AN: Greetings everyone! This is a 2-shot story about an idea I had during a family trip. I hope you enjoy! Please read and review! :)
Rebecca's eyes were fixated on the screen of the computer, carefully studying each data that appears on her screen. She paused for awhile to rub her eyes. She has been like this for hours, and it seems like it would take forever for her to finish organizing the data collected in the Animus.
"Ah shit, I'm not getting anywhere, am I?" Rebecca said to herself as she pushed her computer chair away from the desk and placed her legs on the table as she relaxed herself on her chair.
She gingerly took her mug of coffee that was placed on top of Shaun's stack of thick books. And when she says thick books, it's really those thick heavy history books. Since it was very much stable, she decided to place her coffee cup there, at least when Shaun's not around.
Rebecca chuckled when she imagined the look on Shaun face once she makes a mistake on soaking his books with coffee. He will definitely kill her and she might as well be buried along Lucy and Desmond.
The moment, she remembered those two, she felt downcast. What could've happened if both of them are alive and they saved the world? What would happen if Lucy didn't betray them and she was with them for the rest of their days? What if Desmond didn't die in the Temple? No, what if the world wasn't damned to be destroyed to begin with or what if there was no war between Templars and Assassins to begin with?
"If those didn't happen, the world would not be as fucked up as it is these days" Rebecca mumbled to herself as she drowned in her memories of Lucy and Desmond. The two must've been married by now if only the fates were turned against them.
"Is that coffee stain I see on my book?" Rebecca almost spat out her coffee when she heard a man's voice behind her. She already knew who it was, judging from his sharp British accent that she's been hearing for the longest time, and she always noted that she detests that.
"Bloody hell, Rebecca! There is an adequate amount of space on your table to place your bloody mug!"
"Well, your crazy stack of thick books was stable and it was perfect enough to hold my cup. I thought you were asleep? " Rebecca said as she removed herself from her relaxed position. Shaun distastefully took ate his book and wipe off the fresh stain with the nearest cloth he can find.
"Crap, this doesn't go off easily. Well, I wasn't lying when I told you I will sleep, except that I didn't find a proper bed to sleep though. I fell asleep on the desk while taking notes from history books. You know, interesting facts about-" Shaun said as he carefully put back his book on it stack and adjusted his glasses.
"Right, right. I think it's better if you tell that to me some other time, Shaun" Rebecca said hastily, not wanting to hear any historical facts at this moment.
Shaun simply rolled his eyes at the woman in front of him.
"You have a very little love for history, don't you?"
"Not really"
Rebecca then placed herself in front of her computer once more and did her work.
"It's late and what are up to? You've been doing that for the longest time" Shaun walked towards the computer and leaned over to see whatever the woman was doing.
"I'm organizing data from the Animus." Rebecca simply said and Shaun nodded.
"Since both of us are not getting any sleep tonight, inform me if you find anything interesting"
"I will. Since these are data collected by Desmond in the Animus, there's bound to be something interesting" Rebecca replied and the both of them went silent upon hearing the man's name.
Shaun cleared his throat,
"He's a good fellow, that bastard" Shaun said, breaking the silence and Rebecca nodded.
"Yeah he is. He might be stupid, but he's a great guy"
"Pity, things just cannot happen the way we hoped them to be" Shaun said quietly and Rebecca knew what he was talking about. The four of the, Lucy, Desmond, Shaun and her, make a good team. And she must admit that those days they spent together were the best. Rebecca had very few close friends, not to mention, she never even had a circle of friends that she can lean on. But then, when she finally had one, two of them went away in a blink of an eye. And Shaun was the only one left, that sarcastic, four-eyed British bastard who always finds a way to beat her in an argument.
"Yeah" Rebecca replied and then her eyes darted into something peculiar in the screen.
"Woah, woah!" Rebecca leaned closer and quickly opened the file. Shaun, who startled by Rebecca's sudden noise went closer.
"What is it now?" Shaun asked, clearly annoyed.
"There is a data here! A data left by Desmond!"
"Wait, are you trying to tell me that Desmond left this data before he died?" Shaun asked
"Yes, and this is rather interesting. It's a memory from his ancestor, Connor Kenway. But strange, I didn't see this one before. When or how did Desmond record this session on his own?"
Shaun rubbed his temples and urged Rebecca to just open the file.
