LOST: Orange & white kitten, 3 months old,

In the vicinity of Elm Street.

If found, please call….

Reward

Standing on his tiptoes, Connor reached as high up as his six year old body would allow, and taped a poster to a telephone pole. All morning he'd been plastering posters on every pole and signpost on both sides of the street, and he was finally down to his last one. Running his mittened hand back and forth over the tape to secure it, he then stood back and stared at the printed photo of the little kitten pictured on the poster. Next to the photo was a crude sketch, drawn with an orange crayon, that Connor had added himself to make sure his pet kitty would be recognized if someone happened to find him. But he didn't have much hope of that. His little friend had been missing for two days, and there was still no sign of him.

With a dejected sigh, Connor wiped the tears from his cheeks and started for home. His mother, Ziio, told him to come straight back after tacking up the posters along the street he lived on, and not to dawdle because she would have his lunch ready and his soup would get cold. But Connor didn't care. He wasn't hungry anyway. All he wanted was to have his kitten back. And it was all his fault his little friend got lost in the first place. Ista always told him to make sure he closed the door behind him whenever he entered or left the house. He thought he had. But when Ista picked him up from kindergarten two days ago, she scolded him for not closing the kitchen door behind him when he left for school that morning. Then she told him his kitten was missing. It was all his fault. His kitty was gone and he was never going to see him again.

Wiping fresh tears from his cheeks, Connor sniffled his runny nose and slowly trudged along the sidewalk. With his head hung low, he watched his feet and listened to the sound his winter boots made as they scuffed along the ground. It didn't cheer him up any that it was snowing either. In fact, it only made him feel worse. Normally he loved when it snowed. But this only meant his kitten would be even colder than he already was. Hearing the sound of a car horn beeping, he looked up as he came to a halt in front of a large red brick house. In the street, a car was stopped, the driver waving at him as the signal light blinked to indicate he was about to turn into the driveway. Halfheartedly waving back, Connor waited for his neighbor to park the car and get out of the vehicle.

"Hello Connor!" the elderly man cheerfully greeted him.

"Hello Mr. Davenport. Have you seen my kitty yet?"

"I'm afraid I haven't, son. Still hasn't come home yet, huh?" the old man gently asked.

"No." Connor sadly replied.

"Well. I'll keep an eye open for him. And don't you worry. Somebody probably found him, and he's warm and cozy in their house as we speak. And as soon as they see those posters you've been putting up, they'll call and bring him home to you."

"I hope so." Connor replied, without much enthusiasm. "Thank you Mr. Davenport. Bye."

Continuing on to the house next door, Connor turned and headed up the pathway, then climbed the steps onto the front porch. Stomping his feet on the doormat, he went inside.

"ISTA! I'M HOME!" he shouted, as he took off his boots.

"I'm in the kitchen, Ratonhnhaké:ton." Ziio replied.

Piling his coat, hat and mittens on the seat of the deacon's bench just inside the door, Connor headed down the hallway that ran alongside the stairs, and turned through the doorway to the kitchen. Startled, he stopped just inside of it when he saw a strange man sitting at the table with his mother as the two had tea together.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton. We have a visitor." Ziio announced.

"Who are you?" Connor blurted out. Staring at the man, he thought there was something familiar about him, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen him before. With shoulder length brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and smartly dressed in a dark blue corduroy sport coat, the man chuckled softly, then smiled warmly at the little boy.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! Don't be rude!" Ziio chastised. Climbing up on a kitchen chair, Connor took a seat opposite the two adults.

"It's alright, Ziio. He wasn't expecting you to have company. Were you, lad?" the man asked Connor, who found the stranger's voice soothing with its smooth British accent.

"No sir." Connor replied. "I'm sorry I was rude."

"No harm done, I'm sure." the man said kindly, offering his hand to Connor.

"This is Ratonhnhaké:ton." Ziio informed the stranger. Falling silent, her eyes ventured back and forth between the man and the boy, watching the two closely as they shook hands.

"Ra-doon-ha-gay-doon." the man pronounced slowly. "Well! That's quite a sizable name for such a small boy!" he cheerfully added.

