining information. Still, she does not seem to be a woman to be trifled with. I'll need to proceed carefully.’

Afraid to look away, it was as though Jacob feared she might just up and vanish were he to look elsewhere. The amount of times she graced his drunken dreams, only for him to be cruelly awoken into his lonely, miserable reality had been one too many in the past month.

“Hmpf.” He grunted, trying to garner her attention yet again, hands now placed on the edge of the table she was sitting at.

‘If what Sir David told me as he died is true, Miss Thorne is either in possession of another Piece of Eden or knows where one is. Jacob and I-‘

“Real mature.” Was her only comment, arms crossed defensively as she stared down her brother, the latter brandishing his signature smirk.

“I said, we didn’t get the chance to pack.”

He played with the stolen notebook, swaying it in front of her, his mind toying with the idea of opening it and reading its contents out of mere boredom and curiosity.

“Yes, we did not.” Evie heavily exhaled.

Making no intention to obtain the taken item, Jacob dared to flip the pages, as if to challenge her, only to be met with an apathetic expression.

He rolled his eyes. “Meaning you still carry this damn notebook with you everywhere you go.” He mocked, recalling all the times he’d see her carrying it around, never letting it out of her sight. He teased her then, when they were mere children, and he’d tease her still. Jacob was never the studious type anyway. And he’d deny it to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing her cheeks turn red in embarrassment either.

“Writing things down is smart. You should try it sometime. Maybe you’re actually not such an idiot under all that forgetfulness.” She prodded, tone annoyed though carrying a familiar hint of playfulness.

Hands still crossed over her chest, she remained seated, answering his provocation with a pointed stare.

“You wound me, dear sister.” His tone purposefully theatric, he held her gaze, a moment too long as his sister ended up being the one to look away, awkwardly biting her lip.

He shook his head in silence, eyes studying the written words. “’Jacob and I’ what hmm?” The sentence had gone unfinished, an ugly speck of ink laying on the empty page underneath her latest entry. She merely scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever you hope to find - it’s not there. I told you a thousand times before, this isn’t a diary.”

Jacob paused, catching her gaze. “Are you done? Can I have it back?” Looking away, she merely extended a hand, avoiding his wandering eyes.

“No.”

“Stop acting like a child. Give it back please.”

“I do like being the centre of your attention.”

“Jacob!” She seethed, in a moment of annoyance and anger, her tired state did nothing to aid her critical thinking, as Evie stood up and marched towards him. Jacob looked at her intently as he let her back him against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

She grunted, searching his eyes as he merely raised his hands as though he’d just been caught by the police, trying to do his best to look as pointedly innocent as he could.

Evie snatched the stolen object from his hand, though at that point they’d been standing so close she could swear she could hear the pounding of her brother’s heart. In a split second of hesitation she choked, as his eyes jumped down to her lips, and almost instinctively, so did hers to his, making her jump away feeling as though for a second, she couldn’t breathe.

She meant to yell at him, feeling like he did that on purpose, to provoke her, whatever it was, but his words caught her by surprise.

“Well, I’m going to… leave.” Jacob broke the sudden silence, voice hoarse. “It’s the middle of the night?” She found herself protesting, though unable to look him in the eye, her voice was laced with abrupt panicked worry.

“It’s been a long day…” His tone was strained, voice not really making sense as he looked her over, once, twice, though she refused to face him still.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

Her voice was but a whisper, hands balled into fists as her exhausted brain worked in overdrive. She watched him leave once, and she wouldn’t – couldn’t – do it again. Not after she finally got him back after so long. She told him to leave then and she wouldn’t do it again. Or, couldn’t find it in herself to.

He exhaled, his shoulders slouched as he bridged the gap between them and enveloped her in a tight embrace without a second thought.

And she relished in it, the anger in her dissipating just as quickly as it appeared, she returned the hug with equal intense emotion.

“I missed you so much. I don’t want to be alone again.” She managed to squeeze out, feeling as though her lungs were unable to catch air. “Evie… I missed you more.”

~

It was the year of 1868 when the Frye twins first set foot in the big city of London, more precisely, the borough of Whitechapel. The ghost of the great Industrial Revolution clung it's poisonous claws into all of its inhabitants, the most afflicted being Whitechapel itself. With a shadow from the past casted over the poor and chaos inflicted district, many people, desperate for a better chance at life, resorted to thievery, begging, murder and even prostitution.

"I've never seen so many people at once." Jacob's admiring eyes, almost intimidated, flew across the tall buildings and crowds of people running around. "'The churning seas of London.'" Evie quoted as the twins stepped onto the lively London streets. "It's just as Father described." She couldn't help but admit it to herself that despite her fears, she was content with her decision to come to London. It would take time, but she was sure they could accomplish their goal. With Jacob by her side, she felt like everything was possible.

"Now, to find Henry Green and formulate a plan of attack against the Templars." Evie reminded with a stern voice, though the same curiosity and excitement that lit her brother's eyes rose inside her as well.

"Hm." He grunted, his brows furrowing in deep thought. "Who’s Mister Green again?”

Evie frowned in response. “The Assassin watching over London. Did you not listen the first three times?” She scoffed, though Jacob seemed to have no retort. She’d been babbling all morning, but all he could think about was the way she looked at him before she retrieved the notebook from his hands.

She laughed, giggled almost, at the way he seemed to completely lose himself in his thoughts. “Jacob.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “I’ve always been the quicker climber, haven’t I?”

“Not since we were two.” He smirked, waking up from his fantasies as he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Race you to the highest vantage point!”

And with that, she was gone, already running through the crowd with intense speed, trying to locate the best opportunity to ascend.

And so she did, with her brother hot on her heels as they climbed, higher and higher, further and further, onto the rooftop of the nearby factory. Jacob lagged behind, his steps rigid and chopped, unfocused, as his eyes followed her elegant movements, the gentle smile on her lips, the rosy flush in her cheeks that, unbeknownst to him, mirrored his.

“Ha!” She exclaimed her victory, letting out a carefree laugh as adrenaline filled her veins. He was enamoured by her, completely taken off guard by her blithe visage, the liveliness to her stance, as he was unable to pay attention to anything but her.

Their chests heaved as he caught her gaze, completely speechless. Like she had done a complete turn around, from the tired, stressed woman standing before him a mere day ago, the stark contrast in the person standing before him now was abrupt – though in all the right ways.

And Jacob felt the same too, having held her in his arms for the first time in so long, having slept in the same room, despite his subconscious fears, knowing she’d be there when he wakes up was enough to breathe life back into him.

“You must be the Frye twins.”

They jumped, the voice of the new arrival a sharpness that cut through the air around them. “And you are...?” Evie spun on her heels, the warm tension dissipating as they both faced the gentleman standing in front of them.

“Henry Green, at your service. I was sorry to learn about your Father's passing.”

Evie could swear she felt the temperature drop, if judging by the mere way Jacob looked at the young man… who was intently looking at her.

“Thank you...” She mumbled, feeling, dare she say, enchanted by his politeness and respectful manner, the way he looked at her, how he carried himself in huge contrast with, well, anything Jacob ever did.

“What can you tell us about Crawford Starrick?” Jacob’s bitterness cut through them, the strained tone in his voice an obvious indication of his sudden irritation, as his gaze finally moved from his sister towards the new face.

“I suppose the Council desires news?” The twins looked at each other awkwardly, Evie mumbled a half-assed heroic comment about the liberation of London, hoping more than anything the Assassin standing in front of them wouldn’t bat an eye at their unannounced arrival. Or write to George about it, for that matter. Though he was bound to find out sooner rather than later anyway.

A worry she’d save for another time. And why was she comparing Henry to Jacob anyway?

Henry aimed to update them on the horrific state of London’s inhabitants, the future certainly painted bleak. Jacob studied the sea of people beneath them, the familiar red coats apparent of the truth in the Assassin’s words. Evie tried her best to look determined yet surprised, even though she’d already read those same concerns in the stolen letter addressed to George.

“I've always thought of myself as a gang leader.” Jacob spoke nonchalantly. The more he looked, rather, the more he saw, the more sure he was that a venture like that could perhaps be worth his time. “Firm, but fair. We'll have uniforms. And I'll unite a mix of disenfranchised outsiders under one name. That's it, Evie! We can rally them to our side.” Couldn’t sound more ridiculous if he tried, if judged by how Evie looked at him, but… Perhaps, if he played his cards right.

“Oh, like the way that you rallied those card players at the Oakbrook Tavern into the river?” In turn, her voice was laced with equal surprise, playfulness and yet, utter disbelief. Her gaze jumped from her brother to Henry, a hint of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, as though she feared the impression they’d leave on the older Assassin with Jacob’s odd tantrums.

“That was different, they beat me at whist. I can see it now! We'll call ourselves the Rooks.” He exclaimed, hands raised theatrically.

“You were never good at chess, either.”

Henry stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say as the siblings bickered in front of him.

“Have you got a better plan?” Jacob’s brows furrowed in challenge, seeing the flickering of her eyes, which did nothing but provoke him. “Find the Piece of Eden.” She stated plainly, the disbelief in her face mirrored onto her brother’s almost perfectly. The idea of having his own gang didn’t seem so far-fetched if his sister’s only viable plan was finding an ancient artifact.

Henry broke through their dialogue with a simple offer of showing them around.

Well rested, Evie threw herself at the task at hand, trying to think away the troubles that hung between her brother and herself. She listened intently, thankful for the distraction, and drank up any information Henry provided them with, trying to be as prepared as she could possibly be for whatever the future might throw at them.

Jacob on the other hand didn’t pay much attention, his mind going a mile a minute as he visualised how he’d make Rooks his reality. Whatever Henry said went in one ear and out the other, or the majority at least.

"You know, if it were up to me, we'd be out there, bringing the fight to Starrick's doorstep." Jacob pulled on Evie’s hand, falling in step with her, pointedly putting visible space between them and one Mister Green. His voice was unruffled as his fingers pointed towards the endless streets of London. "Not sitting around, chit-chatting about it all day long." Brushing his hand through his hair, his eyes glanced to his sister.

"And that is why you are not in charge." She was only half paying attention, pulling away to present Henry some more inquiries from her endless ocean of questions about certain arcane research.

"We'll see who's in charge after I kill Starrick and George appoints me a Master Assassin." He gently nudged her shoulder with a smirk, desperately intended to keep her attention on him any way he could. "George would do nothing of the sort. Whatever would be left of the Creed would perish under your control." She caught his surprised eyes and gave him a smirk, just like the one he gave her so many times before.

"Harsh words, dear sister."

~

The two Assassins followed Henry as he stepped into the cosy Curiosity Shop, Mr. Green's main operative base in London, appearing like a small souvenir place. Jacob was not impressed by the shop's aesthetics, while Evie seemed excited to be there.

“Can we get to the point?” Jacob said through his teeth. Evie's death glare was enough for him to control his already prepared spiteful words. There was something about Henry that clearly bothered him immensely. And having to follow them around like a puppy, forced to listen to their chit-chatting about the damn Piece of Eden did him no good either. Or the way Evie went all soft around Henry either, for that matter.

Clear, that there was not a single ounce of friendliness for Henry from the younger twin, Mr. Green turned to his books. "Well, I suppose we'll talk about your Piece of Eden some other time then." He nodded to Evie.

Jacob didn’t fail to notice the saddened slouch in her shoulders as soon as Henry uttered the words, his hands balling into fists. Dealing with whatever was happening between them was strenuous enough, but what Jacob never foresaw coming was competition of the romantic kind. Especially not one presented in such contrast to how he carried himself and clearly already liked by the very person of his interest.

What was his thought back then?

It was as though the universe was laughing at him.

In all its irony, it truly seemed like it was.

“Who are all these people?” Evie asked, breaking through the cloud forming over his head. “Over the years, I have established a number of connections across the city.”

Henry pulled up various sketches, different people he deemed of interest to aid their common goal. It was almost as though he had been preparing for Assassins to come to his aid for quite some time.

“Splendid! We'll need focused aid-“

“Focused aid? Pf. We take over Starrick's gangs, we cripple his control.” He cut her off, brushing her ideas aside.

“You're not aiming high enough. Starrick has influence in every branch of society, we need to match him.” Evie turned Henry's attention to her, much to Jacob's dislike.

“I see what you're saying, Evie. We need the Rooks.” He prodded as he grabbed her shoulder, fully intending to irritate her further. “You are not starting a gang called the Rooks.” She hissed, wanting to shut down her brother's words, that seemed like one of his momentary reckless attempts at a decent plan. Meticulous as she was when it came to her missions, she wouldn’t give the thought of Jacob being an actual gang leader a second thought.

"I believe I might have an idea of my own." Henry stepped in, his hands signalling for them to calm down. He waved them over and showed them the sketches and books he put on the counter.

He explained his plan as if he had rehearsed it many times before. Important alliances, influential people, high-profile targets, anything that could be of help, and Evie made a mental note of every single one of Henry’s tips, cherished his advice and remained of the opinion that proceeding carefully is of their best interest.

Her brother of course, was not of the same opinion, the determination to from a gang to fight Starrick’s Bligthers already fully formed in his mind.

The only thing that grabbed his attention was the mention of Clinkers – a small group of people opposing the red coats. It was as good start as any to make his Rooks a reality.

Well, that and one fellow named Rexford Kaylock.

"Just be cautious. It's rough out there." Henry said calmly, his attention back on his books. "Oh, don't worry about me Greenie. I can handle a few thugs." He threw a glare at the man, ignoring the one Evie was aiming at him.

“Excuse my brother.” She fumbled with her words as Jacob merely spun on his feet, intending to leave the confined space, leaving the two in awkward silence.

He was set on a goal. He got his target. And that was all he needed, lest Henry’s skull would be the one he crushed instead. Just as he thought things might make a turn for the better, just as they stepped into the right direction, Henry came and took them five steps backwards. Back to fighting, to disagreeing, to falling out.

_

credit: evie's first notebook entry, meeting henry green & the in-game description of whitechapel

_

read pt.VII here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

finally, chapter two.

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.II

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 1.441

total word count - 3.672

_

“Oh, how very rich of you.” She bit out, new tears streaming down her cheeks. Just as she thought they’d end, he made them fall all over again. “Is this another one of your games? Some kind of a sick joke? Because it’s not even remotely funny, especially not now… if ever.”

She cried and the tears seemed never-ending. Considering how many times she’d cried in her life already, every time it happened anew, she pondered just how her body hadn’t run out of tears yet. And she couldn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend, well, many things about her brother’s actions, yet this one really escaped her. Why, at a time like this, on a day like this, with pain such as this one, she asked herself why… Try as she might, she couldn’t understand his outburst. His yelling, his words, his tone.

“Joke?” Jacob laughed sardonically, his hands balled into angry fists. There was a spark in his eye, mad she deemed him, decided that grief did that to him, but it still made no logical sense.

Seeing himself being the perpetrator of her tears did little to calm his nerves. No, it merely fuelled his own desperation. In truth, Jacob was heartbroken, just as much as she was, if not more, he was devastated, frustrated, lost and afraid, and in that moment the intentions of the heart shadowed his logic sense.

Jacob knew it would come out one way or another, but he never imagined it’d happen like that.

The encounter with that man forced the memories of their last interaction to pour back into Jacob’s mind, doing nothing more but adding more misery to his current state. Recalling her expression, the tears streaming down her face, her disbelief, he cringed at himself, wishing he never said it in the first place. Just as quickly as he did so, he realised all too well what a mistake he’d made. He fucked up and he knew, deep down he knew, he just lost her. And she’d never look at him the same way again.

She felt like they were going in loops, like they were lost in a forest always returning back to the same boring tree. Except the tree was Jacob’s endless scrambled confession. Try as he might to defend his words, to explain, to assure that he was telling the truth, she kept backing away from him.

