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( avengers: endgame )
★
SAT IN ONE of her many safe houses, Chloe thumbed through the pages of notes at her side, skimming over the content her colleagues provided for her.
"We think what was left of the Templars and the Assassins had some sort of momentary truce while the whole Thanos thing went down."
"We have a base of operations yet?" Chloe inquired, eating a spoonful of cereal. Her computer was set up in front of her with several encryptions covering the connection between her and both Shaun and Rebecca.
"Nothing solid," Shaun admitted, scrolling through his own notes. "We're looking at a few promising locations, but everyone's waiting for the other to make a move."
"Have they made a move yet? The Templars, I mean."
Rebecca shook her head. "There are whispers of a project going on in Egypt, but nothing on Abstergo's servers. William is preparing to check it out, though."
"William Miles? He's still kicking?"
"He's being predictably unclear with whether he was affected by the Snap or not. We're keeping an eye on him."
Chloe nodded, setting the bowl away. She placed it next to the letter that had been sitting on her desk, unopened, for a few days now. Her eyes lingered on it before she forced herself to look away.
Rebecca cleared her throat, catching the slip. "I think you should read it."
She shot her a look.
"What?" Rebecca defended. "Not like you have to read it out loud."
"Not every day we get a letter from our dead ancestor," Shaun commented.
"No one asked you, Shaun."
Rebecca rolled her eyes and shifted the video camera to face only her. "We'll contact you when we have a better understanding of what's going on. In the meantime, rest up. Recover."
"And read that letter!"
The two ladies shared a look before the connection ended. Chloe sat up and stretched, taking a sip of her coffee and grimacing at the temperature. She got up and stepped in the direction of the kitchen, but she stopped in her tracks.
Swiping the letter, she made for the kitchen. Setting the letter next to the sink, she poured out the coffee and set her kettle on the stove, turning the heat on and waiting for the water to boil.
The sound of the stove's flame and the ticking of a clock across the room were the only sounds as she stared at the letter next to the sink.
Her hands shook as she reached for the envelope, moving her thumb across the parchment. Taking a deep breath, she swiped her finger across and opened the letter, pulling out an assortment of items.
A slightly faded picture of both Jacob and Evie. A postcard, of all things, from London and India that brought a smile to her face. And finally, the letter itself.
Steeling her nerves, Chloe leaned against the counter, and began:
My dear Chole,
Truthfully, I don't know where to start. I don't know how long it has been for you since we last saw each other. For me, however, it has been several years since I last made your acquaintance.
London is doing fine. The last of the Templars have been stubborn in understanding that they lost, but we're getting to them. Evie has married Henry, and they're not as bad as you would think, or at least, what I believed. Even I have met someone.
But I don't think that's what you want to hear.
Your last words to me that night in the cavern were how I figured out your name. I can't exactly explain how, but as Evie and I were searching for you, I guess it just clicked as we got closer. The fragments of memories that were never mine, the trinkets I would find, I know now that was from you. I don't know how, but I have an inkling you might.
My sister and I compared notes from your time here. Chloe, I believe something bad has happened to you, or you might have experienced something that I am unable to help with. Something far out of my reach, but painful to you.
I need you to hear this from me. You are strong. You are a wonderful young woman with your whole life ahead of you. You are brave and willing to do whatever it takes.
You remind me of me. Yet, with all the good factors, I know very well there are bad. I need you to mourn whatever you lost, whoever you lost, and let go. I need you to carry on for me, but most importantly for yourself.
I am proud of you. You, Chloe Frye, are an example of the best of us. The best of the Assassins, the best of the future, and the best of this family. I can rest easy knowing the future is in good hands.
I will always be with you, my dear.
Your grandfather,
Jacob Frye.
The whistling of the kettle brought Chloe out of her thoughts. Turning off the stove and putting the kettle aside, she wiped her cheeks and laughed as her hands came away wet.
She dived into the letter with vigor, reading over the letter, again and again, absorbing the writing and the message. Turning it over and over, she found an inscription on the back.
Post Script: I do hope you like the necklace. Try not to break it.
Pulling the jewelry out of the envelope, Chloe's eyes watered again. It was a simple gold necklace with a small locket with a rose on it. Clasping it on, she finished the note.
I kept one of your arrows. Hope you don't mind.
She stepped out onto the balcony, the steam of her tea visible in the cold air. Mountains and trees surrounded her on all sides, a fresh blanket of snow covering the scene.
No, she thought to herself, tracing the locket with her finger. I don't mind at all.