"It's Mohawk." Connor replied. "It means 'Life that is Scratched'. But you can call me Connor. That's my middle name. Ratonhnhaké:ton Connor Kenway."

"And I am…..an old friend of your mothers." the man offered as an introduction of himself. Hesitating at the last minute, he lost his nerve at revealing his identity, fearing the child would reject him.

"I'm also your new neighbor!" the man added. "I just moved here from Boston. Decided it was time to get out of the big city and live in the suburbs instead. I rented the green house a few doors down the street, so I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"Oh. That's nice." Connor replied, sounding completely disinterested. Glancing to the side, he looked at the two small ceramic cat bowls sitting on the floor. Both full of fresh food and water should their tiny owner return home. Following the child's forlorn gaze, the man then looked down at his lap before continuing to address the visibly sad little boy.

"Yes. In fact I just arrived this morning. The movers delivered my belongings two days ago, and as I was standing in the middle of a room full of boxes, trying to figure out where to begin with unpacking…..I discovered this little fellow! He must have snuck in with the movers and got locked inside when they left." Raising his hands in the air from where he'd been concealing them under the table, the man revealed what he'd been holding on his lap.

"Mew!"

"HAYTHAM!" Connor squealed with delight. Scrambling off his chair, he darted around the table and took the orange and white kitten from the man. Rocking from side to side, he hugged the little feline fuzzball tightly to his chest as the two enjoyed a happy reunion.

"Haytham, Haytham, you came home! I didn't think I'd ever see you again! Oh Haytham, I'll never leave the door open again, ever! I promise! I promise!"

"Haytham?" the man asked, surprised to learn the kitten's name. Stunned, he looked at Ziio, who flashed him a conspiratory smile.

"Uh huh!" Connor replied, giggling as the purring kitty head-butted his chin. "I named him after my daddy. He ran away too…before I was born. I keep hoping he'll come home too, but he hasn't yet." he wistfully added. "That's why I named my kitty Haytham. So it would be like having my daddy with me."

"How do you feel about your father, Connor?" the stranger asked, hoping the boy didn't sense his nervousness. "Are you angry with him for leaving you and your mommy like he did?"

"No." Connor softly replied. "I miss my daddy, and I want him to come home, like my kitty did. I wanna have a daddy, like the other kids do. I wanna play ball with him, and have him read me stories, and climb trees and go fishing with me. And teach me stuff. I'm not mad at him. I just want him to come home." he whispered wistfully.

"He has, Ratonhnhaké:ton. This is Haytham Edward Kenway…..your father." Ziio said gently. Staring at the man, whose hand his mother had now taken into both of her own, Connor's eyes suddenly grew wide and his mouth dropped open with a gasp as he remembered where he'd seen him before.

"You're the man in the picture! The one Ista keeps in the table next to her bed! I saw it once when Ista took my squirt gun away. I was looking for it in the drawer, and I saw your picture in there instead. I wanted to ask Ista who you were, but then she'd have known I was looking for my squirt gun, and I was in enough trouble already." Connor babbled excitedly, then paused before hesitantly adding, "Are you really my daddy? Cause if you are, I really missed you. And Ista misses you too, 'cause sometimes she cries and says your name. "

"Yes, Connor. I'm really your daddy." Scooping up his son, who was still holding the kitten, Haytham hugged him close. "And I missed you too. And your mother. I missed both of you….more than you know." Glancing at the woman sitting in the chair beside him, Haytham's misty eyes met with hers, and the two shared a warm smile.

It would take time for the little family to be reunited again. Haytham and Ziio took it slowly in reestablishing their relationship with each other, working out the difficulties that had separated them. But before long, they did, and two households and two lives became one by the time a year had passed. During their wedding reception, Haytham made a toast to his lovely bride and handsome little son, who shared the duties of Best Man with Haytham's good friend, Shay Cormac. And he also made a special toast to a cat who shared his name, and to the poster taped to a telephone pole that brought them all together again as a family.

~The End~

Happy Birthday to fellow fanfiction author Alastriona Donovan! I hope you enjoyed your present, my friend! And welcome to your new home, Haytham Kitty! Your mommy's going to spoil you rotten! )

*hugs!*

MohawkWoman :D