“You don’t understand! I said-”

And in the end, she snapped.

“Leave!” She yelled, unable to hear the words again. “I’m not playing one of your stupid games! Leave, Jacob! Now!” Hands hastily wiping away the tears, she advanced towards him. She could barely see him, barely discern his outline through the teary blurriness in her eyes, as she pushed her palms against his chest, shoving him towards the door.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll just go then. You’ll never see me again.” He was aware how childish and untrue his threat really was, but in that moment he didn’t particularly care, as it was merely a feeble attempt to hurt her, just as much as her words hurt him.

And unbeknownst to him, he did.

“Fine! I don’t want you here anyway!”

She yelled after him, knowing her words were the furthest from the truth they could possibly be as she silently pleaded he’d turn around. Pleaded it truly was some sort of a cruel joke, that he truly was merely hurt in his grief and he’d return back to her. But Jacob had no intention to, not in that moment, having his heart shattered into a million pieces, as his mind repeated all she’d said and he felt embarrassed of what just happened.

And her heart did too. As she watched the only constant in her life, her anchor, her best friend, her brother, walk away, her heart shattered too.

“Of-fucking-course, out of everyone on this goddamn planet, it has to be you.” He muttered out loud, before falling to the ground on the side of the street. All he felt was the coldness of the rain soaking through his clothes to his skin before everything around him went black.

~

“Is he dead?” Jacob heard a young girl’s murmur close to him. “Poke him!” Followed a boy’s voice in a joking manner. “Are you mad? No way!” She squealed, her voice suddenly further away. “Fine, then I will.”

Jacob felt a thin stick pushing into his shoulder. In a matter of seconds, he grabbed the boy’s hand and sat up. “What do you want, boy? Did mommy not teach you about stranger danger?” Both the boy and the girl shrieked in fear and quickly backed away when Jacob let go of the boy’s hand. “Children.”

The sudden pounding in his head reminded him of all the alcohol he’d drunk in the previous night and his cheek didn’t fall short to prompt his memory of that man’s clumsy, yet solid punch. He could still taste the blood in his mouth.

“What?” He hissed when he saw the two younglings inch closer and closer yet again. They looked at each other and giggled, making him scoff in annoyance. The last thing he felt like doing was being the laughing stock of some random children. The boy pushed the girl towards him, clearly in encouragement to do something. Though just as Jacob meant to retaliate, to give a snide remark or scare them away, she whispered to him shyly,

“She’s waiting for you at the train station. She wants to talk.”

He watched them scurry away. Then he blinked, once, twice, pondering whether he perhaps imagined the pair. Shaking his head, he slowly got up, grunting and cursing in the process. Jacob felt as though every bone in his body was aching at once. “Sleeping on concrete will do that to you.” He muttered to himself aloud, feeling bitter.

The more time that passed, the more he repeated their last conversation in his mind, despite everything, he was sure that he felt no regret about the fact that he finally voiced his feelings and came clean about them. He couldn’t contain it any longer, not after Father’s passing, not after they’d lost their only remaining family.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel some sort of victorious feeling over the fact that she reached out to him first. And Jacob was sure it was her. It had to be.

Despite the pain flowing through his whole body, he took off, scaling the nearest wall and ran atop of the buildings, jumping from roof to roof. The sound of forever working factory machines echoed beneath his feet as his eyes trailed the all too familiar streets of Crawley, his home since birth.

The thought of her danced around his mind. The mere promise of seeing her again was enough to keep him going, despite of how their reunion would probably go. Jacob was desperate to see her again, desperate to hear her voice, to hear her say his name. Desperate to be close to her again.

He was not used to feeling such peculiar and intense emotions that both scared and frustrated him. As much as he tried to avert his thoughts to anything else but her, he couldn’t. Every little place, every single street corner in this town reminded him of her, of her words, her tears, of them and the uncertainty of their future, and it all mixed, mixed with the memories of her child self, smiling and laughing, and the contrast agonised him. 

And the more he pondered, he was sure he was growing tired of it, of this place, of his home, of this entire town, of how he felt trapped, caged in the same place, unable to leave, he felt as though he was unable to breathe. The familiar environment around him seemed unbearable.

Deep in thought, he stopped on top of the roof overlooking the railway station. She was already there, her long dark hair in a tight braid and hands crossed over her chest. He breathed, palms pressing to his eyes thinking he was imagining her there. Though when he removed his hands, she was still there, now staring straight at him.

Attentive as she was, she had been observing the quiet train station like an eagle, and just as she thought her worst fear might have come true, that he might truly be gone for good, she saw him up there. Standing on top of a roof, eyes fixated on her, an obvious tenseness to his stance.

Taking a deep breath, he swiftly made his way down to the stationed train where she was standing.

_

read pt.III here

_

||this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer.||

[thesinpolice]

i'm clearly in love with writing angsty stories

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. XI

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.363

total word count - 30.813

_

Jacob pushed at the edge of his table, swaying on the back legs of his chair as he studied the papers sprawled in front of him. All the notes he took, the plans he made, people he instructed, every detail, all scribbled down in his sloppy handwriting. He scoffed to himself, stood up and trailed towards his coat hanging by the entrance to his bedroom, he reached for the little piece of paper Evie had given him all those days ago.

A smile to him unknown played on his lips as the pad of his finger traced the gentle cursive, “Perhaps you really are rubbing off on me.” Jacob whispered to himself, glancing back to the mountain of paperwork gracing his workspace.

Their hideout’s renovations were now nearly complete, with new curtains, lights, paint, furniture, everything they could’ve ever dreamed of, their hideout was starting to look like a cosy little house. As much as a moving train could look like a house, at the very least. When Evie first saw her renovated room, she almost felt like she could make it her new home and her guilt and regret over coming to London slowly started to seep away.

There was even a makeshift Rook board hanging on the wall of their main hub, right next to Evie and Henry’s mountain of research, she was happy to see Jacob come out of his room, even asking Henry for advice on how best to proceed regarding their ever growing gang. Though her brother usually stubbornly avoided her, she couldn’t stop herself from snooping, glancing at the board from time to time and silently judged the way he did everything seemingly to her, so without any order or logic.

Her finger traced his handwriting, occasionally noticing a word or two Henry added himself, Evie saw that after their rapid success in Whitechapel they had set their sights in Lambeth, the rough sketch of a gang leader there pinned to the side.

And she somewhat felt left out, as though Jacob was punishing her for what had happened between them by taking even Henry’s attention off their research and to himself. And the less she saw of him, the more alone she felt, despite the increasing buzz of people walking about their train.

Turning away from the board, she shook her head. Jacob clearly made it known that things were never to go back to the way they were before, no matter how much she wanted it to. Then she felt regret wash over her, over how much she pushed him away, thought whether the growing gap between them really was partially her fault, she wondered, had she just accepted his words the very first time they were voiced, how different of a situation would they be in now?

She scoffed, grabbing Ned Wynert’s business card off Henry’s table before she returned to her room.

~

One faithful morning, Jacob finally got fed up with the paperwork, with merely barking orders, with his only talking companion being Mister Green – his eyes skimmed over Henry’s note, reading over his words time and time again. As he had discovered a drug that ravaged London, perhaps it was at last time Jacob stepped foot outside and looked into the strange happenings.

He walked the streets of Lambeth, glancing at the note from time to time, at the general location Henry suggested to investigate, just to make sure he was on the right path. Surely enough, as he neared the Thames, he heard a merchant advertising the Soothing Syrup he was selling and a woman, yelling at him. As Jacob neared them, he heard her accusing him of selling something that was far from curative medicine, making people worse rather than better.

“That is impossible! Starrick's Soothing Syrup is made from the finest ingredients, imported from all the corners of the empire, and beyond! This secret formula can cure all ailments. Starrick's Soothing Syrup is the elixir for you!” The merchant continued, confirming Henry’s worries of the Templar being the one behind this particular scheme.

“What's all this, then?” Jacob sauntered over, his voice threatening, breaking up the two bickering parties. “Ah, sod off!” The merchant pulled out a knife, trying to threaten him, but Jacob surely didn’t come to play games, knocking the knife out of the man’s hand almost as soon as he brandished it.

The merchant got scared and took off immediately, perhaps seeing he was no match for Jacob anyway. “If you'll excuse me, madam.” Jacob took a sly bow, tipping his hat, towards the upset lady and took off, running after the merchant, catching up with him easily, the merchant no match for Jacob’s trained muscles, and he enjoyed it, enjoyed that he was out on the streets again, doing what he knew how to do best.

“Tell me where the syrup originates.” He demanded, the merchant pathetically squirming in fear. It took no further threats than a stern glare to make him talk. “All I know is they make a run each day - between the gasometers and the asylum.” He choked out. As Jacob nodded, making no intention to ask him anything else, the merchant scurried away, tail tucked between his legs.

The Lambeth Asylum?, Jacob thought to himself. He had heard Henry speak about it many a times in their conversations, and he quickly took off in the general direction of the aforementioned building, hoping he’d find something along the way.

Slipping into the shadows and blending with the crowds came easy to Jacob as he listened to enemy conversations. He had to be careful, as Lambeth was still very much Blighter territory. One in particular caught his attention and he listened attentively, hearing a Blighter confirming to a merchant of a new Soothing Syrup shipment that’d arrive the following day.

He quietly followed the distributor, hid in the shade of the buildings, the sea of people around him, all the way to Southwark, where the man met with his boss, a man in all black, a top hat on top of his head. When he was alone he cornered him, a threatening look in his eyes. “Where is the syrup made? Speak now or forever hold your-“

“The distillery! It's the large building beside the brewery!” The man told him instantly, making him almost disappointed as Jacob wished he’d finally get to do some bone breaking, yet everyone seemed to be too afraid of him to hold their tongues on that particular day.

With a scoff, he turned away, letting yet another man pathetically run away.

As the day had slowly turned into evening, it seemed like it was about to rain, and with everything on his mind, Jacob started to yearn for the warm embrace of his bed, though the thought that he might run into his sister made him adverse to the comforting idea.

~

“Hi, Jacob.” She swayed on her feet, put apparent pressure on that extended vowel. “Hm?”

At the crack of dawn, Jacob managed to drag himself back to the train, right before it left the Whitechapel train station for its daily London giro. “Do I know you?”

He hadn’t intended to return anyway and were it not for Clara kicking him out of his no doubt very comfortable concrete sleeping arrangement in one of the back alleys, he’d return much later.

Later when, well, his chances of running into his sister were much slimmer.

“I-�� An awkward laugh.

“We’ve met like three times already. My name’s Charlotte.”

The young woman outstretched her hand, which Jacob met, a furrow in his brow. Yes, he had perhaps so, introduced himself to her before, yes, “Agnes’ daughter, right?”, he remembered, offering a warm apologetic smile.

Charlotte seemed nervous, flustered even, as she shifted her weight from one leg to another, though Jacob in turn let his restless thoughts wander elsewhere. “I wanted to ask you-“

“Charlotte! Come on, we’re running late, Ned-“

Evie halted in her steps, looked her brother over, once, twice, it was like he looked worse and worse every rare occasion that she encountered him and her heart did flips, body ached for his embrace, his touch she so dearly missed.

She straightened up, trying to look as confident as she could be and flattened her recently washed clothes.

“When did you start wearing your hair down?” Jacob asked, voice hoarse. “I didn’t, we’re just… In a hurry.” She mumbled, eyes averted, as she hurried past him, beckoning to Charlotte to follow her.

~

The following afternoon, Jacob was quick on his feet heading to the distillery that was presumably making the Soothing Syrup, the potential of uncovering a new major Templar target besting his other worries.

“Good girl.” He praised the horse as he exited the carriage some blocks away from the mysterious building. The young Assassin was prepared for a tough mission, a beating too, but what he wasn’t prepared for when he finally reached his destination, was an odd looking man trying desperately to see into the enormous brick building that Jacob meant to break into.

Blighters started coming closer, discussing the Soothing Syrup, and Jacob observed the elderly man disappear from their view, picking an obvious hiding spot that made Jacob snort, though he was almost certain, daft as Blighters were, the man made the right choice regardless.

He was intrigued by the man and what he was doing, making him impatient to ask, as he made quick work of those few red coats that poorly guarded the distillery entrance.

What would Evie make of this situation? What would she say? His mind pondered, distracting him. She’d tell him to be careful. To be cautious. You never listen to me!, she would say, You could have died!

A small smile playing on his lips at the thought, Jacob’s hand almost instinctively shot out at the man who took him by surprise, his hidden blade brandished, catching light in the afternoon sun, a snare gracing his lips as his body prepared for a fight. The man, that same man from before, merely pushed his hand away with a scoff.

“You should not go about frightening respectable gentlemen, young man.” The man commented, his voice unbothered. “I didn't realise snooping around was considered gentlemanly.” Jacob bit back, the panic that overtook his body at the surprise slowly seeping away. “Snooping? Sir, I assure you-“ The man meant to retaliate, but the sound of more Blighters came from around the corner and Jacob swiftly opened the door to the distillery, gesturing to the strange man to follow him inside as well.

“That was too close a call. You, young man, gave me quite a fright! I thought you were one of them, but…” He spoke, his voice holding an air of urgency as he ventured deeper into the distillery. “You should see this.” He waved Jacob over and the young Assassin followed, unsure whether the gentleman before him was trustworthy or not. He followed regardless, his eyes darting to what the man was pointing at and saw a large distillery tank in the middle of the building, stretching all the way to the top, it’s cogs turning loudly. He pondered, his eyes skimming the large metal contraption, I’ve seen bigger, he concluded to himself with a shrug, yet it was impressive, nonetheless.

“Datura stramonium. Or Devil's snare, as it is commonly called... That goes into the Syrup? And opium, no less. Revolting! Absolutely sickening!” The man’s voice pulled Jacob’s attention back to him and he lazily sauntered over to some books laid on the table the man had found. He merely continued, as though Jacob weren’t even there and moved to turn one of many pressure valves, which made a painful screeching sound inside the machine, no doubt nothing good. Gas started to leak out and judging by the way the man’s face turned pale at the sight, Jacob deemed that particular happenstance wasn’t on this man’s agenda.

“Oh dear.”

Jacob reacted instinctively, pushing the man towards the entrance they had just come from and ordered him to leave.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he scaled the distillery in a haste, unsure of what he was doing, but knowing he needed to do something, he uncovered more and more pressure valves to release as the machinery groaned and protested and green gas poured out of it. The further up he went, the more valves he released, the more the building started to shake. Yet there was no turning back now, he had to continue, up and up through all the floors, had to avoid the many Blighters guarding the distillery until he reached the very top. Releasing the last pressure valve he bolted towards the lever, hoping the obviousness of its placement would birth his success.

Pulling it proved fruitful in the end, but the younger Frye twin had mere seconds to escape. He launched himself upwards, to the nearest opening, nearest window on the tallest floor and jumped out, a conveniently laid pile of hay breaking his fall as he rolled to the side in a huff.

Jacob watched the distillery behind him explode, go up in flames, with fearful eyes.

“Well done, young man! Well done! Charles Darwin. Delighted to make your acquaintance.” The man hurried to him, his hand outstretched. Jacob meant to be mad, to yell, to be upset over what just happened, but caught himself thinking he was meaning to act just like Evie would. What had just happened wasn’t planned, yet… Jacob was successful in the end. Though he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t wish that Evie was there to reprimand him.

With a genuine smile he met Charles’ hand in a firm handshake. “Jacob Frye. The pleasure's all mine.”

“While you were busy wreaking havoc, I found this.” The man pulled out a book, pointing to some words Jacob didn’t bother to read. “It indicates that a sample of every batch has been sent to Lambeth Asylum.” He explained.

