Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's creed or any recognizable characters. I am not making any sort of profit from this project.
THIS IS INCOMPLETE and will likely remain so. I just don't have the time with my life the way it is to keep working on this when I sort of lost interest and have moved on to other things.
Warnings: There will be flashbacks containing dubious consent, and non-consensual male/male sex, mental abuse, and manipulation. This story deals a lot with the aftermath of sexual and emotional abuse, and the healing process that comes after. That being said, it's a minefield of triggers for things to do with rape and depression. However, it will have a happy ending and certainly isn't glorifying abusive relationships. It's primarily Jacob/Ned, with past Jacob/Maxwell Roth.
Notes: I'll admit I've never written anything with a trans character before, but with a little help (and inspiration) from a good IRL friend of mine that's trans, I think I've got it right. Please comment and let me know what you think, this story is very much outside of my comfort zone and I want to know how I'm doing!
Chapter One: Rock, Meet Bottom.
It was over. Finally over. Starrick was dead, and the Rooks had London in their in grasp. The Blighters were still around, of course, but their kingdom lay in shambles. For the first time in what felt like years, Jacob felt like he could breathe. It wasn't much, though - a gasp of air to a drowning man at best. Given time to sit and think on recent events in detail, he almost wished he had more Templars to stab. Banging heads together was easier than dealing with life at the moment. He'd settled for helping the Rooks become a more organized network, with eyes and ears on every street. Some of them were even working at Scotland yard, and one industrious fellow had found his way to a cushy job inside Buckingham Palace. Still, it wasn't enough to keep him distracted. Jacob needed to do something, anything, to keep himself busier. If he stopped working, he started thinking. Thinking was dangerous. So, work it was.
His Rooks had caught word of a decent cargo shipment intended for one of Starrick's remaining business partners. The man wasn't a Templar as far as Jacob knew, but good intentions alone weren't enough to outfit London's underdog defenders. They needed income, and they might as well take what they could get from someone who made his fortune by licking Starrick's boots. It wasn't much, just a cart of pricy tea, but it would be easy for Ned to sell for a profit, and even easier to steal.
Jacob watched the cart in question as it made its way down a busy street in Southwark. There were two other coaches beside it being driven by a couple of the Blighters. The merchant had probably paid them for protection. Jacob decided he was tried of waiting and leaped from the roof he was on, loosing his hidden blade into the throat of the Blighter driving the cart full of tea. He took the reigns, and immediately rammed the carriage to his right at full force. It flipped over, right through the front of a small drug store. The poor sod driving it was hurled through the window which shattered on impact. Jacob pulled the reigns, slowing the frantic mare pulling his cart enough to safely drift around a street corner. The other escort wasn't as lucky and his horse plowed straight into a brick wall, throwing him out of his seat and underneath the wheels of an oncoming carriage. Jacob cringed at the screaming and the audible cracking of human bones.
It didn't take long to stow the cart in the yard of a workhouse under the Rooks' watch. Ned was there waiting for him, as Jacob had sent a messenger to let him know he might have something for him. Jacob hopped down from the cart and gave him a small smile, which turned into a scowl when none other than Evie appeared at Ned's side.
"Jacob." Evie said curtly. "Nice of you to come for tea."
"I'm glad you and Greenie are settling in, but some of us still have a city to protect." Jacob snapped, immediately regretting the venom in his tone. In reality, nothing terrified him more than losing Evie. Still, he'd rather dive right into the filthiest bit of the Thames he could find, arse naked, than admit how much she meant to him. No matter what, things would never be the same after the argument they'd had just before taking out Starrick together. Ned rolled his eyes, and started negotiations with the Rook in charge of the area.
"You don't even speak to me anymore! I'm still your sister!" Evie retorted angrily. "I'm worried sick about you!"
"I'm fine, Evie." Jacob replied wearily, wishing he could just throw a smoke bomb in her general direction and book it back toward the train as fast as he could.
"Hardly. You look like hell." Evie commented. "Have you even been sleeping? You look like you've lost weight, too. Granted your cooking could kill a horse, but you need to take care of yourself." All the while she spoke, she scrutinized him and Jacob unconsciously tried to move away from her.
