Connor My Dear Boy (FINISHED)

31

Connor was barely conscious when Lucy lead him to where her car was waiting outside. His eyes were bleary and he was vaguely aware of the social worker holding his backpack and Haytham hovering silently nearby. Connor did not even look at him, primarily because he was barely awake. Tiredness was still clinging to his eyes and was clearly evident in his every movement.

It was only when Lucy started the car did it even occur to Connor to try to speak to Haytham to… Say goodbye? Apologize for trying to run away? He didn't know what.

He looked out of the car window to see that Haytham was standing in the doorway. Connor opened his mouth to ask Lucy to stop driving so that he could speak to him before they left, but it was too late. They pulled away from the curb before he could even get the words out. Connor pressed his forehead against the window, watching as the house with Haytham inside got further and further away.

"I'm sorry for coming to get you so early," Lucy said from the front seat. "It's a bit early for me, myself," she added jokingly, with a slight yawn.

Connor glared at her from the rearview mirror and said nothing. He thought snidely, "If it's too early for the both of us, you shouldn't have come."

"Do you want to listen to music?" Lucy suggested.

He craned his head, looking behind him, but he could no longer see Haytham's house in the distance.

"Or I suppose you're tired," continued Lucy. "You can sleep, if you want to."

"Well, I was sleeping before you barged into my bedroom," Connor snapped, the words escaping his mouth before he was able to stop them.

Lucy sighed. "I didn't 'barge in' anywhere, Connor, as you very well know."

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the window again.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you tonight when we're both exhausted and you just… got back from wherever you ran off to…" Lucy hesitated for a moment. "We'll discuss everything in the morning. I don't know how much Haytham Kenway talked to you about how the circumstances have changed…"

Connor remembered what Haytham had said before he send him off to bed. "Things haven't changed, though."

"I wouldn't expect you to completely understand," sighed Lucy again.

"I'm fourteen. I'm not a child anymore."

Lucy didn't say anything, but Connor could see the sardonic smile on her face. He scowled at her, though the social worker could not see his expression from the front seat, of course. He figured that she must have heard hundreds of people just like him say the exact same thing to her, working how she did. Connor had to admit, though, that he did sound kind of cliché.

"It's my life," said Connor, his voice soft.

"I know," Lucy said, "but everything… all of this… is to help you. To protect you."

"I disagree," he replied pointedly.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," she repeated. "I know your opinion differs from my own, but I've been doing this for a long time and I know a dangerous situation when I see one. I had to intervene; it's my job."

Connor shook his head in disgust and fell silent. He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to speak another word. Maybe he was being childish, but he thought that he had the right. If Lucy was going to treat him like a child and completely ignore what he wanted to do with his life, he was going to behave like a child right back.

"I'm going to take you back from my home," said Lucy. "It's too late for you to go elsewhere at the moment, but I will be able to find you a place to stay soon."

Connor scowled at the back of her head in the front seat and said nothing.

"We can talk more about this in the morning," she said firmly. "Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Lucy did not speak to him much after that as she made her way back to wherever it was that she lived. Connor did not sleep, though, out of a combination of spite and stubbornness. He also refused point blank to speak to her as well.

It took a couple of hours until they arrived at her house. It turns out that she lived on one of those lots that used to be woodsey and nice before land developers seized it and crammed too many identical houses onto it with very little breathing room between the buildings. Honestly, in Connor's opinion, it was amazing that she could even tell which house was her's.

"Home sweet home," said Lucy in the same cheerful voice she had used when she dropped him off at Haytham's house for the first time as she pulled into the driveway.

Connor rolled his eyes and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders. Lucy parked the car and slipped out. He did the same and gave her a dark scowl, which the social worker promptly ignored. She lead the way into the house, still smiling at him, and showed him to one of the multitude of empty bedrooms as she explained that she often has to retrieve children from abusive households in the middle of the night and have them stay with her.

"Sleep in as long as you need," she said. "I don't have to be in the office until noon. How long do you think you'll need to get ready?"

He said nothing and gripped the straps of his backpack tightly as he stood in the middle of the room.

"Well, I'll wake you up around eleven, then; that will give you time to get ready," said Lucy. "Good night, Connor."

She shut the door behind her. Connor sighed and flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the foreign white ceiling in misery.