“Oh, I wonder if it's visiting hours...” He commented, his mind already darting to his next step, the Lambeth Asylum surely to be his next big target.

“Don't be so hasty, Mr. Frye. Many people work at Lambeth, you wouldn't want to attract unwanted attention.” Charles mused, his words eerily similar to what Jacob pictured Evie would tell him.

“Hmm, where's the fun in that?” He bit back, meaning to argue just like if he were talking with Evie. A pit settled in the bottom of his stomach, that emptiness in his heart aching all over again.

“Not every problem can be solved by blowing things sky high. Sometimes, a little discretion is in order. It's getting late. I will meet you at the asylum to continue our investigation.”

Charles turned around in a haste, off to attend whatever his business was at that given moment, and Jacob didn’t particularly care, as odd as his interaction with the strange gentleman might have been, his mind was already on Evie and what she might have been doing whilst he was gone.

~

“What in the hell happened to you?” Jacob mused.

Evie barged in, covered in mud, soot and dirt, not a look he often saw her wear, and upon seeing the annoyed scowl gracing her features he seemed almost amused.

“Blighters. Forced my carriage to topple over.” Said through her teeth, she studied her brother, his arrogant smirk, the way he leaned onto the table behind him, the relaxed poise of his shoulders, Evie looked to Henry, “What have you been doing?”, she inquired.

“We’re looking into the Lambeth Asylum. Your brother has brought some valuable insight about the Soothing Syrup.” A cough, Evie meant to prod further, though Charlotte sauntered in, carrying steaming cups of tea for the men waiting for her.

“Oh, Evie, I didn’t know you’d be back so soon, I, uhm…” A glance to her brother, then her feet, back to Evie, “I can make you some as well?” she squirmed.

Evie’s brow furrowed, “No need.” a half whisper escaped her lips. “I need to go wash up.” She mumbled, throat dry, as she moved, circled around Charlotte, lips half parted in confusion as she caught Jacob catching Charlotte’s gaze with a gentle smile.

Evie paced up and down her bedroom, stubborn, angry, to a part even saddened, by what exactly she wasn’t even so sure anymore, I’m just exhausted, she concluded in the end, wishing she could just crash into her bed and sleep her worries away.

Though the sadness of her reality was, much to her dismay, those worries had no intention of dissipating anywhere, anytime soon. And even though she would be reluctant to admit it she missed her brother dearly, more and more every day.

And it was late, perhaps late enough for her stubbornness to have persuaded her into procrastinating her talk with her brother for another day, despite it being somewhat important business, if only it weren’t for the incessant giggling she kept hearing down the hall.

It was then she decided that it was perhaps time for her to swallow her pride and talk to her brother at last.

She trailed back to where she left the trio some now hours ago, spotting the empty cups of tea, the absence of Henry, all clear indication of how late it had already gotten.

And there he was, just lounging on one of their new sofas, looking completely unbothered while speaking to Agnes’ daughter, his signature charming smile plastered on his lips.

Evie strode over with angry steps, hearing the woman’s giggles from across the room. She coughed loudly, making her presence clearly known. Charlotte, turned to Evie, recognised her immediately and Evie could see the pink flush rising in her cheeks, she looked almost too rigid, too aware of Evie’s sudden presence.

“I need to speak with you.” Said through her teeth, she didn’t fail to notice the slack positioning of Jacob’s arm on the backrest behind Charlotte.

Jacob smirked to himself, eyes catching hers, he murmured to Charlotte an apology, voice low. “I thought you weren’t jealous.” He commented when she was out of hearing reach, still wearing that award-winning smirk of his.

“I was merely wondering if the poor girl knows how you sleep around every day, not caring about any of the women you use for your own enjoyment.” She answered, trying to sound just as unbothered as he as she sat herself across from him on the sofa.

“And what gives you that impression? Who says I don’t care?” He leaned in.

“I came here on business.“ She choked on her own words, unsure of what she was getting at herself. “In the middle of the night?”

“It can’t wait.”

“I’m sure.” He chuckled, leaning back leisurely, eyebrow raised.

“I just wanted to let you know that I spoke to Ned.”

“Who?”

“Do you ever listen?” She rolled her eyes. “Ned Wynert, remember? I’ve been helping him with his business, protecting his shipments from Blighters and what not.”

“Rooks have told me. Is that all?”

His eyes skimmed the serious scowl on her face, the flush in her cheeks, down to her hands mindlessly balled into angry fists.

Evie’s ways seemed unwavering, yet she was unable to move away as he leaned forward, his hand shooting upwards to gently caress her cheek. Because truly she missed his touch like she never missed anything else in her life. She didn’t know how long she could keep her strong front.

“Stop.” A half bark, unfeeling, numb, she moved away.

“You are unbelievable.” He scoffed and her eyes closed, trying to remember the warmth his hand held on her skin.

And when she opened them, he was gone, and tears, there were tears slowly trickling down her face into her lap.

And she let them fall, as the wall she put up inside her started crumbling, piece by piece, the more she missed him, the more her restless determination slowly started to feel like it was the wrong choice all along. And that scared her. But losing Jacob definitely scared her more.

_

credit: chasing the soothing syrup part one & two

_

read pt. XII here

_

|| this fancfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

still trying to figure out the perfect balance between their story and the actual in-game events

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. X

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 3.275

total word count - 27.450

_

“Mister Frye, you’re… finally awake.” Henry commented with an awkward cough when him and Evie returned to their train hideout after an eventful morning.

“I’m sure he’s had some sleep to catch up on… Since he was too busy to sleep all night.” Evie bit out, not even meeting her brother’s gaze as she motioned Henry to set down the books they went to pick up on their way. The older Assassin merely chuckled softly, unsure of what to say.

Jacob felt like hell, looked like it too. His hair dishevelled, buttons on his shirt half-undone, the jacket he threw onto himself so haphazardly – all indicative of that massive headache pounding behind his eyes.

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” Henry tried to diffuse the tension settling between them with a polite tone and another awkward laugh.

“That’s highly debatable.”

Her words seemed to bounce around the wagon, rising the temperature and seemingly sucking all the air out of that confined space.

Jacob stayed silent, his hands remained dropped to his sides. His gaze stayed fixated on Evie as he studied every little movement she made, ignoring Henry’s words and trying to piece together the puzzle that was his sister, who, pointedly, avoided meeting his wandering eyes.

“Yes, well…” Henry coughed, eyes averting to their paper findings.

“Beautiful train you've got here. Ms. MacBean was just telling me all about her. Name's Ned.” The newly arrival’s attire screamed business, from the hat atop his head, to his neatly tucked in tie, all the way down to his neatly polished shoes – he was the perfect comical opposite of Jacob at that moment in time.

Henry offered a warm smile, shook the gentleman’s hand and accepted his business card, Ned offered his allyship to the Assassins before he disappeared off the train, just as quickly as he appeared.

“Who was that?” Evie inquired, only to be met with Henry’s just as confused shrug.

“Oh, you mean... you don't know?” Jacob bit out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Jacob, don’t.” A threat said through her teeth, Evie clearly wasn’t in the mood. “Let us return to locating the Piece of Eden.” The change in tone, the softness of her voice when she addressed anyone but him was not lost on Jacob and he closed his eyes, tried to collect his thoughts behind the pounding beneath his temples.

A sharp inhale, exhale. “Don’t what?”

Evie chose to ignore. “We need to reclaim London from Starrick. Your flirting is getting us nowhere.”

It was safe to assume Mister Green’s cheeks lit up a bright red, as Evie finally swivelled towards her brother, at last looking him in the eye. “We’re searching for an important artefact.” She said through her teeth, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I didn't come to London to hunt curios!” He spat, finger accusatorily pointed at Henry, the thorn seemingly forever in his side when it came to his beloved sister. Jacob was sure, were it not for Henry pushing the incessant fantasy of finding her arcane artefacts on her, she would have been spending more of her time with him. Perhaps she would have dropped the fruitless quest all together by now, were it not for his never-ending stories.

No, Jacob never believed it, perhaps never would either.

“’First understand the dance, only then become the dancer.’?” She quoted pointedly, the impatience, the petulance, the recklessness their Father always warned him to reign in, “Oh? So you're taking over where Father left off?” he seethed at her words, her attitude ever nagging on his nerves.

“Someone has to.” The perfect little Assassin, always Father’s favourite, the goody-two-shoes, Evie could never do anything wrong. “And I’m guessing that someone is you?” He spat. “Who else?”

He snapped, unruffled his arms, closed the distance between them, “Of course, everything is always about you. You, and always you, and your fucking Piece of Eden.”, Jacob choked, his brows furrowed, he felt mad.

And she was too, just as much as him, as he provoked, her hand raised-

In a snap her wrist was caught in his hand, the other curling into a ball next to her hip. "Careful. Wouldn't want to give me a new bruise. The last one just healed." He mused.

“I’m just going to… Excuse myself…”

Henry’s presence an afterthought, Jacob pressed, leaned towards her. “Do not quote Father at me.” He seethed, the pounding in his head reaching a painful peak, “You could benefit from Father’s teachings. Look at how you’re behaving.” She spat back, eyes on his, unwavering.

“How far are you going to push this?”

Eyes glossed over, she pulled her hand out of his tight grasp, palms against his chest, she pushed him away with all the force she could muster. “Ask that question yourself.”

She breathed, exhaled, swallowed, chin held high, she stared him down, searched his eyes, before she turned around and ran off the train, into the crowd, welcoming the cold breeze, the gentle trickle of rain on her feverish cheeks as she ran, ran wherever her legs took her, as far away from Jacob she could get.

~

If judged by his drowsiness, a new bruise and a busted lip on his face accompanied by an annoyed scowl, one'd guess Jacob spent the night outside yet again, gambling, drinking, and punching. The warmth and shelter their hideout provided was truly the one and only reason he was at that moment willingly standing in that confined space. Well, that and the fact he was perhaps kicked out of his new favourite Whitechapel pub and couldn't escape anywhere else without the possibility of him freezing to death. Not that he’d admit that out loud.

He felt entrapped in the small space that was the main train wagon, enduring having to listen to Henry's weak attempt at being flirtatious and stealing glances at his little sister while her cheeks flushed in response was merely icing on the cake that was Jacob Frye's infamous bad temper.

Evie on the other hand, relished in the warmth like it was an invisible embrace, saving her from all that wished her harm. She felt comfortable whilst listening to Henry speaking about the clue about Lucy Thorne's Piece of Eden that she found in the stolen book. The passion in his voice drew her in, his extreme eagerness of finding the artefact in question a welcoming contrast to that of her brother who didn't fall short of reminding her how stupid she seemed in his eyes for giving such things even an ounce of her attention.

Jacob's eyes lingered on his sister's small form, he couldn't help but let his eyes roam across her body, daring to let his fantasies drown out all the noise around him. The feel of her in his arms, lips on his, forever and always, his to have and he hers-

Unfortunately, reality wasn’t as fond of reciprocating his indulgences, no matter how dearly he might wish for them to be true.

His hands balled into fists, the dull pain from all the punches he'd thrown in the previous night a welcoming numbness to the buzzing of his thoughts.

"You may have not found a Piece of Eden - but this material is invaluable." The first words the younger twin managed to catch since he arrived back on the train were that of Henry's, eagerness and anticipation at his discovery clear in his voice as his eyes scanned the paper underneath his fingers. Evie listened attentively, her brows furrowed as she failed to piece together the meaning behind Henry's words.

"Look! It says that London Assassins had found a Shroud..." He continued, his voice getting lost along the lines as he himself read the written discovery over and over again in his mind as if to remind himself it is actually true. "'The Shroud of Eden is supposed to heal even the gravest injury.' If the Assassins had found something like this surely Father would have known."

Evie's eyes scanned the pages as well, reading the discovery aloud instead of Henry as he remained baffled by what they had found and couldn't mutter a word. Her melodic voice bolted Jacob awake, made his skin crawl with some form of unreachable excitement. He perked up, listening intently to what the pair seemed to be planning, yet still remained at distance.

"There must be something we're missing…" Henry's input quietly filled the room as he, deep in thought, rushed to one of the tables and started shuffling through the papers on it. Eager, Evie wanted to follow, see exactly what the older Assassin meant and help with the knowledge she had, after all these years wanting to finally put it to good use. She had never been this close – this close to such a monumental discovery sure to be respected by the Brotherhood, yet all she could think of was how close she was to proving Jacob wrong. That her Piece of Eden was real. And just as important as she deemed it be.

“Is there anything for me to do? Or do I just leave you to your flirting?”

Evie rolled her eyes, there was that word again, his never-ceasing childishness, that she chose to ignore time and time again, turned back to Henry who, much to her surprise, turned away from her in search of something else.

“Actually…” He coughed. “This might be of interest to you.” Henry outstretched a hand, a rough sketch which Jacob hastily pulled from his hand upon crossing the room with chipped steps.

“Soothing Syrup?” He questioned upon studying the piece of paper. “Yes…” Henry turned his attention to Jacob, tucking flyaway strands of hair behind his ears. “The Soothing Syrup has become the only medicine available in Lambeth. It bears the Templar Grand Master’s name.”

Jacob cocked an eyebrow. “I believe it’s something worth investigating.” Henry continued. “About time for a visit to the doctor then.” Jacob offered one of his arrogant smirks, before he disappeared to his bedroom without another word.

Evie rolled her eyes, with an apologetic side glance, a hand on Henry’s shoulder, she tentatively trailed after her brother.

“Can you drop your comments?” Hand pressed on the door to his bedroom, she prevented him from shutting the door in her face. “You’re making Henry uncomfortable.”

“You two are making me uncomfortable.” He barked, back turned to her. “Well, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Do tell.”

“What were you thinking, bringing another woman here, Jacob?”

Stepped in, Evie slammed his bedroom door behind her, trying to keep her tone calm as not to alert others of their conversation – another? – though her voice broke at his name. He scoffed, turned to face her, leaning backwards onto his table like he had no care in the world. “I can barely sleep every night you’re not here, I’m scared for your life, and…”

“And what?”

“And when you’re finally here, you’re bringing random women into your bed! Fuck, I changed those sheets for you! How many have been in there?”

He challenged with a raised eyebrow, for her to continue, as if he were amused by her words, as if he were laughing at her as she shrunk under his gaze. “Why, sister dear, would you care?” He laughed, a clearly disingenuous bark of false amusement.

“Can you please start behaving, at least when Henry’s around?” She tried to swivel the topic backwards, squirming uncomfortably at their abhorrent conversation.

“Why? Am I cock blocking you?”

“God, shut up!” She snapped, arms thrown in the air. “Even if you were, that is none of your business!”

“Oh?” He stood up, strode over, brows furrowed, he balled his fists. “But mine is yours?”

Her lips parted, though Evie was unable to form the words, her mind drawing a blank, she felt heat rising in her cheeks. “It is when-“

“When, what?” Said through his teeth, it was as though anger mixed with cruel amusement coloured his features, his scowl so cold, so unfamiliar, it made her crumble into herself.

“Are you jealous?”

Choked on her own spit, Evie backed away, away from him, until her back hit the door. Her heart thundered inside her chest, “I am not jealous.”, a mumble, a whisper, as Jacob’s eyes bore into her relentlessly, his jaw clenched. “I am not! I just want my old brother back, okay?”

“And what does that mean? Hm?” He marched over. “What does that mean, Evie?” His palm punched the door next to her head, the wood creaking under his force. “Why are you so cold?” She choked, whispered.

“There is no old Jacob! This is me and this is how I’ve always been. It’s how our relationship has always been and you’re the one in denial and you know it!”

“Don’t project-“

“I admitted it to myself, question is-“ He leaned down, hand cupping her chin, he forced her to look at him. “-can you? Are you denying my feelings or are you denying yours?”