"That doesn't matter at this moment! I'm dying to know what's inside that data, Rebecca"
"Alright! Alright! Let's take a look on it, shall we?" Rebecca said, clearly amused by Shaun's eagerness. She opened the file and her screen opened the footage of the said memory.
xXxXxXxXx
Davenport Homestead; Spring, 1831
Connor Kenway stared at the windows of the manor. He was now a man with years marked across his face. His silver hair was now tied in a neat ponytail at the back of his head. From the distance he watched the community of men and women who wore the robes of an Assassin, going around the Homestead, lost in whatever they are doing at these times.
He suddenly felt the need to find a chair to sit on. He wasn't the strong man he used to be, his legs aren't even that strong enough to keep him standing for long durations. Connor carefully sat on the chair behind the big wooden desk. He looked around the room.
It was still the same, after all these years since he restored them back in his days. It surprised him how time passed by so fast. Then his eyes darted at the set of books placed on the desk.
He took one book, it was weathered, and was close to falling apart, but he handled it with outmost care. He opened it and scanned the leaves of paper. He knows every word of it, every thought and he recognizes its very own script, but he never really knew what kind of man the author of this journal is. He only knew what kind of man he is through the information in the pages of this journal, but he never got to discover about him beyond that.
Connor ran his fingers over one word, a name, to be precise.
"Haytham Kenway" he said the name quietly. It's been decades since that name escaped his lips. He never spoke of his past to anyone, even to his family. It was not something he was proud of. It was only full of regrets, nothing more. Perhaps, the only thing that kept preserved that miserable past of his was in his own journal that was placed somewhere in this desk as well.
Connor then heard heavy footsteps in the manor. He looked up from the journal and saw his son leaning on the doorframe. He was grinning, while his arms crossed over his chest.
"Father, what exactly is that tattered book of yours? Each time I enter here, I always catch you reading that" he asked and Connor put the journal down.
"Edward, I would very much appreciate it if you take light steps upon entering the manor. It makes me lose my concentration on my work" Connor eyed his son. He now wore the same robes Connor himself wore when he was in his son's age. The boy's features are definitely Kenway. He got his eyes from his mother.
"Loosen up, old man. Your footsteps can also be heard throughout the manor. Come on, tell me about it. I've seen you read that since I was 4."
Connor smiled at his son
"You are too old for storytelling. Just... just read it when you have time" Connor sighed as he placed the journal back on the table. Edward walked towards his father. Connor took and held it up on his face.
"Well, you are right about that one. I might pick that one and read it sometimes"
"Are you alright, father? You look unwell" Edward asked, concern evident in his face, but Connor waved him off. He pulled the cloth away and Edward clearly saw a huge red stain on the cloth.
"It's just a nosebleed. It's nothing I cannot handle, boy"
"Don't lie to me, old man" Edward said with his brow knitted together in concern, as he put his hand over his father's forehead.
"Stop that, and I'm definitely not lying to you, boy" Connor swatted his son's hand from his forehead which earned him a frown from his son.
"And you are very warm. Should I fetch Doctor Lyle? Because you certainly don't look good to me"
"You are going to disturb another old man all because of bloodied nose? No, I'm fine. I've been having a headache all day, it's likely why. It should stop soon. I've been having these since I was younger and I didn't have any problems with it. The bleeding should stop soon." Connor insisted and Edward chuckled
"Yeah right, you get nosebleeds all the time when you were younger because you always got yourself hit on the face by the back of a musket. Or perhaps you always get into fights across the streets" Edward pointed out, much to his father's chagrin.
"I did not!" Connor denied, though he must say his son did have a point. He was pounded by muskets or anything else there is back then that is most likely the cause his nosebleed.
"All those headaches and shit, how can you even say that you are in a perfect condition? Are you always this arrogant, father?" Edward sighed, still concerned about the older man's current condition.
"Where do you think your arrogance came from, boy?" Connor gave his son a small smile.
"Alright, I give up! Take care, old man. I'll just go out and ready my horse to Boston. I'll handle a few Templar activities there. Don't go dying when I return!" Edward joked as he waved at his father. Connor snickered at his son as he left. It's starting again; he's been like this for the past few years. He felt weak, he always found it hard to breathe and those damned nosebleeds and body pains. If only he knew from the beginning that this was part of aging or whatever illness he got right now, he should've just let himself die in one of his missions back then.
Edward always asked him to call Lyle to check if there was something wrong with him. But Connor never asked for any check-up from the doctor. Whatever disease he caught right now, or was it a part of aging, he didn't care. It doesn't matter anyway.
