Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Shay, come and help me with this.” The voice came from somewhere to Shay’s right.

“Not now, Liam,” he groaned, trying to focus on the mountain of documents in front of him, all covered in small, tightly-spaced letters. “Can’t you water your damn plants on your own at least one night?”

“No!” The answer was as immediate as it sounded petulant. “You need to hold the ladder or I’ll break my neck!”

“Then break your damn neck, I’m trying to work here!” Shay yelled back.

“Shay!”

“Liam!”

“SHAY!”

There was a thump on the wall that interrupted their shouting, just as Shay considered raising his voice even more. They couldn’t understand the words coming from the next door apartment, but the tone was clear. Shay cursed.

“Hope is going to kill us if we’re going to keep this up,” a voice said behind him. He turned to see Liam standing in the doorway, looking somewhat dishevelled and annoyingly smug. “Just hold the ladder for me for one moment, will you? You can go back to your boring reading right after, I promise.”

“It’s not boring, it’s work,” Shay grumbled.

“Work that’ll still be there in five minutes,” Liam shot back. “What is it they’re sending you out for, anyway?”

“They’re asking me to get close to this one Templar bigshot, get some intelligence, try to find out where he’s vulnerable. Maybe assassinate him, I’m not sure yet.” Shay sighed and rubbed his face. Trying to get away from Liam was fighting a losing battle, so he decided to get it over with and help him. Liam’s smug grin was so wide that Shay almost turned back around the moment he stepped into the room.

“And who is it?” Liam asked as he clambered back up the ladder with Shay holding on to the bottom end to stabilise his friend’s precarious perch.

“You know I’m not allowed to tell you,” Shay told him. Liam bent over to water the row of plants near the top of the elaborate green window, making the ladder wobble dangerously.

“And you know that I’d find out sooner or later anyway,” Liam retorted. Shay shook the ladder, just a little. It caused Liam to yell a string of expletives that Achilles would’ve had their hides for. He held on, deliberately spilling some of his water so it landed on Shay’s head.

“Haytham Kenway,” Shay said, glaring at the drops of water falling onto his nose. Liam was right; he would’ve found out either way. There was silence in reply from above, for so long that Shay finally looked up to see whether Liam was still there.

“The Haytham Kenway?” Liam finally asked as he clambered down again.

“I wasn’t aware there was more than one,” Shay grumbled in response. “Of course it’s the Haytham Kenway. Head of Kenway Industries, successful businessman, no currently known partner, father of one Connor Kenway, and, as it happens, Grand Master of the Templar Order.”

“Sounds about right,” Liam mumbled, more to himself than to Shay. “And they’re sending you on shadowing such an important man? Really?”

“Why, you think I’m not good enough for such a mission yet?” It came out slightly sharper than Shay had intended.

Liam raised his hands.

“Sorry to hurt your pride, didn’t mean it like that. Did they tell you why they wanted you in particular for this? Or did they actually ask for volunteers?”

“You meant it exactly like that,” Shay said under his breath before he continued. “No, they wanted me in particular. Kenway is only six years older than me and they thought I’d be a good fit for working as his new personal assistant, apparently.”

“Personal assistant?” Liam whistled. “How did they manage that? I thought everyone close to him would be a Templar for sure. Or at least associated with them.”

“No idea,” Shay shrugged. “But I certainly won’t let this opportunity go to waste.” A thought sprang into his mind, suddenly worrying him. “You don’t think it’s a trap, do you?”

“This much effort to catch a, no offense, still quite low-ranking assassin?” Liam shook his head. “I think they’d be a lot more direct about that. Just make sure you’re not accidentally dropping any secrets…”

“As if I would.” Shay said and rolled his eyes. “Now let me get back to the files, I have to memorise my fictional CV and everything I can about Kenway Industries until Monday.”

“Sure thing.” Liam slapped him on the backside, perhaps a bit more firmly than strictly necessary. Shay resisted the urge to get pulled into a scuffle and made his way back to his papers. This was one mission he truly didn’t want to screw up; especially since it seemed as if they might finally begin considering him for Master Assassin if he was successful. And successful was what he would be; surely, shadowing one arrogant and self-obsessed CEO couldn’t be that hard.

Could it?

*

Shay was a lot more nervous than he’d ever have admitted. He kept tugging at his new suit, wondering if it really made him look as sharp as the tailor had promised, or if he was looking as ridiculous as he felt.

The elevator arrived on the top floor of the large office building, its doors sliding apart to reveal a sparsely but functionally furnished reception room. There were two assistants working behind the large reception desk and Shay wondered instantly whether they were Templars, and if yes, just how highly they ranked within the organisation.

“Uhm-“ He was about to step closer and introduce himself, as well as asking for directions to Kenway’s office, when the door next to him flew open and almost hit him in the face.

“Father, please!”

“I said no, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

Two men exited the office, and Shay could only think that of all the ways he thought he’d meet Haytham Kenway in the flesh for the first time, this certainly wasn’t one he’d imagined. True to his reputation, Kenway was dressed in an immaculately fitted suit, his hair bound back neatly. In contrast, his son – Shay had recognised the name from his files – was wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt that sported the faded logo of a nearby animal rescue.

Ratonhnhaké:ton turned on his heels to face his father, eyes blazing with all the righteous indignation that only teenagers could produce. It reminded Shay vividly of a younger version of himself.

“But Dickie needs a home! I know how to train him, how to take care of him-“

“I said no.” Kenway crossed his arms, meeting his son’s gaze with a long-suffering sigh. “I know you’d adopt every single dog in that shelter, if you could. But between the cats, my schedule, your schedule and that of your mother and everything else, I don’t think the dog would be happy. Especially not a puppy.”

“I’ve done all the research, I know what I’m getting myself into,” Ratonhnhaké:ton said defensively. “And I’ve already talked to Ma.”

“Have you, now?” The hint of a smile played around Kenway’s lips. “I’m fairly sure she said the same thing I did, didn’t she?”

His son mumbled something unintelligible before turning his flaming gaze at Kenway again.

“I know how to care for a puppy, Da. And Dickie is so scared of all the other dogs at the shelter-“

“We’ll talk about it again next weekend,” Kenway sighed. Clearly this was an argument they’d had before. “Surely nobody will adopt him until then.”

“You don’t know! Someone might!” Ratonhnhaké:ton sounded desperate. His father made a motion as if he wanted to step forward and put a hand on his shoulder but aborted it halfway through.

“In that case, I am sure that Dickie will go to a good and loving home. You can’t save them all. And in this case, you might not actually have to, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

His son only glared at him before storming off without another word. Instead of waiting for the elevator (and thus ruining his chance for a dramatic exit), he left through the door of the emergency stairway. It fell closed with a rather loud bang. Kenway stared at it for a good moment before he expelled a breath and turned around to face both his assistants and Shay, who quickly tried to school his expression into something akin to professional.

“I assume you’re Shay Cormac,” Kenway said, mustering Shay quickly from head to toe. As Shay nodded in reply, he wasn’t sure whether he passed some kind of invisible test or not, but, after a moment, Kenway offered him his hand. His grip was firm, but not painful.

“Welcome to Kenway Industries, Mister Cormac.”

“Thank you, sir.” Shay returned Kenway’s grip with the same strength. “I hope I didn’t come at a bad time?”

“No, absolutely not.” Kenway indicated the way to what Shay presumed was his office. “Only a minor disagreement with my son.”

“Ah.” Shay was sure that he should have given a lot more intelligent and elaborate answer, but he couldn’t think of any. In fact, his entire surroundings seemed to render him quite speechless – it was everything he had imagined, and yet so different. Haytham Kenway’s office was as clean and functional as might be expected, the only personal touches a picture on his desk and a painting on the wall depicting a forest clearing. To Shay’s surprise, it bore the signature of one Kaniehtí:io. Nothing that obviously connected him to the Templars, as far as Shay could see. But then, it was probably not an association one would want to flaunt so openly.

“I trust that you’ve received most of the relevant information already? We pride ourselves on a rather efficient admin team here.” Kenway gestured for them both to sit down at his desk as he spoke.

“Yes, I’ve had no problems so far. Getting the security pass and everything. Caroline from HR sent me up here, saying that my office would be next to yours?”

“Quite right. I did hire you as personal assistant, after all.” There was no hint of humour or irony in Kenway’s voice, making it hard for Shay to discern the mood behind his statement.

“Yes, sir.” Was it only his imagination or did Shay see the hint of a smile flicker across Kenway’s lips?

“In that case, it seems prudent that we begin with talking through your tasks for this week…”

*

“…and this should cover your work until Friday. Any questions?” Kenway stared at him in a way that reminded Shay of the piercing glare his old French teacher had always liked to employ. For a moment he felt the overwhelming urge to begin reciting vocabulary.

“Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” He looked down at the two pages of notes he had taken – Haytham Kenway was more than just keen on getting even the smallest details correct. One small point caught his attention. “Except…”

“Yes?” Haytham raised an eyebrow. “You should never feel shy about asking for clarification, Mister Cormac. This is why we will have these sessions in person every Monday morning, after all. There are no stupid questions. Well, except for the truly stupid ones.”

“Yes, sir.” Shay swallowed. He had an inkling that Kenway didn’t look kindly upon the truly stupid questions. “For the gala on Friday. In which…function do you wish me to attend? And what will the dress code be?”

For a split second, Kenway looked slightly taken aback.

“’Which dress code’—ah, of course, I forgot to mention. It will be a white tie gala and you will attend fulfilling the exact job which we hired you for: as my assistant. I will pass minor organisatory details over to you; in addition, I expect you to keep track of who says what and the promises that are being made. And…try and remain as sober as possible.”

“And here I thought it was the British who were being known for getting smashed at the most inopportune moments,” Shay couldn’t help but say, cursing his loose tongue immediately after. Kenway frowned and anger flickered across his face for just a moment, the first real emotion Shay had seen from him. Then he relaxed.

“If my time at university was anything to go by, this stereotype has some truth to it, yes.” It was probably the closest he could come to an apology. “But either way. This gala will be part of your job; you will be paid overtime of course.”

“Thank you, sir. Do we have a guest list? So that I can familiarise myself with the attendees ahead of time?”

“Of course. I’ll have one send to you over the course of today.” Kenway nodded and made a little note. “Anything else?”

Shay shook his head.

“Then I’ll expect you to get on with your work, Mister Cormac.” Kenway made a small gesture towards the door of what would evidently be Shay’s office. It wasn’t until Shay had risen from his seat and walked halfway to the door that Kenway spoke again.

“You came with great references, Mister Cormac.” Shay turned to see Kenway looking down at his table, sorting through a few papers. His next words came after he looked up, letting Shay feel the full weight of his gaze once more. “I expect you will not disappoint.”

“I don’t plan to, sir,” Shay couldn’t help but say. Kenway only gave him a quick nod before turning his attention back to his desk again.

*

Shay’s first workday passed without any major incidences. Sure, there were minor errors – the overturned glass of water on his desk, for example, or the fact that he had stood helplessly in front of the complicated looking coffee machine for fifteen minutes before he finally caved in and asked for help on how to use it.

In fact, everything else that happened was so ordinary that it was almost suspicious. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, but he knew Kenway Industries was completely in Templar hands; perhaps some more menace or more obviously dark machinations. Instead, he spent most of his day looking through payment records, organising meetings, and getting to know the various members of the company surrounding Haytham Kenway. And even when he used his work computer to dig a little more deeply into the company files there was hardly anything extraordinary to be found.

The people he met seemed just as friendly for the most part – and once again, almost suspiciously so. He almost felt as if he was part of a carefully rehearsed stage performance. The first person he had met after Caroline from HR was Charles Lee, Haytham’s personal secretary and the only exception to the ‘overly friendly’ rule that seemed to run in the company.

“So you’re Shay Cormac.” There was something in Lee’s gaze that made Shay draw back a little. Despite being unfailingly polite towards him, there seemed to be something hidden behind Lee’s eyes that was far more dangerous.

“Indeed I am.” Shay put on his most winning smile as he shook Lee’s hand. “Thank you for your help with setting everything up in the new office.”

“Of course. Haytham requested it.” Haytham. Shay could have sworn that Lee normally referred to Kenway much more formally, especially when the man himself was around. “He also told me to be available, should you need anything else.”

“Thank you.” Shay took a deep breath when he stepped into the elevator and out of Lee’s sight. The other people that he met were far friendlier – one or two of them he actually recognised from the Templar files the Assassins had managed to get access to.

Nothing in Lucy Stillman’s demeanour would have told you that, as far as the Assassins knew, she was the second-in-command behind Haytham Kenway. Her smile towards Shay when they met over coffee was warm and friendly and it took them only a few moments to reach the familiarity of using each other’s first names. Within minutes she had him wrapped up in an anecdote that seemed to feature half of the company’s leading figures and an apparently rather embarrassing incident involving a bar fight and a frozen lake.

“…and then William and Charles decided they would go out icefishing even though they’d never done it before. Of course, the ice was too thin and, well, you can imagine what happened…if it weren’t for Haytham and Ziio, they might have drowned in that lake!”

Shay laughed. It reminded him a little of the shenanigans he and Liam would get into when they had been younger and had been able to steal away from the grind of both home-schooling and Assassin drills.

“Me and L-, a friend of mine used to get into trouble very much like this during our school days,” he said with a smile. “See who could climb and then jump from tree to tree the fastest, for example. Get drunk and try the whole thing again, but this time falling out of said tree. It’s quite a miracle we’re both still in one piece, to be honest…”

“Sounds remarkably like certain people at this corporation.” Lucy joined in with his laughter. “Seems like you’ll fit in well here, all in all. And don’t be bothered if Charles comes across a bit morose sometimes; he’ll warm up to you eventually, I promise.”

She was about to say something else when the door to the little break room opened, and another woman walked in. Shay had to put considerable effort into not letting his surprise show: it was none other than Maria Thorpe who had just stepped through the doorway. The Assassins knew almost nothing about her; she seemed an enigma to even the most senior members of their ranks. Shay had once heard Ezio refer to her as ‘the biggest mystery about the Templars in our time’, although with Ezio you could never be quite sure when or if he was joking.

“Ah, Maria!” Lucy seemed to be happily surprised to see her. After a quick hug she steered her over to Shay. “You’re coming just in time to meet Haytham’s new assistant.”

“Shay Cormac, pleased to meet you.” Shay smiled. He felt the strange urge to flourish a little bow in her direction, which he didn’t give in to.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Maria Thorpe’s smile was dazzling as they shook hands, her dark brown eyes sparkling. Shay took a few moments to recover his wits. “Now, if I could kidnap Lucy from your charming presence for just a moment…” She had already taken Lucy’s arm and was leading her towards the door. “We’ll be back in a second.”

“Uh, sure…” Shay said, right when the door to the neighbouring room closed in his face. He felt like someone had just steamrolled over him. He had, of course, done his research into the known Templars of the company, but hadn’t expected to meet so many of them today. Especially not high-ranking ones. And Maria Thorpe’s presence had come as a complete surprise – none of the sparse intel they had suggested that she was involved with Kenway Industries in any way.

Shay was unsure whether he should wait for Lucy and Maria to return or make his way back to his own office. The decision was made for him when he was just finishing up his cup of coffee; the door through which the two Templars had disappeared opened, and Lucy stepped back through.

“Apologies for the sudden interruption,” she said with a smile. “Maria doesn’t like to be left waiting, as you saw.”

“Yeah, looked like it.” Shay chose to play over the moment of embarrassment by going to the sink to wash out his coffee cup. As Lucy has explained to him, Kenway Industries had banned all plastic cups a year ago in an effort to be ‘greener’. Staring at the brown crust inside his cup that even copious scrubbing couldn’t remove, Shay resolved to buy his own mug for coffee and tea first thing after work today. “Does she work here as well, or…?”

“Oh no, she isn’t one of our regular employees. Just an old friend of mine who swings by from time to time to check how things are going.” Lucy’s smile was as non-committal as that of a sales clerk. Shay suppressed a sigh. Well, it had been worth a try.

“Is there anything else you want me to show you?” Lucy asked him after a moment of silence had passed between them.  

“No, I think I’ll be fine. Should probably get back to the office to get started on my work. Thank you for showing me around and introducing me to everyone.”

“My pleasure.” Lucy gave him a little nod. “If you need anything, just ask.”

“Thank you. Good to know that there’s always someone I can turn to for help, I might feel a little lost otherwise.” Shay laughed self-consciously and scratched his head. He still felt horrendously out of place in these posh offices.

“No worries. You can trust me.” And with that, Lucy returned to her own office, leaving Shay to wonder whether there had been more behind her last statement than it seemed.

Chapter Text

“How do I look?” Shay turned back and forth in front of the mirror, mustering himself critically. To his surprise he had found a new suit at his desk this morning, together with a small note from Charles: Haytham asked me to deliver this. It’s for the gala. He had headed over to Liam’s before the big event, and, to his astonishment, the suit fit his exact measurements as if it had been custom-made for him. It probably had been, as Liam had pointed out with a frown on his face.

“Extremely sharp. Like a wholly new person, in fact,” Liam told him now. Shay self-consciously raised a hand to his head but stopped short of touching his hair. He had shaved his face and smoothed and bound his hair back for the occasion. Liam was right; he did indeed look quite different.

“I like it,” he said, turning a little and looking at his backside. Yes, the suit was certainly cut perfectly. “At least I won’t feel as out of place tonight as I might have otherwise.”

“You’re still going to stick out like a sore thumb,” Liam teased him. Shay wasn’t entirely sure that it had been wise to see his friend tonight, so shortly before such an important Templar event, but he had missed Liam and needed some reassurance that he wasn’t going to completely embarrass himself.

“Thanks,” he said sourly. Liam gave his hair a little tug.

“Stop being so worried, you’ll be fine. The info you can collect this night will be amazing – I don’t think any Assassin has ever been undercover amongst so many Templars at once. Well, save Aveline, but in her case it was for a wholly different reason. Just keep your eyes and ears open and do as you’re told.”

“Yeah, but have you seen the guest list?” Shay smoothed down his tie for the thousandth time.

“In fact, I haven’t, since you quite rightly refused to share any details of your ‘top secret’ mission with me.” Liam glared at him.

“Oh, uh. True.” Shay threw an apologetic glance at his friend. “Well in that case, let’s just say that the Templars who are coming? All of the highest rank, apparently. It seems there’s also quite a sizeable number of Assassins who have been invited. Including people like Altaïr and Malik. I’m feeling…just slightly out of my depth here.”

“Assassins, too?” Liam frowned. Shay sighed and turned to look at him, wanting to escape his own reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah. Seems to me like one of those events where everyone knows who everyone truly is but they’re all trying to put on a polite front and outdo each other on who can be the most charitable. At least the charities profit…”

“Let’s just hope that Ezio isn’t coming then. Because in that case it’d turn into an actual, not just figurative, dick measuring contest.”

Shay exploded with sudden laugher. After a moment, Liam joined in, until they were both bright red in the face. It wasn’t so much that what Liam had said was overly funny (even though he was probably right – and since Ezio was indeed on the guest list there was no saying what would happen), but it felt good to laugh together again, especially after the slightly strange mood that had surrounded them ever since Shay had entered the apartment earlier.

“Well, in that case I’d better bring a ruler with me,” Shay said, prompting another bout of laughter from both of them. He was about to wipe the eyes with the sleeve of his new expensive suit when Liam tsk-ed and handed him a tissue.

“You’re hopeless, Shay,” he sighed. Shay just grinned as he tried to get rid of the traces the tears of laughter had left on his face. “Make sure to tell me everything that happens tonight, the next time we meet. And at least try and pretend that you know how to behave in such posh company.”

“I’ll do my very best.” Shay flashed him a grin. Liam just squeezed his shoulder in response.

*

The gala was, simply put, extravagant. Of course, Shay had expected a certain flair and richness – the Assassins weren’t exactly frugal after all, and he’d been to a few of their more official parties that only oozed with style and richness. This, however…this was a whole different level of event. It was about as far removed from a simple ‘party’ as a walnut from a lemon pip. It didn’t ooze richness because there was no need for anyone involved to show that they were rich; it was simply common knowledge that almost every attendee here probably had enough money to buy a house next to Central Park with no loan and no second thought to the expense.

In fact, most of them probably had.

There was a sense of the kind of understatement which could only be achieved by spending a vast amount of money. It permeated the entire gala. Subtle lighting at the exact right places, decorations and crookery that probably cost more than Shay’s father had earned in his entire life. All attendees were dressed in custom tailored clothing with no more than a flash of expensive jewellery here or there. For a moment, Shay was convinced that even in his rather fancy new suit, ordered for him by Haytham Kenway himself, he would seem as out of place as an elephant in amongst a flock of flamingos.

Only a few people, however, seemed to give him even a second glance. All their eyes were directed at the man walking next to and slightly in front of him: Haytham Kenway, resplendent even with his usual British understatement. Somehow, he managed to elevate even the white tie clothing that men usually wore during these occasions. There was only a single fleck of colour on his clothing – a bow tie the deep dark red of drying blood which, although technically against the rules of the white tie dress code, only served to heighten his elegance and the fine lines of his face.

And handsome he certainly was.

Shay wasn’t quite sure how he had never noticed it before, but there was something about Kenway that drew you in, physical beauty and charisma mixed into a dangerously addicting substance that seemed particularly potent under the soft light at the gala.

The job, he thought. Concentrate on the job.

It was slightly easier than he had first thought – as an Assassin, a substantial part of his training had consisted in honing his memory and observational abilities. These were coming in more than handy now, as he had spent the previous evenings memorising a full list of the gala attendees, as well as Kenway’s business associates and the minutiae of his new chef’s relationship with them. He was able to recognise most attendees immediately and made mental notes about subtle shifts in relationships, promises that were made and agreements being reached. And if he had accidentally pushed the recording button on his phone right before the start of the gala – well, then, nobody else had to know. Least of all Haytham Kenway.

Kenway seemed to be pleased with his assistant’s performance, and after half an hour with no major problems, Shay finally allowed himself to breathe a little. Only to almost choke on said breath after he spied no-one but the great Altaïr himself making a beeline towards them. He was followed by none other than Ezio who, in contrast to Altaïr, fell back slightly as he was distracting himself by ogling the resplendent men and women around them alike. Shay had no doubt that there was a betting pool running about how many of them would fall to his charms this night. Sofia would be the one keeping track of the money – and Yusuf the one keeping count. Sometimes it still seemed like a marvel to Shay that the three managed to keep their open relationship working so well. But work it did.

“Master Ibn-La'Ahad!” Haytham took a few steps towards the most feared of all the assassins amongst their ranks. They shook hands, clearly not the first time they had met face to face. “Thank you for coming to support such an important cause.”

“Of course. I can hardly say no if the invitation comes from Master Kenway himself, can I.” Altaïr even seemed to have what appeared to be a small smile playing around his mouth. Shay could hardly believe his own eyes. Altaïr! The greatest assassin alive! The man who had become a legend amongst their own brotherhood during his lifetime! Making small talk with the Templar Grandmaster and apparently not for the first time.

“How have you been faring? It has been a while since we last met…”

“Everything is going well,” Altaïr told him with another non-committal smile. (A smile, Shay thought. Altaïr’s smiles were usually as elusive as Dunkin Donuts on the West Coast. And he’d seen him smile twice now.) “And you? Is your son still working at the animal shelter?”

Kenway stiffened slightly, a reaction so subtle that Shay wasn’t sure whether anyone else had seen it. Although Altaïr would certainly have noticed.

“He is indeed,” Kenway said, the smallest note of pride entering his voice. “And doing very well, both in and out of school.” Shay wondered, not for the first time, whether Ratonhnhaké:ton had any inkling about Templars and Assassins and what his father was truly involved in. None of their sources had ever been able to find out much about Haytham Kenway’s family besides the basics – it was one of Shay’s primary tasks to gather more information on them, but so far he had only been able to find out very little. Namely that Kenway was fiercely protective of his son and still friends with his mother, although they had ended their romantic relationship shortly after Ratonhnhaké:ton had been born.

“How nice to hear!” Altaïr remained perfectly polite, pretending not to have noticed Kenway’s reaction. “Now, I hope this evening will yield as much money for the cancer research fund as it promises to.”

“Of course – and I’m sure your sizeable donation will make quite the difference.” Kenway’s eyes were now devoid of any warmth. Shay couldn’t help but wonder what a true duel between the two outside the confines of polite society would look like. Throughout the entire exchange, neither of them had even acknowledged Shay’s existence.

All his attention, however, was immediately redirected by the next man who stepped up to them after Altaïr had left. He was one of the older attendees of the gala and stood apart from most by wearing a military gala uniform instead of the usual white tie suit and jacket.

“George!” The first truly bright and genuine smile Shay had seen since this evening blossomed on Kenway’s face. “Such a joy to see you here. Thank you for coming.”

They embraced each other with surprising strength. A glint caught Shay’s eye – a small ring around the older man’s finger, fashioned from silver and with a small red cross set in the middle. Such a brazen display of the Templar symbol astonished him, as he hadn’t ever seen it before. He had to do some deeper digging in his memory to remember who the newest arrival was – George Monro. A Scott born in Ireland and, more importantly, a military man who had served as a colonel for British Army before moving to the United States after retiring from service. Despite his official retirement status, he was still very much serving in an active role as one of the highest members of the Templar order. He had apparently joined their ranks back in England, when he had still been very young. He was one of the least well-known members of the inner Templar circle at the top of the American rite. Shay was immediately struck by his outright warmth and friendliness – a man who, at the moment, seemed far more like a well-meaning uncle than a high-ranking military commander or dangerous Templar.

“Haytham. It’s good to see you again, as well. I’ve heard you're doing well as CEO, despite being one of the youngest in the history of the corporation.” Monro clapped Haytham’s shoulder for a moment before separating from him again.

“Your praise is undeserved,” Haytham said with a smile. “I have had valuable help all along the way.”

“We all know that isn’t true,” Monro laughed, squeezing Kenway’s shoulder a second time before turning slightly to face Shay. It was the first time that anyone had so directly included him in their conversation. For the vast majority of people that Kenway talked with, Shay was practically invisible.

“And who is this dashing fellow at your side, if I may ask?”

It was all Shay could do not to turn bright red. He was so busy covering up his own embarrassment that he didn’t have the time to see how his boss reacted to Monro’s words.

“He’s my new personal assistant.” Haytham’s voice sounded remarkably calm, not at all offended – at the most he seemed slightly amused. He stepped aside ever so slightly, giving Shay enough space to shake Monro’s hand. The colonel’s handshake was brief but firm, his fingers warm.

“Shay Cormac. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“A fellow Irishman! What a pleasant surprise.” There was a spark in Monro’s eyes as he said the words. Shay almost felt compelled to answer it with a smile of his own. “George Monro. Congratulations on your new job – your qualities must surely be extraordinary. This is not a job that would be given away without stiff competition.”

“Oh, uh. I-“ To his chagrin, Shay had to admit that he hadn’t been prepared for questions like this. Questions about his CV, yes – but about his ‘personal qualities’? Nothing he’d ever spared much thought before.

“Stop embarrassing my assistant, George,” Haytham laughed. “Rather, tell me how you’ve been faring recently. I heard that you’ve acquired another couple of horses for your farm?”

“I have indeed. You should visit me some time with your family so we can ride out together. If I remember correctly, your son loves horses.”

“Horses, dogs, cats, and every other animal under the sun,” Haytham agreed. “Perhaps I could convince Jenny to come. And Ziio as well…”

“Well, you’re always welcome. Ratonhnhaké:ton in particular, if he ever wants to spend his summer break working in the stables with the horses.”

“I’ll let him know – I’m quite sure he’d be delighted. Thank you, George.”

If the goal of Kenway’s conversation with Colonel Monro was to demonstrate to Shay that Templars were people like any other, he had succeeded. However, Shay was still Assassin enough to know well that these words could potentially be no more than a façade. Once again he wondered how much Ratonhnhaké:ton knew about the Templars – and whether an extended break on Monro’s farm would be the perfect way to indoctrinate him. Shay shook his head at his own thoughts, both disgusted with himself and convinced that he was right. You couldn’t trust Templars. Ever.

“…in which case, we might even cross the one million line tonight, which would be an unparalleled success,” Kenway was just saying when Shay resurfaced from his musings.

“It would be indeed. Your father would be proud of you, Haytham.” Monro gave him an admiring look.

“I very much doubt so,” Kenway snorted. “If he were still alive, he wouldn’t have been proud of me in a very long time.”