She slapped him, as hard as her muscles gave, caught him by surprise and he couldn’t stop her, not this time around.

Evie left without another word. It became apparent to her, the more she’d keep pushing, the further down the hole he would take them, and Jacob was, at that point, perhaps too far gone. An immovable force, his mind was clearly made. And Evie wasn’t sure it could be changed anymore.

~

It’s been the fourth time the Big Ben had announced the arrival of noon, since Jacob last spoke to his beloved sister, not that he counted, of course. It seemed to be an endless cycle of fighting and avoiding, as if they were stuck in a never-ending loop, repeating the same actions day in and day out. Perhaps, this was a type of issue none of them knew how to resolve. Though, both of them knew how to be stubborn and hold a grudge. If only had they not been so interested in always pointing out each other’s differences, perhaps they might have noticed they were one and the same. Merely different sides of the same coin.

The younger of the two had been spending his last few days with his nose buried in stacks of paper, locked away in his room for hours on end, studying the strategies and making plans for the Rooks’ next plan of attack, meticulously going over every possible outcome, every possible thing that could go wrong, so that his plans would prove fruitful in the end. He wanted to prove it to himself and to her, that he could be a competent leader. If he was to fulfil his plan of one day murdering Starrick and ending his gruesome reign over London, he needed to keep a level head, think about what he was doing and tread carefully. The only thing on his mind were his Templar targets and becoming a Master Assassin. He couldn’t afford to falter to the thoughts brimming in his subconscious, lest he might just end up exploding.

“It’s becoming concerning how used I am to seeing you sulk around Babylon Alley.” A young girl’s voice broke his train of thought. Despite his disdain towards children, the person he seemed to have been talking to the most these past few days had been no other than the little urchin, Clara O’Dea. Perhaps the striking similarity between her and his memory of Evie when they were that age gave him a sort of comfort of the old days’ nostalgia. Especially the way her hair was woven into two little pigtail braids, the way Evie’d ask him day after day to braid her hair for her, even though he had no idea how and it would always end up being a mess.

“Hmpf.” He grunted, slumped on the ground, leaning onto the wall behind him. He raised the bottle of bourbon he managed to swipe from the latest pub he paid a visit to, as if to say ‘cheers’ to the girl swaying on her feet before him and downed whatever was left of the bottle.

“Heard your train is getting a bit of a makeover.” She commented, trying to break the silence, but Jacob merely ignored her remark.

“You clearly know everything, don’t you?” He scoffed sardonically.

“And you clearly don’t know anything.” She retaliated, crossing her arms.

The little girl matched Evie in her wit too, he smiled to himself. He couldn’t help but feel pleased to have such an unusual friend keeping him company.

The Templar control in the borough of Whitechapel was slowly diminishing, day by day. With Kaylock six feet under and their growing number of allies, the influence of Starrick in East End of London was slowly weakening. Instead of red coats, you’d now be seeing green coats everywhere, protecting the weak and opposing the evil. Though the twins were already thinking ahead, carefully setting foot in other areas of London, showing no signs of stopping.

Evie had been spending her last few days taking out her frustration with her brother by asking the Rooks to assist her in combat training, even though her fighting prowess usually still outmatched her green-clothed peers.

She kept herself busy, from going all the way back to the City of London by herself, in vain hope of finding the rest of what was hiding in that chest, to spending time with Agnes, her sister and her daughter as they came to aid in the train renovations. She was also spending more time with Henry, letting his flirtatious behaviour and gentle touches distract her from her disorderly brother.

Anything she did really, was to distract herself, so she could think about anything but their last fight. Because in truth, the last thing Evie Frye wanted to do was prove her brother right and give him a reason to believe his feelings for her were justified, returned, even. She was sure his last comment was uncalled for and untrue. And if he wanted to sulk around and ignore her until she admitted such a distasteful falsehood, then she wouldn’t speak to him either, no matter how much she wanted to.

“Ah, Miss Frye! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Evie gave a smile to the man before her, a certain lightness to her step. She was in a good mood and she found Henry’s friend Alexander good company to keep when she was feeling lonely. “Thank you again for helping me set up those fuses. I’ve already been receiving successful messages through my phonetic telegraph.”

Occupying her time with anything but her thoughts seemed like a safe bet for Evie and as she got to know Henry, so did she the many people he knew around London – one of which was one Henry proclaimed an inventor and technical expert, Alexander Graham Bell.

“So you’ve not given the name ‘telephone’ any thought then?” Evie chuckled, circling behind the counter of Alexander’s shop to look at his notes.

An intelligent, polite and welcoming young man, Aleck, in his passionate pursuit of free speech and impartial telling of the news, proved to be another useful ally to keep on their side and Evie was eager to lend her hand for anything he needed. Any enemy of Starrick’s was a friend of theirs.

Kaylock’s broken pistol turned out to be a broken rope launcher and Alexander was happy to help, procuring a practical use of getting around for the young Assassins intending to stay out of enemy sight, and in turn for his selfless helping hand, she offered Aleck her help were he in need of anything himself in the future.

_

credit: meeting ned & more about alexander, dialogue from this scene, mention of train renovations

_

read pt. XI here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

guess who's back

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. IX

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 2.814

total word count - 24.175

_

It wasn’t like the older of the two hadn’t kept herself busy the past few days either, as she stubbornly refused to even look at the damned book he had retrieved for her, she grew tired of the mindless paper sifting, instead, Evie finally took to the streets, conducting other business of her own.

Remembering their conversation with Henry the first day they met, she still deemed his words interesting enough to occupy her time, despite her brother’s initial protests. Henry’s connections got lost under their research on the Piece of Eden, but she managed to find them, determined to concoct a better plan than her brother at killing Starrick and liberating London.

The first of Henry’s acquaintances she was looking for was his link to the police. He mentioned getting acquainted with the local coppers would help them go more unnoticed as they would turn a blind eye to their activities. Thus, she went looking for a fellow named Sergeant Abberline, presumably a, by Henry’s odd words, ‘master of disguise’. And how are you meant to find someone who doesn’t want to be found, always walking around disguised as someone else?

Evie knew, to do that she had to put her Assassin skills to use. She focused, calmed her senses, calmed her mind and breathed, scanning the crowd beneath her. Being near one of the busiest streets in Whitechapel seemed like a good idea to find someone who wished to blend with the crowd.

Like Jacob likes to do.

She shook her always whirring thoughts away, cringed at the instinctive intention her mind always strayed towards, as she focused her eye on the sea of people below. Surely enough, her training was not for nought as she spotted an oddly looking old lady, heading into one of the back alleyways. She sprinted, as fast as her legs let her, catching up with the lady, she dropped from the roof, landing directly in front of her.

Conversing with a middle-aged man disguised as an old woman was no doubt bizarre, one of the oddest things she’d done in her career as an Assassin yet, though Frederick was friendly enough, and more than willing to help, leaving her with a contact, a few sketches and a greeting she later relayed back to Henry.

Evie outstretched her hand, a list of names, enemies and friendly contacts alike, neatly presented to her brother with her elegant handwriting.

A cocked eyebrow- “Sergeant Abberline asks us to deliver these delinquents to him – alive – as bounties, in turn he offers his helping hand. I thought your Rooks could lend a hand from time to time.”

“What for?”

“He’s a policeman, Jacob.” She rolled her eyes. “A useful ally – Henry mentioned him, remember?”

Of course, he didn’t, though Evie tried her hardest to keep her friendly, polite, distant demeanour.

“Nice?” Jacob commented, unsure why that particular task was of importance in any way, shape or form, but grabbed the paper from her hand nonetheless.

“Nice?” She mocked with a pointed scoff.

“Why should I care about all the things Henry instructs you to do?”

“I did that for you.” Breath hitched in her throat, her eyes averted. “Because of you. I did it to protect you from the police because I was terrified to one day receive a call that you were arrested, or worse, killed by Starrick’s police.” She spoke, voice cold.

As if she didn’t have to overstep every single stubborn barrier she held up by approaching him herself anyway. It was his outburst, his sulking, and she’d have to be the adult, returning back to him. Again.

“Like you care.”

“I also spoke to Clara O’Dea.” She chose to ignore, to brush away the hurtful comment, tucking it somewhere in the back of her mind along with everything else he did that hurt in that special kind of way.

A group of children in a nearby alley - one of Henry’s contacts was an urchin, Evie had pondered as she had carefully approached the playing youth. A young girl with brown pigtail braids and a freckled face, somewhat much like Evie was when she was little, had approached her, speaking of Jacob, spewing feelings of gratitude.

“Who?” He seemed unbothered, irritated at their too-normal conversation, at her uncooperativeness.

“The urchin.”

“Urchin?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Jacob was clearly distracted, not fully present, on purpose or no, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“She wishes to see you to thank you in person. Asked for you specifically.”

“Why are you here Evie? Really?”

Strode over, his cold fingertips underneath her chin, she faced his empty gaze – pulled away in an instant.

“What does it look like?”

“Looks like you’re avoiding the inevitable – your specialty, apparently.” He huffed, clearly becoming irritated, which Evie chose to pointedly ignore yet again.

Head cocked to the side, she sighed. “And what is the inevitable?”

He looked at her, really looked, pointedly lingered on the pink of her lips before he met her gaze again.

“I’ve got stuff to do.” He barked, dismissing her, forcefully bumping her shoulder as he brushed past, her body swivelling to the side.

It was only then, after his presence all but vanished, that she felt the immense coldness wash over her.

Oh, how cold and alone he left her to feel. So terribly alone her breath hitched in her throat and she choked, biting down on her lip – mindlessly – the older twin pressed down on her forearm, the cut had healed significantly, but she was far from being pain free – and in that moment feeling that familiar pang of pain was enough to stop the childish tears threatening to fall down her face.

Throughout her life she always felt so terribly lonely, but the one person she could always rely on was her brother. Now, even that was gone. Taken away by her brother himself.

~

Jacob was utterly pissed. Pissed at the way she was behaving, pissed she wouldn’t give him the time of day. Pissed at everything she so easily ignored. Overlooked.

He rounded the corner with such haste, steps chipped and hurried, someone bumped into him full force, papers flying everywhere, some getting caught in the wind and flying away.

"Confound this city! No one looks where they're going!" An angry looking man voiced his frustration, more generally than directed directly at Jacob himself, as he leaned down to attempt to recollect whatever he was reading.

"Yes, I've noticed that." Jacob spat back at the middle-aged man with a peculiar comb-over haircut. He was in no mood to bicker, especially with random strangers as he had enough of that in his personal life. And especially because the offended man seemed to be just as deep in thought as Jacob. Perhaps just as distracted as well.

Though just as fast as he appeared, muttering strange nothings, he disappeared into a tavern nearby, leaving Jacob bewildered and utterly confused.

"What an odd man." He muttered to himself, trying to resume his way down the main street.

Judging by the bell toll, the day was well into its second half when the young Assassin finally arrived to his originally intended destination in Lambeth.

The borough was, at its core, different than the ever-growing familiarity of Whitechapel streets. Brighter, bigger, livelier, the rural area was bustling with commerce and life.

Shaking off the image of his sister, he had headed straight to find Clara, as per her words, despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore her requests. The little girl, no more than mere twelve years old, profusely thanked him, for helping to liberate fellow children from exploitative factories almost solely fuelled by child labour, something he didn’t even know he did as it was a mere side effect of him and his Rooks eliminating ruthless Templars from positions of power. Though after their conversation, he’d made it a point to help these children to a better life and instructed his Rooks to do the same.

He hadn’t forgotten to relay that copper’s request to his peers either, though not after he stopped back at the train to hastily copy Evie’s list, if only to keep the original one with him – why he hadn’t been so sure of, perhaps to have something of hers always on him, no matter how ridiculous, Jacob scoffed at himself, as clearly, he had been grasping at straws, perhaps at long last finally losing his mind.

He checked once, twice, made sure he was at the right address. In a city filled with people who’d rather see him dead than alive, he could never be too careful.

Evie, you’re rubbing off on me.

He rolled his eyes, shook his head, tucked the paper back into his pocket, and entered into the building in front of him.

~

Evie didn’t do well with uncertainty and the more she thought about it, the more she started to feel a tinge of regret over her decision of coming to London. Had she stayed in Crawley she’d at least have the familiar shoulder of George to lean on. He’d help her, he’d guide her, he’d show her the way. She was so determined to find Ms. Thorne’s Piece of Eden, but she didn’t know how difficult such a task would really be.

Though Evie Frye wouldn’t give up that easily either, as she decided to return back to her books, in a feeble attempt to forget the cloud forever looming over her head. She intended to finally study the book her and Jacob had managed to retrieve from Lucy Thorne and, perhaps, even decided to share her findings with Henry.

By the time the night descended, Evie felt fatigue washing over her and her body ached for a good night’s sleep. Her research proved neither fruitful, nor wasteful, as Henry claimed upon joining her come evening, though it would require more research to reach the ever-elusive Piece of Eden, what she had retrieved he still deemed invaluable in their arcane pursuit.

Nose in her books, she let herself enjoy the distraction of Henry’s pleasant presence, his unwavering politeness, lingering gazes, grand ideas and passionate determination an always welcome occupant of her time. She felt as though they could never run out of discussable material, be it professional or otherwise, Evie found herself dropping her guard whenever she spent time with the gentle Assassin, a feeling she welcomed with ease every time.

Henry spoke of his admiration of her bravery, of his fascination with the material she had retrieved, that spark in his eyes never ceasing as he scribbled down his endless slew of notes, clues, contacts, books he’d overturn to help them reach their common goal.

From time to time, Agnes joined them for a chat or two, brought them a warm cup of tea, spoke of her family here and there, of ideas and plans she held for their train and never failed to leave with a polite squeeze of the hand.

What Evie wished Henry hadn’t brought her mind to was none other than her brother, her annoyance with him too difficult for her to properly put into words, she merely politely listened, how they had randomly run into each other, and he had accompanied him to an old friend, one whom by Henry’s elated description, Evie yearned to meet herself.

“Ah, fuck. Shit.”

Speak of the Devil…

“Jacob?” Evie half whispered into the darkness. It was beyond any reasonable person’s bedtime and judging by the younger twin’s suspicious silent pause, both of them were equally as surprised the other wasn’t already somewhere off, adventuring in dreamland.

“Evie…! Ho- How are you not in bed yet?” He slurred, barely able to keep himself up as he stumbled into the dimly lit train wagon. “I could ask you the same thing.”

His stare was blank, empty, dare she say confused, as he straightened up, swaying on his feet. And off behind him, in stumbled a second figure, equally as drunk, and he reached forward, awkwardly attempted to help keep her steady, though he could clearly barely keep himself afoot.

Though in that moment, something in the back of Evie’s mind snapped in half. “Who are you?” Tone flat, she challenged, back straightened.

“Okay, okay, okay…” Jacob slurred, fingers pressed against his temple, his face turned a bright red. “Evie, this… I…”

It wasn’t like Evie hadn’t been introduced to her brother’s careless actions many a times in her lifetime, like he hadn’t spent an occasional night out passed out in the streets since they were the measly age of fourteen, like she didn’t particularly know of his reoccurring nightly adventures, it was never pleasant being reminded of that particular part of him she so hastily scrambled to forget every time she encountered it.

“Wait, is this the one you told me about?” The young woman stumbled with her words. “You didn’t tell me she was here!” She turned to Jacob, tone half accusatory, “Listen, I didn’t know that-“, she tried talking to Evie, though Jacob all but shoved her forwards, expression stern, he tried to stop the drunken words pouring from her mouth, shoved her past the muddled duo awkwardly tracing his every move, towards his bedroom, and Evie seethed, hands balled into fists, the red taint of her cheeks matched that of his as she saw, the light bouncing off the young woman before her, the brown of her hair, the blueness of her eyes, the freckles gently dotting her cheeks, the pressure that rose behind her temples made her feel like she’d just about to burst right then and there.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She pressed.

