Six weeks had passed.

Connor slowly walked out of his room, his heavy steps sounding like thunderstorm in the Manor's hall way.

"Good morning" greeted his mentor, who had just finished laying the table. "I heard you coming back yesterday night, but I didn't want to disturb you".

The younger man nodded, but didn't reply.

Haytham's death had had a terrible toll on Connor. For the first week he had laid in bed, incapable of doing anything but stare at the ceiling and think. Think... about what, then? He could find no reason to what had happened. His father, down the cliff... he remembered every painful moment of that day. And then there was that word. Suicide.

At night time, he had finally decided to look for him. He had searched the property far and wide, and then he had gone to Haytham's room to see if something could signal a secret departure. Only after the night had changed into a pale dawn he came back to his room, feeling nothing but fury, anger, sadness. His father had left him, just when everything seemed to have settled down as it should have!

Then he found it. The letter.

It was in a clean envelope, just as it was ready for delivery. His father's style: everything so ordered, so formal. Connor had opened it without hesitation.

In a matter of seconds, those big paws that his mother used to kiss and call 'my little hands' started to tremble with undeniable fear. Finally, his scream broke the night.

Without hesitation, the boy threw himself out of the open window and began to run on the soft grass.

"Father, Father!" he screamed.

He didn't realise it was too late. Not until he faced the cold and calm water.

A body that looked too much like his own was floating in the sea, lifeless. Grey eyes stared at the pinkish sky, finally quiet, finally serene.

Connor threw himself into the water. Nothing else mattered to him right now: he couldn't care less that the sea was screaming his dissent to him or that the water was almost frozen by the clouds' silent grieving. All he cared was to be sure that nothing could be done.

He swam towards the lifeless man with dying strength. In a matter of second, he reached it.

"Father!" he called, almost voiceless. He took the body in his arms and headed toward the far-away shore. The current was beginning to increase his power: a thunderstorm was approaching.

"Father... it is going to be all right" he said out aloud.

"Boy! You, there! What the hell are you doing?" screamed a voice, "If you don't get out of there now, you'll drawn!"

"James!" Connor screamed, "Help me! My father... he..."

"Leave that corpse be, Connor. Connor!" Interrupted Faulkner's strong voice.

"I can't!" he screamed, as fear built up into his veins. No matter how fast he swam, the current seemed to get stronger and stronger.

"He is already dead"

"No!"

His memory blackened. Connor remembered a rope into the waters. His father's hair spread out into the water, then in the sand. He had a vivid image of himself on him, trying to make him breath. Then a familiar voice.

"Connor. Come away, boy".

When his desperate crying had finally stopped, he had let Achilles dry his hair with a clean towel, down in the kitchen. He felt embarrassed and uncomfortable: no one had ever seen his crying, not like that. He felt miserable. He wanted his father back.

"I am sorry, Connor. Your father was a fine man, after all. He loved you, you know".

And now, things seemed to be coming back to normality. Connor had returned to his busy life. Suddenly, contacts popped out of nowhere, recruits followed him into the streets, new people asked to join him. the Brotherhood was flourishing again under his patience and wise advice. Still, there was something missing into his life.

"I... I was wondering if... if I can introduce you someone special".

"Of course. Should I put another plate on the table?" his mentor replied.

"Don- don't look at me with that face!" exclaimed Connor, almost smiling, "it is not... a woman".

He hurried upstairs, jumping some steps and with a little smile on his face.

"Her name is Lily" he said as he put the infant on the older man's knees, "she is an orphan. I couldn't just... leave her there".

"Oh well".

"What do you say?" he asked.

"What do I say? Do you think I cannot recognize a child's laughter when I hear it? My ears are still pretty good: I know you brought her upstairs yesterday."

Connor looked at him with disbelief, and a little shame. Would he think him silly,-or worse, sentimental- for doing such thing?

"Come on, boy, what are you waiting for? We have a long day ahead of us. First, you must go to Lance and provide the child proper equipment to sleep. Then, clothes. I think Ellen might have something ready, and then, we have to make sure there aren't any dangerous harnesses around the house..."

As the man spoke, Connor grinned to himself.

He wasn't listening.

He was happy.

There was just one last thing to do.

"Father" he whispered as the dying sunrays wetted the sky around him, "look".

He kneeled on his father's grave, holding the sleeping child in his arms.

"I have done as you told me. I have carried on with my life. Look who I have found. It was love at first sight".

He adjusted a lock of hair behind his ear.

"I promise I'll treasure her. I will not repeat our mistakes".

He stood up and sighed. Lily moved slightly and she adjusted her head on his shoulder.

"I love you, Father" he said, and walked away.

Ahead of him, his life shone and sang, inviting. He still had a long, long way to go.

The End.


This is the last chapter of my story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it! Would you like a sequel? If you do, please leave a comment. I really appreciate it, it is essential to have feedback, even if negative!

While writing this, I think about how lucky I am to be alive, to write this. Reader, please stop and think about it, too.

My thought goes to the victims of the plane crash. May their soul rest in peace and find consolation and joy in the afterlife, if there is any.