Was Shay wrong, or did he indeed see a spark of sadness flicker through Monro’s eyes? The colonel didn’t contradict Kenway’s words directly, however. Instead he only reached out to give Kenway’s shoulder another brief squeeze. It took him a moment to speak again.

“Who knows what he would’ve thought? Your father’s actions were never so easily predicted.”

Kenway was about to reply when another of the attendees evidently became tired of waiting to speak to him and pushed his way into their little circle. Shay was very close to covering his face with his hands when he realised who it was.

“Haytham Kenway!” Ezio’s smile was so wide it seemed close to falling off his face. It was about as real as his suddenly incredibly thick Italian accent. For just a second, Shay actually felt pity for Kenway.

“Ezio Auditore. I’m glad to see that you saw it fit to join us tonight.” Each word sounded as if the Templar Grand Master had to force it out one by one, in what seemed like an even more strongly emphasised Oxford English accent than before. If not for Ezio’s relatively high standing amongst both the Assassins and within greater society, Shay was sure that he wouldn’t have been invited.

“And I’m glad to see that your scheming apparently never ends,” Ezio replied cheerfully. “You aren’t planning on killing us all with poisoned champagne, are you?”

“No,” Haytham pressed out with an expression that said he’d like to do exactly that. “Trust me, I would opt for a lot more of a…statement if I truly wanted to kill you. No need to ruin a perfectly good beverage. For now, feel free to enjoy all the champagne and company without worry.”

“Glad we could clear this up.” Ezio raised a taunting toast towards Kenway and Shay. “I will, of course, give as much money to this noble cause as I can spare. Even if it has to go through your bloody hands. For now, please excuse me – my husband is desperately trying to get my attention, it seems.”

He sauntered off before Kenway could get in another word. Shay was momentarily worried that he would squeeze his champagne glass would crack from being squeezed so tightly. He risked a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see Ezio exchange an overly enthusiastic kiss with Yusuf. Altaïr was out of his sight, but Shay was fairly certain that he was rolling his eyes somewhere – he and his husband preferred to keep things much more private. So private, in fact, that nobody knew whether the rumours that they were both involved with a third person were actually true or not.

Kenway just sighed and turned to face another one of the men and woman who had come up to meet him. As the evening continued, Shay unwillingly became more and more impressed with Haytham Kenway’s ability to handle any kind of person who was approaching him – be they Assassins throwing thinly veiled insults at him (Shay could never have guessed before that in the highest circles a certain amount of Templar and Assassin associations were apparently well known), Templars and/or business partners exchanging pleasantries or admirers trying to ingratiate themselves towards him. Kenway drank little, talked little, but listened a lot; he seemed to have an impressive memory for detail that he used to make everyone he met feel special in a certain way. The natural arrogance that seemed to seep through every part of his character only served to heighten the polite and impeccable manner with which he carried himself. It endeared and annoyed Shay, as much as it, unwillingly, aroused him.

It was infuriating.

The conversations became lighter as the evening drew on, until Kenway told him with a quick nod that Shay was allowed to leave his side, the ‘official’ part of his job at the gala done. Shay heaved a little sigh, sent a quick superficial smile towards his boss, and made a beeline towards the remnants of the buffet. If he had to dress nicely and listen to posh people talk all evening, the least he deserved was some good food to stuff his face with.

The little group consisting of Maria, Lucy and Altaïr (Altaïr? What was he doing in the company of the two Templars, especially without his husband?) smiled as he pressed past them. Shay possessed enough of a sense of shame to feel his cheeks colouring slightly, but not enough to stop on his quest for food. He was stuffing his cheeks not unlike a chipmunk when he caught the gaze of someone across the plates still piled high with little bite-sized pieces of heaven. Adéwalé.

The old Assassin gave him a small nod and subtly pointed towards toilets. Shay looked down at the miniature paradise in front of him and sighed. When one of your biggest Assassin mentors ordered you to do something, you couldn’t really refuse. Not even when the little salmon rolls were to die for. Stuffing a few of them into his mouth, he slowly made his way towards the little backdoor of the gala hall. Instead of moving towards the toilets, however, he weaved his way through some attendees towards the coat room.

Adéwalé gave the attending young man at the counter a nod before they entered, causing him to close the doors behind them.

“So…how is it going?” Adéwalé narrowed his eyes, looking Shay up and down. Shay wasn’t quite sure what the Assassin was seeing, but he seemed slightly dissatisfied. “Are you getting close to Kenway?”

“I am,” he replied, more sharply than he had intended. “I think he’s beginning to trust me.” No need to add that Adéwalé was gifted with some of the best observation skills amongst them and had surely seen so himself.

“Good.” Adéwalé nodded. “Do you have any major results yet?”

“No.” Shay frowned slightly. “His beginning trust doesn’t include telling me anything about Templar work. Yet. The only thing I can report on is that Maria Thorpe seems to be going in and out at Kenway Industries”

“Maria? What a surprise.” Adéwalé evidently took in the information and filed it away for later. ”And you are sure that he doesn’t suspect you and your…affinities?”

“Are you sure that you were careful enough when you set me up with this job?” Shay shot back. Adéwalé pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Careful, Shay. Another mentor would be far less lenient of your loose tongue than I am.” Shay did nothing but stare back at him, both cursing the streak of stubbornness that had always kept him from achieving the highest honours in training and finding a childish enjoyment in it.

“To answer your question,” Adéwalé continued, “yes, we did take the utmost care. This operation has been planned for longer than you can possibly imagine and on a scale far beyond our borders. And I was against your positioning in such a key role from the beginning; whilst your abilities are almost unparalleled amongst the peers of your age, others are far more biddable. However, Ezio and Achilles both suggested that this might be just the test you needed and so…” he shrugged, his gaze warning Shay to say another word to contradict him.

“I will do my duty, as I’ve been ordered,” Shay said, slightly subdued by Adéwalé’s words. He hadn’t known that this operation was of such importance – and so much larger in scale than what he’d originally thought. Potentially not just concerning the American Brotherhood, but the lands beyond them as well. “But getting results will take its time. Kenway is not one who trusts lightly.”

“That we know.” Adéwalé seemed in a slightly more benevolent mood after the earlier outbreak of anger. “You will have all the time you need – we do not expect the quickest results. However, do keep us informed as soon as you gain any information that might prove vital to the Assassins.”

“Of course.” After a moment of thinking, Shay forced himself to add: “Sir.”

Chapter Text

Shay was unable to pinpoint the moment when he’d begun thinking of his boss (and target of the current operation, lest he forget) by his first name, but somewhere between the thirtieth cup of coffee (tea, in Haytham’s case) and shared commiserations over incapable business associates and their assistants, a familiarity had blossomed between them that was just ever so slightly terrifying. The phone on his desk rang and he almost hated himself for the anticipation he felt when he read Kenway’s – Haytham’s – name on the display before picking up. He’d been sitting on his backside for too long this week already and was itching to do something else, even if it was just bringing up a coffee from downstairs or getting some documents from the archives.

“Shay?”

“Yes, sir?”

“There will be a slight change of plans tomorrow. Cancel my meetings with Johnson and Pitcairn; we will drive out to the harbour instead and meet with another one of my associates. Tell Gist to be ready; you will both accompany me. Nobody should be made aware of this, except Lucy.”

“Of course, sir. Should I get anything ready? Any documents…”

“No.” Before Shay could ask any further questions, the line disconnected. There had been barely suppressed anger in Haytham’s voice. Shay frowned, especially when he realised that he had been given no details about whoever they were meeting with. His boss rarely lost his temper; Haytham’s smooth arrogance and self-control was almost legendary amongst his employees.

With a sigh, Shay began to search for the numbers of Johnson and Pitcairn. Understandably, neither of them were delighted about the cancellations, but Shay did his best to soothe the waves, assuring them that urgent family matters had suddenly forced Haytham to change his plans and that no personal insult was intended.

He had to admit, however, that his own curiosity was being piqued as well – although he had accompanied Haytham to a number of meetings, this was the first time that he knew so little about one. Shay was wondering why Haytham was taking him along in the first place. Surely, if this was going to be some important Templar business, Haytham would want to be accompanied by some known Templar associates of his, not the unbloodied and unknown personal assistant, no matter how well they might have been getting along so far. Or perhaps this would be the first time that Haytham would openly try and recruit him to the Templars…

A few hours later, he was just about to finish his obligatory second coffee for the day when his mobile rang.

“Shay?” The timbre was unmistakeable. Shay had to keep a smile from his voice.

“Mr. Gist! Apologies for calling you so suddenly earlier.” He hadn’t quite reached the same familiarity with his boss’ bodyguard as he had with Haytham himself yet. Still, he liked the man; despite the sometimes slightly annoying voice, Gist had the same plethora of stories to tell as someone like Yusuf. More importantly, Shay found it easy to talk to him. They shared the same fundamental understanding of the world as he and Liam did. According to their sources Gist was another Templar. It only served to feed Shay’s growing bad conscience. He wasn’t supposed to get along with the Templars. He was supposed to be spying on them.

“No worries.” Gist sounded relaxed, as if he was sitting on the patio of a little hut somewhere in the sunshine. Shay wondered where he was – perhaps on the little houseboat that he kept on a nearby lake for day trips and summer breaks? “Is anything the matter?”

“Nothing too urgent,” Shay reassured him. “Just a slight change in plans for tomorrow. The boss needs you to accompany us to a meeting. He didn’t specify who it was with but made it clear that our presence was required.”

“Well, in that case we shouldn’t let his summons go unanswered.” Gist somehow managed to make every one of his answers sound as if he was convinced that he’d just said the funniest thing in the whole world. Shay knew better than to judge his abilities by his vocal cords, however – he had seen Gist move in action only once so far, but this one time had been more than enough to show him that there was a serious fighter hiding behind the jovial façade.

He gave Gist the details about when and where to meet before ending the phone call and finishing up his coffee. Shay had just dutifully washed out mug when the door behind him opened, admitting Maria Thorpe into the room.

“Oh, Shay!” She gifted him with another one of her smiles. They were as frightening as they looked dazzling. “How good to see you!”

“Maria,” Shay said politely. More than anyone else amongst the known Templars he had met so far, she both impressed and confused him. A complete mystery, not helped by the few interactions he’d had with her.

“Everything going well?” she asked him, rummaging in the cupboard for tea.

“Yes. Hectic, as always. But nothing too terrible.”

“I see. Haytham is keeping you busy, then.” Her movements as she selected a teabag and filled her mug with hot water were sparse and precise. Somehow, Maria always invoked the impression that not a single iota of energy was being wasted, no matter what she was doing.

“Absolutely,” Shay laughed. “And you? Is your job at Kenway Industries demanding as well?” Not the most elegant way to phrase it, certainly, but not the worst either.

“I’m only here as a consultant from time to time,” Maria told him, without taking so much as a breath to think. Either well rehearsed or the truth. “Haytham quite enjoys a second eye on things from time to time, especially in important matters.”

“How exciting.” A lame response, Shay chastised himself. “Clearly, he must value your opinion – have you worked together before in other business ventures?”

“Here and there, yes.” Maria’s smile remained completely non-committal. “And you? Do you have any previous experience working in a…corporate setting?”

Shay thanked the heavens that he had spent so much time studying his fabricated CV that he could’ve recited even the most minute details in his sleep.

“Yeah, I’ve had a couple of smaller managing jobs here and there, at minor firms. Most recently I was personal assistant to the regional manager of one of the Dunkin’ Donuts here in Boston.”

“From Dunkin’ Donuts to the Kenway Industries,” Maria mused. “Quite a leap, I must say. You must’ve come with shining references…”

“Apparently my former employer was very impressed, yes. As were your people here when they interviewed me.” Shay tried to emulate Maria’s non-committal smile from earlier.

“Haytham seems pleased enough,” she agreed. “In fact, I’ve rarely heard him so pleased with anything lately as he is with you.”

“Oh.” Don’t blush, Shay told himself. Please, please, please, stupid face, stop blushing. If Liam could see me right now, he would kill me. “Well, I’m glad I seem to be doing well at my job…“

“You seem to, indeed.” She took out the tea bag and mockingly raised her cup in his direction. “I like you, Shay. Take care you don’t overdo it. And take care you don’t…get in too deep.” A seriousness had entered Maria’s voice now that Shay hadn’t heard there before.

“’Don’t get in too deep’? What-“

Maria met his gaze for a second before she looked away, carrying her mug back to wherever she was working for the day. Just before she closed the door, however, she looked back at Shay, her eyes carrying a warning he couldn’t quite decipher yet.

“Be careful tomorrow.”

Before Shay could answer, the door closed.

*

“Just one more mile, sir.”

“Thank you.” Haytham seemed distracted as he looked out of the window. A man of lesser self-control would probably have been fidgeting, Shay mused. As it was, the only indication of Haytham’s mood was the occasional twitch of his lips. “Shay, do you have the documents I gave you earlier?”

“Yes, sir.” Shay answered for the 5^th time this afternoon, patting the folder on his lap. “All here.”

“Good, good.” Haytham returned to staring out of the window. Maria’s strange and unexpected warning from the previous day kept echoing through Shay’s head. What had she meant by not getting in too deep? Templar business? Haytham Kenway’s trust? He could be grateful that Haytham seemed far away with his thoughts, not noticing Shay’s nervousness.

“We’re here, sir,” the driver told them just as Shay opened his mouth to say something else. They left the car behind to walk towards an old wooden shed, once erected for the purpose of being a storage hall. However, it clearly hadn’t been in use for quite some time.

Despite Gist’s angry pleading, Haytham strode through the old rickety doors first, leaving his bodyguard and Shay to follow behind. The feeling that something was wrong immediately amplified when Shay set foot inside. Perhaps it was normal instinct, perhaps it was the finely honed senses of an assassin – but the danger was imminent. It was all Shay could do to keep himself from feeling for the weapons hidden on his person. If he blew his cover now, all would be for nothing.

They were evidently not the first ones to enter. Shay noticed several fresh footsteps in the dust on the floor, leading the same way they were walking. 

There were two security guards posted in front of the door, but Haytham barely slowed his steps, only gave them a small nod before he entered. Shay and Gist followed closely behind, Gist still obviously upset that Haytham had asked him to come along, but refused to let him do his work properly.

“Benjamin.” The man in the room in front of him looked up at the sound of his name. Shay took a moment to remember where he had heard the name and seen this face before. Benjamin Church. Another known Templar, although his activities in the Order had been hard to trace in recent times. He’d occasionally appeared in the paperwork Shay had been looking through for Haytham, but always as more of a sidenote rather than active personnel.

“Haytham.” Church practically spat out the name. “I was waiting for someone else, but I knew you’d come sooner or later. And of course you would do so unannounced, bringing only your little pets along.”

“The associates you’re waiting for aren’t coming.” Haytham’s word were dangerously quiet and just as clipped. “I’m afraid I’ve…dissuaded them from supporting you and your ventures any further. Permanently.”

“Of course you would.” Pure hate was glimmering in Church’s eyes. “Does your new toy here know? What you do when you don’t have to keep up the pretence of an elegant, well-behaved businessman?”

“I’m not his toy,” Shay pressed out between his teeth. He didn’t care that Haytham hadn’t asked him to speak. “And I have a name.”

“…which we aren’t going to mention,” Haytham cut in.

“Afraid I would use it to do him harm?” Church leered. It made Shay more than a little uncomfortable.

“You’d be dead before you or any of yours could even lay a finger on him.” Haytham’s voice was deathly quiet. It wasn’t exactly what Shay had expected him to say. “But for now – why don’t we try to keep things civilised between us, Benjamin? You know what you’ve done and what I want.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Church took a step back from the table he was standing behind and spread his arms. “You want your stolen goods back, don’t you? You want that I apologise and return into the fold of the Order, to be at your mercy.”

“I am not the only one hunting you, you know,” Haytham said, almost conversationally. “The Brotherhood is seeking you, too, I believe, for much the same reason. You can count yourself lucky that I found you first." It was all Shay could do to have his facial expression remain composed. He hadn’t known that the Assassins were seeking Church. Or that he had stolen anything from them.

“Lucky, hu?” Church sneered. “We’ll see about that.”

Shay wasn’t quite sure about what happened next, as everything seemed to take place all at once. Church made a movement with his hand. At the same time, Gist grabbed both his and Haytham’s arms to pull them aside, just as there was the sound of bullets smacking through the wood above them, hitting the ground where they’d been standing.

“Really, Benjamin?” Haytham yelled over the ensuring noise. Shay could see Gist’s lips moving, but he didn’t hear what he was saying. His training automatically sprung into action, gauging the angle that the shot had come from, the type of bullets and the damage they had left. This didn’t look like a sniper; it was more likely that the shooter (or shooters) were right above them, carrying high calibre bullets to be able to penetrate the wooden boards. Which made their situation all the more dangerous.

However, before Shay could react and potentially give himself away, the doors burst open and the two security guards from earlier entered, weapons at the ready.

“Call off your henchman, Benjamin.” Haytham stood up, brushing a few dust flakes off his coat as the shooter was, presumably, reloading. “You’d be dead before you could enjoy the fruits of your little trap.”

“Perhaps that’s all I want,” Church said. He must have given some kind of sign, however, as there were no new bullets coming through the ceiling. “To take you down with me.”

“No,” Haytham sneered. “You won’t. Especially since your security force was never loyal to you in the first place.”

He made a subtle gesture towards the two security guards. They directed their weapons at the ceiling and pulled the triggers in a single fluid movement. Shay instinctively raised his arms to shield himself from the ensuing rain of splinters. As he lowered them again, he noticed a dark spot on his sleeve. A quick look showed him more blood dripping through the ceiling and onto the floor boards below. It was a miracle the entire ceiling wasn’t just coming down on their heads.

“You have one last chance, Benjamin. Return what you stole, and I might show you a measure of forgiveness.” Something had changed about Haytham. It was as if the man in front of him had shed an invisible skin, and with it all politeness and courtesy that marked the CEO of the Kenway Industries.

One look at Haytham’s face suddenly made it abundantly clear why his name was spoken with such fear amongst some of the Assassins. This was not a man anyone would willingly want to cross. And yet Benjamin Church seemed to be hellbent on his course of self-destruction.

“Never, Kenway. You’re no longer my Grand Master, to say and do whatever you want to those you deem beneath you.”

Haytham snarled something unintelligible under his breath. However, instead of moving towards Church, he turned around to Shay.

“Leave,” he said. “Go to the car and call Lucy, she should phone the police and send a few men here. I’ll be along shortly.”

Shay hesitated only the tiniest of seconds. There was something in Haytham’s voice that brokered no resistance, not even from someone as stubborn as him. He turned and left the room, stopping only when he could be sure that no one was following him and he was alone. Carefully, he made his way back to the room. He had noticed a small window in the walls earlier, now boarded up with planks that left just enough space to hear most of what was happening inside and offer at least a limited view to boot.

His plan almost failed, however, when the two security guards exited the room just as he was about to pass by. Shay pressed himself to the rough wood of a stabilising column and waited until neither of them were looking in his direction, heart pounding in his ears. When he could be sure that he wouldn’t be detected, he crept forwards until he reached the little window. He came just in time to hear Haytham dismiss Gist as well. There wasn’t much of a view, but what little he could see showed him part of the table Church had been standing behind, plus Haytham’s shoulder.

“I won’t bore you with pleasantries,” Haytham said, his voice still carrying the mark of barely suppressed anger. “Your life was forfeit the moment I found out about your betrayal. The only thing I want to know before you die is – why did you do it? I could, perhaps, have forgiven a betrayal of just me, but of the entire Order? Everything that we built together?”

Church snorted.

“Not everyone is as convinced by your new world order as you are, Haytham. My heart is where the profit is, you always knew that.”

“So you’ve decided that Templar business is no longer profitable enough.”

“Quite so.” Shay couldn’t see it, but the oily little smile on Church’s face was audible in his words. “We have to move with the times, Haytham. You might try and maintain the façade of a modern business, but…the Templars are old and outdated and soon both you and the Assassins with their laughable Creed will sink below the waves of history.”

“You’re really convinced by what you’re saying.” Haytham sounded honestly astonished. “You had to know that falsifying accounts and stealing goods and money from both the Order and the Brotherhood was a terrible mistake. One that you wouldn’t survive.”

Church laughed, the ugly and scornful laugh of a man who was staring death in the face and found that it was familiar, a hated ghost.

“You’ll find out, Haytham. At some point you’ll realise.”

Shay saw a shadow move across the table, followed by a loud crash. Haytham’s shoulder vanished from view and there was a loud grunt, together with a curse. Shay craned his neck to catch a glimpse of what was happening, but all he could see was a tangle of legs and the edge of a coat.

“Did you really think I had only one way to insure myself against the likes of you?” Church’s voice, full of acid satisfaction. Haytham snarled wordlessly in reply.

“Slowly now, Grand Master, or you will find your throat full of steel. Would be quite the irony, to die by the blade in this age, wouldn’t it?” Another grunt, and the sound of a fist hitting clothing. Shay found himself frozen to the spot with indecision. Should he help Haytham and at the same time almost certainly throw his cover? Or watch as the Templar Grand Master was killed by one of his own? And why did he care about Haytham Kenway’s life? “You’ll walk us out of here now, nice and slow, until I can disappear. Don’t want to get any more blood on that expensive suit of yours, I’m sure.”

“You’re going to regret this, Benjamin,” Haytham’s voice was low and dangerous, with only a hint of pain colouring its edges.

The legs in Shay’s field of view moved until they were replaced by two upright standing figures. Shay had to forcibly keep himself from drawing in a sharp breath. Haytham looked ruffled, a dark stain on one sleeve and his cheek already begging to swell up where Church must’ve hit him. There was a small blade at his throat that looked old enough to have come straight from some Templar vault. With his other hand, Church held Haytham’s arm in a firm grip, manoeuvring them slowly towards the door.

Shay never quite saw what exactly Haytham did – but from one moment to the other, Haytham’s elbow was suddenly in Church’s face, breaking his nose with a loud crack. The knife at his throat had vanished, leaving nothing but a red line on Haytham’s skin as it clattered to the ground. Shay could hear Church shouting something, but it was drowned out by the sound of Haytham’s fury as one of his punches caused Church to double over and fall to the ground.

There was nothing left of the usually so calm and composed CEO of Kenway Industries. Shay watched in horror and awe as Haytham dismantled the man in front of him with the efficiency of an experienced fighter. Church tried to offer some sort of feeble resistance at first, but it was quickly extinguished. Haytham made no use of any other weapon save his fists; a murder most intimate and yet all the more terrifying for it.

“We had a dream, Benjamin!” he yelled. A groan answered him, and Shay could see Haytham baring his teeth in reply. “A dream so much greater than you or me, a dream for all of humanity. And you thought to destroy it for nothing but your own personal gain.”

Haytham stopped for a moment, brushing an errant strand of hair out of his face. His fingers left a dark smudge of blood on his cheek. Church made a weak attempt to grasp the forgotten blade on the ground. It ended in a strangled cry on his part when Haytham picked it up and drove it through his hand.

“Feel this pain, Benjamin. Feel it and, with it, the certainty that you’ve failed and are now reaping the punishment for what you’ve sown. You’ve violated the principles of our Order. Your destroyed what we once thought to build together. But, most importantly, you’ve abused my trust in you, a trust that is never placed likely. And for that, my fallen friend, you will be made to pay.”

Shay wanted nothing more to step away from the carnage in the room, but something kept him glued to the small window. He watched as Haytham extinguished the life of the man in front of him with pure, brute force, his hands breaking skin and bones even after Church was long dead. Shay caught a glimpse of Haytham’s eyes when he finally rose from his crouch, and what he saw would stay with him for a long time. Haytham’s eyes were dark, still filled with the burning wrath that had led to the blood spatters all over his face and chest. Oddly enough, it reminded Shay of Ezio. A man of violence hiding underneath sheep’s skin. The fire in Haytham’s eyes burned so brightly that Shay almost physically recoiled, especially when he looked directly his way. Haytham frowned and-

Shay was away from the window and out of the warehouse as fast as he could manage. He had just enough mind left to exit through a different door and come around the corner to where Gist was waiting. His heartbeat was hammering in his ears, his mouth dry, the sudden brightness of the sun burning in his eyes. He felt as if he was going to throw up any moment.

“Shay?” Gist’s voice. “Are you alright?”

“Will be, in a moment.” Shay made a dismissive hand gesture in Gist’s direction. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, tried to recall every exercise he had ever been taught to help calm himself. “Just an after effect of the earlier panic, I suspect.”

“Oh, yes.” Gist nodded when Shay finally looked up at him. “I was surprised by how calm you remained in there. This was probably the first time someone ever shot at you, wasn’t it?”

“I- yes,” Shay said. Gist’s explanation for his behaviour was better than any excuse he could’ve come up with on his own. “I wish someone had told me in advance that this job would entail not only bundles of paper, but also bullets being fired my way.” He smiled weakly.

“Apologies, Shay.” Gist stepped closer and patted his arm. “Still, you did well in there. I’m sure Haytham will be pleased – we can keep your little breakdown entirely between us.”

“Thank you.” Shay gave Gist another smile, this one warmer than the one before. “I’d better go and make the phone call to Lucy now, before Haytham finds out that I forgot.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Do you want to come along to the bar later? I’ll buy you a drink, if you haven’t decided to quit your job by then.”

“Sounds good.” Shay lifted his phone to his ear, listened as it dialled Lucy’s number. All he could see in front of his eyes, however, was the way Haytham had looked at him at the very end. And how it had filled him with something else besides the disgust and fear he should have been feeling. What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Liam found Shay when he was vigorously attacking a punching bag in the corner of one of their safehouses. He was drenched in sweat, his arms burning with exertion, but found himself unable to stop. The drink with Gist hadn’t really helped matters, and, as always, Shay found that physical exertion was the only way for him to sort out the mess in his thoughts. That, and Liam’s presence.

Instead of trying to talk to him, Liam just walked up and held the punching bag in place until Shay had so utterly exhausted himself that he was unable to lift his arms anymore. Liam threw him a towel, which he took gratefully.

“You’ve heard what happened?” Shay asked, after Liam still didn’t speak. There was something strange about him today, but Shay was unable to put his finger on it.

“Yes, I read the short preliminary version of your report. The Templar Grand Master killed a man. Are you surprised?” There was a bite in Liam’s voice that made Shay frown.

“No, of course not.” Shay rubbed some more sweat from his face, sniffed the towel, and scrunched up his nose in disgust. “It’s not exactly about the fact that he killed someone. It’s about how he did it.”

“You’ve seen people die before, Shay,” Liam said, radiating confusion. “You’ve killed them before. I know it’s never pretty, but…”

“But not like this.” Shay took a deep breath. He didn’t even know what disturbed him more – the memory of the previous day, his reaction, or Liam’s nonchalant dismissal of it. “Liam, he killed him with his bare hands.”

“A display of violence, yes.” Liam shrugged. “But why does that make it any worse than death by blade or gun? Just because it’s cleaner doesn’t make it any better, you know. Ezio, Altaïr, most of the Master Assassins…they have done far worse. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed scruples.”

Shay opened his mouth to reply and shut it again, forcing himself to think through the next words.

“You didn’t see him, Liam. I always wondered what made him so dangerous that he is feared even amongst the masters between us. I always thought it was his intelligence and cool, calculated planning, but…”

“…but now you’ve realised that behind every high-ranking member, be it in the Brotherhood or the Order, lies a monster just waiting to rear its head. Congratulations.” Despite his dismissive words, Liam looked serious as he spread his arms. “The next step is to find and accept the one that lies within yourself.”

Shay gaped at him. For a ridiculous moment he wondered whether his friend had been swapped out and replaced by a different Liam that he didn’t know.

“What’s wrong with you, Liam? Has anything happened today?”

“No. Yes.” Liam drew his hand through his the short buzzcut on top of his head and frowned. “Nothing that should concern you.”

“Why? Am I not part of the Brotherhood anymore?” Shay’s voice had taken on the same biting tone as Liam’s earlier, almost without noticing.

“Given how much you seem to be enjoying the company of the Templars around you, perhaps it’s wise not to tell you everything anymore,” Liam said laconically. “I wasn’t aware that your mission included going out for a drink with them.”

Shay hissed in anger at the insinuation in his words. Now Liam’s strange mood was beginning to make sense.

“You’re jealous? Is that it? And how do you know what Gist and I did earlier?”

 “I was tasked with keeping an eye on you. In case of any…troubles.” Liam shrugged. “As for the first question, you tell me – should I be jealous? You’re not fucking any Templars, are you?”