“What does it look like?”

She meant to reach forward, to yell, to explode, voice everything that just snapped inside her, though Henry’s gentle touch to her shoulder, the warmth of his hand, made her exhale-

“I suggest we just leave them be.” Henry commented, seeing the clear irritation she felt, Evie’s mind raced on what to do, though her mind went empty, the look that Jacob gave her over his shoulder all but grounding her in its unabashed blankness.

And in that moment when his eyes reached hers, when he saw the proximity Henry held to her, his hand on her shoulder, then his anger mirrored hers, thoughts whirring, though he could swear, swear he saw a single tear roll down her reddened cheek, before she turned away from him.

When they finally stumbled into his bedroom he couldn’t bear to see, his bed tainted by the presence of a random woman and he apologised, embarrassingly so, to the one who had offered an ear for him to voice his hardships, offered to take it all away with a lingering touch, he felt disgusted with himself, despite her protests, he pushed her to leave, right through his window, out of his sight.

Because, painfully so, it dawned on him, he could never satiate that desire inside him, not by the mere physical act alone, no, when it is the person involved you seek and they remain so out of reach, there is nothing, not a wand in the world magical enough to make that despicable yearning go away.

~

The younger twin’s mind had been whirring with countless thoughts, seemingly never-ending worries and unanswered questions. His eyes darted around the darkness of the room incessantly, as though trying to pinpoint something that wasn’t really there. His attention kept reverting back to the dim light of the wagon, her and Henry’s endless pile of books behind them, still picturing her there, her knuckles white and brows furrowed.

He wondered, like so many times before, what had been on her mind while she was standing there, so rigid and still, unmoving. Had she been surprised? Sad? Mad? Upset? Happy, even? He was sure she felt something in that moment when they looked at each other. Was she also turning around in her bed, unable to sleep due to the events that occurred just hours before?

Jacob knew full well how he wanted her to feel. How he wanted her to react. Though he didn’t plan on Evie coming face to face with his private business, he felt… disappointment at her reaction, nonetheless. He felt as though one thing was for sure – that even though his chances were slim to none before, her seeing him with another woman would not help his case in the slightest.

He had been tossing and turning anxiously in his distress until the break of dawn as the first sun rays shone into his room. Grunting his frustration out loud, he sat back on the bed, hand raking through his hair. Jacob was sure he felt mad, mad at himself, for letting this situation occur in the first place. Mad at his cold, unfeeling reaction when he saw her searching for his gaze.

_

credit: meeting abberline, meeting clara & the urchins, meeting charles dickens, the in-game description of lambeth, henry's comment on what jacob & evie found, bell's first mission

_

read pt. X here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

@omgbarbiegurl thank you for your comment, it made my day, hope you're doing well ♡

tried to make this one extra long for you!

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt. VII

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 4.024

total word count - 17.443

_

It wasn’t until late that evening when Jacob finally returned to that same confined hotel room, Evie like a complete replica of her yesterday’s self. Well, if one wasn’t counting the noticeable absence of her sleep-deprived undereye bags and gentle smile she couldn’t shake off her lips at the thought of the day she had just had.

‘Jacob and I have come to London to find it.’

She continued, leaving the space with the now dried spilt ink empty as she wrote underneath.

‘It would be more truthful to say that I have come to London with that aim in mind. I am supported by Mr. Henry Green, an Assassin from our Brothers in India. Jacob is more interested in a scheme to use London's gangs to take back the city from Templar control. He has a tendency to act rashly when he gets impatient.’

“Jacob.” She addressed calmly, pen tapping against the worn paper, her lips pursed and shoulders tensed, as if her body itself was always in reflexive anticipation of what antic her brother would decide to entertain next.

Her notebook had been through hell and back, and its look didn’t do much to conceal its suffering throughout the years. The amount of times it got thrown in the mud, was soaked in rain, or both made the stitching in the back barely hold it together.

Then again, if Evie thought about it, Jacob didn’t seem so far off from the paper companion she so gently held in her hands. Beaten and bruised, it was as if she was counting down the days until he’d return to her in a body bag. And she definitely didn’t like to think about that.

‘He is calling them "the Rooks".’

She added, the quotations of clear indication she still deemed it as ridiculous as the first time he said it.

Something about the rain soaking his hair and clothes, to the mud on his side hinting of a certainly very friendly discussion he had undoubtedly just had in the storm wilding outside, made the irony in that metaphor that much more apparent.

“Jacob Frye, the gang leader. Had a nice ring to it while it lasted.” She dared to poke the bear, eyes searching his as he made no attempt to answer her dry greeting.

“Au contraire, dear sister.” He smirked in return, pulling off the drenched jacket. “I’m on Kaylock’s tail.” She didn’t miss his pained wincing as he moved.

“Already?”

Jacob gave her a look that screamed his childish how-dare-you-doubt-me, because if he was sure of anything, Jacob was sure he was efficient at being an Assassin. And efficient he was, having put all his energy into his goal, he rounded up the ragtag group of Clinkers lounging around Whitechapel and polished them under a new name. Give a desperate man an ounce of hope and it’s not hard to persuade him into anything.

“Tomorrow, we’re taking Whitechapel.”

“Cryptic.” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned back on her chair, the notebook now closed on the table in front of her.

“What, Greenie didn’t tell you everything?” He mocked the Assassin’s name, making Evie roll her eyes with a scoff.

His clothes leaked, a puddle of rainwater gathering at his boots where they hung. “I suppose one good thing when being behind enemy lines is how cocky they get, thinking they’re untouchable.”

“Way to bring attention to us.”

“We want Starrick’s attention on us, baby.”

She held his confident gaze with apprehension, merely raising a hand in encouragement for him to continue, her body tensing up at his choice of words. “The Templars have this grand network of… whatever. Think they’re really smart.” He waved his hand, unable to find the correct words.

Had he just called her a nickname? That nickname?

“London boroughs controlled by Blighters who answer to one Templar… who then answers to-“

“Starrick.”

He nodded, eyes searching hers, though she made no point to comment. Perhaps he had imagined saying it. “We take them out, take the boroughs one by one, and…”

“As if it’s ever that easy.”

“Oh, but it is.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Kaylock is sloppy. Too proud. Even bet his train that he can beat us in a fight. It was that easy.”

Evie stood up and marched towards him, brushing away the dampened hair to reveal an ugly bruise on his cheekbone. Well, a worsened one, since the previous one had had no time to heal in the slightest.

“Easy, hm?” Tone flat, she stepped away, eyes averting from his to the purple wound. “We’re Assassins. We don’t fight like… some drunkards in the street. That’s barbaric.”

“Well, we do now.” His brows furrowed, disappointment overtaking his already slacked shoulders. “At least I’m doing something. Where has your flirting with Greenie taken us, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, sat back into her chair.

"Start behaving, Jacob. Your anger towards Henry is uncalled for." She gave him a meaningful look. “First name basis?” He mused, tenseness overtaking his tone, which merely prompted her to roll her eyes again.

“Stay away from him.”

“Or what?” She challenged apathetically, voice holding no emotion. His hands balled into fists and unruffled again and again as he felt a wash of powerlessness overtake him. He really had no plausible threat ready to give her. Yes, Jacob Frye, the one and only, was merely grasping at straws and it angered him to no extent to stand on no solid ground. And they couldn’t stay away from him, no matter how much he might have wanted it. Henry Green was a valuable source of information and a member of the Brotherhood. They couldn’t conduct their intended business in London without him.

He glued his gaze to her seemingly always irritated expression, walking over to her desk. She was always off, something constantly bothering her when he was near, and he was growing tired of it. Tired of those few moments of bliss when she dropped her reserved demeanour being so rare.

"So what’s the plan, then, oh mighty planner?" He bit out and abruptly leaned in, his face suddenly close to hers. She tightly clenched her jaw and merely observed him, didn’t miss the flick of his eyes to her lips and neither did he her consequent blushing.

“You're the one with the grand ideas; the gangs, the fights, even the outfits you'll wear! Perhaps you should lead the way.” She half whispered, half hissed, crossing her arms though never breaking eye contact out of pure Frye-born stubbornness. The last thing she did was agree with the way her brother meant to handle things, though the pain she felt at him dismissing her passion for finding the Piece of Eden was too much for her to replicate it back.

Even though she was sure Jacob saw no correlation in that particular point in time.

“If you insist!” He hissed back, pushing away from the table as he unbuttoned his shirt before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom to refresh himself. The clock had just struck midnight when he planted himself on the uncomfortable bed where Evie’s gentle scribbling slowly lulled him to sleep.

~

She had already occupied a certain ninety percent of his thoughts before, though interacting with her so casually, or, as casual as their bickering was, made him itch for a shot of whiskey or two. He could hardly handle the onslaught of thoughts his brain threw at him, the overthinking and overanalysing of anything she did driving him closer and closer to insanity.

Then again, Jacob did have a tendency to be a bit over-dramatic at times.

But, he hadn’t been having a good time in the slightest, regardless. And he couldn’t find it in himself to head to the nearest bar either, as the way she asked him to stay, the way her arms wrapped around him then, made him never want to leave her to sleep on her own again.

“I’ve got to drop off this letter. Then we’re headed to Henry’s.”

They made their way forward through the streets and Jacob followed his sister silently, making a point to walk behind. "Second randez-vous?" He scoffed his disagreement. “And who is Mister Maybeth?”

“My secret lover back in Crawley.”

“What?” He choked on his spit, almost tripping over his own two feet. “Relax.” She laughed sincerely upon seeing his dumbfounded expression. “He’s the bartender I heard you owed money to.” She looked at him from underneath her lashes. “Sending him apologies and compensation in your name. Since we’re to be in London for quite some time now.”

He scoffed, mouth open in disbelief. Evie merely laughed further, patting his head as if he were a small boy. Then again, what did compel her to make such a joke in the first place? Or why did she feel the need to explain it anyway?

Suddenly she felt uneasy, her hands turning clammy.

And her uneasiness only deepened when they kept walking through the streets in silence, Jacob again a step behind, seeming like he was deep in thought.

“Why are we headed to Henry’s again?” Jacob spoke, looking distracted. “He’s got something for us.”

As they entered the shop, the Frye twins were met with a warm greeting, which Evie gently returned, the tone of her voice in painfully stark contrast to what she usually offered her brother. She straightened her posture and sauntered towards the counter, a soft easiness to her relaxed stance.

“Why am I here?” His voice was cold, oh so very cold, as he addressed the gentleman before him. “I heard of your ventures, Jacob.” Henry commented softly, never dropping his polite demeanour. “I hope your plan works. Your bravery is commendable.”

Though his words were intended for the younger of the two, he gave Evie a gentle, meaningful look before he disappeared to the back room and returned with something that caught Jacob’s eye.

“Here. You might be able to use this.” He handed them their very own derringer pistols, small and sleek, easy to conceal and perfect for Assassin work. “And this. I'm sure you can put this to better use than I can.” He murmured, giving them two bent blades, the kukri.

“What's this Greenie, Assassin Christmas?” Jacob said, half appreciatively, half mockingly.

Though his comedic genius fell on deaf ears. “You can go now, Jacob.” Evie shooed him away, turning to the books Henry brought out once more.

“How many times can you talk about this damn Piece of Eden before you die of boredom?” He mused, spinning the newly acquired blade in his hands. He was most certainly ready to nag his sister on having to even interact with Henry Green, though in true Jacob childish fashion, now that she was asking him to leave, he felt like being the academic bookworm out of mere spite.

“Go talk to your… Rooks.” She scoffed, her attention fully on the Assassin who actually appreciated and shared her passion for precursor artefacts. Henry was a refreshing sight and a good distraction, though Evie was more like her brother than she thought. Her fingers itched for some action, to explore London and all it has to offer, and some classical Assassin espionage wouldn’t spoil her mood either. It wasn’t exactly her plan to be cooped up inside for the second day in a row.

Though just as her brother, seeing him be so dismissive over what she was passionate about stung in a special kind of way, and she too, felt like being the academic bookworm, simply out of spite.

“Afternoon. Be there.” Jacob said through his teeth, his previously planned business overtaking his stubbornness and current personal turmoil. He intended to prove himself to Evie, even if he had to do so on his own. He’d do it with his own two hands. It was all he truly needed anyway.

~

"A hideout on the rails! What an excellent idea." Henry beamed, excitement and elation clear in his content expression. As he slowly and quite clumsily moved forward, Evie motioned to her brother to help the man carry the heavy boxes full of books, pens and different papers. All she got in response to her gesture was a somewhat dull sigh and a cocked eyebrow.

One could practically feel the anger oozing off the younger twin, he was pissed off, more than he had been in a long while. Not when the mistake he made proved so devastating to his beloved sister.

"Yes, it all worked out rather well." Her words were entwined with annoyance and anger at her brother's arrogance as she spoke to Henry, trying to cover the irritation with a happy smile.

"Please, you should rest." Henry’s warm brown eyes caught hers in a gentle embrace as he swiftly dismissed her offer to help with his essentials. Still, she picked up a few books to take the weight off his tired arms.

The last of the boxes Henry brought with him to the train was gently laid on the wooden table nearby. He carefully took the books Evie grabbed from her shaking hands and gave her a meaningful look. “The medic is on the way.” He tried to persuade her again.

Evie couldn't help but avert her eyes, almost subconsciously laying her fingertips on the opposite forearm. A visible wince emitted from her lips as she felt the strong pain radiate through her arm, all the way to her shoulder. "You're hurting, Miss Frye…” Henry stepped so close to her she could almost feel his warmth entering her vicinity. It was only then she realised how cold she had been feeling for a while.

Mr. Green's movements caught Jacob's distracted attention and his eyes snapped to him and Evie. The man's hand tenderly took her left forearm, like it was something made out of glass. He tried to examine it, but she hastily pulled it away, a pained grimace making its way across the gentle features of her face at her subconscious abrupt motion.

"Really, I'm fine." She reassured with gritted teeth for what seemed like the hundredth time since Jacob ended Kaylock’s life. Henry's eyes seemed defeated, unknowing of what to do in such a situation. He mustered a weak smile. "And please, call me Evie." She added, trying to convey the confident meaning of her words into her voice, but ended up sounding meek and shaky.

"How about we stay with Miss Frye for now?" In a matter of mere seconds Jacob made his way towards the suspicious pair. Obviously irritated at Henry's sudden closeness to his sister, he carefully yet firmly grabbed her shoulder and enlarged their distance. "Of course. Please excuse my rudeness, Jacob." Henry only sighed, the defeated look in his eyes only deepening. "That's Mr. Frye to you." He hissed.

Evie rolled her eyes, her gaze averting towards the books Henry brought with them, trying to distract herself from the pain. “Now, I would like to follow up a lead on-“ She tried her best to hide the wounded arm away from worried, but prying eyes. Her brother merely scoffed, staring daggers at the man standing in front of him.

Kaylock was cruel, sure, ruthless, but maybe Jacob was the one that got cocky in the end, as Evie’s reprimanding never failed to remind him. The gang war he organised was more like a joke of what it was called, since Kaylock’s numbers were far greater than he had anticipated and the Rooks were easily overpowered.

“Jacob?” She asked, tone flat and somewhat bored. She was definitely growing tired, from everything that had happened, though first and foremost, of her brother’s disrespectful treatment of Henry.

“I’m not doing anything until you get fixed.” He stated plainly, facing her, arms crossed over his chest.