"I'll see you soon..." Connor whispered to himself. He was alone yet again. He enjoyed the peace, it reminded him of the days when only him and Achilles in this Homestead. Connor took his own journal and fountain pen with him, as well as his white cloth and stood up from his seat. He wandered around the house, he can't help but feel a little wistful, seeing how time flies so fast. Connor stopped by the portrait of Achilles. He decided to keep it there, so that the Brotherhood will not forget him and to remind them that he was once a respected Mentor of the Brotherhood.
"How long has it been, Achilles?" Connor chuckled as he looked up at the portrait of the man.
"If it wasn't for you, what would I be right now? I still find it hard to believe that you've been gone for 50 years. You were a great Mentor, Achilles. If only you can see the Brotherhood right now. I pray that it was the same as you have told me before, it was whole and strong. I don't think I told you this before, even if I did, I may have said it in my mind" Connor said as he looked down on his feet.
Did he ever thank the old man when he was still alive? Did he even show some act of gratitude before? Perhaps not, all he remembers is that he always gets into a heated argument with the man, accusing him that he had already given up on the Brotherhood. Even until his death, he wasn't able to say those words.
"Thank you, Achilles. For everything you have done for me. You help me become the man I am right now. Thank you. " Connor said as he turned to walk away. As he walked he can feel another migraine again, yet he was somehow glad that his nose isn't bleeding anymore.
This time Connor walked towards the candelabra that is located just behind the staircase. He hesitantly pulled the candelabra and a secret passage opened. The basement was not opened for years.
Connor can clearly see the dust covering the railings of stairs, as well as the steps, broken, gauzy strands of cobwebs hanging on the beams.
He saw the old training dummy that was left battered after all those training sessions he had before. We walked towards it and let his hand run through its rough surface. He smiled, upon remembering that he would always use this dummy to vent all his anger and frustrations he got from his interactions with his Mentor.
At last he turned to look at the wall in front of him. Traces of white paint remained on the wall, but most of it was fading. It used to be the board of information on the Templars. There were paintings of each Templar he hunted down before hanged on that very wall; the white paint was used to brand their names. Most of the portraits were taken down by Connor, and burned them to the ground a few decades ago. But there was one portrait that was spared.
Connor walked towards the table, he never removed the mementos placed in there, mementos of those men he had killed back then. The mementos were now covered in dust; they haven't been moved since the last time Connor went inside the basement. Connor gently placed his journal, pen and cloth on the dusty table.
Just beside the table, he saw a portrait that was carefully wrapped with paper. This made Connor's breathe hitch. He shakily took the wrapped portrait in his hands. He took the nearby stool and sat on it. Connor carefully removed the papers wrapping the portrait.
With every paper he tore, the more he can see the content of the portrait. When he finally removed every piece of paper that was wrapping it, Connor felt surge of emotions fill him.
"It's you again" he said to himself quietly as he stared at the man inside that portrait. It was no other than his father, Haytham Kenway.
"How many years has it been? How many years since you last throw a snide remark at me? How many years have I been asking myself, 'why does it have to be that way?' I was foolish. I was ignorant. I never tried. I never tried to understand you. I tried my best to not show any form of weakness or compassion when it comes to you, but I failed. I even tried to bring the Templars and Assassins to unite, because I wanted to reconcile with you. I wanted to do the impossible for I believed that I might be able to be with you without having out blades pointed at each other's throats. With that very thought I already failed to keep my promise to myself that I will not show any compassion to you. When I decided to become an Assassin and learned that I must kill you, I thought it would be easy. But upon seeing you and being with you, no matter how short it was, I finally realized that it was impossible for me to do such thing. Both of us know how it ended. Why do you have to be so cruel? Why do you always present the truth at the wrong times? Just like what you did when you told me about Washington and my village? And after killing you, you let me take your journal so I can finally know the truth about you? You left me a scarred man, father. All my life I've been dying guilt. All my life I wanted to hate you for everything, but I cannot" Connor felt his eyes began to brim with tears. He can feel himself breathing heavily; upon finally letting all those emotions that was bottled up through the years go away.
"I know it's too late. Too late even ask you many things. Too late to say that I have wronged you. I was too late to say I'm sorry..." Hot tears fell on the portrait, tears that were waiting to be shed for years. Hours flew and Connor was lost in his emotions. As soon as he finally got to pick himself up, he placed Haytham's portrait on the table, leaning it against the wall. He took his pen and began to write at the last page of his journal.