The expression on his face was almost enough to make Shay lose control and ask him for a fistfight to resolve things between them, just like they had solved all their problems when they were sixteen. The fact that most of these fights had usually ended with them in bed together didn’t help matters.

“And if I was? Just because I’ve sucked your dick a few times doesn’t mean I suddenly belong to you,” he yelled, for once glad that the safehouse was empty except for the two of them. “But for your information: no, I’m not ‘fucking any Templars’. And I’m not planning to, either.” Even if he had thought of Haytham’s face more than once when he was taking care of his needs in the shower. At least before yesterday.

“I couldn’t care less where you stick it,” Liam mumbled, red rising to his cheeks. “I just don’t want to see you fail. Or your position in the Brotherhood be compromised.”

“Good. Because I’m not planning to compromise anything,” Shay spat. His anger, in contrast to Liam’s, had never been one to cool down quickly. “Sorry for making you come out here. Perhaps it’s better if you leave me alone again.”

Now, however, he could see a spark of anger lighting up in Liam’s eyes as well.

“I’m not here for you to order around on a whim,” he snapped. “But I won’t…bother you with my presence here either.”

Shay recognised the peace offering in Liam’s voice, knew he should’ve taken it and softened things between them. But anger was still clouding his mind and all of a sudden he wanted to be nothing more than alone.

“I’ll see you soon,” was the only thing he said, the only compromise he could offer for now. Liam snorted in reply. He had already opened the door, when he turned around again to speak one more time.

“By the way, if you need me, I’ll be off to Italy for the next few days. Assassin business. But perhaps we can talk when I am back.”

“Yes. I’ll be waiting.” Shay nodded at him. As soon as Liam was gone, he let out a shout and buried his fists in the punching bag one last time.

*

“You look frustrated,” Gist remarked the next morning. They were both waiting in front of the office building for Haytham to step out. “And tired.”

“Thank you for noticing,” Shay yawned. He had indeed slept terribly, Liam’s words running around his head, mixing with the image of Haytham Kenway beating a man to death. “Not much I can do about it, at the moment. Thanks for the beer last night though. I needed it.”

“You want an extra coffee? It’s on me,” Gist offered. “Looks like you could use it.”

Shay raised his hands and laughed.

“After you already bought me a drink last night? It’s my turn now.”

“Well, I won’t say no.”

After Shay had returned with the two cups in hand and handed one over to Gist, he leaned back against the car with a sigh. There were a thousand thoughts swirling through his mind. He decided to push them all aside and concentrate on the reason he had gotten in this predicament in the first place: to collect information.

“Church mentioned something yesterday that confused me,” he said, not taking his eyes off the cup in his hand.

“Hm?” Gist’s glance was open and trusting as he looked at him.

“He called Haytham ‘Grand Master’. Why?”

Somebody not trained as an Assassin from a young age would not have notice the way Gist froze for all of a split second before he shook his head and laughed.

“Sounded like mocking to me, didn’t it to you? As far as I know, Mr. Kenway, Lee, Church, and a few others were in some kind of club or secret society together during their undergraduate years. ‘Grand Master’ is probably a remnant from those times…”

‘Some kind of club’ almost made Shay laugh. Perhaps he should be using the term to describe the Templars in his reports from now on.

“Interesting,” he commented. “Seems right, though. Although I can’t imagine Haytham as someone who would get utterly wasted at some kind of Fresher’s party…”

“Ha. I suggest you speak to Lee at some point. He’s got a few stories to tell which might surprise you.”

Shay raised his eyebrows, but was unfortunately prevented from digging any deeper by Haytham’s arrival. The Templar Grand Master looked as composed and self-assured as every other day – nobody would’ve guessed that he had committed murder the previous afternoon. The only traces of the fight were the slightly puffed up cheek that even makeup couldn’t hide, and the red line along his throat, mostly hidden by the collar of his dress shirt.

Haytham’s gaze seemed to linger on Shay for just a moment longer than usual, before he gave him a nod and gestured to the car.

“Good morning, Shay, Gist.”

“Sir.” Shay returned the nod and waited until Haytham was seated inside the car before joining him. “I’ve got the documents you requested.”

“Very good, thank you,” Haytham said, taking the offered folder from Shay’s hands and beginning to leaf through it. There was a moment of silence as he studied a few of the maps and transcripts, forehead wrinkling lightly in thought. Shay chose to remain quiet.

“You’ve recovered from yesterday then?” Haytham asked suddenly, his tone conversational. He still wasn’t looking up from his papers, but Shay knew better than to underestimate him. “Gist told me that you were quite…shaken.”

“Sorry, sir. Hadn’t quite been expecting to get caught in an actual shootout, I think.”

“Yes, it can be quite harrowing, the first time.” Finally, Haytham looked up, the gaze from his eyes piercing Shay’s. “Do let me know if it’s becoming a problem.”

“Of course. Thank you, sir.” Shay swallowed, hoping that his ability to lie had improved over the years since Achilles had chastised him once for being so easily readable. “Do you think today’s meeting will go similarly…astray?”

Haytham gave the smallest of laughs at his question, entirely unexpected and all the more endearing for it.

“No, I think there’s little chance for it. Jack is…a trusted friend. His loyalty is unquestionable.” Haytham’s fingers tapped onto the documents in front of him, as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t know how to.

The ride to the meeting place was rather short this time, although Shay wondered why Haytham couldn’t have received his acquaintance in his office at the headquarters of Kenway Industries. It made him realise that, so far, Haytham had always met any fellow Templars, who weren’t part of his staff, at places away from the main building.

Jack Weeks was a complete unknown to them; Shay wasn’t even sure that a file on him existed in the Assassins’ archives. What little he had been able to glean from the documents he’d had to prepare for Haytham didn’t help much either; the best title he could come up with for him was ‘information gatherer’. He was intrigued to meet the man, to say the least.

They entered a rather unremarkable building, Gist walking first and Shay following behind Haytham. Weeks welcomed them at the door to a small, but rather neat apartment. He shook Haytham’s hand and gave Gist a quick embrace that astonished Shay. They clearly had some history together. Shay he regarded with a glint of distrust in his eyes, even when he held out his hand for a polite handshake. Haytham made a gesture in Shay’s direction.

“My new personal assistant, Shay Cormac. Shay, this is Jack Weeks.” He watched them for a moment, before he added: “You can trust him, Jack. He has proven himself capable around the company so far.”

No doubt code for ‘I trust him, but he knows nothing of the Templars yet’. If only Haytham knew…

Weeks didn’t look convinced, but his handshake was still firm enough.

“My pleasure.” Shay forced a smile on his face. Weeks only nodded in return.

Despite his British ancestry, Haytham wasn’t one for overly long formalities, at least with acquaintances he knew well. Therefore, Shay wasn’t surprised when he waved for them all to be seated and cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“You told me you’d gathered more information on the objects we’re looking for?” he asked. Weeks nodded.

“Yes, our informant in Naples contacted me last week, saying she had come across old rumours and legends that sounded suspiciously like what we’re looking for.” Naples. Didn’t Liam say he was off to Italy as well?

“Hm.” Haytham frowned. “How sure can we be?”

“Quite.” Weeks shrugged. “I would never trust the word of just one informer, so I flew over to Europe myself, to check the validity of the information. What I found seems to confirm her conclusions. As I was alone, I thought it better to return and report to you first. The particulars are all in here.” With those words, he handed Haytham a heavy, large envelope.

 “Well done.” Haytham seemed rather pleased. “It was the right course of action to take. I will take a few colleagues and see what we can find.”

“Very well, sir.” Weeks inclined his head. “Glad I could be of service.”

“I would never doubt your skills. Keep your eyes open – and let me know if you find any other information of note.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

The entire exchange had taken less than ten minutes, and Shay was wondering why Haytham had asked him to come out here with him in the first place. However, his boss clad himself in silence, apparently deep in thought, until they reached the car. It wasn’t until they were seated inside that he spoke again.

“Shay.” Haytham stopped there, his fingers drumming on the envelope in his hands.

“Yes, sir?” Shay prompted him gently.

“What do you think about a trip to Italy?”

*

“He wants you to accompany him on this business trip of his.” Ezio frowned as he put his fingers together.

“Yes.”  Shay couldn’t quite make out the look in Ezio’s eyes, the video call screen being slightly too grainy for the purpose. It had always been a source of hilarity to him that the Assassins, despite making use of the newest technology for their missions, had never mastered the use of webcams with particularly high resolution. He kept his amusement to himself, however, especially seeing that this was one of the rare occasions that Altaïr had joined them.

“That’s good. It means he trusts you.” Achilles gave him a nod. “Well done, Shay.”

Altaïr didn’t seem quite as pleased as Achilles was, although his facial expressions were usually impassive at the best of times. Outside the smiles at the party, Shay couldn’t remember when he’d last seen the man laughing. Or crying, for that matter. “Did he give you any more details?” he asked.

“Not much,” Shay shook his head, putting as much regret as he could into his voice. “He told me the flight details and how long we were expecting to stay, but no more specifics.” 10pm, at JFK tomorrow evening.  To Naples via Gatwick, arriving the next day at 6pm. Staying for three nights at least, maximum five. He’d given the same report to the council of leaders at the beginning of their conversation.

“It’s Templar business. Has to be. Perhaps he’s planning to recruit you on this mission or, if you decline, kill you.” Adéwalé sounded entirely practical as he talked about the potential of Shay’s death. But then, that’s what being leading a member of the Brotherhood apparently required. Shay thought back to Liam’s words and shuddered.

“Should I pretend to join them, if he asks?”

“Yes.” Ezio didn’t hesitate, although Shay could see that some of the other council members weren’t quite as convinced. “As long as he doesn’t force you to violate the Creed, you will do everything he asks. The potential for vital information is far too great.”

“Well, glad to hear that you won’t require me to get myself killed for the cause just yet,” Shay couldn’t help but interject. He cursed his all-too-quick tongue.

“Greater sacrifices have been made.” Altaïr was less than amused by Shay’s interjection. It didn’t take much of an imagination to know that he was thinking about his partner’s dead brother and missing arm. “You will do what is required, Shay. Never forget the goal that we’re all working towards.”

“Freedom for everyone, yes.” Shay tried hard to keep any tone of dismissal out of his voice. He could barely keep himself from adding ‘and it doesn’t matter if it comes at the price of the freedom of those who are fighting for it’.

“Yes,” Ezio confirmed. “See if you can glean some more information from Kenway’s materials and papers. If he trusts you enough to ask you along on a business trip, you will hopefully have ample opportunity to take a look at his private correspondence, as well.”

“Of course.” All of a sudden, Shay almost wished that they’d give him more tangible, physical tasks again. Despite the training he’d received, he detested being nothing more than what essentially amounted to a menial spy. It was work that made his head spin. Lies and deceit had never truly been his forte.

“One more thing.” Achilles leaned forward, looking straight into the camera set up for their call. “After some…discussion, we decided to give you a way out should you need it.” From the way that Altaïr and Adéwalé looked less than pleased, it seemed that these ‘discussions’ had been rather intense.

“Someone will meet you at the airport tomorrow and slip you a phone,” Ezio took over from Achilles. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable by any Templar surveillance system. One call, and one call only, in case you need extraction.”

It was unexpected to say the least. Shay was surprised to hear that at least a few of them apparently placed such value in his life.

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it.

“Think carefully about where or if you want to use it,” Altaïr commented. “Once you are out, there is no going back. It will be the end of your mission.”

“I am aware, yes.” Shay wasn’t sure just why he was being so very confrontational today. Something about Church’s death and the argument with Liam had brought him off balance more than he’d liked to admit. “I will do my best not to bring myself into any life-or-death situations that could endanger the mission.”

“Very good.” There was no trace of irony in Altaïr’s voice. And Shay couldn’t help but wonder just how much of a price the Assassins were willing to pay in order to get the information they were looking for so desperately.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe that this was your first long-haul flight.” Gist thumped Shay on the back, humming with sympathy.

“You could’ve told me that it would make me feel like absolute shit,” Shay whined, his voice muffled from where his face was buried in his arms on the table. “Can’t we do a stopover somewhere on the way back? Or drop me in the ocean and let me swim the rest of the way. Hell, I’ll take a ship over. Voluntarily.”

“Some anti-travel sickness pills might do the trick as well.” Gist sighed and pushed the cup of coffee and a plate with some undefinable sandwich closer to him. “You should drink and eat. Might sound paradoxical, but it’ll help you with the lingering nausea. Trust me.”

Shay lifted his head and eyed the offerings wearily.

“Tell me when the boss is coming back from the toilet,” he said. He’d embarrassed himself enough already as it was, no need for Haytham to see him yammering like this. “And by the way, shouldn’t you be going with him? As his bodyguard and everything?”

“Well. In theory, I certainly should. In practice, everything looks clean, I haven’t seen anyone suspicious enter the toilets, and whoever decides to assault Haytham Kenway in a public airport toilet doesn’t really deserve saving from the poor life choices they’ve made.”

“As long as you don’t blame me when anything happens.” Shay was far too exhausted to protest Gist’s flimsy reasoning. It took enough strength to drink some tea and force the food to stay down. As it turned out, there had been no cause for any worry regarding Haytham’s safety – he returned to them only five minutes later, looking infuriatingly fresh, awake, and still impeccably dressed. It was still hard for Shay to reconcile the man in front of him with the same person who he’d seen commit such violence only days before. The contradiction left him reeling.

“Are you feeling any better?” There was a glint of sympathy in his eyes as he looked down at Shay and the half-eaten sandwich.

“Certainly not at death’s door anymore, sir,” Shay said, trying to appear as alert as he could. The corners of Haytham’s lips twitched slightly, telling him just how successful he was.

“We can wait until you’re stable enough on your feet again to be able to walk to the car on your own. And I could do with a cup of tea myself.”

“I’m sure I can manage, sir,” Shay said, slightly embarrassed by the unexpected offer. Haytham just waved his objections away.

“My son is equally bad at flying, perhaps even worse than you,” he explained. “I only ever brought him to England once, to show him where I’d grown up. He’s since refused to enter an airplane ever again.”

“Oh.” Shay wasn’t quite sure what to answer. Haytham had never before departed any private information towards him. I was just too poor to fly until now didn’t really seem like the correct answer, even if it was the truth.

He was saved from further embarrassment when Gist laughed out loud and launched into a story of his own, about some kind of wilderness retreat he’d gone on with Jack Weeks in their younger days that had involved flying, trains, kayaks, unicycles and any other kind of transportation one might imagine.

The next hour passed in a blur as they made their way out of the airport and to a discreetly luxurious hotel somewhere in the centre of Naples. The three rooms they received were side by side with each other, Shay’s and Gist’s flanking Haytham’s in the middle.

“Gist will accompany me to a private meeting with an old friend this evening,” Haytham told him before they split up. “I won’t have need of you again until tomorrow, when we will be meeting a few business associates according to the schedule I gave you yesterday. Be prepared.”

“Of course, sir.” Shay nodded. “I will see you tomorrow.”

He wondered where Liam was as he closed the door to his room. There was a faint feeling of regret in his chest as he remembered how they had parted; his anger hadn’t fully subsided yet, but he still hoped they would reconcile soon. Shay was about an hour into looking through the materials that Haytham had given him in order to prepare for the meeting, when he remembered Ezio’s words from the previous day. Private correspondence…

Another hour later, he had broken into Haytham’s room.

In some ways, the digital age was a curse for the Assassins (and, perhaps, Templars as well). Shay was certain that it would have been much easier to find a paper trail of any Templar business two hundred years ago. Nowadays, unless he significantly increased his non-existing abilities as a hacker or accidentally managed to gain access to Haytham’s phone or laptop, chances of finding actual pieces of paper with important information on them had markedly decreased.

Nonetheless, he made an effort to search everything he could find, including the hotel safe (not that he’d think a Grand Master of the Templar Order so stupid as to hide any valuable documents in a hotel safe, but better safe than sorry). In the end, he wasn’t able to procure much, although what he did find provoked his interest.

The first was a book, bound in faded leather and apparently almost a hundred years old. Shay expected a secret Templar missive, perhaps written in code, but to his surprise the book was filled only with old legends and children’s stories. A few pages had small post-its stuck in them to mark their location. He made sure to photograph them all so he could read them later – it wasn’t worth being discovered because he had gotten caught up in it now.

The second item was a folder filled with several loose sheets, covered in Haytham’s neat handwriting. These papers were indeed written in code but had several drawings to accompany them. Shay photographed them all, intrigued by the drawings. They seemed to show mostly geometric figures of all kinds, most prominently a large star, not unlike those his neighbours had made out of paper for Christmas.

The third and final item was a single sheet of paper with nothing more than a few words on it, once again formed by Haytham’s exact hand. It read: Precursor -> Naples? Pompeji? -> Destruction or Protection? Shay shook his head as he snapped a final picture with his phone before carefully returning the sheet where he had found it. He dimly remembered some of the lessons he had been given when still a teenager, about the origin of the Assassins and stories upon stories about a secret Precursor race who had come before them all. Back then he had dismissed most of it as legends and fiction, made up to explain things that only seemed out of the ordinary to their minds now. Could it be that there was more tangible evidence? And that the Templars believed in those same legends?

Shay shook his head and did one last sweep through the room, making sure that everything looked exactly as it had before. He left the room as quietly and unobtrusively as he had entered it. Sending the photographs of the papers back to their tech team and the council would have to wait until he was back on American soil, however, where he had access to his encrypted laptop with its secure connection. At least they would finally be happy with him.

*

Haytham seemed rather pleased the next morning. There was an almost strangely good cheer breaking through the cold exterior of the business man and CEO during their morning meetings. New trade contracts were being drawn up and agreed to quickly, much to everyone’s joy. It even caused their very last meeting to finish early which, in turn, led to them enjoying an extended break for lunch. Gist laughed at Shay’s obvious enthusiasm for the Italian food.

“You should come along on more of Haytham’s business trips,” he suggested, patting his back. “You get to see some rather amazing places. And eat great food.”

“Ha.” Shay took another bite of his lunchtime ciabatta-and-bresola-sandwich. “Where do I sign up?”

“I’m sure Haytham will ask you along on more of them if you keep doing as well as you are at the moment,” Gist grinned. “He seems to rather enjoy your company.”

“So, here’s a weird thing.” Shay set down his sandwich and frowned. “Everyone keeps saying that. That I’m doing so well. That Haytham ‘enjoys my company’. Was his previous assistant that bad or am I doing something special I’m not aware of?”

“Uh” Gist scratched his head. “Well, the previous guy wasn’t exactly…great, that’s true. Seemed to have no mind for remembering anything and continuously got meetings and names mixed up. That’s probably a big part of it. And you’re just…easy to be around, you know? Guess even Haytham feels at least a little of that.”

If the council could see him now, they’d all be laughing. Easy to be around, indeed. Well, if they all believed him innocent and easy-going, all the better for him.

“Interesting.” Shay took another bite. “Well, I hope I won’t disappoint any of you in the long run. It would be a shame.”

“It would! You’re the first of Haytham’s assistants who has the same honest appreciation for good food that I do.” Gist laughed again, toasting him with a glass of lemonade.

Their boss chose this exact moment to return to their table, forehead set in a frown and evidently devoid of all the good cheer from the morning. He tapped something into his phone with a sigh before sitting down.

“It seems both the afternoon meetings and the dinner invitation I had extended to an associate for tonight have been cancelled.” He almost spat out the words. “There is little to be done about the afternoon meetings, but it would be a shame to let the dinner reservation go to waste.”

“In that case, Shay should join you.” Gist patted Shay’s back as he choked on his sandwich. “I should be able to obtain permission from the restaurant staff to stand by in the background, in the official capacity of my job.”

Shay didn’t say anything, watching a variety of emotions flicker over Haytham’s face within a few seconds.

“Why not,” Haytham finally said, to his surprise. “I assume you wouldn’t be averse to sampling more of the Italian cuisine, Shay?”

“Definitely not, sir.” Shay cleared his throat. He prayed to every god who might be inclined to listen that he wasn’t blushing. “Thank you.”

“Then I expect to see you this evening in the lobby at 7pm sharp.” Haytham gave him a curt nod. “I won’t have any further need of you this afternoon, since the meetings were cancelled. Although I would like to see the meeting notes from this morning sent to me, ideally today.”

“Of course, sir.” Transcribing his notes into a legible meeting report was certainly worth the otherwise free afternoon he was going to get. Gist winked at him, mouthing ‘lucky’ in his direction. Shay wondered what he and Haytham were going to do that afternoon – Templar business, most likely. It was, after all, what had probably led them to be in Italy in the first place. For a moment Shay wondered if he should follow them, but there was no way for him to transcribe the meeting notes and trail them all afternoon. He was sure that Ezio or Altaïr would’ve chastised him for the decision if they were here, but he had a cover to uphold, after all.

The evening came faster than he’d thought. At least Shay had been able to fit in a few hours of enjoying the sunshine at the seaside and generally playing the harmless tourist on his first trip to Italy. At one point he even thought he’d seen Liam, but when he turned around the figure had disappeared.

The restaurant Haytham took them to was as posh as Shay had imagined. At least he’d been wise enough to pack at least one good suit (as if he had more than one). Haytham looked as flawless and resplendent as always in his own dark blue suit. It was almost enough to make Shay forget the sight of him covered in Church’s blood. Almost. There was no denying, however, that he was an incredibly good-looking man, and Shay wondered once more how a man of his looks and status seemed evidently without a partner at the moment. Or perhaps he has one, and you just don’t know, he told himself. It would certainly make things easier for the Assassins, give them a point where he’s vulnerable, a weakness to exploit.

“So…you travel a lot, then?” Shay asked after they’d taken their places and the waiter had taken their orders. Smooth opening, Cormac, he thought. I wonder if Haytham already regrets this.

“A fair bit, yes.” Haytham seemed unperturbed by the question. “You can expect to be accompanying me on more of these trips in the future, I suspect.”

“Well. As long as we do plenty of stopovers to avoid long-haul flights…” Shay grinned. “Do you have any concrete plans yet, sir?”

Haytham thought for a moment, turning his wine glass between his fingers.

“A few, yes,” he finally said. “There will likely be another trip to Europe in the near future. And potentially to Canada, or Mexico.” Shay racked his brain whether he could remember anything about any Precursor stories from the named destinations.

“Sounds interesting.” Shay took a sip of his own wine. “Have you been to any of these places before?”

“A fair few in Europe, yes. I…used to travel quite a bit when I was younger.”

I bet you did, Shay thought. Whilst many details of Haytham’s younger years were still unknown to the Assassins, it was common knowledge by now that he had killed the former European Grand Master, once his own mentor. Shay could only speculate as to why.

“I heard you were born in England.” Shay carefully tried to make it sound as if he had read the fact in a newspaper or on Wikipedia somewhere.

“I was. In London, in fact. We lived there until I was ten. After my father’s death, my sister and I were taken in by different people, before I went to university in order to prepare for taking over my father’s company. Jenny and I each own by far the largest amount of shares, although she has elected to stay in London in our old house, and serve as the head of our European branch.”

“Sounds a lot more interesting than my life,” Shay laughed. “I stayed all in the same place for most of my life. Was born in New York, grew up there…except for a few trips visiting some relatives, I never really travelled anywhere.” The best lies always had a few kernels of truth in them, after all.

“Well, travelling isn’t always everything it’s made out to be,” Haytham said lightly. “Things can get tiring. Especially when all the different time zones make your head spin and cause you to pour orange juice into your coffee and put ketchup on your waffles.”

Shay barely bit back a laugh at the mental image of the grand Haytham Kenway so jetlagged that he messed up his own breakfast.

“Well, I’ve managed to pour orange juice over my cereal in the morning before. When it already had milk in. And I didn’t even have the excuse of jetlag to make up for it…”

“At least your faux pas wasn’t witnessed by an entire hotel breakfast hall full of people. Until this day, I refuse to stay at the Hilton in Munich, for fear that someone might remember the young man yelling at his coffee cup.”

This time Shay wasn’t quite able to hold in his laughter, causing Haytham’s lips to curl up into a smile.

“Well, should I ever end up in the Hilton in Munich by some strange coincidence, I’ll make sure to ask them after the incident and see if they still remember, sir,” he grinned.  

“Now that is simply blackmail.” Haytham hid his growing smile behind taking another sip of his wine. “So you have never travelled much?”

“No,” Shay shrugged. “There just wasn’t any need for it. And no money either, truth be told.” He’d never truly been ashamed of growing up poor, but it still felt uncomfortable to throw the truth into Haytham’s face.

“Ah.” For a moment, Haytham was silent. “Well, I hope you are making the most of your unexpected free time during this trip then.”

“I certainly am.” Shay attempted to defuse the situation slightly by changing to a different topic, hoping he wouldn’t cross the line by asking something too private. “You mentioned yesterday that your son hates flying. I can imagine that this might make any family holidays difficult.”

“It did. Ziio and I separated when Ratonhnhaké:ton was still very young, and every year we drew lots over who was going to have to make the drive down when he came to visit me over the holidays, or on some long weekends, since flying was out of the question and the train journey would have been too long and complicated. It’s been easier since I moved back to Boston.”

“Sounds like a difficult situation,” Shay noted.

“It was,” Haytham agreed. “But then, I was happy to make the drive in the end, just to see him. It helped that Ziio and I parted in friendship.”

“I wish I had that,” Shay said, more to himself than to Haytham. “I never met my Ma, and my Da was gone for most of the time. Grew up with my aunt and she never…really cared about me? I think. Hard to tell, to be honest. The idea that someone would drive hours just to pick me up from somewhere is…pretty foreign to me.” It was, in all likelihood, more than he should have said.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” To Shay’s surprise, he actually believed Haytham. It was fascinating how a man of such violence seemed to have an unexpectedly sincere and tender side to him. “I hope Ratonhnhaké:ton will one day be happy with the childhood he’s had. We certainly could’ve done better, particularly me, but then neither Ziio nor I were exactly ready to be parents at nineteen. It’s a miracle everything’s turned out as well as it has, to be honest. At least I can pride myself on the fact that he still comes to visit regularly, despite me being the greatest embarrassment in his life right now, according to him.”

“Seems like a pretty normal 14-year-old, from what I saw,” Shay agreed. “Did he ever manage to adopt that puppy he was talking about?” Since his first work day he’d only met Ratonhnhaké:ton twice, and very briefly. He’d seemed like every other normal teenager his age to him – moody, defiant, but still attached to his family.

“No. Both his mother and I carefully dissuaded him, likely for the better.” Despite his openness, Haytham still seemed carefully sparse with details about his family.

“I always wanted a pet when I was younger,” Shay admitted. “I used to share my dinner with the strays whenever I could pilfer some food. My aunt hated it. Never had the opportunity, space or money to take care of one until now…”

“It’s never too late.” Haytham had evidently wanted to say something else, but he was interrupted by their dinner arriving. It tasted exactly as good as Shay’d hoped it would.

“Talking about the future,” Haytham said between two bites. “What are your ambitions? As much as I value your services as my assistant, I cannot imagine you will stay in this role forever. Of course, once the time comes, I can always help you find more opportunities…”

As Templar, I bet, Shay grimaced on the inside.

“I’m not sure yet, sir,” he said carefully. “I’ve never really been someone to have…lots of ambition. In all honesty, getting the job with you was more than I’d ever thought I’d have, so…”

“You should be more ambitious, Shay,” Haytham didn’t look up from his food, but Shay was sure that his reactions were being carefully observed. “You have the talent to make it much farther.”

“Don’t think I’m much for being in charge of others, though,” Shay mused. While he intensely disliked being told what to do without the opportunity to question it, he also couldn’t see himself in a true leadership role. Not that he would ever rise as high as the Assassin Council, but even the theoretical possibility made him frown.

“Well, people always clamour for leadership, and you would be a far better candidate than most, I believe.” Haytham finally met his eyes, if only briefly. “Reluctance is something that can be overcome with time and training.”

Shay wondered briefly whether he should take the bait or not, before deciding that it was all or nothing at this point.

“And who would be teaching me? I don’t think I have any desire to go to college and get a Business degree. Or attend one of these dreaded Leadership seminars that cost too much and don’t do anything.”

Haytham laughed softly.

“I would always be willing to mentor you,” he offered.

Of course you would. Shay just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Does he really think me this easily impressed?

“I’m not sure I could accept such a generous offer,” he said. He hoped that no sarcasm was bleeding through his words. “Shouldn’t the employees have a say in who they want to lead them?” Careful, Shay. Don’t make it too obvious that you’re an Assassin.