He cursed himself over and over again in his mind, feeling regret and fear, but the only thing he managed to portray on the outside was seething anger. He feared that he might lose her. And the sheer fact that if he wasn’t at the right place at the right time, by some divine coincidence, she could have died… he didn’t dare think about it.

‘You now have the chance to join our ranks!' She tried to participate in her brother’s attempt at a victorious speech, tried to be the shoulder he could lean on. He had just defeated a major member of Templar ranks, just breathed life into their rebellion, and if judging by the look on Rooks’ faces, they felt it too. Whitechapel was now theirs to rule over, the first step of many, and they’d definitely grab Starrick’s attention now.

“Our research is of grave importance.” She pointedly inhaled. “Requires immediate attention.”

“Don’t start with the fucking Piece of Eden now.” He was mad, infuriated it was what she was thinking about at that point in time, as he glared at her. She was hurting, and she wouldn’t let him see.

‘Welcome to the Rooks!’ He proclaimed half-heartedly whilst trying to put on an unconcerned face. Stubborn as she was, she didn’t scream, didn’t make a single sound as the knife pierced her skin.

Evie merely scoffed, a feeling of dizziness washing over her. She meant to bicker, defend herself and stand her ground, though just as her mouth opened to speak, Henry’s medic rushed into the train, taking her attention to the pain in her forearm.

“So it wasn’t that easy, was it?” She hissed at her brother as the medic rushed her towards one of the lavish bedrooms inside the train to take care of her wound as quickly as possible. “I didn’t know he’d come after you!” He tried to defend, panicked, as the last thing he wanted was for her to be cross with him. He meant to play her hero, and he mentally cursed himself over where that lead him in the end.

~

"I forgot about you..." Jacob carefully picked up the pistol-like object that instead of regular bullets, seemed to shoot out arrows attached to a rope. It was an ugly pistol really, with a poorly made grey-ish design and initials R.K. engraved onto it.

Evie had picked it up after he had delivered Kaylock’s untimely death sentence, commenting on how it appeared to be broken. And dysfunctional it was, in need of repair were it ever to be used for its originally intended purpose.

Jacob gave his sister a few days' rest, or rather forced her to take it. Despite her protests, he merely allowed her to leave one of the bedrooms on their train to sift through books her and Henry had brought with them.

The cut was accidental, aimed at something more vital, though as she was distracted by Jacob fighting Blighters one versus three just metres away from her, her dodging skills slacked, and her arm blocked the path of Rexford’s knife. It was an intimidating looking cut, from her wrist leading up to her elbow, though very shallow and didn’t require much else than a disinfectant, a couple of stitches and a tight bandage.

‘It has taken the bribing of several of Mr. Green's London contacts, not to mention intercepting messages meant for Templar agents, but we have determined that Miss Thorne does not yet have the Piece of Eden. That much is good news.’

She scribbled in her notebook, ever so often mindlessly grabbing the injured arm. She felt mad at her brother’s reckless arrogance, yet still somewhat proud of what he managed to achieve in such a short period of time.

‘However, she is expecting a delivery to the London docks, which she will collect personally. Whatever it is, I must get to it before she does.’

Evie was afraid she’d lose the lead on Lucy Thorne’s pursuit of the Piece of Eden if she didn’t act fast enough, though something in Jacob’s eyes didn’t let her object to his commands, no matter how silly they might have seemed.

"So…the Rooks are a proper thing now.”

She appeared at the door to his bedroom early in the morning, giving it a quick look. The lavish bed, expensive décor, satin sheets, all stood in stark contrast with their small hotel room.

Henry had been snooping around for her, collecting additional information, but only tip toed around the idea of pursuing anything in person, despite Evie’s encouragements. Thankfully, he’d found out the delivery hadn’t come yet, but it’d be arriving soon.

“I would disagree with the colour choice though." She smirked at him, trying to lighten the mood as she squeezed her wounded hand. The past few days their conversations were chipped and cold, with barely anything but an exchanged glance or two.

"It's a beautiful shade of green and you, my dear sister, are simply just jealous." He joked back, stepping towards her. Absently, Jacob grabbed her injured hand to inspect it.

He had kept himself busy, instead of relishing in his new bedroom, spent a few nights out getting himself acquainted with Whitechapel pubs, drinking with his newly acquired green-clothed friends at night, and took care of Rook business during the day. The burning drink always helped take away the pain of his mistakes, and his gang seemed like a good enough distraction.

"This means you approve of my Rooks now?" He asked, finally meeting her eyes as he let her hand drop back to her side. She pouted, crossing her arms. "If you admit the Pieces of Eden are of big importance then I shall at least acknowledge this elaborate scheme of yours." Sometimes, she was too proud for her own good as well.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head, looking her over with an intense stare that seemed to speak a thousand of silent, unrecognisable words.

"Look, the truth is, I need your help. Please. Henry found a lead on Ms. Throne's Piece of Eden and I have to investigate, but I can't do it on my own." Her voice was determined, but pleading.

"Why don't you have Greenie help you? You seem to have become quite the pair." He commented, his words bitter and muffled. Constantly feeling conflicted on what he should do has been wearing him out, more than he dared to admit. He hated seeing her spend so much time with the older Assassin, though wished for her to rest and recover before springing back into action.

The sheer possibility of how sudden her death could really be if they weren’t careful, made him want to lock her inside for the foreseeable future, even if that meant pushing her closer to Henry. Though he knew he couldn’t really do such a thing, Jacob knew her well enough to know she couldn’t be cooped up inside for so long any more than he did.

The train had just started moving, indicating the clock struck six in the morning. Jacob ran his hand through his hair with an exhausted sigh. Barely getting any sleep due to his racing mind, he felt drowsy and annoyed. He looked away, his eyes moving from the slowly passing streets of London he saw through the window, to the object twirling in his hands.

"Henry doesn't want me to put myself in danger and go steal from Ms. Thorne. The place will be heavily guarded." She explained in half a whisper. His eyes didn't move an inch from the peculiar device as she spoke. "So? What if I don’t want to put you in danger either?" He further inquired, his gaze still remaining fixed on the pistol. “Too late for that, is it?” She answered, raising her bandaged hand. “Ouch.” He snorted, though feeling a pang of guilt at the partial truth.

"I want to cease the package no matter what. I don't care if it's dangerous."

"You finally want to do things my way?" He laughed and finally looked at her, suddenly losing his train of thought.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at him head leaning to the side. “Just-“ She leaned forwards, grabbing the pistol-shaped object from his hands to observe it on her own. “-stick to the plan.”

_

credit: evie's first notebook entry, more dialogue from this scene, first gang war

_

read pt. VIII here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

ah, i really really want to go to london one day.

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.III 

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 2.308

total word count - 5.980

_

“Jacob…” She breathed as he landed in front of her. The older twin felt like pinching herself, fearing she was perhaps dreaming him standing there, perhaps imagining his blue eyes boring into hers. “Evie.” He addressed as he leaned in, arms crossed over his chest, trying to keep a nonchalant tone, despite the obvious tension settling between them.

She looked him over, trying to seem just as unbothered, unfazed, by his obvious pained pose, weight shifted heavily on one leg, his oddly slacked shoulders, the horrific bruise brandishing his cheekbone. Not to mention, the distressed state of his hair and clothing.

“What did you do?” Coming out more accusatory than she meant, the last thing she managed to portray was the strenuous worry she felt seeing him in the state he was in. “Yeah, nice seeing you too.” He said through his teeth, rolling his eyes, as if expecting that’s exactly what she would say. Evie’s shoulders tensed at his change in tone, the pain in her rigid muscles emanating down her body.

Ever since their argument she barely got a good night’s sleep. Could barely think of anything else but him.

She felt as though she was walking on thin ice and any wrong movement would cause her to plummet into the cold abyss – the cold abyss surely being another seemingly endless fight with her unruly brother.

She struggled to find a rebuttal to Jacob’s verbal jab. Struggled to find any words to say to him, really. All she wanted was to hug him as tightly as she could, grateful that he was even standing there, right in front of her, alive. To get him home, make him a warm cup of tea and force him to go to sleep so he’d hopefully feel better than he looked. Whatever words they’d inevitably have to exchange could come later. Or never, were it up to her.

As if acting on instinct, she took half a step towards him, truly meaning to hug him, to tell him how much she missed him and how worried she was, how she wishes they’d just forget about what happened and go back to the way they were before, but she stopped, gulped awkwardly, and moved away, putting additional space between them, as if afraid of how he perceived her.

“I thought you wouldn’t show up. Where’ve you been sleeping? It’s been weeks, Jacob.” She managed to speak, eyes averting to the many trains standing ominously around them. “Well, who could resist following a cryptic message received from some random unknown children?” He asked rhetorically, the sudden carefreeness in his tone somewhat forced. “Which romance novel did you pull that one from, sister dear?” She couldn’t help but snort, his words bringing a smile to her face.

Her brother was taken aback by her reaction, feeling as though the air around them just became a thousand times lighter. He knew full well what he thought the kids’ words truly meant, or at least, what he had hoped they did. But his sister showed no signs of reciprocating his fantasies. Rather, there was an awkwardness to her pose, as though she didn’t fully know how to behave or what to do around him.

“Jacob, I-“

An obnoxiously loud train whistle shot through the tension hanging between them, cutting her off as the first train of the day set on its path. Caught in her happiness of having her brother back with her, the refreshing feel of their usual banter, she didn’t give it a second thought before she stepped closer and grabbed his hand in hers, urging him to follow her lead.

She felt his subtle limping as they moved, but felt no resistance to follow her pull. Evie let herself enjoy the warmth of his hand encased in hers, if only for a short while, as she led him towards the moving train with a quick pace. Right before the train started to speed up, the twins managed to jump into one of the last wagons, their breathing speeding up at their hurried steps.

Releasing a breath, Evie realised she was still gripping her brother’s hand. Were it not for their last conversation, she’d enjoy his closeness like she always did, though those words of his and their implication made her afraid of how her brother would surely interpret her abrupt action. Her cheeks reddened as she quickly shook her hand free, stepping a few steps away before she faced him again.

“George has a mission for us. I was sent to get you.” She explained hastily, afraid to really meet his eyes. “We’re to meet him in Croydon.”

Her words hurt him deep inside, and oh how much they really did, yet Jacob tried his hardest to keep an unbothered expression. She didn’t come to him because she wanted to. She did so because the Brotherhood needed him.

He tried to ignore the sudden space she put between them for an obvious reason as his hand touched the other, the one she’d been holding with gentle determination mere seconds prior.

Evie studied his movements as her brother slowly turned away, shoulders slumped without a word. It was rare Jacob Frye had nothing to say, no word, remark, comment of any kind, even no insult, but she was afraid of asking. Afraid of stepping onto his toes and triggering another one of his outbursts, even though she was sure it was coming anyway.

He sat himself down by one of the many crates the train was stacked with, sighing loudly as he absent-mindedly cradled one of his palms in the other. Though his expression held a tension Evie knew all too well, the one he always wore when he was ready to bicker with her, there were no words coming out of his mouth.

Her apprehension, the subtle way she moved, the way her expression saddened at random moments, even the way she stood, everything told him enough of what was going on inside her mind. And even though it was rare for Jacob to pass up an opportunity to tell his beloved sister oh how wrong she was in the way she was acting, how much her behaviour bothered him, which would inevitably end in another screaming match, the gentle whirring of the moving vehicle and the warmth inside the train slowly lulled his tired body to sleep, one hand wrapped around the other in a sad attempt to bring back the feeling of her skin on his.

The thought of having to face her everyday whilst having to pretend his words never left his mouth in the first place made him feel at his wits end, and he toyed with the idea of just avoiding this situation and skipping whatever the mission was altogether. It was clear to him his sister would do anything to avoid the conversation he was so desperate to have.

Considering what George had them do the last couple of months, hell years, was nothing of true importance anyway.

But Jacob was reckless, that much was true, yet not stupid enough to disregard a mission bestowed upon him by the Council. He was to give his life for the Brotherhood, the Brotherhood came first, and if Jacob knew anything, it was precisely that.

~

The tension around them didn’t seem to show signs of ceasing anytime soon, even as Jacob was abruptly stirred awake from his nap with a jab to his shoulder and his sister’s urging for him to get up.

“We’re nearing our stop.” She said through her teeth, shoving him awkwardly once more, as she seemed to be hyper-aware of any physical contact between them at any given moment.

He merely waved her off, not meeting her gaze as he stood up and stretched with a loud yawn.

“I feel reborn.” He said, shooting her a smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. And she caught his gaze, brows furrowing as her lips parted, meaning to say something, anything, yet her mind drew a blank at his empty, searching gaze, she shook her head, retracted, looked away, ignored his carefree comment as she couldn’t even manage to reciprocate what would be a normal conversation.

Jacob didn’t miss any little movement she made, despite how it made him feel. He merely watched her squirm uncomfortably as he kept a carefully crafted bored expression.

How long will you keep this up?, he thought to himself, and he couldn’t help but toy with the idea of seeing where this pretending everything was a-okay would lead them.

She averted her attention to the outside as they felt the train slowly cease its speed. When it finally ground to a halt, Evie gestured to her brother to follow her outside.

Jacob jumped off the train, stretching his muscles and feeling all the places he’d been punched in the last couple of brawls he found himself in. He was pretty sure he hid his pain well enough to not seem as serious as it perhaps truly was, but the stupid bruise on his cheek gave him away. That and his hair. And clothes. And the more he thought about it, the more he felt embarrassed of how he looked.

Their mentor George didn’t fail to notice that either, attentive as Assassins were, there was no detail they ever missed. And Jacob was one too, an Assassin of course, and he too, didn’t fail to notice the subtle shake of his sister's head as George obviously meant to address the state of, well, him. All of him.

He rolled his eyes, the last thing on his mind an unproductive argument with his mentor as well. And the more he thought about it, after the invigorating nap he’d just had, despite everything, he’d actually enjoy cracking some skulls, breaking some fingers and bringing down a Templar or two. Croydon was not the place to draw attention to oneself anyway, especially when you bore the mark of an Assassin.

“The iron ships from here. The Templar running things is Rupert Ferris, and our target one. Target two is Sir David Brewster, who's got his hands on a bauble that could ruin us in this wretched war.”

George was brief and straight to the point, though still passionate about his work, qualities the younger Frye twin liked about the man, despite the disagreements they sometimes held with one another. All Jacob needed was a name and a place. He’d leave the meticulous planning to Evie.

Their mentor was careful, eyes fleeting around them as he spoke, constantly on guard were anything to go awry. Evie seemed to be doing the same, gaze darting behind them, always careful, cautious, and prepared.

Jacob scoffed to himself, shaking his head. The idea of completing this mission excited him the more and more he thought about it, and the cloud over his head seemed to have started to dissipate as his heart beat with adrenaline of a promised fight.

“Think you both can handle it?” George questioned, back turned to them as he turned to circle around the train, hands gesturing for the twins to follow. Jacob, in his excitement, tried to push away the grievances still sitting uncomfortably between himself and his sister, and gestured for her to quietly follow him up the train they were hiding next to.

“What a question.” He smirked from atop the train, a playful smile gracing his lips.

“Oh, right, my mistake. Ladies and gentlemen, the unstoppable Frye twins; see them nightly at Covent Garden!” The mentor mused sardonically from below them, arms outstretched in annoyance.

Jacob released a breath, glancing from George, to the train station below them, to Evie who caught his gaze, wearing an equally as lively expression. She too was more than excited to have her brother back doing missions with her. He held her gaze, if only for a mere moment, as he relished in her look, the energy emanating from her in such contrast with-

Never mind.

Just as quickly as her smile seemed to have reached her eyes, her brows furrowed and she hastily looked away.

Jacob cringed internally at her apprehension, though refused to let his mind linger as he saw the approaching train slowly leaving the station. With a light touch to her shoulder, he diverted her attention to it as well, sure to avoid his eyes meeting hers in the process.