"If you give me another lecture about father, this will be last time we speak." Jacob said curtly, hating the words almost as much he hated even thinking about his father. He was always a bit of a disappointment, but if their father saw him now... Or worse, between Maxwell Roth's legs. Jacob visibly cringed and looked away from Evie. She could never know about that. No one could ever know about that. He wished he could forget about it himself. Evie didn't reply, she just leveled him with a glare that could have killed him had he been paying proper attention to her. Instead, he nearly murdered Ned who tapped him on the shoulder lightly. In the space of maybe half a second, he had him pinned the ground with his hidden blade at his throat. Realizing what he did, Jacob babbled about a million apologies and awkwardly helped Ned to his feet.
"No bother, that's just what I get for surprising an assassin." Ned told him, but Jacob could see that he'd actually scared him and felt absolutely terrible about it.
"That was hardly a normal reaction." Evie commented, giving Jacob a knowing glance. "You aren't yourself lately."
"For the tenth time, I'm fine." Jacob snapped, and took off running before he had the chance to make things worse. He wasn't fine, though, and he knew it. In reality, he couldn't stand to be touched at all, not after... No, he wasn't going to think of that. He was a man, God dammit! Jacob was halfway to Lambeth by the time he stopped to catch his breath on the roof of a factory. Miserably, he flopped down into a heap with his knees pulled to his chest. This must be what rock bottom fees like, he thought to himself. He was alone, mostly. He kept everyone he used to trust at an arm's length; he questioned every word and waited for the inevitable knife in his back - be it physical or metaphorical. He hadn't slept in days, and couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything that was decent. He was dead tired, but with sleep came the nightmares.
He felt like a child, the way he was running - in some cases literally - from the consequences of his naïve mistakes. Evie would be spitting mad, but an angry twin sister he could live with. She'd disown him if she knew the things he'd done. He couldn't look her in the eye as it was. How could he? She was everything an Assassin should be, and him... He'd had Maxwell Roth's cock in more places than he could count. He hid his face in his hands. He had to stop thinking about it. He had to dig himself out of this hole he'd fallen into, if it was even worth trying. He was relatively sure he'd driven away everyone that cared about him by that point. Evie, he assumed, only tried to keep tabs on him as a formality.
Jacob reached the train sometime near midnight. A few of the Rooks were lounging around playing cards in the dining car, but otherwise it was quiet. He threw his overcoat into the armchair that Evie normally used to occupy, and flopped down onto the couch face-first. He didn't even bother to change into something more comfortable. To be honest, he missed Evie's presence there. She and Henry had been working on building a proper base of operations for the Assassins' work in Westminster. He couldn't really fault her for wanting to stay somewhere more comfortable, even if he preferred the train.
"Evening, Jacob." Jacob swore under his breath in annoyance and rolled over. Ned picked up Jacob's coat and settled into Evie's chair.
"Have a job for me?" He asked, really only bothered because he wanted to be alone. Random nighttime visits from Ned weren't unusual. He always had some sort of heist planned, and would often drop in at one of the train's routine stops to give the Jacob the details.
"No, but I think I have my work cut out for me this time." Ned replied with an amused smirk. "Anyway, Evie sent me."
"And what does Miss Frye want from me, exactly?" Jacob groused, a fresh wave of irritation sweeping over him.
"You, well, the old you." Ned told him. "You aren't yourself Jacob; we can all see that. Clara even asked me last week if you were ill. You're going to work yourself to death, you idiot."
"There is nothing wrong with me!" Jacob snapped, gripping the edge of the couch tightly enough to tear it. Ned heaved a sigh and pulled a slightly crumpled bit of paper out of his pocket. He offered it to Jacob, who snatched it far more savagely than was entirely necessary. If Ned was offended, he hid it well. It was the first letter that Roth had sent to him, Jacob knew before he'd even read it. He tore it to shreds and threw it on the floor like a petulant child.
"Maxwell Roth is – was – a dangerous man, and I don't just mean as a Templar and the leader of the Blighters. He has a certain... History. Did you meet Lewis? Lewis, with some of the blighters, ran a few heists for me a while back. That was before you and Evie came to London. Anyway, Lewis was a wreck. Roth had him positively whipped. He didn't dare disobey him; people he cared about would turn up dead when he failed to keep Roth entertained, or tried to cut ties with him. I saw a grown man cry because he blundered on a trivial job, and knew what the consequences would be." Ned explained. He knows, Jacob realized in a panic. Jacob thought of Lewis, and his cryptic warning of what happened to people that displeased his employer. The need to flee kicked in, but Ned must have seen it in his eyes. "Don't you dare run away, Jacob Frye." Ned snapped and gave him a fierce glare.