“So you think a democratic process would work better?” It remained unclear whether he was still talking about Kenway Industries or the world at large. Shay decided to humour him, nonetheless.

 “Of course. At least that way, no matter the result, the majority will be satisfied.”

“Just as one minority will always be dissatisfied.” Haytham shifted slightly. Shay had the distinct impression that the man was enjoying himself. It certainly wasn’t the first time he was having this argument. There’s probably a handbook named Templar Philosophy 101 on this, he thought. “But let me ask you the following question: how do we know that the majority is right?”

“If they aren’t, then why are they the majority?” Shay shot back.

“You’re smarter than this.” Haytham shook his head. “I could go on about any number of terrible things that happened in world history specifically because the majority either voted for it or didn’t object. The will of the people isn’t always what’s best for the people.”

“But who gets to decide what is best?” Shay challenged him. “I have a feeling that those who think they know what is best shouldn’t really be the ones being in charge. It seems arrogant to assume that you know better than others simply because of a perceived higher social standing.”

“There would have to be a careful education, and certain amount of monitoring between leaders, yes,” Haytham mused. A slightly harder look entered his eyes when he continued. “And we should not be afraid to call those to reason who seem to stray from the right path. But do not forget, people are happy to be told what to do. Remember when you were at school – how many of your fellow students would falter as soon as your teacher gave them any freedom in their work assignments, wishing they had been told what to do? And how few would rise to the task?” His righteousness was breath-taking.

“Given time, however, most would come up with sometimes surprisingly good results. It was important to let them try, to give them the freedom to discover what they wanted. And if they want to be given protocols to follow – at least it’s their own choice.” Despite himself, Shay began to enjoy their discussion.

“And yet it can come with pain and end in nothing. Shouldn’t we spare them that pain?”

“It’s not our decision to make,” Shay shrugged. They had finished their meals over the discussion and the waiter had already come and taken their plates away.

“In the end, what we all truly want, is for people to live the best lives they can,” Haytham concluded, leaning back in his chair. A few hairs had escaped his hair tie, softening the usually so severe frame of his face. For the duration of a single split second, Shay had to suppress the impulse to reach over and brush them away from his face.

“You could say so, yes.” If only the Assassin Council thought the same. Or most other Templars, for that matter. But peace between the two factions seemed about as likely as rain in the Gobi desert. “It only seems that different people have different ideas of how this should be achieved.”

“Agreed,” Haytham shrugged slightly and took another sip of his wine. “My offer of mentorship remains, however. Do let me know when your ambitions begin to aim higher than your current post. It will also give me enough time to find a new assistant,” he added with a little smile.

“Thank you.” Shay nodded.

“No need to thank me. It would be a crime to see such potential go to waste.” The smile still playing around Haytham’s lips took the arrogant sting out of the words. And perhaps it was the wine, or the leisure of the evening blurring the lines between business and private, but Shay couldn’t help himself.

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.” He grinned, slightly self-conscious at his own presumptuousness. It took a moment, but Haytham laughed, a surprisingly carefree and hearty sound.

“I guess it is,” he agreed, mirth lacing his voice. “I hope it doesn’t bother you.”

“No, not in the slightest.” And perhaps it was time for another small revelation. “Most men I meet don’t really bother with compliments, to be honest.” Liam certainly never really had.

“What a shame. Maybe you should meet different men, then.” Amusement was still heavy on Haytham’s tongue and Shay held back a relieved sigh. At least Haytham didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that his assistant was primarily interested in getting compliments from other men.

“Maybe I should.” Shay sighed theatrically. “Perhaps I should’ve just taken the evening off. And found a nice gay bar to get drunk in.” They had definitely veered away from business into private now.

“We still have one more night here, at least.” Haytham shrugged, leaning back in his seat and eyeing the wine bottle critically. “If the opportunity arises and you want some recommendations, let me know.”

Oh.

“I, uh. I will.” Shay was about to say more, but the waiter approached their table, this time carrying the bill. He felt a faint moment of regret when they left the restaurant not long after, both chastising himself for letting his guard down so much (giving a Templar Grand Master far too much material to blackmail him with – what were you thinking, Shay?) and vaguely saddened that their conversation hadn’t carried on for another half hour.

These thoughts followed him up to his hotel room and into the shower, rumbling around in his chest and mixing with the sight of Haytham Kenway beating a man to death with his bare hands. It was a dichotomy that he couldn’t overcome, two sides that were difficult to unite.

His thoughts had just circled back to the endearing qualities of Haytham’s laughter when the floor started shaking without warning. Instead of stopping, however, the shaking grew stronger and stronger, until the first of the pictures well off the wall. He could hear screams coming from outside, even as the lights started flickering.

Vesuvius is erupting, was Shay’s first thought. But shouldn’t there have been warning? It didn’t matter. He had to get out of here, before the building was going to come down over his head. Grabbing nothing but his phone and his coat, he stumbled out of his room, only to collide with Gist in the hallway.

“Where’s Haytham?” Shay yelled. Gist shook his head, eyes wide with fear.

Gist was a split second faster than Shay, putting his entire body weight behind a kick that opened the door to Haytham’s room. The light flickered again and then went out for good. There was a momentary lull in the tremors, but Shay had the distinct notion that it wasn’t over yet. Using their smartphones as flashlights, he and Gist moved into the room, side by side.

“Haytham!”

The answering groan was barely audible over the chaos outside. A shape stumbled in their direction and Shay only caught a glimpse of blood sheeting down on one side of Haytham’s face before he hauled one of the man’s arms over his shoulders, Gist taking the other.

“We need to get out of here, sir!” Captain Obvious. As if on cue, the ground started trembling again. Somehow, they managed to stumble down the two flights of stairs until they reached the ground floor and into the chaos outside, filled with sirens, dust and a cacophony of sounds.

It was only then that Shay realised that he hadn’t once thought about recovering any of the important documents in Haytham’s room when running inside. His only thoughts had been for getting the man himself out alive.

The irony almost made him choke.

Chapter Text

“Another business trip?” Altaïr raised his eyebrows. It was the same secure chat setup they’d established for every meeting now, with the one difference being that Ezio was video-ing in from elsewhere, evidently currently on a mission.

“Yes,” Shay nodded.

“Impressive.” Achilles looked slightly annoyed, but there was no telling whether this was in response to Shay’s report or another issue he didn’t know about.

“I hope this one will involve fewer fatalities.” It was hard for Shay to force his voice into a neutral tone. The earthquake (not volcanic eruption, as it had turned out later – and thankfully so, since an eruption would have been far deadlier) had cost more than a hundred people their lives, although everyone was convinced that the city had been ‘lucky’. Shay himself still remained shaken. He hadn’t slept for a week after the incident, constantly awoken by nightmares and even the smallest noise outside. After seeing to Haytham (who’d slipped in the bathroom and hit his head on the wash basin as the quake hit, but in the end not carried away anything worse than a concussion), Gist and he had helped wherever needed, from getting survivors out of the rubble to giving first aid. Shay’d finally switched his phone back on hours later, only to find several panicked calls by Liam, shortly after the quake had happened.

The strangest thing, however, had been that the earthquake had come completely without warning. All geologists were puzzled, and many had wondered aloud whether the tremor might have been volcanic in origin, and Vesuvius was about to erupt soon.

“The recurrence of a catastrophe such as this is rather unlikely,” Achilles shrugged. Shay could see Ezio and Adéwalé nodding, although Altaïr was frowning. Rather unlikely. Shay wondered, not for the first time, whether the council knew more about the quake than they let on.

“Have we been able to find out what the drawings in Kenway’s book were referring to?” he asked instead, guiding the conversation back onto safer ground.

“We are fairly sure, yes.” Altaïr cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with the other council members.

“What is it?” Shay was growing impatient. He hated nothing more than to be made to feel like a simple foot soldier who could not be trusted with important information. “If you want me to do my job properly, you will have to give me a little more information. Otherwise I won’t know what intel will be important enough to pass on to you immediately.”

“He has a point,” Ezio noted. Altaïr sighed.

“We think they are artefacts of…an ancient civilisation,” he said carefully. “Artefacts holding a power far greater than we had imagined. It’s vital that the Templars never get their hands on them.”

“’An ancient civilisation’…so the Precursors are real?” Did they think Shay wouldn’t have made the connection? It seemed to take Altaïr an almost physical effort to force out the next words.

“Yes.”

“Hu.” This shed a different light on quite a few things that Shay had taken for granted.

“We’d ask you not to spread this information too widely,” Adéwalé added.

Not even amongst my fellow Assassins? Shay bit his tongue just in time.

“Of course. Can’t let anyone know that the things you teach us during training might actually be true.” It wasn’t much better, but at least it didn’t insinuate that the council didn’t trust its own Brotherhood.

“Shay…” Achilles said warningly. He was dangerously close to losing his temper.

“Apologies, mentor.” Shay didn’t look away, however, holding firm under Achilles’ infuriated gaze. “Do we have any idea what these artefacts are capable of? Are they dangerous?”

“We are unsure about the danger or their exact capabilities,” Adéwalé’s eyes were unreadable. “As Altaïr said, the only thing that we are truly sure of is their immense power. There is no telling what the Templars would do with such a weapon. And they would turn it into a weapon, no doubt.”

“Are there any hints that this…business trip is linked to the artefacts?” Ezio took over. Shay shrugged.

“Possibly. I have organised a number of meetings with some business associates of his in Vancouver, but there is still enough flexible time left in his schedule to be set aside for other things.” They had been to see Jack Weeks twice since they had returned from Italy, although the man hadn’t offered them any information as specific as the one that had led them to Naples.

“If he does, your orders are to bring the artefact into your power, by any means possible.” Achilles’ voice was harsh. “Yes, even if it means giving up your cover as a last resort. We would prefer it without, but recovering these artefacts is of paramount importance. You still have the phone?”

“Yes.” Shay kept it on his person at all times, even when they had fled the hotel in Naples as the earthquake was shaking the ground. “The order is understood, sir.”

“Good.” Achilles nodded. “We trust that you will not disappoint, Shay. This mission is of extraordinary importance.” The irony of Achilles using almost the same words that Haytham had, in the beginning, didn’t escape Shay.

“Of course, thank you.” No need to be pointlessly confrontational now. He should have been proud, most of all, to have been entrusted with such a crucial mission, but somehow his mentor’s trust rang hollow. Shay rolled his shoulders, staring at his screen for long after the connection had been cut. It was far too early to give the things rolling around inside his chest a name, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

*

“There’s no chance that we’ll go whale watching, is there?”

Gist exploded with laughter at Shay’s question. The situation was eerily similar to that in Naples, with the three of them seated in a restaurant to have lunch together, before another slew of meetings in the afternoon.

“I’m afraid not.” A quick smile flickered over Haytham’s face, however. “I didn’t know you were so interested in whales.”

“Well. I’ve just never seen one up close,” Shay shrugged. “A friend and I snuck away from school at one point when we were twelve and decided to go visit the aquarium. I loved the octopus, but I’ve always wanted to see whales.”

“Sounds almost like my son,” Haytham mused. “I can’t remember how often I received a frantic call from Ziio that Ratonhnhaké:ton was missing, only for him to turn up at the nearest animal shelter. Another time I lost him at the petting zoo and found him in one of the stables holding a baby goat, hiding from me because he didn’t want to leave. I took several pictures for his mother before a staff member basically threw us out because it was closing time.”

Shay and Gist burst out laughing. There was a fond glint in Haytham’s eyes as he continued.

“Well. It wasn’t entirely fruitless, given that two cats are part of my household now.” The revelation was slightly surprising to Shay – he hadn’t pegged Haytham for a someone with pets at home. But then, he probably had enough money to always have a cat sitter available even during his long work hours and business trips.

“You must go through an impressive number of lint rollers,” Shay remarked. “Considering I’ve never seen a single piece of fur anywhere on your clothes.”

“I believe there is a cupboard full of them, yes,” Haytham laughed.

When they were sitting like this, it was easy to forget his mission and the importance behind it. It wasn’t difficult to be lulled into a false sense of security with the steadily growing familiarity between Haytham and him, long past the point where he had to pretend friendliness and an honest enjoyment of the man’s company. However, he was still an Assassin, no matter what his traitorous heart might feel. And failure was not tolerated amongst Assassins.

“No doubt Shay would alert you should you one day happen to overlook a hair.” Gist grinned, winking in Shay’s direction. Shay would’ve countered with a joke of his own, except-

“Shay?” Gist frowned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m-“ Shay tried to shake himself out of his stupor. Gist followed his gaze, unable to see what had perplexed him so.

Liam.

In Naples he had been able to tell himself that perhaps it had just been a spectre, a trick of his vision, but there was no doubt here: Liam had entered the restaurant just moments ago. His gaze hadn’t stopped when travelling over Shay, but of course he would’ve noticed him; Liam saw everything. Shay was sure that there was no coincidence involved with Liam’s presence here in Vancouver, not at the same time as he and Haytham were here.

“Sorry.” Shay took a deep breath. “Just thought I’d seen an old friend, but I must’ve been mistaken.”

“The same one who you went to the aquarium with?” Gist interjected, obviously trying to bring some levity back into the conversation.

“In fact, yes,” Shay faked a smile. “But there’s no way he could be here, so I was probably wrong.”

“Well, it happens to the best of us,” Gist shrugged, whilst Haytham only looked at him, clearly trying to discern whether Shay was telling the truth or not. Shay hoped that his ability to lie had indeed improved significantly. He was saved by Gist launching into one of his wild tales, drawing their attention on another one of his and Jack Weeks’ various exploits.

Shay excused himself after a while to head to the toilet. He could feel Haytham’s gaze following him through the room, but made sure not to run or walk significantly faster; as amicable as the relationship between them had become, the Templar Grand Master wasn’t a stupid man when it came to the various games Templars and Assassins played with each other.

There was a big sign taped to the door that unfortunately, this specific set of toilets was broken and that alternative toilets could be found on the first floor. The shadow of a smile travelled over Shay’s face as he ignored the sign and stepped inside.

Liam was leaning against the opposite wall, obnoxiously chewing on some gum.

“Wasn’t sure whether you’d come looking or not,” he said, mustering Shay. What he found left a sneer on his face. Shay shrugged.

“I remember Atlantic City as well as you do.”

Liam snorted at his answer.

“Well. I doubt we’ll have sex in one of the stalls today. Unless you-?”

“No, thanks.” Shay scratched his head. “Why are you here, Liam? Were you meant to catch my eye in the restaurant or was that just poor planning or coincidence on your part?”

Liam’s eyes sparked with anger at the ‘poor planning’ bit.

“Being around Templars so much has turned you into quite the asshole, I see.”

Shay bared his teeth but didn’t take the bait.

“You haven’t answered my question. Were you sent to supervise me?”

“’Supervise’ is too strong a word.” Now it was Liam’s turn to shrug. “I’m here to see that…things go to plan. And to help you in case they don’t. So maybe, try and be a little less hostile? Otherwise I might decide to just leave you to your inevitably gruesome death by Templar hands when they find out that you’ve stolen one of those precious artefacts that they are after.”

Shay took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, forcing himself to remain calm. They both knew that Liam wasn’t only there to help him in case things should get awry. Did the council honestly think he would switch sides so easily?

“Thanks, I appreciate your help.” He forced out another breath, reminding himself of the Liam he had known all his life, of the softness that lay behind his brash exterior and sometimes burst forth like glimpses of brilliant colour. “Sorry if I seemed a little…hostile earlier. It’s been a long day.”

Liam’s expression softened, if only just a little.

“Well, I guess you do have to be constantly on your guard around these people. But you can trust me, Shay.” He made a small gesture, encompassing the room they were standing in and, presumably, the wider city of Vancouver. “Have you learned anything new about the artefact?”

“A little.” Shay relaxed slightly; this was familiar territory. “I was able to listen in on another conversation between Haytham and Jack Weeks and get a quick look at some of his documents earlier.”

“And?”

“Vancouver Island. A cave, probably.” No need to tell Liam how he had discerned the information or any of the particulars of Haytham’s and Weeks’ conversation.

“That’s…not exactly helpful.” Liam frowned. “You do realise that this island is not exactly small and has over a thousand caves? It would take months to search them all. Years, even.”

“Apparently it’s somewhere in the southern part of the island; that’s all I’ve been able to find out so far.”

“Hm.” Liam scratched his head, not looking very pleased. “Well, it’s better than nothing. See if you can find out any other-“

“I’ve got a ferry ticket already,” Shay said, tiring of Liam’s overbearing attitude. “Kenway and Gist are heading over to the island tomorrow; I know which hotel they booked. I was supposed to fly back to Boston, but I was able to rebook the flight and get a hotel nearby instead. Should be easy to follow them, if they know where they’re going.”

Liam raised one of his eyebrows, obviously not expecting such agency from Shay.

“Impressive,” he admitted. “You think there is any more space on that ferry for a second person?”

“If you book quickly enough, there might be.” Shay had already pulled out his phone, however, to look up the connection. “We’re not getting a double room in the hotel though. No way.”

“Should I be impressed by your newly found dedication to your job or insulted by your insistence that there will be absolutely no sex between us in the near future?” There was a laugh caught between Liam’s words, however, almost covering up the edge of bitterness in his voice.

Shay rolled his eyes.

“You’re entirely too pre-occupied with my dick,” he sighed. “Still, it would be good to have you there.”

*

“Ready to fly back tomorrow?”

“Hm?”

Shay looked up from where he was standing on the hotel’s first floor balcony, looking out at the little garden below. Haytham gave him the briefest of smiles before walking up to stand next to him. For the first time that Shay had seen him, he had a more relaxed look to his appearance – tie and suit jacket were gone, and the first two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. It was an endearing sight.

“I was wondering whether you’ve prepared for your flight back tomorrow,” Haytham repeated. 

“Oh. Yeah. Got my travel sickness medicine and all,” Shay grinned. Haytham nodded in response.

“Good. I hope you’ve realised that you can take the Friday off work. You’ve done more than enough overtime on this trip alone to make up for it.” It was a Wednesday today. If Shay wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Haytham had no way of knowing his plans, he’d have suspected him of making this suggestion on purpose.

“I’ll think about it, sir.” Shay couldn’t help a grin flickering over his face.

“No need for such formality now,” Haytham raised a hand with a small smile. ”Seeing that neither of us is strictly at work right now.”

“True that.” Shay turned around until the porch’s railing was behind him. He leaned his back against it.

Haytham shifted next to him, so that his entire upper body was turned into Shay’s direction. His hands played with the glass he’d brought outside with him, filled with, as Shay suspected, water. Haytham, he had learned, didn’t like to be drunk on the eves before important events.

“Does it ever get too much for you?” Shay asked, all of a sudden. He didn’t know where the words came from. His accompanying gesture encompassed their surroundings. “The constant travelling, never going anywhere without your bodyguard…”

“I-“ Haytham frowned, closed his mouth and began again, evidently reconsidering his answer. “Sometimes.”

“It seems a rather lonely way to lead a life.” Shay wasn’t sure where his tongue was running off to this time. Haytham raised his eyebrows, evidently close to reprimanding him about crossing invisible lines.

“Not lonelier than many others, I’m sure,” he finally said. “And the sacrifice is worth it.”

“Sacrifice? Swapping the comfort of a fulfilled private life for the good of…the company, the world, or whatever it is?” Oh, yes, this definitely wasn’t what he should be saying.

“Don’t presume too much,” Haytham frowned again, his voice taking on a slightly sharp edge. “Having too many people too close endangers them. Did you know that Ratonhnhaké:ton was almost kidnapped when he was six years old? He fought and bit the man who tried to take him, giving him the opportunity to run away.” Haytham’s hand clenched tightly around his glass at the memory. Shay didn’t have a single shred of a doubt that, whoever the assailant had been, Haytham had made sure to rain hellfire down on them. He didn’t know whether it had been Assassin or not – they wouldn’t stoop so low as to abduct children, would they?

“You’d think that this was the reason why his mother and I separated,” Haytham continued, now staring at his glass again. It reminded Shay again of how young the man in front of him still was. Most of the time, Haytham seemed older than his 32 years. Not now. “But it wasn’t. Ziio and I knew we wouldn’t work out long term and had decided long before. But it certainly led to me distancing myself from them more than I probably should have.”

“I’m sorry.” And he truly was, Shay realised.

“Don’t be, it’s not your life.” Haytham took a sip from the water in his hand. “I am aware that this might be a far too private question to ask, but I do assume that you don’t have any current partners either? Judging from your eagerness to take on overtime, that is.”

“Not really,” Shay shrugged. “There are…casual meetups, but not more than that.”

“Mhm.” Haytham nodded, shifting slightly again. There was something in the air between them, so many questions that Shay wanted to ask, but didn’t dare to put words to. Not for the first time he wished that Haytham would be easier to read.

“I should-” He paused, cleared his throat, then spoke again. “I should probably leave. Have to get up early tomorrow and all that. Uh.”

“Probably for the best, yes.” However, neither of them moved, even as the silence between them stretched and stretched.

“Do you ever wish your life would’ve gone differently?” The question broke out of Shay unasked. He frowned at himself. “Do you ever look back at decisions that you’ve made…that were made for you…and wish they’d worked out another way?”

“Is this a question about me or are you just reflecting on your own life?” Haytham smiled faintly. Shay felt a blush creep onto his ears.

“…both? I guess?” he finally said.

“Yes, I do. However, I’ve given up wishing for what could have happened or what will never be. It makes it easier to sleep.” Haytham’s eyes weren’t leaving Shay’s face as he spoke.

“I wish I could turn off my thoughts so easily,” Shay grimaced. “But those regrets just seem to be piling up recently.”

“Everyone has regrets.” Haytham moved an inch closer to him. “It’s important that we try to avoid adding more in the future. I hope you joining me as my assistant isn’t one of them?”

Yes, it was. But not in the way that Haytham was talking about.

“No,” Shay shook his head. “I do enjoy working with you, sir.” He looked up, meeting Haytham’s gaze and noticing how close they somehow ended up standing to each other. Shay realised he had never truly paid attention to just how piercing Haytham’s eyes were, or how fine the bone structure of his face was. Warmth began to pool somewhere in the region of his stomach, and he could feel his mouth going dry.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He wasn’t averting his gaze. Shay licked his lips, trying to force his uncooperative brain to come up with a good reply and failing.

“Sir-“ he began to say, but never finished the sentence. Haytham’s phone began to ring with a rather insistent noise, cutting through whatever it was that had been building up between them. 

“Excuse me.” Haytham stepped back, extracted the phone from his pocket and frowned at the caller’s number. “It appears I have to take this one.” Shay only nodded, before turning away to leave the porch to Haytham and his mysterious sudden caller. For a second, he amused himself with the thought that it was Gist on the other end of the line, who had seen them stand far too close to be appropriate and deliberately broke up the situation.

He lingered for a moment longer in the doorway, watching Haytham speak into his phone in low and urgent tones, trying to make sense of the mess inside him. It was a fruitless endeavour.

Shay shook his head and stepped inside.

*

Liam had been right: Vancouver Island was covered in caves. A quick search on the internet already yielded hundreds of results, and it made Shay hope fervently that Haytham and Gist did indeed know the location of what they were looking for.

He’d been perched on the roof of the house across from their hotel for five hours now, waiting for them to make a move. Liam was covering the back exit, but he hadn’t announced any progress yet either – as far as they knew, both men were still in their rooms, perhaps waiting for more information, or doing their own research.

Shay was just about to reach down into his bag and pull out another sandwich to still his growing hunger, when the main hotel opened again. He almost dismissed the little crowd, as there were four men exiting in rather leisurely outdoors clothing instead of two men in suits, but even a quick glimpse alerted his brain with the familiarity of their faces.

Next to Haytham and Gist were two men he certainly hadn’t expected to see here, especially the latter – Jack Weeks and George Monro. Acting on pure instinct, Shay was about to alert Liam to their presence, but hesitated at the last moment. They weren’t here to kill anyone – all they needed was intel, and the opportunity to steal the artefact undetected.

It was almost too easy to follow the four of them on their way outside the small town, even when they continued their journey in a surprisingly small rental car. A Templar roadtrip, Shay thought with amusement. He would’ve given his left hand to be able to hear the conversations inside the vehicle. Sadly, there hadn’t been an opportunity for him to plant a bug on any of Haytham’s or Gist’s belongings.

“Liam.” Shay contacted him when he was already well away from the town.

“Shay? Where are you?”

“On the road. I’m following them.”

“You’re-“ Instant fury coloured Liam’s voice. “You’re on the road? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I had to act quickly. There wasn’t enough time to pick you up, stay undetected and follow them.”

Liam hissed angrily.

“Let me know where you’re going, I’ll follow behind.”

“Of course.”

Shay spent the next half hour relaying the directions to Liam, who accepted them with a false calmness that only seemed to underline the annoyance beneath. The tension growing between them was so thick it could’ve been cut with knives.

“They’ve stopped at a hiking car park. There’s a sign there that says it’s half a mile to some kind of cave.”

“That seems to be it. Wait for me before you do anything else, Shay.” It was clearly an order. Shay gnashed his teeth, but he didn’t get out of the car. There would be no point in storming ahead now, even though every fibre of his being called for him doing so. He sent Liam the information that Weeks and Monro were part of the party now and settled back to wait.

Liam arrived only ten minutes later, a stormy expression on his face as he popped down in the car seat next to him.

“Which way did they go?”

Shay only pointed ahead, where the sign was. Liam nodded, taking a deep breath. There were evidently a variety of things he wanted to say, but he swallowed them all. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly before looking at Shay again.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked.

“Normally I would say we wait until they have returned, and then have a look at the cave ourselves. But that way we wouldn’t know whether they have the artefact or not. Following them seems like the better option…”

“Well, good thing we used to do wilderness training every summer.” Liam stretched before leaving the car.

“Which part? The bit where you fell off trees or the bit where you pushed me into various little lakes as a hobby?” Shay grinned. He still wasn’t sure what had caused the sudden shift in Liam’s mood, but he was willing to take and roll with it for now. They would have their argument about today, sooner or later.

“The latter, mostly.” Liam wasn’t quite smiling, but there was a definite lilt of amusement in his voice. Shay only slapped his shoulder with a laugh, before retrieving some of his gear from the back of the car.

It was late in the afternoon, so there were few people still out and about, making it easier for them to stay undetected as they made their way to the cave. Hiding amongst trees seemed a romantic and exciting notion at first, but it could quickly become tiresome and slightly embarrassing if performed amongst a multitude of tourists. Shay still had the copy of a newspaper article saved on his laptop where someone had caught Ezio climbing the colosseum. The police had nearly arrested him; the story was a classic amongst each successive generation of novices by now.

They made it to the cave just as the sun was beginning to get low, leaving them perhaps half an hour of daylight at the most. Liam was moving ahead, warning him with a raised hand that they had reached their goal. A few more hand signals followed, telling Shay that there were two guards outside the cave, making it necessary for them to slow and cover their approach even further.

Gist and Weeks were making no effort to stay hidden themselves, their voices (especially Gist’s) audible long before they came into sight. Shay sighed and rubbed his face as he looked at them, down from the protection of a rock formation above. The entrance to the cave seemed rather small, making it impossible for them to simply sneak past the two Templars.

“Can you distract them?” Shay whispered. Liam frowned.

“I could, but that’s an extraordinarily dumb idea. I assume the cave isn’t exactly big – what are you going to do if you run into Kenway and Monro?”

Shay had to admit that he was right. Still, it rankled at him that he apparently had to be content with sitting here and doing nothing whilst the Templars were potentially unearthing an important artefact. Surely, he could string together a lie that would hold up should Haytham and Monro discover him? (But no, he certainly couldn’t.)

The decision was taken from his hands by movement below. Liam and he exchanged a gaze and moved forward a little, until they could hear what was being said.

“No luck.” That was Haytham’s voice. “We thought there would be some sort of keyhole for the amulet we have in our possession, but there is nothing that we could find. The cave simply peters out and ends.”

‘Amulet?’ Liam mouthed at Shay, who could only shake his head. This was the first time he’d heard of an amulet as first civilisation artefact.

“I am certain there is something here.” Shay could hear the frown in Weeks’ voice. “The sources point to this exact cave. It’s unmistakeable, especially with the illustrations, look.”

There was some rustling as the four Templars evidently shifted to look at whatever Weeks was showing them. Monro gave a little sigh.