“George, honestly, I've studied the plans of the laboratory and have every route covered.” Evie assured as George made his way onto the carriage, lips parted in what was sure to be another one of his protests.

Jacob was sure his sister was speaking nothing but the truth, the way she always had everything planned so diligently unwavering under any circumstance. He was sure she went over the plan a million times, by herself as well as with George, whereas him, well…

“And I've got all I need right here.”

He flicked his hidden blade with an air of arrogance. “I'll extend your regards to Ferris.” He smirked.

The passing train whistled its departure as Jacob gave his mentor a gentle pat on the shoulder, earning an eye roll from the older gentleman.

“Chat later, George, we've a train to catch.” Evie spoke with excitement and just before the train left the station, the twins bridged the gap with a swift jump.

“Jacob! Evie!” George called after them. “May the Creed guide you, you vagrants!” He made a mental reminder to reprimand the pair, seeing their unprecedented departure as somewhat dangerous and immature, though he couldn’t help but be happy to see the more than welcome content energy he observed on their faces.

If anything, Evie would explain the plan more thoroughly to Jacob herself. She always did. She seemed to be the only person he truly listened to anyway.

_

credit: dialogue from the opening scene

_

read pt.IV here

_

|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer.||

[thesinpolice]

well, here we are, let's jump in.

before you read: introduction || disclamers & tags

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.I

word count - 2.231

total word count - 2.231

_

It was a cold, rainy night behind the stained window of the pub. “I’d venture to say, you’ve had enough to drink.” The bartender voiced as he cleaned one of the glasses, irritation clear in his tone. “You’ve missed a spot.” Jacob muttered wearily, ignoring the man’s remark, his eyes fixated on the glass in the bartender’s hands. It was smeared and unclean despite the fact that the man had been polishing it for quite some time.

That day had marked exactly a month since Jacob’s eyes last looked upon her, not that anyone was counting. Yes, especially not him. Many were the qualities the Frye twins wore proudly, stubbornness often on the forefront. And this time, this time Jacob was sure he’d spend the rest of his days out on the street if it’d force her to come to him.

“I think it’s best you leave, Mr. Frye.” The man spoke yet again after moments of silence. He almost spat out Jacob’s name this time, but he chose to ignore the man’s vexatious and somehow infuriating tone. He had gotten used to such welcoming and inviting words a while ago.

Jacob, finally removing his gaze from the unwashed glass, looked at the bartender’s tired eyes. “Ever since your eyes first fell upon me, you’ve utterly despised me. How about you start showing some hospitality to your always returning customer?” He’d be lying to himself were he to say he didn’t lace his tone with dry amusement and used overly elaborate words merely to spite the man in front of him. “Why don’t you pour me another one, kind sir?” And oh how much did he enjoy seeing it take its full effect as the bartender aggressively landed the glass in front of him with a loud thud. Truth be told, Jacob knew exactly why the bartender wasn’t particularly fond of him.

“You mean, ever since you first walked into my pub and started a fight that completely destroyed everything inside. Always, Jacob, when your foot steps inside this building you end up drinking too much and picking a fight.” Jacob positioned his pounding head on his hands, his eyebrows raised indifferently at the man behind the bar. With each passing day, he was finding it harder and harder to care, were it for himself or others, he wasn’t sure anymore.

“You still owe me money, Jacob. I had to replace everything. More than once. And on top of that, you owe me money for all the unpaid drinks on your tab.” The bartender sighed loudly, leaning down to grab whichever alcoholic beverage his hand landed on first. “That clean enough for you?” The man asked, clearly irritated, as he shoved the glass towards Jacob, filling it up with a clear liquid. Jacob merely nodded in response.

“Ah, don’t be so harsh. I couldn’t be that horrible now, could I?” He said, downing his glass in a matter of seconds and savouring the sweet burn of the foreign substance. “I’m not entirely sure you wish for me to answer that.” The man merely murmured back with a pointed stare.

“Pour me another one.” Jacob uttered wearily, ignoring his words. “I’ve already said you’ve had enough. Now, make your way outside before things make a turn for the worse. Again.” The bartender picked up the glass and started cleaning it again as he gestured towards the door, eyes nervously darting around the pub.

Jacob was sure there was that tiny part still inside him somewhere, a part that screamed, the man is right, he’s ruining his business, his livelihood, that tiny part of his conscience that remained sane, that screamed he should just return home. But he couldn’t. Call it stubbornness, she sure would, Jacob thought to himself, call it heartbreak, call it being too proud, but he simply couldn’t find it in himself to grovel, not after what had happened between them last time they spoke.

“How about. You. Pour me. Another one.” Jacob said through gritted teeth. He wanted more alcohol to numb the pain, to make him forget, to put his mind at ease, whichever one it was, he knew the burning drink brought him some form of peace, if only for a mere moment.

“How about, you do as you were told?” Suddenly a low voice grumbled behind Jacob, mockingly mimicking his previous words.

Jacob was in no mood for a fight. Not anymore at least. Had you asked him a mere week ago, he’d boast about picking fights for sport. It was what Jacob Frye did. It was perhaps who he was. You have anger issues, you’re compromising the Brotherhood, you’re reckless, you’re going to get yourself killed, she’d reprimand. Sometimes it was as though their Father spoke to him through her and it annoyed him to no extent. It had been one of the reasons he left their home so hastily in the first place. But now… now he was sure he’d kill for her insults, her hateful stare, her rebukes, if only he could see her again.

He disliked being uncertain, Jacob always saw a straight path to his reward, always knew what he wanted, you’re rushing in with no plan, you’re so careless, she’d say again, and Jacob was mad, so mad at her that she always refused so hard to see things from his perspective. In his mind, the younger Frye twin always had a plan, but now… Now, Jacob was at a crossroads with no plan on how to proceed. Because how could he really, when the only way out was choosing a slightly lesser evil.

His mind felt hazy, he could barely focus on the man in front of him, sizing him up, hands balling into aggressive fists. “Mind your business.” Jacob provoked, perhaps reflexively, perhaps intentionally, of that he wasn’t entirely sure, as he recognised the man and pondered whether it had really been so much time since he last saw him, that the bruise on his left eye had already healed.

In his drunken state, Jacob didn’t even realise what was happening until he felt the sharp pain in his back as the man abruptly grabbed his collar and slammed him backwards onto the bar. “Not. Here. Take this outside.” The bartender hissed at the man, while customers started to eye where the unforeseen noise had started coming from.

“Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent.” The words of the Brotherhood, his Father’s words bounced around his head, the phrase repeated so many times in his endless teachings it had been permanently burned into Jacob’s brain. In his short life, the young Assassin had already been in more fights than he could remember. Yet he remembered that every time, he thought of that one phrase. Thought of her, and her endless reprovals, as she bandaged his wounds. Always thought that maybe, that one time he’d be the one who takes the high road. That he’d prove to her he was not as idiotic as she deemed him to be.

“You’re gonna pay for this, boy.” Jacob heard the man’s words and the rest was but a blur. He found himself being dragged by the collar, across the pub and tossed out onto the cold street outside.

No, this will not be that time either.

“You ran away to lick your wounds and refused to fight me. And you’re calling me a boy.” The whole situation seemed amusing to Jacob. He sat up, the cold rain flowing down his face and soaking his clothes. The man looked even more menacing than usual when he was looking down at Jacob sitting on the ground. “Ah yes, reminds me why I’m actually here.”

He laughed, almost maniacally, as he kicked Jacob in the stomach, making him lose his breath. “Now, now. Beating a man while he’s down is far from honourable, I’d say. At least let me get up first. Or are you afraid I’ll win again?” Jacob stood up and faced the man. He could barely make out his features through the blurriness clouding his eyes.

She’d reprimand again, you’re selfish, you’re egotistical, you’re too proud for your own good, but Jacob’d see the world burn before he’d let anyone disrespect him. Belittle him. Mock him. And his drunken state did nothing but act as a lightning match to his already bad temper.

“You think you can actually beat me? While you’re like this?” Again, he let out a maniacal laugh as his fist slammed against Jacob’s cheekbone. The sheer force of the punch sent him flying back to the ground with a loud thud. “And this time, stay down.” The man spat at him and turned to walk away.

The juxtaposition of how Jacob consumed ungodly amounts of alcohol in an attempt to make him forget his feelings, yet picked fights because he savoured the feel of pain, as though it were the only thing he was left to feel anymore was not lost on him. And it felt bitter at best. Completely soul-crushing at worst. He felt empty inside, and it pained him, more and more with each passing day. An endless cycle of escaping his emotions yet chasing them in a feeble attempt to remain sane.

Despite his drunkenness, Jacob knew he wouldn’t let the man go, not this easily. “Don’t walk away from me, you coward. Finish what you started.” He slowly managed to stand back up and felt the irony taste of blood in his mouth. For a split second he pondered, let his mind linger on the possibility of just letting this man beat him to death.

Then he shook his head, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

The man spun on his feet and walked back, the provocation clearly in its full effect, but this time Jacob wasn’t playing anymore. As quick as a shadow, he dodged the man’s slow and awkward attempt at a punch that was no match for Jacob’s trained muscles. If that’s all she saw him as, then he’d prove her right. He was dumb. And reckless. And selfish. And most of all, he was angry. Angry at her, at himself, at the world, at whoever put him, put them into the situation they were facing.

“You make it almost too easy.” Jacob said as he swiftly cornered the man against a wall, despite all the drinks he’s had. “Now, play nice. And turn the other cheek.” Jacob’s fist slammed hard into the man’s right eye socket, exactly like it did to the left one just weeks ago. All too much, he enjoyed feeling the sweet pain in his knuckles from the firm hit. The man slumped against the wall, his hands raised in defeat.

He reminisced of the day he gave the man his first bruise, long weeks ago, it now almost seemed like a fever dream. It was a cold night, the stars above him invisible because of the clouds dropping chilling rain onto the streets below. He couldn’t help but notice the cruel irony in that, that night was awfully similar to this one. Perhaps, he huffed to himself, even the universe was laughing at him now.

His bad temper had always made him throw the first punch, though solely due to people’s wish to provoke and taunt him, or so he told himself. But that time, for the first time in his life, he had come to the pub with the sole purpose to fight with someone. To let out the strong emotions flowing through him, triggered by the previous events of that day. Self-sabotaging seemed like the better option at the time, when endless heartbreak seemed like the only other one.

“Don’t think you can fight and win against Jacob Frye, you hear me?” Jacob said threateningly. “You’re pathetic.” He spat. He knew that he could never end this man’s life, no matter how much he’d wished to in that moment.

“Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent.” Right Father?

His legs shaking, Jacob watched the man unsteadily run away as he merely stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or what to think of next. With a disgusted grimace on his face, he started to move up the street, supporting himself by leaning onto the wall from time to time. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was fighting and killing.

He hadn’t slept in a proper bed ever since he ran away into the pub on that night he picked a fight with the man. Some frigid nights he’d spent on the street, some in random stacks of hay he’d found by the street.

Because how, how could he bring himself to face her, after all the words that flew between them? Though the more days that flew by, the more that bitterness inside him grew. Because he knew full well there was no happiness for him on the other side of the tunnel, not truly. And he pondered, perhaps for the first time ever, whether his stubbornness was misplaced. Whether he’d rather listen to every insult, endure every hateful gaze, live through the agony of knowing he was the one behind her tears, hear her rejection over and over again, than to be away from her for so long. Because that pained him like nothing ever hurt him before in his life.

_

read pt.II here

_

||this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer.||

[thesinpolice]

let me know what you think!

_

fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.IV

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 2.244

total word count - 8.224

_

“Poor man.” Evie said, eyes lingering on George’s disappearing figure. “More afraid than ever. The years have not been kind.”

Jacob huffed in response. Being the good amongst the sea of bad really wasn’t his forte, though if even for a brief moment, he indulged in their usual banter and playfulness. “Evie Frye, where do you get it from?”

Her gaze caught his and she studied her twin intently. “The same place as you, Jacob.” She uttered, half a smirk playing on her lips.

Seeing that familiar smile, the flush in her cheeks, the freckles dotted across her nose, the way those flyaway strands of hair that escaped her braid framed her face – all of her, made the pain worth it. In the end, she was there, speaking to him and that’s all he had hoped for. In those endless, sleepless, cold and lonely nights, this was all he yearned for.

To see her again, to hear her voice. To hear her say his name.

~

The oncoming afternoon turned sunny, and the duo remained seated on the roof of the train, keeping balance on the fast-moving vehicle. An unwelcome silence settled between them, putting Jacob on edge.

“So, we’re just never going to talk about it then?”

“Talk about what?” She bit out, more aggressive than she meant. She dared to look up and he caught her gaze, eyes portraying enough of what was going through his mind to make the hairs on her body stand up in anticipation of his outburst.

She knew it was coming, and it was here.

“I told you that I-“

“Don’t.” Her hand shot up and she broke their ongoing stare-down, looking to the fleeting environment around them. Her stomach did flips, just thinking about such words leaving his mouth again, nonetheless about what their implication actually meant.

“Well, I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t pretend my feelings don’t exist.” He mused, brow furrowed as he cracked his knuckles absent-mindedly. Jacob was not one to like talking about his feelings anyway, and even when he managed to, this was what he was left with.

“What about my feelings, huh?” Lacing the word with such a dry tone made his hands ball into fists. “You left me! I had to do everything alone!” She choked. “I was worried sick.”

“I bet.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows shot up, body swivelling to meet his eyes with pure disbelief. “Sending some random children to get me to meet you sure is a way to show your worry.” He mocked, set on holding her gaze. “After a whole month no less.”

While sending those kids to get her brother truly wasn’t her brightest moment, Evie reserved it as an excuse of avoidance of this exact conversation. Any idea seemed like a good idea when one was as desperate as she was.

“You could have returned to me yourself.” She scoffed back at him. “The Brotherhood needed you.”

His lips parted, an obvious intent to shoot back, though the furrow in his brows straightened. “Well, I needed you.” Jacob half whispered, their ongoing gaze breaking at last as he looked towards the fast-approaching factory, brandishing a worn yellow sign that read ‘Rupert Ferris Ironworks’.

He swiftly stood up, trying to keep his balance as his eyes already scanned for the best opportunity to leave the moving vehicle.

“Have fun.” He said through his teeth, giving her a pointed look, a thousand silent words in that intense stare.

“Don’t die.” She whispered, more to herself, as she watched him turn away. He sped up, catching an iron pole mid-air with elegant ease and used the momentum to launch himself onto wooden crates on the other side.

Evie knew full well what his stare meant, many of her brother’s actions being a mystery to her, yet that look could mean only one thing. We’re not finished.

And she knew her brother would only ever truly be satisfied were the outcome exactly how he pictured it to be – and she was sure she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not this time around.

~

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Jacob said, almost bored. He stood up on his feet and hastily threw one of his knives at the woman. Not exactly at her, but it landed just close enough to her head to make her go quiet in fear. The random woman being an eyewitness to his gruesome assassination was not really Jacob’s plan, but alas, it was what it was.

She had been trembling in fear, begging for her life ever since Jacob flew in from the opened ceiling window and ended his target’s life. How he hadn’t noticed her before was a mistake he’d ponder over some other time. Being distracted usually wasn’t one of his problems. “Have mercy, please. Mercy. Mercy.” She said so many times Jacob felt the annoyance building up inside him. “You want mercy? Run. Run as fast as you can. A word about this to anyone and you’ll wish I killed you today.” He spoke with such viciousness, he barely recognised the sound of his own voice. The only thing on his mind was violence. Pure and cruel.