"What do you want from me? Evie already knows I worked with him, and how badly I cocked up." Jacob retorted, barely resiting the urge to pace the carriage like a caged lion at a menagerie. "It's why we had that falling out, which I assumed you knew about."
"Jacob, what did Roth do to you?" Ned inquired in a firm tone. "Tell me."
Jacob stared at Ned at a loss. What was he going tell him? The truth? That even though Roth was dead, Jacob purposely kept Evie at an arm's length to keep her safe out of paranoia? That he'd watched an innocent child burn to death because he hadn't been fast enough to save them all – Never mind the fiasco at the Alhambra? Or, how Roth's cock tasted as he shoved it down his – No. No, not that, no.
"He betrayed me, obviously." Jacob replied after the uneasy silence that seemed to drag on for an eternity. Had Roth betrayed him, though? Really? No, Jacob told himself. He knew what he was doing, and he let it happen because he was both in love with, and utterly terrified of the man. It was as though he could still taste the blood on his lips from that last kiss. Jacob took a shaky breath and stood with his back to Ned.
"Jacob, I'm trying to help you." Ned all but snarled. "Don't be stubborn."
"What are you going to do? Kill a ghost? What's done is done!" Jacob retorted, and snatched his coat from the rack where Ned had hung it.
"You are not seriously going to run away again, are you?" It was a statement, Jacob realized – not a question. "If what's done is done, then what are you running from?"
Jacob shook his head and jumped straight out of the train, stumbling along the edge of the tracks as he tried to gain his footing. He could hear Ned shout something along the lines of 'Damn it, Jacob!' as the train sped away.
Ned watched as the shadowed form of Jacob retreating along the tracks vanished into the night. Evie might have been worried about him, but for all her good intentions, the elder Frye twin hadn't the slightest idea what had really happened between her brother and Maxwell Roth. Neither did Ned, for that matter. Had Jacob's involvement merely been a business acquaintance that had gone south? ...Or had Jacob been led astray by Roth's other charms like that poor bastard, Lewis? He hated to think about it, but Ned suspected the latter. The way he panicked when Ned had tried to get his attention by tapping his shoulder had been answer enough. He didn't want to be touched.
"Damn it." Ned muttered for what had to be the hundredth time that day. He knew he was in for a mess when Evie, capable as she was, came to him for help instead of Mr. Green or someone more... reputable. Ned hopped off the train the very instant it slowed to a halt at the Victoria station in Westminster, nearly an hour after Jacob's departure. Evie was there with a few of the Rooks waiting at the platform. She looked as tired and careworn as her brother, even though she hid it a bit better.
"He bolted again." Ned told her flatly as she waved the Rooks away. "I think I know what the problem is, and if I'm right he's more of a mess than you know."
"What is it, Ned? Tell me!" Evie demanded as they made their way through the station that was mostly empty, aside from a few Rooks patrolling the place and a commuter or two. Ned liked it that way, even if it was a bit eerie seeing the normally bustling station almost deserted.
"No, not yet. I don't know for sure, and the implication would be... Leave him to me for now." Ned told her. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do what I can to help. I owe that arsehole one, anyhow. I never did pay him back properly for saving my hide from the bobbies. I suppose its time I settled my debts."
"Jacob would never hold to you any such debts." Evie replied, sounding miserable.
"No, he wouldn't." Ned agreed. "Just worry about your work keeping the Blighters in check; I'll keep you updated."
Evie watched Agnes chatting with one of the station's conductors for a moment before speaking. "Fine, but I don't like this. He's my brother, I should be-"
Ned cut her off mid-sentence. "Not to be rude, and please do not take offense, but I doubt there's anything you can do at the moment. Well, other than make things worse because you're just going to start yelling at each other again."
"I would not!" Evie retorted in a scandalized tone.
"Yes, you would, because that's the reaction he wants. It's easier for him to avoid you that way. I need to go. Try to stay out of trouble, Evie." Ned said dismissively. Evie scoffed and turned away, everything about her stiff posture, to her quick steps suggested far more pent up frustration than Ned had any desire to deal with. He made a mental note to take a page out of Jacob's book and avoid her like the plague. Evie meant well, and was a genuinely kind person, but at the moment she and Jacob got along about as well as cats and dogs. ...Which meant hell for anyone that needed to work with either of them.
"If I were an assassin, who happens to be a complete train wreck, where would I be?" Ned muttered to himself and got back onto the train. He laid down on the couch Jacob had vacated and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Never mind finding Jacob, how was he going to help if he couldn't even get him to talk?