“I am certain that you are right. But, unfortunately, it seems like either the amulet has nothing to do with it, or we have overlooked something significant. In any case, I suggest we return here tomorrow to have another look. It’s late, and I for one don’t fancy spending the night out in these woods.”

“He’s right.” There was a note of exhaustion creeping into Haytham’s voice. “We should leave.”

Gist and Weeks evidently had nothing to object. It didn’t take long for the four men to leave for the parking lot. As soon as they were gone, the silence of the rapidly approaching night surrounded Shay and Liam. Shay took a deep breath, dusting some soil and dried leaves off his coat as he stood up.

“What do we do now?” he asked, already thinking about the answer.

“We could have a look for ourselves or do the same as the Templars and call it night so we can return tomorrow.” Liam shrugged.

“We should have a look tonight, maybe we’ll find something they haven’t seen.”

“Haytham Kenway and George Monro?” Liam sounded sceptical. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Shay, but neither you nor I are more likely to find something where those two haven’t. And we don’t have that strange amulet that Kenway was talking about either.”

“Still worth having a look. If only so that we can get to know the cave better,” Shay insisted.

“If you think so.” Liam sighed. “I’ll stand watch outside, just in case any of them think of returning.”

“Thanks.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the mouth of the cave. Shay grasped his flashlight and took a deep breath, before setting foot inside the cave.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he mumbled. Liam’s quiet snort followed him inside.

For the first few minutes, the cave didn’t seem to be any different than other caves that Shay had been in. The air seemed perpetually damp but wasn’t too cold and the only sounds were the occasional drops of water around him. The rock was rough and looked entirely natural – not like anything that a mysterious first civilisation would create. At several places, the cave became narrow enough that Shay had to move forwards sideways, although he was never in any real danger of getting stuck. Just when he could feel the beginnings of claustrophobia creep up inside him, the cave suddenly widened into a cavern large enough to hold at least twenty or more people. Shay turned on the spot, the light from his torch illuminating the walls around him. There were several stalagmites at the wall, most of them defaced by scribbles of the countless visitors that must’ve been here before him. Some areas of the cavern wall seemed suspiciously smooth, but a closer inspection didn’t reveal anything else, not even when he rested his palm on it, trying to feel for anything that seemed out of place.

“Well, that was useless,” Shay said to himself. He sighed and was about to turn around and leave when his feet slipped on the muddy ground of the cavern, sending him barrelling into the thinnest of the stalagmites.

There was a loud crack as the entire upper half broke off and crashed to the floor. Shay’s curses were swallowed up by a rumble that continued for far longer after the stone had settled on the ground.

“Fuck.” Shay hoisted himself up to his knees, ready to run in case the entire cave was set to coming down around him. Dust rained from the cavern’s ceiling as the rumbling continued for a moment longer, before everything around him quieted down again. Shay looked around, only to find that everything seemed pretty much the same – except for a pattern in one of the smooth areas of the wall that hadn’t been there before.

He frowned and stepped closer. There was an indentation in the wall and this time, it was obvious that it couldn’t have been of natural origin – the perfectly quadrangular outline around it emitted a faint blue glow. Shay took a deep breath and pressed his hands against it, hoping with all his might that no sudden traps would show themselves.

Either this was truly the luckiest day of his life so far, or somewhere the existence of guardian angels was more than a myth. The cube of rock moved backwards, bit by bit taking most of the cavern wall with it. A whiff of stale air escaped the corridor behind it. Apparently the mysterious amulet the Templars had been talking about truly didn’t have anything to do with this particular cave.

Walking down the corridor that nobody had set foot in for potentially thousands of years filled Shay with a feeling of complete surreality. Geometric shapes pulsating in a strange blueish and golden light dominated the walls. He had expected a vast cavern at the end, akin to a temple, so he was surprised when he found that there was barely more than a medium sized room that awaited him. It was only on the second glance that he thought he could see gaps in the strange shapes that made up the walls, hinting at a much vaster space beyond.

Of far more interest, however, was the pedestal in the middle of the room. As he walked towards it, it began to elevate itself, until the he stood right in front of it. As if in response to his last step, the top opened, revealing a strangely glowing geometric shape, half star half vastly more complicated. The similarity to one of the drawings he had seen in Haytham’s book was striking. There was no doubt that this was one of the artefacts.

Shay swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat, his fingers shaking as he reached out to grasp the object. His only thought was how proud the other Assassins would be, how he had finally proven his worth to them.

Except that the artefact began crumbling into pieces, as soon as his fingertips touched it.

“No,” he whispered, trying to catch the dust in his hands and failing. “No!”

The earth itself seemed to echo in time with his denial. The rumbling began beneath his feet until the entire room was shaking and he could barely stand upright. He’d felt this before, he’d-

It didn’t take long for his thoughts to catch up, even as his feet already raced towards the exit. Italy. Naples. Another earthquake. And he was underground, surrounded by rocks that could come down any moment. Shay must’ve yelled something, because his throat felt raw as he moved, choking on the dust clouds in the air. He made it into the natural cavern of the cave, when something came loose above him, knocking his arm aside and leaving a sharp trail of pain across his forehead and cheek.

He thought he could hear Liam call his name before everything turned black.

Chapter Text

“Shay. Shay!” Someone was shaking his shoulders. Shay shook his head, trying to dislodge whatever it was that was pinning his shoulders down. His only reward was a flash of agony from his forehead.

“Ngsdkfhk.” It was the only sound he could make. The shaking stopped for a moment.

“Shay, open your eyes. Can you move?” It took him a moment to identify the voice as Liam’s. Shay forced his eyes open, only to close them again when a flash of light blinded him.

“Sorry.” Liam shifted. “You can open them again, the flashlight’s pointed elsewhere now.”

Shay did as he was told. Liam’s worried face was above him, illuminated from the side by the torch. He couldn’t make out much else at first, dark as it was around them. He was almost sure that he could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

“Ouch”, Shay said belatedly as he tried to sit up. Something wasn’t right, although it took him a moment to realise what it was: there was the rushing sound of water. Far, far closer than it had any right to be, as high up and comparably far away from the ocean as they were. “What-“

“There was an earthquake. I guess it must’ve triggered some flood waves.” Liam’s face was drawn with worry as he kept glancing out into the forest and back at Shay again.

Earthquake. Shay closed his eyes again and groaned. Yes, the artefact. He’d touched it and-

“What have I done,” he whispered, a giant fist closing around his heart. Liam only looked at him strangely, before grasping his arm.

“We need to get out of here.”

*

5934.

Shay stared at the number, eyes smarting from keeping them open for so long.

“Master Cormac.”

He knew that the door behind him was open, but someone still took the trouble to knock. There were only two people he knew how would insist on such a politeness, and one of them wasn’t here.

“Colonel Monro.” He forced his attention away from the laptop screen with its bright headlines proclaiming the current death toll for the ‘Great Vancouver Earthquake’.

“You’ve been sitting in front of your laptop all morning. Come take a walk outside with me, I need to look after the horses.”

Shay glanced back at his laptop, and then at the Colonel again. Monro’s friendly face hid a core of steel, and although he might have disguised it well, his suggestion was an order. He sighed and rose from his seat, throwing on his coat and boots before following Monro outside.

“You’ve been here for three days, and barely said a word,” Monro observed as they walked across the courtyard to the stables. “Haytham told me that you needed a break, but he didn’t say anything else.”

Haytham had been slightly more circumspect with his words when he had suggested to Shay that he stay with Monro for a week or two, but it amounted to the same thing. Ever since their disastrous return from Vancouver, Shay had barely felt alive. How his flimsy lies had held up before the Templars, he didn’t know; but somehow, he had convinced them that his outgoing flight had been affected by the earthquake when they crossed paths again in Vancouver. Liam had quickly left him to his own devices, to ‘avoid detection’, as he said. Shay suspected that it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t bear listening to his raving admissions of guilt and self-flagellation anymore.

“I do, I guess. Overdid it a little with the overtime and all.” Shay smiled a smile that wasn’t one, and he could see that Monro remained unconvinced. But what was he supposed to say? ‘Well, I’m actually an Assassin and tried to steal the artefact you were searching for, thereby ‘accidentally’ killing more than five thousand people?’ The need to tell someone, anyone, who would listen to his current predicament was so strong that he almost gave in. Especially since the Assassin Council had dismissed Shay’s failure as nothing more than that – a momentary failure, a minor setback at most. In fact, they had commended him for taking the initiative and trying to recover the artefact by himself. All of them seemed to regard the death of so many innocents as a regretful coincidence, rather than a momentous tragedy and tremendous mistake. No, the burden was Shay’s, and Shay’s alone to bear.

“Well, then you’ve come to the right place.” Monro gestured out at the wide acres of land stretching beyond the stables. When he had discovered that Shay had learned how to ride horses once upon a time (yet another one of the peculiarly antiquated skills he had been taught at one of the Assassin wilderness camps), he’d been delighted and invited him to ride out for an afternoon, showing him the borders of the vast farmland that he owned. It was little wonder that Ratonhnhaké:ton apparently loved to spend time out here when visiting with his father. The amount of animals and wilderness around had to be the boy’s dream.

Shay desperately wished that the calming influence that so many ascribed to nature would apply to him as well. Instead, he still found himself turning his head at every sudden sound, expecting the sight that had been haunting his nightmares to have come back: water and mud everywhere, filled with debris and bodies, highlighting the destruction around him. All his fault. All his.

“Shay?” A light touch on his shoulder shook him out of the memories. Monro looked worried. “You were lost in your thoughts again.”

“Sorry,” Shay flashed a quick smile at him, rubbing the newly-forming scar on his forehead. “You were saying?”

“I said that I’d received a report earlier about some damage in one of the fences. Rather than letting one of my men deal with it, I thought we could ride out to take a look together.”

It was a rather blatant attempt at getting Shay away from the hell of his own thoughts, but there were certainly worse ways to spend his time (staring at the screen of his laptop, for example, watching the death toll climb up and up). 

They prepared and saddled their horses in mutual silence. Shay excused himself to return to the house to put on more suitable clothes; the little smile on the colonel’s face when he actually returned (obviously against Monro’s expectations), was unexpected and welcome.

They rode slowly, as Shay wasn’t by far the best rider who had ever sat on a horse. He concentrated on the rhythm of the animal’s hooves on the ground, purposely letting the gentle sway fill him up until there was no space in his mind for darker thoughts. Denial had never exactly been his strong suit, but it did seem to be working in this case.

They remained silent until they reached the section of the fence that was reportedly broken. Monro motioned at him to dismount. Shay rubbed his behind once he’d jumped down and made sure the horses wouldn’t escape.

“Help me with this.” Monro pointed at the fence which, sure enough, was missing a section where the electric wire had broken down. “The electricity should be down.”

“Should?” Shay felt his mouth quirk up at the edges. “Am I your guinea pig for testing it?”

“If you want.” Monro answered with a smile of his own. “There are easier ways to test it though.” He plucked a long blade of grass, holding it against one of the still functional sections of the fence.

“All clear,” he confirmed. He evidently noticed Shay’s fascinated gaze and shrugged.

“My brother showed me as a child. We would dare each other how close to the fence we could touch the grass and not flinch. You didn’t know?”

“No,” Shay shook his head, still marvelling a little. “There’s a lot I never learned as a child, it seems.”

“And other things I’m sure you did.” Monro heaved a little sigh before he got to work. They’d brought some replacement materials and tools, and it didn’t take long for him to explain what he needed Shay to do in order to help with repairs.

“Why do you keep watching the death count in Vancouver rise every day?” Monro asked, all of a sudden. If Shay had learned anything about him, it was that the Colonel wasn’t one for mincing words. “I know you’ve always been one to…feel deeply, even for those not personally close to you. But why torture yourself?”

Shay stared at his hands and the pliers he was holding, his thoughts racing. How much could he say?

“I-“ he said, and stopped. He brought another piece of wire into shape before he spoke again. “I feel like, somehow, it was my fault,” he finally forced out. A quick glance to the side showed him a frown travelling over Monro’s face.

“I feel that maybe, if I’d just stayed, I somehow could’ve helped more. Instead of waiting at the airport for my delayed flight to leave, I could’ve done something. Could’ve used the connections with the company to…do more. I don’t know.” He gave a half-hearted shrug.

Monro paused in what he was doing and sighed.

“Realistically, what could you have done?” he asked. “Say you could turn back time, say you were there again – what is it that you would do differently, if you had stayed?”

Not gone into the bloody cave on my own. Not tried to touch the artefact and trigger some tremors that caused an earthquake which produced a tsunami that killed thousands of people, Shay thought.

“I could’ve helped,” he repeated. He raised a hand, stalling Monro’s next question. “No, I don’t know how exactly. I just know that I could’ve done more.”

Monro frowned again. It was clear that he suspected Shay wasn’t speaking the complete truth. Revealing more, however, would have been far too dangerous.

“You are not the only one with such regrets,” he said instead. “I myself have made decisions that I wish I could undo.”

“You do not seem like a man burdened with regrets,” Shay remarked carefully, casting a critical eye at their handiwork. The fence was well on its way to getting repaired, but he had an inkling that they would stay out here for as long as necessary, or at least until Monro had said his piece.

“And yet I am.” A shadow travelled over Monro’s face, so fleetingly fast that it was easy to miss. “Death has always been far too close a companion for me, in more than one way. As it has for many others, Haytham included.”

I bet it has. Templar hands are never clean, Shay thought.

“Haytham? I can hardly imagine the boss being filled with regret. Or much guilt.” Shay laughed, attempting to add a note of levity to his words.

“Should he ever trust you fully, ask him about a man named Jim Holden.” Monro rolled his shoulders slightly. “Although I would not advise ever mentioning this name in public.”

Shay nodded and made a mental note to look up the name in the Assassins’ archives as soon as he had the chance. Haytham had always been rather sparse with information about his past, even during the more relaxed and private moments they had shared.

“I think the fence is done,” he said, critically eyeing their construction as he straightened up.

“It seems so.” Yet, as Shay had suspected, Monro made no move to leave.

“Shay,” he said instead, pausing as if he didn’t know how to continue. “There are things that nobody should have to deal with on their own. If you want to talk, we’re here. Or if you’d rather see a professional, I’ve got a few numbers. Just…I’ve seen too many young people destroyed by their own mind. Don’t become one of them.”

The concern was written plainly on his face and it made something ache inside Shay’s chest. He took a deep breath, weighing his next words carefully.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I’ll manage. Somehow. I guess.”

Monro only frowned in reply but let him get away with it for now. After they had confirmed that the fence was fully functional again, they headed back to the large main building of the farm. They rode in silence, Shay’s thoughts turning over and over in his head, the storm inside him a marked contrast to the clear blue skies above. The intensity of it didn’t change, not even when they arrived back at the farm, unsaddling the horses and caring for them before heading back inside.

“Perhaps I should return to Boston soon.” Shay glanced at the sun, before looking back down at his horse again. “I cannot stay here forever.”

The concern in Monro’s glance sharpened.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Shay only shrugged in reply.

“Haytham will need me back on the job eventually, sooner rather than later.”

“This is not about what Haytham wants,” Monro pushed back. “This is about you. Do not use him as an excuse.”

Shay sighed and ran his hand through his hair. The realisation hit him that Monro truly, deeply seemed to care about what happened to him – a sensation quite unfamiliar, and not one that he had expected to find amongst Templars. He wondered if this was what it was like to have a family who cared.

“I’m not. I need to get back to work, or I’ll start feeling even worse,” he admitted, and it wasn’t even a lie. Monro still didn’t look convinced, but he knew as well as Shay did that he couldn’t hold him back forever. They finished caring for the horses in silence.  It was only when Shay turned to leave and return to the house that Monro made a move as if to grab his arm. He aborted it halfway through, just touching his shoulder instead.

“Don’t let your demons eat you whole,” he said.

Shay could only nod in response.

*

The demons sneaked up on Shay far more quietly than Monro might’ve thought, but devoured him either way.

By the end of the year, Shay was aware that he had a problem. No matter what he did, he was unable to find any sleep at night. As soon as he closed his eyes, the screaming inside his head started and he woke up, drenched in sweat and shaking all over. The rumbling from nearby underground trains continued to set him on edge, bringing back flashes of the cavern coming down around him. He wasn’t even sure when he started drinking to quiet the ghosts in his head; at least, or so he told himself, he didn’t do it during working hours. Yet.

He’d been close to taking up Monro’s offer for someone to talk to once or twice but was held back each time by the distinct knowledge that nobody could know. He didn’t trust any confidentiality agreements; one way or the other the Templars would find out what he had done and who he was. Drowning himself in alcohol would still be preferable to the end that would expect him at their hands. Not even his good standing with the Grand Master himself would be able to save him then.

The Assassins, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care either – outside his regular reports back to the council, he had little contact with them. Liam had been withdrawn ever since they had parted on Vancouver Island, refusing to answer Shay’s questions as to what the Assassins were going to do about the artefacts and the fact that they seemingly held the world together. In all fairness, it wasn’t as if Shay was going out of his way to get into contact with him either; no, he rather preferred to be on his own for now.

If the Assassins didn’t truly seem to care, the Templars at Shay’s workplace appeared far more worried. Shay thought he was doing a decent job of hiding his problems but judging from the amount of concerned glances that Gist kept throwing his way, he wasn’t as successful as he’d thought. For now, however, Gist held his silence.

And then there was the matter of the New Year’s Party.

It was past midnight. Everyone who still remained at the party was in various stages of tipsy to passed out drunk in a corner. Shay was currently debating whether he should start the thankfully short walk home, as long as he could still walk in a reasonably straight line, or just keep drinking and sleep under the office table instead. They all had the day off anyway, so no one would notice.

He was just about to make a beeline to the table with the last remaining snacks, when he ran straight into the one person he hadn’t expected to see. Shay stumbled and almost spilled the last remnants of his wine over his unexpected encounter.

“Shit. Boss?” He squinted, but the shape in front of him stubbornly refused to dissolve into anyone but Haytham Kenway himself. “I’m sorry, I-“

“Shay.” Haytham reached out to grasp his elbow and steady him. The heat from his touch raced like electricity through Shay’s body, and he had to keep himself from stumbling again. “Careful.”

“’m always careful,” Shay mumbled. Haytham only snorted in reply, his fingers still resting lightly on Shay’s elbow.

“Less so in recent times, it seems,” he said, a slightly sarcastic undertone to his voice.

“Well.” Shay tried in vain to keep the flush out of his cheeks. Despite the late hour and the fact that nobody was even remotely thinking of work, Haytham was still wearing suit jacket, dress shirt and even a tie, although the latter was loosened and ever so slightly crooked. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home? Keep your cats from freaking out during the fireworks?” The alcohol evidently made Shay’s tongue run in all sorts of directions that it wouldn’t dare go during work hours.

“My cats are fine. I only returned to the office because I had forgotten something.”

Shay’s glance fell down to the briefcase Haytham was carrying. Important Templar business, perhaps? Unfortunately, there was no way for him to get his hands on any of the documents inside. Unless he could distract Haytham sufficiently.

“You work too much.” He threw a slightly insolent grin in Haytham’s direction, only receiving an arched eyebrow in response. “You’re always telling me to take time off, and not to overwork myself. You should stick to your own rules.”

“And I believe you should be getting on your way home,” Haytham said. Shay frowned – he thought it was only his imagination at first, but he was almost sure to see something akin to a blush on Haytham’s cheeks. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one who’d had more than a little alcohol tonight.

“I probably should,” he admitted, but neither of them moved. Haytham’s fingers still rested on Shay’s arm, his touch both light and fiery at the same time. Shay cast a quick glance around – there was barely anyone in sight, and the two people he could see were engaged in a rather intense kissing exercise on one of the sofas. Watching them made him bite his own lip, and it didn’t escape his attention how Haytham’s gaze followed the movement. 

Haytham cleared his throat, ripping them both out of their stupor.

“I better go and fetch my bag,” Shay said, still feeling like he’d been kicked by a mule. “Left it in the printer room.”

“Yes.” Haytham tugged at his tie a little, not quite meeting Shay’s eyes. Shay never thought he’d see his boss of all people ever look flustered, but there was no other word for the expression on Haytham’s face. “Of course. Perhaps I should pick up some printing paper for my office.”

“Perhaps.” Shay swallowed, trying decidedly not to look at the way Haytham’s eyes were glinting in the low light just so.

The printing room was deserted, just as he had suspected. Shay surreptitiously closed the door behind them and walked straight to his bag to take a long sip from his forgotten water bottle, in the vain hopes that it might help him sober up. He could hear Haytham behind him setting his briefcase on the floor and beginning to rummage on one of the shelves. The room wasn’t exactly large, most of the small space taken up by the printing and copying machines. Shay could feel the hyperawareness of Haytham’s body creep through every single one of his sinews. He didn’t quite know exactly what it was that overrode his last defences – the alcohol, the lingering tendrils of depression, defiance and spite against the Brotherhood, or simple recklessness. Either way, at some point he simply stopped caring.

“Sir,” he said, his tone carefully slow and measured as he rose from his crouch.

Haytham turned around, not making a single attempt to move away when Shay stepped closer. This is an awful decision, the last vestiges of his mind, still capable of rationality, screamed. He stood so close that there were mere inches separating their faces.

“I.” he faltered, started again, gaze mesmerised by the shape of Haytham’s lips. “I want you to kiss me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good-“ Haytham started. Shay shook his head and, in a gesture that he would have never allowed himself otherwise, raised a finger to Haytham’s lips.

“It’s a terrible idea,” he confirmed, leaning in. “Kiss me.”

Whatever objections Haytham could’ve come up with, they were lost when Shay’s fingers moved from his lips to come to a rest around his neck, pulling him close.

It certainly wasn’t the best or most romantic kiss Shay had ever shared. They were both slightly uncoordinated, sloppy from too much alcohol, distracted by the expectations of too many unfulfilled daydreams. However, there was an undeniable hunger in the way their lips touched, and no shyness at all, neither from Haytham nor from him. Haytham made a low noise in his throat, his hands snaking around Shay’s back. Shay was almost embarrassed at how eagerly he leaned into Haytham’s touch. He bit his lip ever so slightly and was rewarded with Haytham’s breath catching in his throat.

The little sound loosened something inside him, and Shay growled, digging his fingers into Haytham’s skin and pulling him even closer.

“We shouldn’t,” Haytham’s voice was hitched and breathless, and in direct contrast to the growing bulge in his pants. “It wouldn’t be proper-“

“Fuck propriety,” Shay hissed, reaching down to palm Haytham’s crotch through his pants. “I want it. And if there is anything else but the notion of manners holding you back, we will stop and never speak about this again.”

“No,” Haytham’s voice was low and raspy in his throat. “You- I’ve been wanting you so much that it hurts. I did not want to abuse my station-“

“You aren’t.” And with that, Shay kissed him again, so violently that they could taste blood in their mouths. Haytham moved, finally, kissing him back with equal ferocity as he reached behind and cupped Shay’s ass. Shay stumbled backwards, drawing Haytham with him until they hit the closed door next to the photocopier. His fingers were busying himself with Haytham’s belt, fumbling with haste. Haytham breathed a quiet moan into Shay’s mouth, peppering kisses along the line of his jaw until he reached his neck.

Haytham dug his teeth into his skin at the same moment that Shay had finally unbuttoned his pants and closed his fingers around his cock. Gasping something unintelligible under his breath at the sensation, Haytham, too, made quick work of Shay’s jeans, yanking them down as quickly as he could.

“Fuck me,” Shay breathed, just as Haytham bit down again, sucking at his skin. “Haytham, sir-“

“Do you have condoms?” Haytham would’ve sounded remarkably collected, if not for the edge of heat pulling at his voice. Shay growled and cursed.

“No lube either,” he said. Well, he hadn’t exactly expected to begin this year by fucking his boss in the printing room. Haytham expelled a sharp breath, making Shay shiver at the sensation of heat on his skin.

“Well, then we’ll have to do things differently, don’t we,” Haytham whispered, slowly leaning his weight against him, giving him enough time to move away if he wanted to. Shay only grunted in response, yanking him closer with his free hand, the other beginning to stroke Haytham’s cock. He could see Haytham clench his teeth, his fingers digging deeply into Shay’s skin. They were so close that Shay could feel Haytham’s erection rubbing against his own crotch. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he grew hard. Haytham’s fingers were travelling down his back, teasing and lingering in just the right spots, even as Shay began stroking him more intensely. The fingers of Shay’s other hand were clenched around Haytham’s shoulder, revelling in the feeling of the muscle shifting underneath his fingertips. He allowed himself a brief moment of regret that they weren’t both fully naked – he longed to see the landscape of skin and muscle that was hidden beneath Haytham’s clothes.

Haytham bucked against him when Shay changed the rhythm again, stroking him hard and fast, his own erection almost painful. Whatever Haytham was trying to say, growling against his skin, it was unintelligible and lost as he came, spilling hot over Shay’s hand. He sunk against Shay for just a moment before pulling away again, his eyes dark as their gazes met. Shay barely had time to appreciate the sight of Haytham Kenway with his lips red and swollen from kissing, before Haytham’s fingertips stroked against the painfully hard length of his cock, almost making him whimper with need as he went down to his knees. Haytham looked almost contemplative for a moment before he closed his mouth around him. A whole string of expletives escaped Shay at the sensation, and he threw his head back against the door. One of Haytham’s hands was splayed across his stomach as his mouth worked up and down his cock and Shay covered it with his own, the fingers of his other hand digging themselves into Haytham’s hair and yanking until it tugged free of the hair tie.

Whoever had taught Haytham to give blowjobs must have been a true master. If it hadn’t been for the door in his back, Shay was fairly sure he would have stumbled and slid to the ground.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Yes, make me feel.” Something, anything again. Make me forget and feel alive, all at once. Haytham’s fingers dug more deeply into his skin, his rhythm changing slightly, becoming even more intense, with just the faintest grazing of his teeth.

Shay almost lost his balance when he finally came, despite the door behind him holding him up. He looked down and there was something about the sight of Haytham, mouth still swollen and sticky, that almost made him hard again.

“Fuck,” he whispered, every meaning of the word expressed whole-heartedly. Haytham wiped his mouth and gave him a glance that was hard to decipher.

“Indeed,” he said, his voice huskier and deeper than usual as he reached up to tie his hair back once more. In any other situation Shay would have laughed at the image – Haytham evidently didn’t seem to mind that his pants were still down and dragging on the floor, both of them covered in sweat and come, but couldn’t stand his hair being in an untidy state for a moment longer.

Once he trusted his legs to carry him again, Shay reached for one of the water bottles thankfully stored in a corner. They cleaned themselves up as efficiently as they could, the silence stretching between them.

“I’m-“ Shay began, closing his mouth again when he realised he didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’, seemed utterly and completely wrong, as did ‘I’m sorry’, although in a way he was. His motives had hardly been unselfish. He could tell himself that he had only been trying to distract Haytham to get to his papers, but there was hardly any truth to it. ‘I need you to fuck me properly at some point in the very near future’ seemed slightly presumptuous. ‘Good Night’ was perhaps the safest option, although hardly appropriate.

“I hope you do not believe that I would ever use this against you,” Haytham said, sounding utterly civilised and not like he’d had his lips around Shay’s cock only five minutes ago. “Whatever else might happen between us in the future, I would not use our…intimacy as a weapon. I hope you can say the same.”

Shay was glad that he was facing the wall, otherwise Haytham might have noticed the spasm of pain travelling across his face.

“I would never betray you, Sir.”

Chapter Text

“You have no new information?” Achilles frowned, looking rather sceptical. “Nothing new, not since last year? It’s April.”

“No.” Shay shook his head. Except for how the Templar Grand Master and I can’t seem to stop shagging in inconvenient locations. He coughed quietly. After the earthquakes in the previous year, Templar business seemed to have slowed down considerably. He’d shared some minor information regarding Templar accounts, but that was the majority of what he’d been able to find. Except…

“No business trips, no meetings with Jack Weeks…” Ezio prompted him, looking just as incredulous as he sounded.

“Nothing of the like,” Shay said, trying to keep the lie off his face. There had, indeed, been two more meetings with Jack Weeks. And although no concrete plans had been made, he was loath to tell the Brotherhood about the newest traces they had of the Precursor Artefacts. None of them understood. None of them wanted to acknowledge that touching, using the Precursor Artefacts had been the reason for thousands of deaths during the previous year. To Shay’s mind, nobody should find them, be they Templar or Assassin.