He watched the woman run through the back door of the factory. “Your filthy works here in Croydon are over.” He muttered to the man’s now lifeless body, the industrialist’s empty eyes staring solemnly into the nothingness; lifeless, empty, gone.

Jacob quickly made his way back up through the ceiling window he had jumped through just moments ago. Drawing no attention with his swift and precise skills, he made his way onto the rooftop and ran away from the gruesome scene, bound to be discovered sooner, rather than later.

“You Assassins can circle London to your heart’s content. The mechanism we have built has been going strong for a hundred years and will run a thousand more. It is the very city itself.”

The man’s dying words rung in Jacob’s ears over and over again as he ran away from the factory, jumping from roof to roof.

“We will take London from your hands.” Jacob provoked, the determination in his enemy’s eyes far from faltering despite the blade wedged in his throat. “From Croydon? You lurk in the shadows, like a c-coward.” They came out gratingly, pained, the words of a dying man, an idea that shook Jacob to his core, pumping adrenaline into his veins.

“The Assassin! Kill him!” One of the guards suddenly yelled, blowing Jacob’s cover. “Shit.” He said through his teeth, noticing the red colour of their clothing. “Blighters.”

It wasn’t particularly usual for him to doze off like that, especially not during an active mission. Though the dying man’s last remark left a toll on him. Because they were nothing, but the cold hard truth and Jacob knew it. He yearned to escape Crawley, to explore the world beyond and make a name for himself.

A bitter-sweet taste of the misson’s victory, yet personal defeat lingered on his tongue as he quickly evaded the guard’s glances and ran away. Or at the very least, tried to. He heard a train leaving the station below him and hastily descended, crossing through the crowd on the street and nimbly jumped off the nearby bridge onto the moving vehicle. “Impeccable timing.” He muttered to himself.

He turned around to assess the situation and saw several guards still trailing behind him, some on foot, some in the carriages, some even trailing behind him on the train itself. "Lost your bottle, boys?" He taunted, an arrogant smirk creeping up his lips as he cracked his fingers, feeling the coldness of his metallic brass knuckles.

"You think you can run away?" Though his fantasies of a promised fist fight were quickly cut short as a duo in red coats rode by, whipping the horses into a fast-paced gallop. And Jacob failed to notice, caught in his bewilderment, he couldn’t stop the man from swinging a metal rod into the lever next to the rails, right in time for the train to derail and make a sharp turn that merely knocked the reckless Assassin off the wagon.

Jacob faced the direction of the train and saw... nothing. The rails abruptly ended and disappeared into nothingness just a few hundred metres away. The conductor, in a state of panic, tried to stop the train but there was not enough time. He jumped off the moving vehicle, rolling into the dirt with a loud thud.

“Oh, no.” Jacob breathed. Quickly, he spun, started jumping from wagon to wagon with unimaginable speed, his body pumping adrenaline as pure instinct of preventing his untimely death took over. The train began to fall off the ledge behind him, the speed of the fall catching up with the young Assassin. As a last feeble attempt to save himself, Jacob threw himself forward, grabbing onto the first ledge his hands found purchase in and prayed that that one’d be the one to grind to a stop before it fell into the fiery wreckage below.

And he survived, somehow, gripping onto the end of one of the wagons for dear life. His heart beating unimaginably fast, he laughed at himself. "Well..."

"...We seem to have made an unscheduled stop."

Impressed by his own comedic prowess, he began climbing down. Every ledge he stepped on, every wooden surface he touched seemed to break and crumble under his weight, which prompted him to pick up his pace, lest he wished to be crushed by one of the train’s heavy wagons threatening to give in and fall.

"Maybe next time I'll walk." He murmured to himself when he finally reached the safety of the floor, his eyes scanning the train wreckage in front of him. With a final protesting screech, one of wagons finally gave in to gravity’s pull, landing mere centimetres away from the younger twin, sending a shiver down his spine.

~

Evie mentally reprimanded herself, if anything, for indulging in her brother’s little mind games instead of explaining the plan she so carefully crafted with George. She never understood why the simple yet brute way of just eliminating targets one by one was of such joy to her reckless brother, but alas, she had faith he’d complete the mission, one way or another, even if not the way they had intended. Jacob never did things the way George wanted him to. Or Evie, for that matter.

Regardless, she had to put personal troubles to the backburner as her train slowly approached the Templar facility, its speed dropping just as the daylight started to disappear.

“Yard... Guard quarters... Brewster's laboratory. This is where the Piece of Eden will be located.” She murmured to herself, glancing at the map she carried to remember the way.

Quick as a shadow, the lithe Assassin stealthily created a diversion on the stopping train and snuck her way past the guards onto the roof above the laboratory, cold raindrops staining her cheeks as the promise of a sunny day turned into an icy, rainy night.

Find a vantage point. Assess the situation. Count the guards. Make the safest, quietest approach. Eliminate the target. Vanish. She repeated George's always recurring words in her head as she scaled a tall tower, keeping to the shadows.

As she overlooked the enemy’s territory, the voice of none other than her target broke through her thoughts from below. "Your questionable practices are beginning to draw unwanted attention. You've been given more than enough time to achieve results, Sir David."

And he was talking to a woman, a peculiar one at that, her voice cold, harsh, determined, and Evie recognised her, having seen her in countless sketches and pictures. She was Lucy Thorne, one of the most influential Templars in London currently, on par only with Starrick himself.

As they bickered back and forth, it became abundantly clear both parties were more than frustrated with each other, and as Evie watched Miss Thorne’s carriage drive away, she pondered on how to proceed.

“No deviations from the mission.” She had to affirm herself, her mind going a mile a minute as her eyes followed the upset scientist, she studied his furrowed brow, the tension in his posture as he barked orders left and right, ordered a random arrival to be brought in for interrogation before he disappeared back into one of the buildings.

She scoffed to herself, body positioned to spring into action.

Hidden in the shadows she descended from the tower, jumping from roof to roof and swiftly entered the building of the laboratory – only to be met with one big setback. The actual lab in which Brewster conducted his experiments had a secret entrance and that, she was not in the know of.

And Evie Frye didn’t like to come into battle realising she’d come unprepared.

She rolled her shoulders, released a shaky breath, mind racing on how to proceed. As she hurried from room to room, scaled the steps, she heard a male voice in the adjacent room – the man that had been brought in for interrogation was, well, being interrogated, and as much as the young Assassin meant to stick to her mission and only her mission, the mention of one Mister Green and a hidden entrance to the laboratory persuaded her otherwise.

And once she finally got the valuable information, Evie pinpointed the secret entrance within the building, hastily picked the lock and descended into the darkness below.

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credit: more dialogue from the opening scene, jacob's first mission & evie's first mission

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read pt.V here

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|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||

[thesinpolice]

...sssh, i come bearing gifts

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fryecest: CROOKED HEARTBEAT, pt.V

first time here? start from the beginning

word count - 1.891

total word count - 10.115

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Increasing the electric flow through the found Piece of Eden probably wasn't the smartest idea… Evie thought to herself as everything started to crackle and shake beneath her feet. The unstable matrix of energy had started balling out of balance.

"But I have so much more to discover." The pleading look in his wanting eyes would never leave Evie’s pained memory. But, it was done. He was dead. Glancing at the lifeless body once again, she almost felt... regret. But orders of the Brotherhood were orders. This man chose to associate himself with the Templars, thus his life had to end.

The energy overflowing the destabilised Piece of Eden ruptured it apart, resulting in an ear-piercing explosion. The metal ceiling finally gave in and Evie knew she had to run if she ever wished to escape with her life intact.

"We fight to gain what we cannot take with us. It's in our nature." The words uttered with his last dying breath stuck with her as she ran and ran, adrenaline filling her veins, as the electric experiment gone awry threatened to level the underground laboratory – and perhaps the large factory atop as well.

Regardless, Evie was not in the mood to find out.

~

"What was that explosion?" Jacob inquired when she finally reached him at the nearby railway station, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he tried to keep his seemingly unbothered visage. "What explosion?" Was her innocent reply, as she carefully avoided his eyes, her chest heaving up and down.

"Evie." There was something different in the way Jacob had been pronouncing his sister's name ever since their fight, and Evie couldn't quite manage to pinpoint why.

"The Piece of Eden detonated and took the lab with it." The older twin stood up and faced him, perhaps in anticipation of a disapproving remark, perhaps merely to stand up to him in a silent protest. Like always, Jacob didn’t fall short of reminding her of her failures and his opposing successes. "The magic lump of hyperbolic metal. I'm shocked." Her brother replied, a smirk overtaking his smug expression, his words intending to provoke a clearly sensitive subject.

"Simply because you have never valued the Pieces, does not mean-" Her quick to defend shaking voice got cut of by none other than their mentor appearing out of the shadows, muttering his disapproval of their never-ceasing complications.

No matter how much he pushed, how much he planned, even with Evie, the Frye twins just always seemed to have their own way of dealing with things.

An exploded lab and a derailed train were sure to bring in unwanted attention, although… "Then all in all a successful mission, in spite of you two." George concluded regardless of their bickering, and contently clapped his hands.

"What about London?"

George knew all too well what the young Assassin was implying, yet still feigned ignorance, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"What about it?" He said through his teeth.

"We're wasting our time out here!" Jacob bit out, Ferris' final words coming to his mind yet again.

George scoffed in response, giving him his signature look of undermined authority, putting Jacob in his place, which only fuelled his desperation further. "You know as well as I do that London has been the domain of the Templars for the last hundred years. They are far too strong yet. Patience."

"The Templars have found a new Piece of Eden." Evie perked up, swaying on her feet. As much as she wished to listen to their mentor, she couldn’t help but agree with her brother. Perhaps, just as it brewed in Jacob, it did in her - she wished to venture forward, to London and beyond, find the missing Piece of Eden and rid the world of Templars. Or London, at least.

"Sir David is dead. They do not know how to use it." George was quick to shut them down. He deemed the twins too young, too idealistic, with big eyes and big dreams, yet taking on London… was no small feat. "The Council shall guide us; sound advice your Father would have seconded."

George had to have sensed both twins’ rebellion, knowing that their minds wouldn’t change no matter his words. So, he gave up, wishing to avoid yet another squander with them. "I shall see you back in Crawley."

Jacob watched George leave, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of London to care about their own issues when he spoke. "'Patience', Evie." He mocked.

"Ah, the gentle sound of opportunity passing us by." Evie quietly commented the whistle of the last train of the day headed to London, her brows furrowed in frustration.

"So, what's stopping us?" He questioned. "London is waiting to be liberated. Forget Crawley."

"Father would have wanted us to listen-"

"Oh, Father.” Jacob scoffed. ”You could continue his legacy in London." He commented, spoken with determination.

"Freeing future generations from a city ruled by Templars?" She pondered, excitement glimmering in her steely blue eyes. "You know, Jacob Frye, you might just be right."

"Then, shall we?" He pointlessly gestured towards the departing train nearby, as if to dare her to go.

"Yes." She concurred. "Let's. Onward to London!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her, exhilaration taking over her unwavering carefulness, as they looked at each other, the same fiery passion burning in both their eyes.

~

“What are you reading?” Jacob inquired, wanting to break the silence between them. To say he was growing tired of the uncomfortable quietness that always seemed to settle between them was an understatement.

“A letter. To George.”

“You are not George now, are you?” He commented with dry amusement, inching closer to where she was half-sitting, half-leaning on some stacked wooden crates. She merely rolled her eyes, extending her hand, making sure to avoid any skin-to-skin contact.

Jacob read, elegant writing and eloquent words of an educated, well-spoken Assassin. Signed ‘Henry Green’ wrote to their mentor of the troubles Assassins were facing in London – of a Templar Grandmaster, his ruthless leadership and cruel doings. “-as I have warned you - time and time again –“ he wrote, “whosoever controls London, controls the world.”

“This was not the first letter he sent.” Evie murmured, crossing her hands over her chest. “I can’t believe George didn’t deem this important enough to send news to the Council.” She shook her head with a sigh.

Jacob merely nodded, folding the letter as he looked outside the train wagon, into the starry night sky.

“That’s why you were so easily persuaded into coming to London. I knew my Evie wasn’t so rebellious on her own.” He smirked, swaying on his feet. She gave him a pointed stare, clear indication of an overstepped boundary or two, and extended her hand for the letter.

Though this time, Jacob didn’t give her the chance to avoid his touch, no, he pointedly held the paper in his hand in a way so that her fingers brushed against his. He studied her reaction, the redness that coloured her freckled cheeks as she looked the other way, stashing the letter inside a pocket in her jacket. She seemed embarrassed anytime they were too close, seemed somewhat uncomfortable, though in a way it only made him want to tease her more.

“There is no your Evie.” She bit at him, growing tired of their dialogue. Between her nervousness of getting to see him again after so long, their tiresome conversations, the mission that had almost gone awry – she felt exhausted.

“There always was. Don’t deny it to yourself.” He challenged, his hands mirroring the crossing of her own.

“You can project all you want, brother dear. It won’t make me play into one of your stupid games.”

He made no other comment as he simply stared her down, unwilling to move or look anywhere else. It gnawed at her, the empty void she felt within herself not having him by her side, instead this seemingly empty shell of a person whose sole intent seemed to be to bring her nothing but misery and pain.

She reminded herself that his game would eventually end and she would have her old brother back with her in no time, reminded herself for the thousandth time since that night when she was worried sick every day when he never came home for weeks, that it was perhaps the way he grieved and he’d stop pushing her away once it wasn’t as fresh on their minds anymore. Going through such emotional turmoil without Jacob by her side was the hardest thing she’d ever done, though if Jacob’s way of grieving was to be alone, she’d comply, do anything to keep him happy, yet saying what he said that night… was not something she could ever see herself taking into account. Something she ever saw coming, really.

I needed you, he said. Those words haven’t left her mind, not since he voiced them and they pulled at her heartstrings, her heartbeat echoing the same thought. They needed each other, though it seemed like they were standing on different wavelengths, screaming at one another, but the meaning of their words got twisted in the process.

“What?” She hissed after catching his eyes roaming over her entire form for the hundredth time. “You just have nothing to say? Nothing at all? To the fact that I-”

“It wasn’t funny the first time you said it and it surely won’t be any funnier now.” Evie barked at him, annoyed. She wouldn’t let herself be fooled, wouldn’t let herself play into whatever his cruel agenda was at that moment in time, despite being sure his voice was laced with sadness.

“I’m not going to apologise for telling you how I feel.” He stated plainly, his voice suddenly showing no emotion. Because that was truly how he felt, despite how much it hurt seeing her dismissive expression.

The more she pondered, the more she was sure he was merely toying with her, out of spitefulness or simply sheer boredom. Perhaps this truly was his way of grieving, yet why he was willing to damage their relationship in such a cruel way, escaped her.

“I wasn’t being funny.” He grunted, growing angry himself. “Stop playing your games.”

“It’s true.” He meant to reach out to touch her, but Evie jumped back, unknowing how to react. “It’s not. Can you just drop the act and start behaving normally?”

They stared at each other, an endlessly silent stubborn battle, but in the background the same growing fear – was this all their relationship would be from now on?

But Jacob would make her believe, all in due time. Whatever way she’d deal with it, at the very least he’d make her believe his words were true. He huffed, feeling exhausted himself as he tried to appear as though her spiteful words didn’t hurt him as much as they actually did and turned away.

At the end of the day, wasn’t this all he asked for? In all those cold, lonely nights, the wishes of a desperate man were just to be in her presence, no matter the circumstance, yet now… now that Jacob had what he thought he so desperately wanted, he wasn’t so sure anymore that what he had would suffice. Not when it regarded matters of a lonely heart.

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credit: evie's first mission & the letter from the beginning

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read pt.VI here

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|| this fanfiction was written by me. you can also read it here, if you prefer. ||