His last entry.
This is perhaps, my last entry in this journal. I can say that my life was not something I am proud of. It was filled with misery, tragedy, and most of all, regrets. I regret that I wasn't strong enough to save my mother from the flames when I was child. I wasn't as strong as she was when she raised my alone, when she sacrificed too much for me. I regret that I wasn't able to thank Achilles who inspired me to be the man I am right now. Most of I all, I regret that my father died by own hands. Too many regrets that one book cannot hold all of it. But despite all the pain, suffering and sorrow I had in my life, there were things that I will not trade for this world. One of it was the day I met Achilles, the days I started a family of my own, the day when Edward was brought into this world and especially the days I have spent with my parents. No matter how short they were, it somehow made me feel complete. All my life I have been wondering, what would have it been like, if they were alive and we are together as a family? What would it have been like, if there were no rifts between us? If fate was kinder to us? That was a question I longed to have an answer, but will never be answered. I was told once that life isn't a fairy tale, that there are no happy endings. It's true, and it took me the hard way to know that. But, you can always dream of having it. I never end a day without dreaming of what my life would be like if all of those tragedies never happened. But, if there is one thing I learned in my life is that, things happen for a reason, no matter how cruel it is. If my village didn't burn to the ground and my mother was still alive, would I still be the man I am today? If I stayed my hand and spared my father's life, would the Brotherhood rise once again? This is my teaching to you, my son. I have watched you grow into a man I have hoped you to be. And I want you to continue what our Brotherhood has fought for since the beginning. I will always be with you, just like parents did. And I will wait for you until it's time for you to rest and return home. Konoronhkwa, my son.
Connor smiled contentedly as he put his pen down and closed his journal. He leaned his back on his chair, and took a deep breath before closing his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
"It's time for me to go home"
xXxXxXxXx
Shaun and Rebecca stared at the screen for a few seconds, still taking in what they have seen.
"Well, anybody up for a feels trip?" Shaun said with a nervous chuckle, trying to light up the mood. But then he felt Rebecca shivering and, was that a sniffling he's hearing?
"What the-? Rebecca Crane, are you crying?" Shaun raised his brow as he turned the other Assassin around to take a look on her face. Rebecca's face was red and her eyes were crying rivers of tears.
"Oh my god, Rebecca Crane is bloody crying!" Shaun said, clearly amused at Rebecca. Rebecca pushed him away and gave him rather hard punch on the shoulder, earning a loud protest from the man.
"Fuck off, Shaun! There's just something that went in my eyes" Rebecca frowned as she continued to wipe her tears with her hands. Shaun rolled his eyes at Rebecca.
"Oh is that so?" Shaun said while grinning at the other Assassin, "Come on, and get a grip, since when were you so sensitive about these things?"
Rebecca stopped and looked at Shaun with her tear strained eyes.
"Why is there so much death? Why did Lucy and Desmond have to go away?" Rebecca said and Shaun has no witty comeback there. He wasn't expecting Rebecca to drop that bomb at him.
"Well, think of it this way. Just like what old man Connor said, things happen for a reason, no matter how cruel or painful it is. And you know, the world is one fucked up place to be in. Desmond and Lucy are home! They are free, like two happy, uh, couple wherever they are. So, cheer up and be happy, I guess?" Shaun said, though he wasn't quite content with his impromptu speech, or whatever it is. He must admit, he's not good with feelings or cheering someone up.
"You think so?" Rebecca said as she wiped a tear with her cheeks puffing up like a small girl.
"Stop acting like a cute child, you bastard" Shaun scolded and Rebecca broke into a grin.
"You know me too well, asshole" Rebecca sniffed
"But, I'm still here, right? Come on, I know you love me and always wanted to give me a warm hug" Shaun said as he opened his arms for a hug. Rebecca walked towards Shaun and he was expecting a tight hug sooner or later.
But apparently he got a fist to his abdomen and Shaun groaned in pain.
"Yep, at least you're still here and we are stuck together. I loathe you, you know" Rebecca simply said a grin forming on her face.
"I love you too" Shaun groaned. He was quite sure he can hear Desmond and Lucy laughing somewhere at his suffering. Fucking assholes.
AN: The next chapter will go around Connor's reunion with his parents. Hopefully you had fun reading this! And stay tuned for the next chapter!