“I overheard Kenway cursing at his phone the other day, about how he needed information, and that he was getting impatient. It’s likely he was referring to the Artefacts.” Making up facts was something entirely different than lying by omission. Shay felt as if he had just crossed an invisible line. He took a slightly shaky breath. “I will inform you as soon as I have something of more substance, of course.”

The Council members (of which there were only four in actual attendance today – Ezio, Achilles, Adéwalé and Altaïr) exchanged a few glances whose meaning Shay was unable to decipher, especially via video screen.

“Make sure you do so, yes,” Achilles confirmed. “We hope your… experiences last year won’t keep you from completing your mission.”

“Of course not.” Shay was glad that they couldn’t see his hands under the table in front of him. He had clenched them tightly to keep the shaking from travelling to the other parts of his body. His anger was like a dark wave, rolling through his mind. Over six thousand people dead, he thought. And you don’t seem to bat an eye.

“Good.” Altaïr threw a glance at Achilles as he took over. “There is something else, Shay. It seems that things are on the move, elsewhere in the Templar Order. Other sources are telling us that they are planning something large, a major Templar operation the likes of which we haven’t seen in decades.”

“’They’? Kenway?” Shay asked.

“Not just the North American Rite,” Altaïr said, shaking his head slightly. “The entire Order. The Canadian, Japanese and Mesoamerican Rites are starting to move, and we’ve been recording increased activity from almost every other major Rite. You are sure that you haven’t noticed anything?”

“No.” Shay frowned. “The only unusual thing was a slight increase in the amount of bank transfers and buying of assets in certain digital marketing companies. But I’ve already mentioned that in my report.”

“Either way, there is something much larger at work here.” Altaïr seemed rather unsatisfied with Shay’s answer. “Inform us immediately about anything unusual, but in particular about any happenings connected to the different Rites we just mentioned.”

“Will do, sir.” Shay nodded. Despite his growing dissatisfaction with the Brotherhood, he was intrigued. It was the stuff every novice’s dreams were made of – a large conspiracy that needed unraveling, a chance to prove oneself, to save the world. A year ago, he and Liam would’ve been beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of a mission like this. And even now, he could feel an inkling of excitement inside him, the deep-seated urge to find out more and be the first one to solve the puzzle. It was almost enough to cut through the grey fog that still seemed to cloud his mind on most days when he wasn’t fucking his boss or sampling the contents of his liquor cabinet at home.

“Good.” None of the four men on the other side of the screen seemed wholly satisfied, but neither of them voiced any of their concerns. The mental health of a lowly Assassin like him probably wasn’t of the biggest concern to them, Shay guessed, almost frowning at his own bleak humour and fatalism. He knew for a fact that the Brotherhood did care; they had counselling sessions, therapists at hand in at least some of their centres, with some of its members steadily pushing for more. It was just that they didn’t really seem to care much about him.

“You still have the burner phone we gave you?” Achilles asked. Shay nodded in response and Achilles sighed. “Keep it on you at all times. With an operation of this scale, they will be even more alert than usual, and we need to be able to find you quickly, should something go wrong.”

“Thank you.” Shay’s fingers were already hovering over the button that would end their conversation, suddenly tired of the neverending scrutiny from the Council. “I’ll always have it on me.”

“That’s all then,” Altaïr stated, the official signal that their call had indeed reached its end. Shay stared into the empty screen for several minutes after the connection had been cut. His hands fingered the aforementioned burner phone for a moment before he eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen isle.

With a resolve whose rarity that should have concerned him, he chose to forego the alcohol for the night and move towards bed instead, even though he knew that sleep wouldn’t find him. Too many things kept knocking around in his head; too many worries of what he had gotten himself into, too much anger, not just directed at the Assassins, but the world in general; too much dread, stemming from the rare moment of clarity when he pondered the inevitably bloody end that seemed to await him on his path, no matter which direction it would take in the future.  

He could only hope that it wouldn’t be the blood of innocents that was being spilled again.

*

It was, in its own way, almost frightening how little Shay’s official working relationship with Haytham had changed.

He came into Haytham’s office, catching the last words of a phone conversation on the way in.

“Good. Give them the go-ahead and let me know if any complications arise. I expect a full report later.” He gestured for Shay to come closer as he spoke, before putting the phone back down.

“Your coffee, sir.” Shay nodded at the cup in his hands when Haytham looked up at him. “And the list of today’s meetings.”

“Thank you, Shay.” There was only the shadow of a smile on Haytham’s face when he took the cup, but his fingers very deliberately brushed over Shay’s. Shay hated how such a simple touch already electrified him. It became harder and harder for him to separate the man whose body he was helplessly and foolishly attracted to from the Grand Master of the Templar Order he was supposed to spy on. And the fact that he had started to develop a grudging respect for the Haytham Kenway himself was something he’d rather not dwell on at all. Such thoughts were far too dangerous.

Shay cleared his throat, pointedly looking down at the sheaf of papers in front of him, rather than at Haytham’s face.

“I’m also supposed to remind you from Lucy that you are supposed to pick up your son from the airport this evening, sir.” Shay certainly took a peculiar sort of pleasure from the little twitch that travelled across Haytham’s face at the word ‘sir’, knowing all too well how adept Shay was at employing it in the most diverse of ways during their more physical encounters.

“I am aware,” Haytham sighed, with a glance at his mobile. “He has been texting me pictures of the newest arrivals at the closest shelter the entire week.”

Shay bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. “Then I wish you the best of luck for the coming week, sir.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” With another sigh, Haytham looked over at his computer and then back up at Shay. “You should go through the safety schedule for the week with Gist. There are several meetings where I would like to have both of you present.”

“Of course.” Shay nodded. He started to turn around, but hesitated. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“Not at the moment, no. Unless there is something you would like to talk about?” Haytham was well aware that Shay was fighting his own fair share of demons and doing so rather badly. Shay sometimes wondered whether it had been Monro who’d put him up to peppering hints about mental health in their conversations. The fact that they kept having sex only seemed to complicate matters in that regard – the both annoying and unexpectedly soft thing about Haytham was that he never initiated any of their sexual encounters, despite proving himself more than willing throughout the act. Shay knew that it was solely due to him not wanting to abuse his station, but he still wished he would see some more initiative from him. Not that Haytham lacked authority in any other area – he was still as demanding and relentless as ever as Shay’s boss, if not more so than before.

“Nothing.” Shay gave him a nod and left the office to find Gist, feeling the weight of Haytham’s gaze on his back.

“Shay! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Gist was as welcoming and exuberant as ever when Shay entered his little office. “Care to join me for some lunch?”

“Always.” Shay gave him a grin and settled down next to Gist, eyeing the cartons of Chinese takeout on the table. “How come you always have food leftover when I decide to drop by?”

“Oh, I might or might not have known that you were planning on coming.” Gist winked but didn’t elaborate. Shay laughed and gripped his shoulder before sitting down.

“Keep your secrets then,” he joked. “I brought the safety schedule for the next ten days along, as per Haytham’s suggestion. We should have a look, make sure that everything’s going to plan and iron out any potential weaknesses.”

“Sounds good,” Gist nodded amicably. For a short while they sat and enjoyed their food, before Gist spoke again, waving his chopsticks through the air. There was still a trace of his usual good humour in his face, but it was overlaid by something more serious.

“Do you plan on going anywhere exciting for your holiday this year?” he wanted to know. An innocent enough question, but still unexpected. Shay frowned.

“Holiday? I’m not even sure-“

“Don’t tell me you aren’t planning on taking one. You haven’t had any time off since the company was closed for Christmas. It’s been four months. Spring break is coming. You even worked New Year’s.” Gist seemed incredulous.

“Not…really?” Shay busied himself with his food, decidedly not meeting Gist’s gaze. “I don’t know. I mean. It’s not like I have any family to visit or go on holiday with and on my own…” He shrugged.

“Surely you have friends, though.” Gist shook his head. “Or, hell, just go somewhere on your own. I’ve done it myself often enough; travelling on your own can be quite enjoyable, really.”

“Uh.” Shay didn’t quite know what to say. The concept of a holiday, of the personal freedom to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, hadn’t really existed for him thus far. He was vaguely aware that some of the more senior members of the Brotherhood maintained their own private lives on the side, some even taking a break from time to time. It had never really been a question for him, however. As a child there was never enough money for an actual holiday in the family. And the rest of his life he had grown up with the Brotherhood, spent every waking moment working either with or for them. The Brotherhood was his life. “I don’t. I’m not sure? I’ve never really had the money for travelling. And friends…” He shrugged again.

“There must be something that you enjoy doing in your time off.” Gist stared at him as if he was an alien from another planet.

“Videogames? Does that count?”

“It does. But you can’t tell me that that’s all you’re doing in your spare time, though. What else is there?”

Well, usually I try to get drunk enough that I can sleep, even though the nightmares wake me up halfway through the night anyway, Shay thought darkly. It wasn’t like he could say so out loud, however; instead, he simply shrugged again and grimaced. Gist sighed quietly in response.

“Looks like I might have to try and drag you along on various activities, then. But either way – you should really take a break at some point.”

“I know, I know. I think I got the point.” Shay’s smile was slightly lopsided, but hopefully took the sting out of his words. He couldn’t deny that he was getting slightly fed up with everyone’s worry about him, even if it was justified. “Now that you’ve been harking at me to take a break, what’s your next one going to be? Are you going anywhere?”

“Not sure yet. But I have most of June off, so…perhaps I’ll go back to Baltimore for a bit.”

“Baltimore? Wh-“

Shay never found out what exactly it was that was so special about Baltimore. His phone went off and, after frowning at the unknown caller number, he was surprised to hear Maria’s voice on the other end. She sounded slightly out of breath.

“There’s a woman downstairs at the reception, asking for you,” she told him. “The receptionist tried to call your office, but she said you weren’t in, just as I walked past. Whoever seems asking for you seems slightly upset, so I offered to call your mobile.”

“Uh. Thanks?” Shay’s mind went into overdrive, trying to catch up with everything that Maria was saying. Who could the woman be? He came up blank, even as he grabbed his bag and mouthed an apology in Gist’s direction. Gist only gave a quiet nod and thumbs-up in response. “Did she give you her name?”

There was a moment of silence before Maria spoke again.

“Nadja?” Pronounced in what was meant to emulate a German accent. Shay almost slammed into Gist’s office door, forgetting to breathe for a moment. There was only one person he knew who used the German pronunciation of the Slavic version of her forename’s meaning as a cover.

*

“What on earth are you doing here?” Shay resisted the urge to raise his fists. It wouldn’t have done him any good anyway. Not against her.

“I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t urgent.” Hope shot a sharp gaze at him.

“What could possible so urgent as to almost blow my cover? Do you even realise how dangerous-“

“I do realise, Shay.” Hope’s glare could have turned a volcano to ice. “You forget that I still outrank you. I know about your mission and its importance, and I know about the danger of waltzing into a centre of Templar activity unprotected.”

“If you knew, then why?” Shay had to run a little to catch up with Hope again. She was walking fast, evidently expecting him to follow.

“Because Liam is in danger. And you are the only other Assassin close enough to help.”

“Liam?” Shay grabbed Hope’s arm, forcing her to stop. “Hope, tell me what’s happening.”

A bolt of angry lighting flashed through Hope’s eyes as she wrenched her arm out of his grip and began walking again. There was a car waiting on the other side of the alleyway, and she motioned at him to take a seat whilst she slipped behind the steering wheel.

“The Templars attacked one of our two main quarters here. We don’t know where they got the information from, but they were over us like a thunderstorm. Liam and I were in Boston for a mission – he stayed to nail down the last bits of mission prep whilst I went out to grab lunch. He managed to fire off a warning call before the line broke down. I don’t know what’s happening inside, I don’t know who’s dead or alive. Ezio and Adéwalé are on their way down here, but it’ll take them several hours. The police has been told to stay away for now, although I don’t know how long that’ll hold, seeing how many of them are probably in the Templar’s pockets. I need at least one other full Assassin at my back before doing this, so you’re coming with me.”

Shay’s memory immediately catapulted him back to Haytham’s phone call earlier. Give them the go-ahead.

“Oh, fuck.” He closed his eyes for a moment, hiding his face behind his hands. How had he not known? How could he have been so blind? If Liam died…

And all because you couldn’t keep your dick inside your pants, Shay thought. If he had only paid more attention to the happenings around Haytham, put more effort into uncovering the Templar plots. Perhaps he could’ve seen it all coming.

“Yes,” Hope said pointedly, evidently aware of where his thoughts were going. She proceeded to give him a rundown of the general layout of the building (as if he didn’t know) and go over everything they knew once more. When she was done, she nodded at the car’s backseat. “I brought some weapons along, too.”

Shay took the hint and reached into back, pulling the gym bag he found there to the front. It contained the usual tools of their trade, two firearms, various knives and smaller items. And-

“Where did you get another hidden blade from?” Shay asked, even as he strapped the contraption to his forearm. The hidden blades of their historical predecessors had been large and bulky things, difficult to hide; nowadays they were sleek and so well designed that their presence was barely noticeable, even underneath his well-fitted suit jacket. He had his own, securely hidden in his flat, that had been tailored exactly to him, but for now this replacement would do. He was still surprised that Hope had it, however – given that the hidden blades were usually kept under lock and key in their headquarter.

Hope breathed out through her nose at the question.

“Let’s just say that I anticipated that something like this would happen for a while now. I’ve made…contingencies.”

The answer was really no answer at all, but plainly the only hint she was willing to give. Shay sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, internally willing her to drive faster. At least he had taken the rest of the day off, with the explanation that his flat had been flooded by an unfortunate neighbour.

“Alright, what’s the plan?” Shay asked when they finally arrived. The building looked utterly normal from the outside, with no hint of what was going on inside its walls – except for the fact that the road was utterly deserted, due to the announcement of a ‘gas leak’.

“I take the main entrance, you go in via the roof. Avoid using your firearms as much as you can so we don’t alert the neighbours. Be careful – we don’t know how many attackers there are. There were three Assassins inside the building including Liam when they attacked, your first priority is to get them out safely if they’re still inside. I will make sure that they haven’t gained access to any valuable information.”

“Alright.” It wasn’t like he had much space to argue either way, even though he wasn’t keen on being the only one tasked with the safety of the Assassins.

There was an odd elation when he climbed one of the neighbouring buildings to get access to the roof. Shay had always enjoyed the practical aspects of his work the most and although he’d been able to squeeze in a little practise in his spare time, it had been months since he had been on a proper mission.

To his surprise, the roof was empty of any guards or snipers. The little earpiece that Hope had brought told him that she had entered the building. Shay mirrored her movements, discovering, to his surprise, that the top floor was utterly deserted. He moved from room to room, slowly and methodically checking them all, but finding nothing more than some unused bedrooms and an old library with mostly uninteresting dusty books. He began to doubt that anyone alive was still left in the building as he slowly descended the stairs down to the third level.

Before rounding the corner, he crouched and closed his eyes. His hearing had always been particularly fine. It didn’t let him down this time either – he could hear muffled footsteps in the hallway below as someone was slowly walking up and down, clearly not in a hurry.

Shay closed his eyes, piecing together the layout of the building with what he was hearing to paint a clear picture of what was going on ahead. He waited until the Templar had turned around and was walking back down the hallway again, away from him. He carefully eased a throwing knife away from his belt in the meantime. His approach was soundless as he took the last few steps downwards and slipped around the corner. A quick flick of the wrist, and the Templar crumpled on the ground, a knife neatly embedded in her throat.

The woman was almost dead when Shay reached her and collected his knife again. There was a glint of recognition in the Templar’s eyes, but no words left her mouth, only a soft gurgle as she bled her last. Shay frowned; he wondered where he’d met her before, his usually so accurate memory deserting him. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and closed the Templar’s eyes, a strange feeling pulling at his chest for just a moment.

It disappeared when he could hear a muffled scream.

Liam.

Shay forced himself to stay calm (something he had never been really good at, according to Achilles), instead of immediately taking off in the direction of the scream. He closed his eyes and listened again.

There were at least two more people on this floor, one of them Liam, the other seemingly pacing up and down in front of him. They were in the room two doors down on Shay’s left, which he vaguely recalled as housing a small kitchenette and a few tables to eat at.

He crept closer bit by bit, barely holding back a curse when he saw the traces of blood leading into the first room on his left. A quick glance inside confirmed what he’d feared; the corpse of one of his brothers was on the floor, his throat one single gaping wound. Shay did nothing but stare at him for almost half a minute. He’d known Johnathan, even if not particularly well. But he was more than just a name printed on a page, he was someone Shay had actual memories of. Shay had seen the corpses of one of his siblings in the Creed before, but this…somehow it was different.

He forced his fingers to stop shaking, taking another deep breath as he made his way towards the room where Liam was being held. Another curse almost escaped him when he saw that the door to the room was closed – there was no way he could simply sneak in and kill the second Templar undetected. That left only one other option…

Shay prayed that his hearing had been correct, and there was truly no other Templar on this floor. Then he pulled his gun and, positioning himself right next to the door, fired two shots in rapid succession. The sound was loud enough to make his ears ring and he almost missed the moment the door slammed open to reveal the second Templar. The man had barely enough time to react before Shay swept his legs out from underneath him and buried his hidden blade in his throat. He died more quickly than the first Templar and Shay took a moment to calm his rapid breathing, waiting for the adrenaline to recede. Then he turned and looked at Liam.

“Shay?” Liam coughed. There was a cut on his forehead, and he tried to blink away the blood that had dribbled into the one eye that wasn’t almost swollen shut. “Didn’t fancy seeing you here.”

“I can leave again, if you want me to.” Shay walked closer; he didn’t have to put any fake concern into his voice, as he truly was worried. Liam looked like the Templars had indeed been very keen on getting information from him. At least, despite the bruises and evidently broken bones, none of the injuries seemed life-threatening. “However, if you don’t want to spend the rest of the day tied to this chair, I suggest you hold still and let me save you.”

“Never thought I’d end up being the damsel in distress,” Liam murmured, his voice slurring around the edges.

“Mhm.” Shay severed the ties that bound Liam’s bloody wrists and bent down to do the same for his ankles. “Savour the moment. I won’t always be there to play knight in shining armour for you. What information did they want anyway?”

“If you’re supposed to be a knight in shining armour, the Brotherhood seriously needs to read up on chivalry again.” Liam carefully flexed his fingers, spitting a curse when he jostled his evidently broken wrist. “They wanted to know what information we have on the Precursor Artefacts. And where we would keep this kind of information.”

Shay frowned. This was an awfully specific goal; there was little chance that this attack on the Assassins had been random after all.

“I didn’t tell them anything, of course,” Liam added, as he tried to get up from the chair. He didn’t make it very far before he stumbled. Shay reached out to catch him and gently eased him back down.

“I can see that,” he remarked, gesturing at Liam’s battered body. “Stay here. I’ll contact Hope and, once we can be sure that the building is clear, we’ll get an ambulance.”

“You’re funny. As if I’d be walking anywhere on my own right now.” Liam coughed again and grimaced. “Fucking Templars.”

'Fucking Templars' indeed, Shay thought darkly.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, sir.” Shay tried to school his face into an unreadable mask, and only barely managed to do so.

“No, no I understand.” Haytham sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m sorry for your loss. Hopefully your family affairs won’t take too long to sort out.”

“Thank you.” Shay took a deep breath, hoping that his voice wouldn’t betray him. “I hope I’ll be back by next week. Most of the funeral arrangements have already been made, thankfully.”

“Take your time. You have a rather impressive amount of unused holiday days and overtime anyway.” Haytham’s hand dropped back onto the table, his gaze meeting Shay’s. “I will be able to make do without your…company for the next week, I’m sure. Especially since I have two funerals of my own to attend, it seems.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shay said again. “I will let you know as soon as I return. And my condolences.”

“Good.” Haytham gave him a nod, a clear sign that he was dismissed. Shay made sure that his steps were slow and measured as he withdrew. It was important to appear normal. He could feel the assistant’s gaze on him after leaving Haytham’s office, but he didn’t dare turn back to talk to them.

He had almost made it to the ground floor when a familiar face joined him in the elevator.

“Maria.” Shay cleared his throat, trying not to look at her. Maria’s gaze had the rare quality of being even more piercing than Haytham’s. He always felt that she was capable of stripping away all of his defences with a single gaze and see straight into his soul.

“Shay. I heard what happened; I’m so sorry.” Her voice sounded utterly sincere.

“Thank you.” Shay swallowed. “It was unexpected. I didn’t quite know how to react when H- Nadja told me.”

“Is that why she came? I was wondering who she was.” From the corner of his eyes, Shay could see a non-committal smile crossing Maria’s face.

“She’s a friend of the family. Apparently, she thought it was best to tell me in person, rather than making a call. My aunt and I didn’t have the…best relationship, but she was one of the few living relatives I have left, so…” Shay shrugged.

“I understand.” Maria reached out and placed a hand on his arm, just as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and its doors slid open. “A former friend of my husband’s died recently, and his emotions were somewhat similar to yours, I believe.”

“It’ll take some time to sort through.” Shay exited the elevator, half expecting Maria to stay behind or go a different way. Instead, she walked up to him and grasped his arm again, guiding them away into a different corner of the entrance hall. One that was remarkably out of sight of the numerous security cameras around, Shay noticed.

“Don’t take too long, Shay,” she said. There was no avoiding her gaze now, and once again Shay was certain that Maria knew far more than she was letting on.

“What do you mean?” He was beginning to grow sick and tired of the lies upon lies that kept accumulating around him.

“Just that you should be careful. Haytham isn’t quite who you think he is; you shouldn’t forget that.” Her eyes were earnest with concern. It was that worry which threw Shay off the most; he wasn’t used to people caring about him like this, least of all relative strangers (and Templars to boot).

Perhaps he isn’t the only one who’s hiding something, Shay thought, but did not dare to say so out loud. Despite her obvious sympathy, Maria was still a Templar.

“I’m sure I can manage,” he said instead.

“I hope you can,” Maria told him. “Whatever you’re about to do, I hope it’ll be worth it.”

Shay was almost tempted to ask her whether she knew about his alliance with the Brotherhood, but he thought better at the last moment. Maria didn’t give him any more opportunities to reply, either, squeezing his arm one last time before she moved away. Shay was left to stare after her, wondering how much she truly knew.

*

Shay had to take a moment to compose himself after stepping through the gateway to The Farm. It had taken him a full day to travel all the way here from Boston, and he’d spent every single minute of his trip thinking about what would be expecting him here. He hadn’t been at this facility since he had officially finished his training as an apprentice, although he’d heard that there were multiple such training facilities that the Assassins maintained throughout Northern America, with the largest of them located in South Dakota.

He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was feeling – some of his fondest memories were from this place, as well as some of his least favourite ones. It had certainly played a pivotal role during his life either way.

“Shay.” Adéwalé nodded at him as he entered the main building. “I’m glad to see that you could make it here so quickly.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice.” And indeed, he hadn’t – his summons to The Farm had very clearly been an order, one that it would not have been wise to disobey. “I did my best to come as soon as I could.”

“I hope you forged a convincing cover story.” Adéwalé seemed almost impervious to Shay’s tired insubordination, although there was the hint of an annoyed glint in his eyes.

“I did. Family death.” Shay shrugged, yawning a little. It was late, and he hoped that he wouldn’t be summoned to the Council before the next day. “Everyone appeared convinced enough.”

“Good.” Adéwalé nodded. “It should hold for now – we will put an obituary in the newspaper, if you give us the details.”

“Will do.” Shay rolled his shoulders. “How’s Liam?”

“Better. It will take some time before he will be cleared to be on active duty again, however.” Adéwalé sighed. “This time would be substantially shorter if you could convince him to actually stay in bed.”

“I’ll do my best.” Shay threw a lopsided grin his way. “Where is he?”

“In the infirmary in the East Building. Your own room is above the old stables – I’m sure you remember the way to both.”

“I do.”

“Good. We expect you in front of the Council tomorrow at 8am. Make sure that you’re on time.”

“Understood.”

Adéwalé gave him another nod, before he left to return to his own duties. Shay made his way to his own room, quietly grateful that he didn’t have to sleep in the overcrowded dorm with the other novices anymore. After unpacking his duffel bag, he went to find Liam.

Liam looked far better than he had the last time Shay had seen him, being loaded into the back of an ambulance. He still didn’t appear entirely healthy, however, his face a shade too pale and arm and hand in a cast where the Templars had broken bones in their effort to get answers out of him. His other injuries were hidden beneath a blanket.

“Shay,” Liam said, looking him up and down. “Didn’t think you’d come all the way out here. Are you here to join the long line of Assassins who keep trying to smother me in their sympathy?”

“I was asked by the Council to come in for a personal report.” Shay walked fully into the room, closing the door behind him. “Being able to see you was an added bonus.”

“You really know how to make a man feel special.” Liam grimaced, the answer still slightly lacking in his usual bite. “Do you know what they want from you?”

“They didn’t say.” Shay shrugged. “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Best of luck, then. You’ll need it.”

Shay pulled out a chair next to Liam’s bed and frowned. “What do you mean, ‘I’ll need it’?”

“Well.” Liam gestured with his healthy arm and grimaced when the movement jostled his bruised body. “There is only one, very obvious, source that Kenway could have gotten the information about our hideout from. And they wouldn’t call you in for something trivial.”

Shay could feel his fingers clenching into a fist.

“And you? Do you believe I was the traitor?” He raised his eyes then, directly meeting Liam’s gaze. It was Liam who looked away first, clearly uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, seemingly forcing out the words one by one. “You’ve changed. I can’t tell anymore.”

“I came and saved your fucking life.” And there it was again, the anger running through him so bright and hot, like liquid iron in his veins. “That should be answer enough for you.”

Liam frowned at the heat in his voice. He threw back the blanket and laboriously sat up, until his legs were dangling over the side of the bed, his knees almost touching Shay’s.

“It should,” he agreed. “But I guess I’ve grown slightly more careful after my recent…encounter with the Templars. I’ll have enough scars and nightmares to remind me of it for the rest of my life.”

Shay leaned forward a little. The anger hadn’t fully subsided, but it had cooled down just enough for him to feel in control of his motions again. He reached into the small bag he’d brought with him, pulling out a large pack of Twizzlers. Liam’s eyes lit up at the sight, a small smile playing around his lips.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” he said.

“Of course I did.” Shay handed him the pack, watching as Liam immediately ripped it open to start devouring one of the long red strands. When he offered him one, Shay turned it down with a little laugh. “When we were novices, you kept going on and on about how much you loved Twizzlers and how much you hated that we never got any here. I figured the situation on The Farm hadn’t changed.”

“The food is still abominably healthy, yeah. Especially in the Infirmary,” Liam confirmed, chewing happily.

“Well. I still remember what happened the first time we got hold of a pack.” Shay watched with no small amount of glee how Liam choked on his Twizzler. He couldn’t help but add: “That’s almost the exact same sound you made when you tried to give me your first blowjob.”

“I hate you, Shay. You know that? I hate you.” Liam was gasping for air and whether his face was red from choking or a remnant of the embarrassment from that first night, Shay couldn’t tell. “You weren’t really faring any better though, were you.”

“I wasn’t.” Shay shrugged, still squirming a little at the memory. “Although you have to admit, a nest of hay might sound romantic, but is a terrible place for sex in reality. You can’t blame me for complaining and wanting to move somewhere else in the middle of it.”

“I think I was still finding bits of hay in my clothes days later,” Liam agreed cheerfully. “Still, it could’ve been worse. I guess.”

“I pulled a damn piece of straw out of my ass in the shower later that day,” Shay grumbled. The memory was still far too vivid for his taste. Liam just looked at him for a moment before breaking out into haltless laughter.

“Wow, we really were young and dumb back then, weren’t we.” He shook his head, the hint of a smile still lingering at the edge of his mouth.

“We were,” Shay confirmed. “Though we haven’t really grown any wiser.”

“Speak for yourself.” Liam cocked an eyebrow at him as he fished another Twizzler out of the pack.

“You certainly haven’t. Or you would never subscribe to the theory that I had willingly given the Templars any information about the Assassins.” Shay couldn’t help but poke the bear again. The accusation still rankled.

“How are we supposed to know?” Liam’s eyes hardened, the good cheer that had been in the air quickly disappearing.

“Because,” Shay leaned forward even further, one of his hands grasping Liam’s knee and squeezing, “if I’d truly switched sides, you’d all be dead.”

“You’re such a prick,” Liam growled. He put the pack of Twizzlers aside, his healthy hand closing around Shay’s wrist like an iron vice. “I can’t believe I kept fucking you.”

“Me neither.” Instead of trying to free his hand from Liam’s grip, Shay leaned forwards, until his other hand was gripping Liam’s other thigh, not far away from where he’d been stabbed with a knife and definitely closer to his groin than was decent.

Liam only hissed something unintelligible under his breath before he pulled Shay close, crushing their mouths together. As much as Shay was loathe to admit it, a part of him had missed this, longed for it even now, the way that Liam’s hands were anything but gentle on his body, the way his teeth were digging into his flesh, how his breath hitched against Shay’s skin when he was digging into Liam’s wounds just so. As per mutual agreement, they had never really been gentle with each other.

Shay pushed Liam back against the bed before climbing over him, careful not put any pressure on his broken bones. Despite his anger, and their preference for roughness during sex, he had no desire to seriously hurt him.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms here, do you.” Shay’s voice was breathless as he nipped at Liam’s lips, tearing at his shirt even as Liam’s hand dug deep grooves into his back.

“In the bloody infirmary? Don’t be dense.” Liam snorted, followed by a harsh moan as Shay reached that spot right behind his ear. “I think there’s some Vaseline in the cupboard over there though.”

“I’m not fucking you without a condom,” Shay hissed between two sharp breaths. Liam’s fingers had already made their way down towards his ass. “Forget it.”

“Use your damn fingers then.” Liam pulled him close until their groins were rubbing against each other, and Shay could feel himself growing almost painfully hard. He hated how aroused he was already by nothing but a few touches and Liam’s dirty curses.

Liam’s thoughts seemed to move along similar lines. He bucked up against Shay’s touched with a quiet hiss, a pained growl leaving him as he evidently aggravated his injuries.

“Always so impatient,” Shay murmured. He bit into the soft flesh of Liam’s neck, listened to the curse coming out Liam’s mouth and slid off him in a single motion, throwing a smirk in his direction. His saunter towards the cupboard to retrieve the Vaseline would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn’t been hindered by his own erection.

“Shut up.” Liam growled, rolling his eyes. “Come back here and fuck me.”

And for once, Shay did as he was told.

*

“Shay.” The expression on Ezio’s face was rather serious as he welcomed Shay into the room. Adéwalé was standing a half-step behind him, mustering Shay with eagle eyes. His gaze was so intense that Shay was certain Adéwalé knew of his little ill-advised tryst with Liam the previous evening.

“Mentor.” Shay inclined his head, just far enough to still be respectful. Adéwalé received the same greeting. He returned it with a miniscule nod, before motioning towards the large table that was usually used for council meetings and any other official business the Assassins had at the The Farm. Shay declined a seat, opting to stand in front of the table instead, with his hands clasped behind his back. He remembered this room only too well. He’d lost count of how many times he’d stood in the exact same spot as a novice with Liam at his side, being reprimanded for one thing or another.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening yesterday?” Adéwalé asked, and if Shay had been looking for any more confirmation that Adéwalé knew, he could definitely stop now.

“I did.” Shay cleared his throat, determined to keep his back straight and his chin up. He offered no more explanation, however.

“Good.” Adéwalé exchanged a glance with Ezio.

“Thank you for providing us with the full report on the attack in Boston a few days ago,” Ezio took over. “As you might have guessed, we still have several questions, and there are a number of decisions to be made, especially in light of other recent developments.”

“Of course.” Shay kept his voice as non-committal as he possibly could.

“How did Kenway find out about our local Boston quarters?” Ezio asked. “Surely, you must have some idea, having worked with him for so long now.”

“I did not tell him, if that’s what your asking.” Shay bit out the words one by one. “He has a number of agents, not all of which I’ve met. I’ve given you the identity of the informants I know of.”

Ezio cleared his throat, the only visible reaction to Shay’s angry statement.

“We’ll look further into the matter. For now, we can at least say that neither of the two Templars you killed recovered any information of worth.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Shay took a deep breath, deciding to forge ahead with the other questions he had. “Has a date and time been set for the wake yet?”

It was custom for a wake to be held for any of their fallen siblings in the Creed – Shay had only seen Johnathan’s corpse, but Hope had found Laura’s when searching the lower levels. She had been barely more than a novice, there to shadow Johnathan on his mission. Whilst being one of their most promising recruits, she hadn’t stood a chance alone against two fully armed Templars.

“The wake was held yesterday,” Adéwalé said, meeting Shay’s gaze. As if he dared to challenge him.

“Ah.” Of course. Nobody wants a potential traitor in their midst. It still stung. He had known these people. The least he could have done was to pay his respects.

“We asked you here for a different reason,” Ezio took over from Adéwalé, not allowing Shay to dwell on what had just happened. “We’ve received word from various different cities within the Brotherhood on this continent. It seems like the attack in Boston a few days ago wasn’t the only such occurrence; at least five other centres of the Brotherhood were compromised. All of them with the apparent goal of finding information about the Precursor Artefacts, although we were able to keep at least some of it hidden. We lost ten Assassins to the Templars, and eight of theirs died, including the ones you allegedly killed.”

Ten Assassins dead. And eight Templars. Shay took a shaky breath. The war between them had always been bloody, even in modern times. But this was a high number of lives snuffed out within a single week, far too high. Ezio was silent, the weight of his and Adéwalé’s stares at Shay an almost physical assault. It took Shay a moment to catch up on where their thoughts must have been going.

“You still think it was me. You think I sold us all out.” He clenched his fingers to keep them from shaking. “If you are so convinced, then why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“Because we aren’t convinced,” Ezio said. “Some of the Council less so than others.” He didn’t mention who it was that had clearly advocated for Shay’s death.

“Would I have come here alone if any of this was my fault? Shouldn’t there have been an army of Templars attacking the Farm and our other most secret hiding places if I’d given you all away?” Shay demanded to know. His knuckles were white; the shaking inside his body stemming not from fear, but unbridled fury. “I dedicated my life to the Brotherhood. A modicum of trust is the least I could expect in return.”

“Which is why we have decided to give you another chance to prove yourself.” Adéwalé raised a hand, as if to stem the flow of angry words from Shay’s mouth. “Kenway clearly knows too much about us. He has become too dangerous, too powerful.”

No. No, no, no. Shay knew exactly where this was going. But he could no more stop the words coming out of Adéwalé’s mouth than he could stop an avalanche with bare hands.

“He must be removed. It’ll be your final task in this mission. Kill him.”

Chapter Text

The office building was mostly dark at such a late hour. The lights in Haytham’s office were some of the few still on; although the blinds were drawn, Shay could see the occasional movement through them. He’d been watching the building for several days, hoping that Haytham would come in for a late night of work, as he was prone to when his son was visiting, as he usually spent most of the day with him.

Shay took a deep breath and rose from his seat, stretching a little to loosen his cramped muscles. He reached into the bag in front of him, putting on his weapons one by one – his hidden blade, favourite knife and handgun, an assortment of small throwing knives. He’d haven taken more weaponry, such as his beloved stun grenades, but he still had to be able to hide them beneath his normal work clothes, so as not to arouse suspicion when he entered the building.

It was only when he was testing the fit of his hidden blade for the third time that he realised that he was stalling. Shay looked out of the window again – Haytham was seemingly still in his office. Then he made his way downstairs and out of the building he’d been doing his stakeout from.

The security officer at the entrance to Kenway Industries was surprised to see him, but not suspicious, especially not when Shay shared a few commiserating sentences about being called in late for work on a Tuesday night with him. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest when he took the elevator up to the floor of Haytham’s office. The thoughts in his head were a swirling maelstrom of guilt, fear and burning anger. So many people were dead because of Haytham’s orders. And so many more because you carried out the Assassins’ orders, an unhelpful voice in his head whispered. What gives you the right to decide which side of the scales is heavier? And if not him, then who else?

The elevator slowed, the door opening once it had finally reached the correct floor and come to a stop. Shay felt the handkerchief hidden in his pockets, the one that he was supposed to soak in Haytham’s blood. His fingers kept trembling, even as he closed them around the hilt of his gun. Only a few more minutes. A few minutes, and it would all be over. Haytham had no way of knowing that he was coming.

He clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and kicked open the office door.

There was a blur on the other side, moving at the same time that Shay fired two bullets. One of them smacked harmlessly into the wall. The other-

Something slammed into his shoulder, sending a sharp arrow of pain jolting through his body and bringing him off balance. His head collided with the wooden doorframe behind him, throwing the door back into its lock and making him see stars for a moment. Shay groaned and blinked, raising his own gun when he could make out the shapes in front of him again.

“I wouldn’t.” Haytham’s voice sounded as calm and collected as if they were conversing over a cup of tea. The gun in his hands was aimed squarely at Shay’s forehead. Shay had no doubt that the bullet would find its aim should he move even a single inch. Haytham was an impressive shot. But so, apparently, was Shay, judging from the dark patch of blood on Haytham’s sleeve where one of Shay’s bullets was stuck in his arm. An eye for an eye, Shay thought, glancing down at the letter opener sticking out of his own shoulder.

“Sir.” Shay forced himself to calm his rugged breathing. He only had one shot. He would die for it, of course; but in his current predicament, it didn’t seem the worst solution. Haytham’s lips twitched slightly at the honorific.

“I was wondering when you would come,” he said. “I’m surprised it took you so long.”

“Apologies for disappointing you.” Shay swallowed. Just how much did Haytham know?

“’Disappointed’? Not quite. More…resigned, I guess. You Assassins are turning out to be a terribly predictable lot, after all.”

Well. That answered Shay’s question, at least.

“How long have you known?”

Haytham raised his eyebrows.

“From the beginning, of course. Oh, your…siblings in the Creed tried their very best and delivered quite passable work, but you didn’t seriously expect me to not vet any possible candidate for my personal assistant as thoroughly as possible, did you?”

The rage flooding through Shay almost made him squeeze the trigger, consequences be damned. He bared his teeth.

“Then it was all just a ruse? The meeting with Church. All the sessions with Weeks. Having Gist gain my trust. Taking me along on the hunt for the Artefacts. The-“

“-Sex? I’m afraid, that last point was utterly unplanned for.” Haytham rolled his shoulders ever so slightly, hissing when the movement jolted his injured arm. A strange expression flickered across gaze, leaving as quickly as it had come. “It seems I’m not free from weakness, after all.”

Shay fervently wished that the answer would’ve been different. He’d have preferred ice-cold manipulation to whatever it was that had sprung up between them.

“And Gist does truly like you,” Haytham continued. “He didn’t know of your…true allegiance. His acting skills are subpar at best, I’m afraid. The same goes for Colonel Monro, by the way.”

“Then who knew?” Shay demanded. His hands were beginning to shake ever so slightly, as it became harder and harder for him to hold them straight through the pain of his injured shoulder.

“I did, of course. Lucy. Maria found out somehow, I presume; she usually does.” Shay noticed Haytham’s gaze flickering to the clock on the wall above him. Playing for time, then.

“I should shoot you right here and now. For everything you did.” Not exactly an eloquent reply, but then, verbal sparring had never exactly been Shay’s strength. He much preferred physical means.

“And yet, you can’t, or you would have done so already. I’m impressed, by the way. It seems I slightly underestimated your skills.” Haytham lifted his arms a little. “If you expect me to beg for my life, use my son’s love as a bargaining chip or give you the grand speech about how the Templars are always right, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you.”

“Then why am I here? Why am I still alive? Why not kill me the hundreds of times when you had the chance?” Despite knowing that precious seconds were ticking away, Shay couldn’t help but ask. He needed the answer.

“You know, I am not sure, as loathe as I am to admit it. Because I held out hopes that you would see the futility of your Assassin ways, perhaps. Or because I thought you would lead me to some of the secrets your Brotherhood likes to harbour. In time, a conveniently planted tracker might have revealed useful locations. At least, your presence never bored me.”

I guess I should feel lucky that he hasn’t planted a tracker on me yet, Shay thought. The image of a host of Templars descending on The Farm was the stuff of his nightmares, despite his thorough anti-surveillance checks.

“It almost sounds like a compliment.” Shay snorted softly, eyes never moving away from Haytham, waiting for a single moment of attention that he could use. Unfortunately, Haytham knew exactly what he was doing. “So, what do we do now?”

“You could rid the world of us both, if you so wish.” Haytham arched a brow. “Or lower your gun and walk straight out of here. I cannot promise that you will live, but for the sake of our…entanglement…I might be persuaded to give you a decent head start before Charles finds you.”

Shay laughed.

“How uncharacteristically sentimental of you, sir. Still…” There was the sudden sound of a motorcycle misfiring outside, but unfortunately, the weight of Haytham’s gaze on him didn’t waver. Whatever distractions Shay could think up, they wouldn’t work. If you find yourself caught in a bind, do the unexpected, Ezio’s voice suddenly sprang into his mind. Well. Whatever Haytham was waiting for, it would likely happen soon. If Shay wanted to do anything, he would have to do it now.

“…it might surprise you to hear, but you really are a damn good fuck. Perhaps, if things had been different…” There was the tiniest flicker of surprise in Haytham’s eyes at the last words, but Shay barely paid attention to it. He dropped his gun, ducking at the same time and sprinting forwards in a roll, bringing the large and solid desk in between him and Haytham’s gun. He ripped the letter opener out of his shoulder with a curse. A shot rang out, but, as he’d hoped, just a millisecond too late. He could feel the heat of the bullet whizzing a hair’s breadth over his head.

Move, move, keep moving.

Shay reached around his belt and drew one of his throwing knives, blindly reaching over the table’s edge and throwing it in Haytham’s direction. A bullet made the table’s wood splinter in reply, where his head had been only a thought before. Shay reached out and threw a second knife over the edge to his right, then looped around the left just as another two shots rang out, praying he would be just one decisive moment faster than Haytham. Luckily, the end of the table was just large enough to hide him.

Shay paused for a single breath, easing a third and fourth throwing knife into his hand. He only had one chance. He glanced around the corner, saw Haytham level his gun, and threw the first of the two. As predicted, Haytham leaned out of the knife’s way to his left – and right into the path of the second knife that buried itself in his stomach with an altogether too-soft noise and a curse from his lips.

Two more bullets whizzed through the air, one of them digging a bloody grove into the side of his neck, not deep enough to harm, but deep enough to hurt. Seven. If he’d identified Haytham’s firearm correctly, his magazine should be empty now. Only one way to find out before he had time to reload.

Shay threw himself around the side of the table again, not hesitating a single moment before launching himself at Haytham and making a grab for the gun in his hand. However, Haytham had realised how useless his firearm was, dropping it before Shay’s hands could close around his wrist. Instead, he brought his elbow around to ram into Shay’s throat. Shay blocked the hit and brought his other arm down, reaching for the hilt of the knife still in Haytham’s belly. 

Haytham twisted out of the way, but Shay’s grasp still touched the knife’s handle. Haytham’s body went rigid with the pain, before he brought his knee up, aiming for Shay’s groin with a curse. At the same time, Shay threw himself at Haytham with all his mind, aiming to bring him off balance, just as Haytham’s knee connected. Shay howled in pain as they both fell to the ground, his injured shoulder slamming into the floor. For a moment they both attempted to regain their balance before Shay reached out towards Haytham again.

Their fight continued, both of them rolling across the floor snarling and fighting like two boys in the schoolyard. Somehow Shay hadn’t expected Haytham to fight dirty – with his arrogance and British accent he seemed like the kind of fighter that would try and do things ‘properly’. As if the knee to the groin hadn’t been hint enough, he soon found out that nothing could be further from the truth. Haytham fought with every dirty trick in the book, and one or two that were new even to Shay. He retaliated as best as he could, meeting every kick and punch with one of his own or trying to evade it. The only reason that neither of them had gained the upper hand so far was, most likely, due to their injuries.

In the end, it was sheer luck that decided it.

Haytham pulled back his arm for another swing in Shay’s direction but slammed into a bookshelf with his injured upper arm instead. The wooden edge must’ve directly impacted the bullet wound since Haytham drew back with a howl, losing a few precious seconds to the shock travelling through his body. A few seconds was all Shay needed.

He moved forward, pushing Haytham into the wall behind them with full force, leaving him dazed. His fingers engaged his hidden blade one last time and he brought it forward in a low arc, stopping less than an inch from Haytham’s throat.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They were both breathing heavily and Shay slowly became aware of the blood that was soaking his clothes, a not insignificant part of it his own. His gaze flickered down to the knife in Haytham’s belly. How the man had been fighting like he had was a mystery to him. Unbidden memories entered his mind, of the last time Haytham had been so close to him, the memory of Haytham’s touch and the heat of his body a vivid ghostly sensation on his skin.

“Do it,” Haytham hissed. There was nothing but angry defiance in his face, even though his pallor was already a few shades too pale. His right hand moved by the fraction of an inch, only stopping when Shay kicked his (still empty) gun out of reach.

“I should,” Shay said. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, the sharp edge of the knife drawing just a pinprick of blood from Haytham’s skin. “For all those who died by your word, for the sake of the world, I should.”

“Then what is stopping you?” Haytham’s breathing was still as fast as earlier, twinges of pain creeping on his face now as the adrenaline slowly abated. For that matter, Shay could feel the effects of blood loss cursing through his own body.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. It would be so easy – one swipe of his blade, and all his problems would be solved, he could go back to the Assassins, to Liam, receive the rewards for a job well done and spend the rest of his life as the Assassins’ loyal dog.

It was a terrifying thought.

“Whatever you do, you should do it quickly,” Haytham told him with a glance down his own body. “And if you do decide to kill me, I’d rather prefer a clean death.”

“No pleading for your life? No grand monologues begging me to join your Order?” Shay’s sneer was only a thin cover for how lost he felt underneath.

“I do believe they would be rather wasted on you.” Haytham coughed and grimaced when the movement jolted his wounds. “And I will not insult your intelligence by telling you what you already know. I only ask you to think for a moment – did you ever consider that we didn’t seek the Artefacts in order to use them, but to keep them safe instead?”

Shay took a sharp breath, about to reply when the door behind him burst open. He didn’t need to hear the shouts or turn around to see the officers entering; he had known almost as soon as it had become clear that Haytham was playing for time. It didn’t even matter whether these were Templars or police officers, or, most likely, both. His hand began shaking worse, but he offered no resistance when he was dragged away and thrown roughly to the floor, with no regard for his injuries.

Haytham held his gaze throughout it all, the expression in them a mixture of so many things that it was impossible for Shay to sort through it all. What struck him most, however, was the note of faint regret he thought he could recognise.

This is it, he thought. This is how it ends.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day passed in a daze. Shay felt as if he was watching himself from the outside, strangely detached from what was happening. He didn’t even react when they took all his gear from him, down to the hidden blade still strapped to his forearm. They tried to question him, more than once, but he remained utterly silent, even when a doctor came to roughly patch up the wounds in his shoulder and neck.

He had failed.

Failed at his mission, at being an Assassin, hell, he had failed at being a decent human being to begin with. The Assassins would think that he had been the traitor after all, since he hadn’t killed Haytham. The Templars would be out for his blood after almost killing their Grand Master. And even if law enforcement ever released him (unlikely to happen any time soon, given how they had caught him with Haytham’s blood on his hands and holding a knife to his throat), he would be hunted by both. It was a surprise that he hadn’t been taken in and interrogated by the Templars on the Force yet.

Shay looked at his hands. It was late at night, but sleep wouldn’t find him, no matter how hard he tried. He’d been here for two days, if his woozy memory served him correctly. There was still blood caught underneath his fingernails. Haytham’s blood. He shuddered.

The images of the previous days stayed in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to rationalise them, to find some semblance of peace. Haytham’s blood on his fingers turned into the blood of the thousands who had died in the earthquake, into Liam’s blood, into his own. There was no path into the future where he’d be able to find any sort of absolution. No path that he could take that would make things okay again. The only reason he didn’t give voice to the screams inside him was because he didn’t want to draw more attention from the guards.

Towards the morning he fell into a rough sleep, plagued by nightmares. He felt more exhausted than before when he was woken up by a sound at the door of his cell.

Half an hour later Shay stood outside, blinking at the sudden bright light of the sun in confusion. Instead of being interrogated again, as he’d assumed, he’d been released with no further explanation. There was a black car waiting for him, one that seemed vaguely familiar-

“Gist?” Shay’s voice was rough and scratchy from disuse.

Christopher Gist was casually leaning against the car, as if picking up the man who had tried to murder his boss was an everyday occurrence for him.

“Shay,” he said. His eyes mustered him, drilling into him without his usually so jovial expression. Once again Shay was reminded that there was a reason that Gist had evidently risen highly enough in the Order to become Haytham’s personal bodyguard. He opened the car’s back door and gestured for Shay to step inside. “Please.”

Shay didn’t move. Who knew where Gist would be taking him.

“I think I’d rather walk,” he said. Gist sighed in response.

“You have my word that nobody, at least from our side, will try to kill or harm you in any way in the next three hours, if you agree to come. However, I wouldn’t advise that you run.” He gestured at the car again.

Shay sighed and hesitated for another moment, before he shrugged and walked towards the car. It wasn’t like he had many other options, after all. The tension visibly drained from Gist’s body in response. He remained quiet throughout the journey, although he occasionally threw a glance back at Shay through the rear-view mirror.

About halfway through the drive, Shay began to suspect where they were heading. His suspicions were confirmed when they pulled into the driveway of Haytham’s house. Shay had only been here once before, but the place was hard to forget. It wasn’t the building itself that was so memorable, being of average size and far less fancy than one might expect. The grounds it stood on, however, were more than just a little impressive – a sprawling piece of land that hid the house behind a small copse of trees and granting it a great deal of privacy. Shay was certain that the security, although mostly invisible, was nothing to laugh at either. If Gist’s ‘three hours’ were up before he was out of here, the results would be interesting. And likely not beneficial to him.

The house was remarkably empty. Shay had expected the Templars to be in an uproar over the events of the last few days, but it was almost eerily quiet once he stepped through the front door. One of Haytham’s cats was waiting in the hallway, attracted by the noise. Gist greeted her with a smile and an exuberant ‘Hello, Cream!’. Shay felt a smile pulling at his lips when he crouched down to give her a few pets. He was rewarded with a headbutt and white hair all over his pants. Aside from the cat, however, there seemed to be few other people around. The only other person that he saw besides Gist was Charles Lee. In contrast to his fellow Templar, however, Lee was almost glowing with animosity as soon as he laid eyes on Shay.

“I should kill you right where you stand, traitor,” Lee hissed, after getting uncomfortably close to him. Shay felt strangely calm in the face of his rage; he had used up all his fear and despair in the hours since he had tried to and failed to kill the Grand Master himself.

“Charles.” There was a warning undertone in Gist’s voice. “You know the Grand Master’s orders.”

“I do,” Lee sneered, but he stepped back at the same moment. “Although I fail to see the sense in them.”

“That’s for Master Kenway to decide, not you.” Gist’s expression was stony. He gestured at Shay to keep following him. Shay was sure that the intensity of Lee's gaze would burn a hole into his back. All thoughts of the man's hate were swept aside, however, when Gist opened the door to Haytham's bedroom. Shay didn't quite know what he expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the image that offered itself once he walked through the doorway.

Instead of lying in bed or looking at least mildly inconvenienced, the Templar Grand Master was sitting at a working desk, bent over a set of papers. The only hint that he'd been shot and knifed three days ago was his slightly awkward sitting position and the fact that he wasn't wearing a full suit for a change, only dress shirt and pants. And some thick woollen socks instead of shoes, as Shay noticed with an amused smile.  They looked very much like something that Ratohnhaké:ton would gift his father.

“Shay.” Haytham turned in his seat with a wince, nodding at Gist to leave them alone, an order that his bodyguard was clearly uncomfortable to obey. "Please, sit."

Shay accepted the offer after a short moment of hesitation.

“Shouldn't you be in hospital?”  he asked.

“Shouldn’t you be dead or celebrating your victory with the Assassins?” Haytham shot back. Shay grimaced. It was absurd that he should be feeling any sort of worry for Haytham’s condition after trying to kill him less than a week ago, and yet here he was, wishing the Templar would take better care of himself.

A curious meow saved him from having to reply immediately. A rather enormous, long-haired brown-and-white tabby cat had walked up to him from behind and was now staring up at him with nothing but curiosity in her eyes, sniffing and headbutting Shay’s hand after he reached out to her.

“Cookie seems to like you.” As if to confirm Haytham’s words, the cat jumped up on Shay’s lap, stretching across his legs. “She’s practically been glued to my side ever since I decided to leave the hospital early.”

Was it you or your son who named the cat? Shay almost wanted to ask. He had a sneaking suspicion that the name had been entirely Haytham’s idea. He looked around the room, absent-mindedly running his hands through Cookie’s fur, and couldn’t help the laugh that suddenly bubbled up through his throat.

At Haytham’s questioning glance, he could only shake his head.

“I just realised the absurdity of this situation,” he explained. “Here I am, a failed Assassin, sitting in a room with the same man I tried to kill three days ago, who also happens to be a Templar Grand Master. I should be dead, but instead I’m taking an almost absurd amount of pride in the fact that his cat likes me.”

“Life is full of surprises,” Haytham said laconically. Shay couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“So, how high are the chances that I will leave this house alive? If you don’t personally resolve this matter, I’m sure Lee would be more than willing to.”

“No matter his personal feelings, Charles can and will listen to me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It depends, I guess.” Haytham rolled his shoulder slightly and winced at the pain that the movement evidently caused him. “Although I would be loath to see all the effort that it needed to secure your freedom go to waste.”

“Well, unless you plan on making a statement.”

“If I wanted you dead for what you did, you’d already have been disembowelled in the most spectacular fashion, trust me. Us Templars aren’t above a bit of showmanship when it’s required.”

“How reassuring.” Shay sighed and ran his hand through his hair. The cat on his lap opened her eyes and gave him the most derisive glance, clearly demanding a continuation of the affection he had been levelling at her. He returned to petting her, before leaning forwards slightly. “Why am I here, Haytham?”

“Because some things are better figured out in person than in thought alone.” Haytham tapped his fingers on the desk next to him, a dead giveaway that he wasn’t at all as calm as he appeared.

“And what sort of things are we talking about?” Shay’s fingers clenched inside Cookie’s fur. Haytham looked up at him, his eyes locking with Shay’s.

“Join us.”

His breath stuttered in Shay’s chest.

“I thought you said that grand monologues begging me to join your Order would be ‘rather wasted’ on me,” was all that he could bring out.

“I do not believe that you need any grand monologues.” Haytham raised an eyebrow. “No need for me to try and convince you – the choice is yours.”

“Not much of a choice, is it.” Shay demonstratively glanced towards the door, where no doubt Lee was just waiting to kill him.

Haytham shrugged, before aborting the movement halfway through with a grimace of pain. “I cannot imagine that your Assassin brethren are too keen on continuing to work with you now. But for what it’s worth…”

He carefully gestured towards the side of his working desk where a black duffle bag was leaning against it. With a soft sigh of regret Shay rose from his seat, disturbing Cookie from her sleep. She threw him a glance of utter contempt before flicking her tail and stalking over to Haytham to curl up in his lap instead. Shay could have sworn that he saw a smile cross Haytham’s face as soon as he began petting her. Then, however, his attention was entirely taken up by the contents of the duffle bag.

“If Lee saw this, he would have an aneurysm.” Shay carefully lifted his hidden blade out of the bag. It had been cleaned and oiled, the mechanism working seamlessly. He hesitated only a moment before strapping it onto his forearm again. Another glance into the bag showed him his remaining weapons in there, including his full set of throwing knives, each of them gleaming as if new. No trace of his or Haytham’s blood. Shay had trouble putting the variety of emotions pouring through him at the sight into words.

“How fortunate that he isn’t here to see it, then,” Haytham remarked dryly.

“What makes you think that I won’t kill you?” Shay asked. A strange feeling was still running him as he straightened up again, the wound in his shoulder twinging.

“Call it a hunch.” Haytham’s hand was still buried in Cookie’s fur. He kept petting her, even as Shay walked up towards him. His eyes followed Shay’s movements, not betraying a single iota of fear, even when Shay reached out to rest the blade of one of his throwing knives lightly against his throat, not far from where a red mark signified the last time he had done so. Shay was surprised at how steady his hands were.

“You shouldn’t throw your life away so needlessly,” Haytham said.

“It was forfeited the moment I didn’t kill you when I first had the chance. And some Assassins would say that the cost would be worth it for a Grand Master’s death.” Liam certainly would.

“It’s your choice. Do not try to blame it on anyone else.” Haytham reached up and closed his fingers around Shay’s wrist, eyes never leaving his face. His hand was slightly cold, but its familiar touch still sent goose bumps down Shay’s spine. For just a second, he thought about kissing Haytham, imagined those fingers travelling down his chest and the feeling of Haytham’s lips on his skin. Haytham’s thoughts evidently walked along similar avenues – Shay could see the slight twitching of muscles in his cheeks, a sign that he had grown to know far too intimately over the recent months.

He took a deep breath and withdrew the blade from Haytham’s throat, taking a step back. Haytham released his wrist at the same moment. His fingers rubbed over the spot where Shay’s knife had touched his skin. A part of Shay urged him to say yes right there and then, to just give in and leave the worrying to Haytham. It would be so easy to submit, to enjoy the easy comfort of having someone to tell him what to do once more. And yet, he could feel his mind stutter at the consequences of such an action, the corpses of his siblings in the Creed still vivid before his eyes.

“You said you would keep the artefacts safe,” he said. “But how do I know that you will stay true to your word? I’ve seen how far you are willing to go to reach your goal.”

“That may be true. But I have little to gain from lying to you in this respect – and should you decide to join the Order, the need for lies has passed either way.”

Shay snorted.

“It’s never as easy as all that, is it.”

Haytham only spread his arms in response, palms open. “As I said, it’s your decision. However, since I acknowledge that it isn’t an easy one, I am willing to make you one final offer – you have one week to think about what you want to do. For this one week, I swear to you that I will keep you safe from Assassins and Templars both, at a location only known to you, me, and Gist. You are free to try and make your own luck away from us both, if you so wish, or to return to the Assassins. Or decide to join the Order. It is all up to you.”

Shay could feel a rough, desperate laugh escape his throat.

“You are known for many things, Haytham, but neither kindness nor mercy are among them.”

“You wound me.” Haytham sighed theatrically. “What can I do to convince you that this offer, at least, is genuine?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I just need to take the leap and find out.” A leap of faith. The irony was an almost physical pain in his chest.

“Perhaps.”

Everything seemed to be said between them, and Shay gripped the bag’s handles a little more tightly, expecting Lee to barge in at any moment. There was no movement from outside the door, however, the stretching silence in the room only interrupted by the soft purring of the cat on Haytham’s lap.

“It seems I have little choice,” Shay said finally. “I accept your offer. One week.”

“One week,” Haytham nodded. There was no shaking of hands, no signatures to formalise the agreement between them. Just this one, simple nod. A few weeks ago, Shay would have sworn that it was as good as an ironclad contract from Haytham Kenway. Now, he wasn’t quite so sure.

“One last thing, before I leave.” Shay squared his shoulders, locking his gaze with Haytham’s. “How did you find out about our hideouts? Was it something I said? Or-“

“No, nothing of the like.” Haytham allowed himself a tiny, self-satisfied smirk. “A man named Duncan Walpole offered the information to us, as pre-payment for certain…accommodations to his person from our side.”

Duncan Walpole. The name rang a faint bell – an Assassin, or at least he had been, once. His sudden disappearance a few weeks ago had caused quite the stir amongst the Assassins.

“What happened to him?”

“He met with an unfortunate accident.” Haytham cleared his throat. “As useful as his information was, there is no space in our ranks for those who would betray their allies for purely personal gain.”

No space indeed. Shay could still vividly recall the blood of Benjamin Church staining Haytham’s hands, and the utter lack of remorse in his eyes at the deed. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to fully reunite the many sides of Haytham Kenway in his mind – that the man who killed and ordered people’s death with such icy precision was the same person who had named his cats ‘Cookie’ and ‘Cream’, kept a childhood drawing of his son’s in a frame on his work desk and who was oh-so very skilled with his fingers and tongue in far more physical pleasures. Another thing to figure out in the week ahead, perhaps.

“Was that a warning?” Shay asked, his fingers clenching into a fist.

“No.” Haytham looked up at him, then back down at Cookie in his lap. “Merely a fact.”

“Ah.” Shay turned back towards the door, covering the last of the distance towards it with a few quick steps. “This is goodbye then, I guess.”

His fingers had just touched the doorknob, when Haytham’s voice rang out behind him again.

“I do hope I’ll see you again.”

Shay had nothing to say in reply that wouldn’t have been at least a partial lie.  

Chapter Text

The hut was small and unassuming, but comfortable. No wifi, not even mobile signal out here in the forests of New England. However, there were shelves over shelves full of books, and several empty notebooks ready to be filled with the confusing mess of his thoughts. Shay stared down at the empty page, pen in his hand, but no words would come. He had never been good in putting his mind onto paper, having always preferred the more direct route of talking or physical gestures instead.

His eyes flickered over to the bookshelf next to him, and, not for the first time, he desperately wanted a drink. But there was no alcohol here, and Shay was quite sure that it was by design. He felt agitated, and with a sigh, he put down the pen and stretched a little. It had been three days since he had arrived here, and in those three days he’d already had more than enough time to be uncomfortably alone with his thoughts. Banning them on paper to sort through the chaos in his mind had made sense earlier – if only he could force himself to write now.

Shay rose from his seat, with the intent of pacing across the floor again. The small house he was in was cozy, he couldn’t deny it; stuffed with all amenities except for internet, it was the perfect little retreat, tucked away in the forested landscape surrounding it. As Shay stood up, however, his elbow banged against the table, knocking over the small leather case that held the pens and pencils. They spilled across the table’s surface, two of them vanishing down the small gap behind it.

Shay cursed, feeling far more upset but this small inconvenience than he should have been. He pressed a shaking hand against the table to steady himself and try to get his emotions back under control. Five minutes later, and he had moved the desk far enough that he was able to reach into the little space behind to recover the lost pens. It appeared that he was the first person to look behind the desk for quite some time; when he was done, he was looking down not only at the two pens that he had lost. In addition, there were three more pencils, an assortment of paper clips, two old receipts for dinner at a restaurant and, most intriguingly of all, a slightly faded photograph.

Dusting himself and the items he had recovered off, Shay took a closer look at the picture in his hands, and almost dropped it in surprise.

It was a polaroid, of the kind that had been slowly coming into fashion again for a while now. And on it, distinctly younger but still very recognisable, were Haytham Kenway and a young woman that Shay recognised as Kaniehtí:io from the pictures that he had seen and her striking similarity with her son. The picture had clearly been taken in the same room that Shay was standing in now. Kaniehtí:io seemed to be the one holding the camera, with Haytham standing slightly behind her, a faint smile painted on his face. They both looked happy, unburdened, and filled to the brim with the stormy and naïve kind of love that was so often found in teenagers. Shay was reminded of Haytham’s words again – how he and Kaniehtí:io had realised shortly after Ratonhnhaké:ton’s birth that the relationship between them was not something that would work out in the long run, but how they had parted amicably and maintained respect and friendship for each other to this day.

Shay would’ve loved to have met her, but it was hardly possible now with him and his current situation. Still, a wave of melancholy ran through him as he looked at the picture and the simple happiness contained inside. He didn’t know for how long he had been staring at it when his musings were suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

Shay hesitated. There was no way for him to look outside, and Haytham had promised absolute solitude for the entire week. Despite his words, it would probably be easy enough for any Templars with a grudge to find him, and Shay wasn’t sure whether he would be opening the door to his death.

“Who’s there?” he yelled, hoping he didn’t sound as ridiculous as he felt.

“George Monro,” a muffled voice answered from outside the door. “I don’t mean any harm.”

Shay took a deep breath. The worst was that even after everything that had transpired, he still trusted Monro – of course, Haytham could have lied, and the old Templar’s worry for him could have been nothing but a part of an elaborate ploy to make him feel more comfortable in Templar presence. However, there was an honesty to Monro that Shay had found lacking in both other Templars and Assassins. Given that everything was already lost, he could as well take this one last risk. He unlocked the door and took a step back, pointing at the inside of the hut with an exaggerated motion.

“Come in,” he said.

“Thank you.” Monro nodded and stepped inside, casting a curious glance throughout the interior of Shay’s current home. His eyes were blessedly free of judgement.

“Tea? Coffee?” Shay motioned towards the small kitchen corner at the back of the room.

“Tea would be nice, thank you.” Monro followed him and watched in silence as Shay put the kettle on to boil and made some tea for Monro and another cup of coffee for himself. Monro seemed to radiate calmness and patience, although Shay could feel that he was waiting for the right moment to begin the conversation. It came only once they had both settled at the little table. It was next to the window, looking out at the forest beyond the hut. Monro drank a little of his tea and set the cup down, before raising his eyes and looking Shay directly into the face.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine.” Shay didn’t meet his gaze. Monro sighed and took another sip of his tea.

“I know you better than that. How are you, Shay?” There was an intensity to him that was almost uncomfortable once he focused the entire weight of his attention on you. Shay shifted slightly on his seat, another flippant answer on his tongue before he thought differently. If anyone deserved some honesty from him, it was Monro.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. His voice was quiet. He looked down at the coffee mug cradled in his hands, feeling the warmth from it radiating into his fingers. “I feel like I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know who I am. I just…” His voice trailed off as he clamped his mouth shut again.

“You are, I believe, a young man who has been through a series of extraordinary events,” Monro said thoughtfully. “And that you do not blindly accept what people tell you only speaks highly of you. You already know for yourself what’s right and wrong; now you just have to bring it into harmony with everyone else’s beliefs, even if they might be different.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me that I should join the Templars? I am still waiting for the big recruiting speech.” Shay could feel his lips twitch a little in amusement.

“I am not Haytham.” Monro laughed quietly. “I do not have his arrogance and breathtakingly self-centred conviction that, with time, everyone will see the world the same way as he does, because his view is the obviously the correct one. Of course, I cannot deny my desire to see you in our ranks; but more so because I’d rather not have any harm come to you. Although I would not pursue you, should you decide to leave us behind, others in the Order will not be so kind.”

“And this is where the problem lies.” Shay sighed and leaned back in his seat. “I don’t want to join the Templars, at least not now. There are things that…things that I am not sure I can forgive so easily. I know there are decent people working for the Order. People like you, people like Gist. But there are also people like Charles Lee and I cannot…” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, taking another deep breath.

“But neither can I return to the Assassins, for much the same reasons. Have any of you ever realised just how similar you all are?” He couldn’t help the bitterness that made its way into his words.

“Then what do you care about? What do you want?” It was impossible to read from Monro’s expression just what he thought of Shay’s words.

“I want-“ Shay interrupted himself to take a moment longer to think.

“I want to keep everyone safe,” he finally said. “I want to protect the world from people meddling with a power they don’t understand, just because they are so blinded by their own short-sighted ambitions for power.” I never again want to look at a climbing death toll in the news, knowing I could have prevented it all.

Monro nodded, as if he had expected such an answer.

“Then you should consider who is better suited to aid you in this goal.” His gaze softened slightly. “Don’t throw your life away just yet, Shay. The world still needs you.”

Shay had to look aside, away from Monro so that he wouldn’t see the traitorous glint in his own eyes. How had he guessed his thoughts so easily?

“I don’t know that it does,” he admitted. When Monro opened his mouth to oppose his opinion, he raised his hands. “But that’s another issue altogether.” It wasn’t, of course.

“Mhm.” Monro’s expression told Shay just how easily he could see through his attempt at deflection. To his surprise, however, the colonel didn’t follow up on Shay’s words, but leaned back in his chair instead, casting a glance outside.

“You should come visit the farm again, when you can,” he said in a conversational tone. “The dogs miss you. Meryl kept sniffing at the door to your room for months after you were gone.”

The invitation and unspoken promise in his voice were unmistakeable. Shay cocked his head a little, storing it away for later.

“And I miss her,” he admitted. The rambunctious Border Collie had been his favourite when he had stayed at the farm in the previous year. “How are the dogs doing, anyway? And the horses?”

“Well enough.” Monro laughed. “Although…”

As he launched into a full recap of everything that had happened at his farm over the past few months, Shay allowed himself to be drawn into his words. His mind wandered away from the worries of the past few weeks as it followed the meandering sentences of Monro’s recounting. He could feel some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair, and soon found himself laughing along and asking more questions whenever he could. It was almost evening by the time they finished talking.

“I should make for home,” Monro said with a glance at his watch. “My apologies for keeping you occupied for so long.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do,” Shay replied, smiling. “Thank you. It was…needed.”

“I thought it might be.”

Shay accompanied him to the door, wondering what he had done to deserve such unwavering fatherly affection from the man. It certainly wasn’t one-sided, however. Monro looked at him for a moment longer before grasping his shoulder and squeezing it slightly.

“Take care, Shay.”

“And you,” Shay nodded back. He watched as Monro wandered down the path that would eventually lead him out of the forest and to the small carpark about fifteen minutes’ walk away. He felt calm, somehow, calmer than he had been at any time since before he had arrived here. Taking a deep breath, he turned away and closed the door.

He was about to start preparations for dinner when another knock sounded on the door. Thinking that it was Monro who had perhaps forgotten something, he opened it without hesitation.

However, it wasn’t the colonel’s face who stared back at him, evidently slightly taken aback by how easily it had been to gain entrance. Shay should’ve been surprised, but, somehow, he wasn’t.

“Liam.”

Liam looked about as terrible as Shay had felt just this morning. There were deep rings under his eyes, telling of far too many nights with too little sleep. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he mustered Shay, his gaze betraying nothing of what he felt.

“Shay. Can I come in?”

Shay took a deep breath, looking back into the hut over his shoulder.

“Why don’t we go for a walk instead,” he said. Somehow, he didn’t want Liam stepping into the space where he had just began to order his thoughts. He wouldn’t have granted Haytham, Gist, or anyone else entry either.

Liam nodded and waited for Shay to grab his coat before setting off into the forest surrounding them. The sunlight was getting low, and it would be dark in an hour or two. They walked in silence for a while, until the trees around them were hiding the little hut from view. Only then did Liam stop and look at him again.

“How did you find me?” Shay asked.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t keep tabs on you? After everything?” Liam’s voice was biting. Shay could feel his eyes narrowing as he mentally sorted through his possessions.

“The burner phone,” he said, understanding dawning inside him. Fury followed not far behind.

“Yes.” Liam shrugged. “Although it still took me some time to figure out how to sneak past your Templar guards.”

“You’ve evidently done a good job. Always the watchdog, loyal to your Masters.” Shay was so angry that he spat the words.

“Save me the hypocrisy, Shay,” Liam sneered back. “And be honest. Since when have you been working with them? Was it before or after one of your romantic getaways with the Grand Master?”

“Fuck you, Liam,” Shay snapped. “I am not working with them. I have never been working with them. If you are looking for traitors, you should look elsewhere. At Duncan Walpole, for example.”

“Walpole disappeared weeks ago.” Shay could hear just the tiniest sliver of doubt creep into Liam’s voice. It disappeared again with his next few words. “And your own actions prove what a liar you are. You are on Templar grounds. Surrounded by Templar guards. It’s a miracle Kenway hasn’t sent his dogs after every single one of us yet.”

“That’s because I haven’t given him any information. I am not a Templar, Liam.”

“Then why is Kenway still alive?” Liam threw his hands up in the air. “Did you know that I felt sorry for you after the mission had evidently gone sideways? I thought you had been killed. Or worse, they had taken you and were torturing you. Hell, I was ready to mount a fucking rescue for your sake, if the mentors hadn’t cautioned me against it. That was before we found that the tracker was moving again and you were here, seemingly unharmed.”

There was no good answer that Shay could give Liam as to why Haytham Kenway was still amongst the living. Not one that wouldn’t have made him even angrier, anyway. Shay did the only thing that seemed sensible, seizing onto something else that Liam had said.

“They ‘cautioned you against it’?” He frowned, his fury once more sweeping aside any sympathy he might have felt after Liam’s admission of fear for him. “They never expected me to return, did they.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m not privy to-“ Liam looked slightly uncomfortable as the words left his mouth.

“No matter what happened, the Assassins would win, wouldn’t they?” Shay was so angry that he hardly paused to think through the words before he spoke them. Not even the appearance of the entire Brotherhood itself could’ve calmed him down. “If I’d died then tough luck, at least we got rid of an unwanted member of our Brotherhood. If I’d killed Haytham and returned, then all the better! And if I’d turned traitor and joined forces with him, well, then at least they could be reassured they had been right all along. How very convenient.”

Liam didn’t say anything in reply for several moments, and it was all the confirmation that Shay needed.

 “You used me,” he said, anger making his voice so rough he barely recognised it in his own ears.

“Don’t tell me the Order doesn’t do exactly the same,” Liam snorted in reply. “Or are you really so blind that you can’t see how you’re just another tool to them, too?”

“And yet, some of them have been kinder to me than most of the Assassins ever were.” Shay’s voice trembled with fury as he thought of George Monro and how his affection, at least, had been wholly genuine.

“There was a time when I would have died for you, Shay.” Liam’s voice was quiet. “And I thought it was the same for you.”

“It was.” There was no point in denying it.

“Then why, Shay? Why side with those we are meant to hate? Those who would eradicate freedom in the entire world, if they just could?” There was a tinge of desperation in Liam’s voice that almost made Shay reach out and touch him. Almost.

“I told you, I haven’t sided with them,” he explained, feeling endlessly tired. “But if you want to know why I don’t hate them with the same burning passion you seem to, the answer is simple – because they care. Or at least some of them do. Monro, for example, was there for me in a way that nobody else ever was. Gist, too.” He didn’t mention Haytham. That topic was still far too complex for him to touch upon, let alone talk about with Liam.

“I could’ve been there for you. Hope could’ve been. Hell, even Adéwalé, or Ezio. But you never asked us, never let us come close enough to help. You just vanished, Shay!” There was real hurt in Liam’s voice now. Shay shrugged and spread his arms slightly.

“It is what it is. But I’m sure you didn’t come here to debate Templars and my mental state, Liam. Tell me what you are doing here.”

Their steps had carried them through the forest, close towards a small assembly of rocks, behind which the forest abruptly gave way downwards, forming something akin to a cliff. Shay had led them towards its edge, mindful that he could topple Liam over and cut off his escape should it come to blows between them. Although he hadn’t had the time to put on his hidden blade, several throwing knives were still hidden in the pocket of his coat.

“I was asked to…assess the situation. To find out where you stand.”

“I stand apart from both Assassins and Templars.” Shay spread his arms slightly. The conviction had been growing inside him for the past few days, but he was more sure than ever now. “I am done with it all, Liam. And perhaps, once the Templars get tired of hunting me for attempting to kill their Grand Master, I can finally find some peace somewhere.”

“Oh, Shay.” Liam closed his eyes for a moment. “If only it were so easy.”

Shay anticipated his movement a split second before Liam’s hand went into his coat pocket, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop it.

Liam’s hands were barely shaking, even as he pointed the gun at him.

“I was also told to kill you, shouldn’t you be willing to return to us,” he said quietly. Shay wished that he would feel betrayed, wished that he hadn’t expected this. But he wasn’t surprised, just resigned to the now obvious. In a way, he was glad that it was finally over.

He’d been living on borrowed time ever since the earthquake, anyway.

“Then what are you waiting for? You know I’ll never come back,” he told Liam. He inched to the right just a tiny bit, a small part of his mind still plotting an escape down the rocky wall next to him. The other, much larger, part just wanted to let things take their course.

“And there is nothing that would make you reconsider?” The gun remained steadily trained at Shay’s face. Shay knew that he stood no chance. Liam hardly ever missed, and especially not from this close.

“No.”

Shay dropped down and to the side, flinging himself at Liam. Or at least, that had been his ill-conceived, spontaneous plan. Liam pressed the trigger at the same time that Shay moved, and Shay could feel the bullet slam into his shoulder, throwing him backwards. He tried to stay on his feet, but suddenly the ground beneath him was gone and he was falling, falling, falling…

He landed on his shoulder, and the impact knocked all the air out of his body. He must have blacked out at least briefly. When he came to again, every single inch of him was hurting. He tried to move and found that he couldn’t, at least not without losing consciousness again. The ground beneath him was slowly turning warm from his blood. The shadow of a sharp and bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat as he looked up at the sky above.

It couldn’t have ended any other way. And, truly, what was his own life against the thousands that had already been lost? How fitting that he should join them like this, alone and broken on the ground.

There was the sound of shouting in the distance, but it seemed terribly far away. A distant part of Shay wondered why Liam hadn’t shot at him again, but it seemed entirely unnecessary at this point; he would die either way. Even if he would have appreciated a cleaner death – it wasn’t like he actually deserved one.

“Shay!”

He tried to raise his arm, tried to see who was calling, but it was simply too much effort.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words feeling heavy and cold on his tongue as he tried to appease the ghosts of his memory. He could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away, even as someone came running up towards him. They touched his shoulder, and darkness descended around him with an explosion of pain.

Chapter Text

“Do you have everything?” Weeks looked over to Shay.

Shay nodded, leafing through the documents in front of him again.

“All here,” he said. “Thank you for coming all the way out to here, Jack. Next time I’ll make sure to return the favour.”

“You’re welcome. And no need to tax yourself – you should probably get the okay from a doctor first before doing anything more strenuous.”

“I know, I know.” Shay motioned with his hand. It was hardly the first time he’d been told this in the past few days. “I promise I won’t do anything rash.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Jack laughed before he left the room with one last little wave in Shay’s direction.

Shay leaned back in his chair with a sigh, reaching up to massage his aching shoulder and withdrawing his hand before he could touch it. Even a month after the incident in the forest, it was still covered in wound dressings, the sutures barely healed. There was probably as much metal as actual bone in there now, he thought darkly. He opened and closed his fist, almost relishing the pain that travelled through his arm at the motion.

There was a knock on his door and Shay frowned; he wasn’t expecting any more visitors. Monro was away and the other inhabitants of the farm rarely bothered him throughout the day. He pulled out the top drawer of the writing desk he was sitting at and put his right hand on the gun inside it. He would never be caught unawares by an Assassin again. Or a Templar, for that matter.

“Yes?” he asked.

“It’s me.” The voice outside his door was even and measured, its smooth timbre so familiar to Shay that it was all he could do not to gape in surprise.

“Come in.” He rose from his seat, the motion of deference still so ingrained that he almost laughed at himself. The door opened to reveal and confirmed an all too familiar face.

“Haytham.”

“Shay.” Haytham seemed oddly hesitant before he stepped into the room. He remained standing even as Shay sat down in the next closest chair. Shay could see his eyes roving over the room and the bundle of papers on the desk. “Apologies for coming by so unannounced.” The offer that he could simply leave again was plain in his voice to hear.

“How are you? No complications after the surgery?” Haytham continued. As if he wasn’t in contact with all of Shay’s doctors (and had just as likely been the one to pay all the medical bills, as Shay had never received an invoice).

“The doctors say it’s going well.” Shay shrugged with his right shoulder. “Although it will be quite some time until it’s fully healed.”

“At least there is time enough for that now,” Haytham said with a nod. He looked strangely out of place here on Monro’s farm where Shay was living for the foreseeable future. A man like him belonged in the bustle of a big city; Haytham thrived on continuously measuring himself against the people around him and delighted in keeping a tight rein on the plots unfolding everywhere. Shay had never known a man less suited for the quiet life in the countryside, although Monro once told him that Haytham relished the occasional break away from the centres of humanity.

Shay took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next question.

“Any news from the Assassins?”

Haytham hesitated before he sighed and drummed his fingers on the edge of Shay’s writing desk.

“Few. They are reportedly in an uproar. One informant told us they had caught wind of orders to evacuate every single one of the local Assassin headquarters and refuges. At least for the time being, they will be far too busy with themselves than to search for other relics.” Shay waited for Haytham to continue, but he didn’t.

“There is more, isn’t there.” It wasn’t even a question. Haytham sighed again.

“Yes.” He frowned.

“With all due respect, sir, but I have a right to know.“ There was no need for the honorific anymore, but Shay still found it rolling off his tongue almost without thinking.

“You do, yes.” Haytham huffed in annoyance, although it didn’t seem to be directed at Shay. “They have put out an urgent note regarding you. You are to be…’silenced by any means necessary’ for your new allegiance to the Templar Order should anyone encounter and recognise you.”

Shay closed his eyes for a second.

“Of course.” He didn’t say anything else – there was no need for him to give voice to the multitude of emotions running through him or the bitter irony that filled him at the words. Hunted by his own people, not for any of the crimes he had actually committed, but for being part of the Order that he refused to join, even now. This was something for his therapist to sort out later – her practicality had already helped him put things slightly more into perspective.

“And Liam?” He hated that he still cared enough to even ask the question.

“We haven’t heard anything.” Haytham threw a sharp glance in his direction. Shay refused to look away. Nobody knew what had happened to Liam after Monro had confronted him in the forest, only moments before he could have finished his assignment of killing Shay. “And you? Has he been in contact with you?”

“Nothing.” It was the truth.

“Mhm.” Haytham nodded. “My son told me to pass on his best wishes, by the way. He, and I quote, ‘would be glad to drop by with a few puppies if it helped’.”

Shay suppressed a bout of laughter. Somehow the story of his injury had made it all the way to Ratonhnhaké:ton who, despite not knowing him too well, apparently had a penchant for helping people. At least according to his father.

“You can tell him that I’d be more than happy to pet puppies,” he said.

The edges of Haytham’s mouth twitched. He asked after Monro’s farm next, and then his old friend and mentor himself. It was only when he began to talk about his cats that Shay realised he was stalling – a behaviour so unexpected and unusual from Haytham Kenway that it almost made him laugh.

“Haytham.” Shay stood up and stepped closer to him, so close that he could see the clear colour of Haytham’s eyes. “Enough with the pleasantries. Why are you here?” One of the advantages of his current position – Haytham was no longer his employer, nor was he his Grand Master. It lent him a certain freedom. There was a spark of something in Haytham’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for Shay to interpret.

“Monro suggested I come to see how you were doing.” Haytham raised a hand when Shay was about to open his mouth and reply. “And I wanted to make you a proposition.”

Shay nodded.

“Tell me.”

“At the moment, you are neither Templar nor Assassin, although you are under mine and George’s protection,” Haytham began. Shay nodded, slightly impatient. “This affords you certain…liberties, that you might otherwise not have, especially once you are fully healed.”

“Liberties?” Shay cocked his head.

“You are beholden to neither leadership, for once-“ Haytham smiled faintly, “and can thus decide your movements much more freely. Nonetheless, you can still benefit from your connections to the Order, even if not everyone here is sympathetic towards you.”

“Your point being?” Haytham’s eyes flashed again at Shay’s impertinence. He had to admit that he derived a certain amount of amusement from annoying him.

“I would like for you to become the one in charge of hunting for the artefacts. You will report directly to me; and although this does not mean you are a member of the Order, you will swear not to act in direct opposition of its members or principles, unless sanctioned by me. In return you have complete freedom to pursue whatever avenues you wish in your…research, including any monetary support and additional personnel you might need.”

“Your personal search dog, so to say.” Shay raised both his eyebrows and suppressed a small laugh when Haytham rolled his eyes.

“I’d argue you are rather more than that.”

Now Shay did laugh, if only at the amount of annoyance in Haytham’s voice.

“I am alive because of luck,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “And this does not seem to be the worst use I could make of this borrowed time of mine. However…” He paused again, thinking through what he wanted to say. “You have to accept that I do not trust you, or the Templars. Not fully, anyway. My actions will be in the interest of the those who live in this world, not those who seek to rule it, one way or the other. As long as you accept that…”

“For now, I think I can.” Haytham nodded. “Who knows, one day you might change your mind.” He held out his hand in Shay’s direction.

Shay snorted.

“Unlikely.” Nonetheless, he reached out to shake Haytham’s hand. It felt good to have a purpose again – yes, Jack Weeks had been sharing some of his research with him (to ‘keep him busy’, as he had said), but a much more formalised job was far better. Haytham let go of Shay’s hand, but he didn’t turn around to leave. Instead, he seemed to search for words, evidently wanting to say something else.

“Perhaps,” he finally began, “at some point, you’d care to join me for dinner. Unconnected to any Templar or Assassin business.” His voice was quiet and his expression almost neutral, revealing little of what was going on within.

Shay hesitated for a moment, taking the time to think through the implications of Haytham’s words, to imagine a future in which he said yes, and one in which he said no. He remembered the way Haytham’s eyes had shone on the balcony in Vancouver, his expression on the small photograph from earlier, the quiet laughs he sometimes let out when he thought no one could hear him. He thought about the blood staining Haytham’s hands (just like it did his own) and the way his lips had felt against his skin. It was, in the end, not the hardest decision he ever had to make.

“Yes. Yes, I think I’d like that.”